Page 45 of Unleashed

“Let’s go to bed.”

She pressed closer, her lips finding my neck. “We can’t sleep here?”

Something in my chest squeezed. Twisted. Made me want to tell her everything that weighed on me. About the legacy I had to uphold. About how she made me want things beyond hockey. About how fucking terrified I was of letting my guard down.

But the words stuck in my throat. Because showing weakness? That wasn’t in my DNA.

So, I just held her closer, breathing in her citrus and spice like it was oxygen.

Threeinthemorning,and sleep stayed out of reach. My knee throbbed in time with my pulse, a deep, grinding ache no ice or anti-inflammatories could touch. But that wasn’t what kept me awake.

No, that honor belonged to the woman curled against my side, her breath warm against my neck, one leg thrown over mine. In sleep, she’d claimed me.

Dangerous thoughts.

Flashes of game footage reeled through my mind, a constant loop of plays, strategies, mistakes. Some people counted sheep. I analyzed hockey.

I moved carefully, unwilling to disturb the beautiful woman using me as her personal body pillow. When I reached for my phone, the lock screen made me pause. Not mine. I’d grabbed hers. A grin tugged at my mouth as I held the button until the screen went black. She’d give me hell for it in the morning, but my alarm would do the job just fine.

With my own phone in hand, I fired off a text.

The Boston Bruins claimed their 63rd win of the 2022 season on April 9 in Philadelphia to surpass the 1995-96 Red Wings and 2018-19 Lightning (both with 62) for the.

No point. No context. Just another random hockey fact she’d roll her eyes at when she woke up.

I set the phone aside and slid deeper under the covers. Lily mumbled my name and rolled away, but even asleep, she fussed at me.

The tightness in my chest shouldn’t have been there. Shouldn’t have made me want to wake her up just to see those blue-green eyes. To tell her how she’d crashed through every defense I’d built this year. How she made me want more than hockey. How she made it possible to imagine a future where the game wasn’t the axis my world spun around.

How fucking terrifying that was.

She shifted again, and I rolled with her, tucking up against her bare back. Three nights in my bed, and already I couldn’t picture it without her. Already tracked her movements like analyzing game tape—the way she fumbled for coffee before her eyes fully opened, the way she leaned into my touch without thinking, the soft smile she saved just for me.

My fingers found her hair, working out a tangle. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex. In a way that scared the shit out of me but also sent a thrill through my chest.

It spoke of trust. Her trust, the way she let her guard down, made me want to do the same. And for once, the idea didn’t send me running. Not even with playoffs looming, the team and fans counting on every move, or my father’s expectations pressing down on me.

Lily whispered my name again, her fingers curling over the back of my hand, tugging my arm close to her chest. Pulling me closer, even in sleep. The gesture settled something in me. Something restless since the first time I faced the reality that hockey wouldn’t last forever.

Lily Sutton made me want more than the game. Made me believe I could have more, too.

Three little words sat heavy on my tongue, but I swallowed them down. Too much, too soon. Last thing I needed was to scare her off when we were still figuring this out. When every day felt like discovering something new about her, about us.

But soon. When the time was right. When I could show her that this wasn’t temporary—this was about all our tomorrows. About the way she made me see a future beyond the final buzzer.

For now, I held her close and breathed in citrus and spice. Let myself get lost in how right she felt in my arms, in my bed, in my life.

Let myself believe in something bigger than hockey.

Let myself believe in us.

Chapter Fourteen

Lily

Hockey Rule #39: Leave it all on the ice

Media Rule #39: Save the best for sweeps week

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