Page 25 of One Touch

I’d become a pro at sneaking in and out of the apartment to avoid running into him. Not that it made me think of him less. His presence was everywhere. From the notes on the food he made for me, to the stray sock that Alaska had stolen, or the whiff of his cologne I’d catch around the place, there was no denying his existence.

And in the places I couldn’t ignore him—on the ice and in the locker room—I sought him out like the fiend I was. Any glimpse of him I could get, I’d take, even if I hated every second of it. Watching him with Bell or the fucking equipment manager made my blood boil. But I couldn’t have him. So I avoided him and soaked up his sunshine in small sips when I could.

It wasn’t enough.

Deep down, I knew it would never be enough, but it didn’t stop me from avoiding him in public and craving him in private.

We lost our next game against Washington, and I almost caved. I’d stood at my door debating opening it for hours, but I couldn’t. If he’d barged in, I wouldn’t have fought him, but somehow, I knew he needed me to make the move after leaving his bed like I had. We were locked in a chess match, and I wasn’t willing to sacrifice any of my pieces.

By some miracle, we won the next game against his former team, but it wasn’t due to our line. I played like shit, and Miller hadn’t fared any better. Unfortunately, we carried that funk into the Global series and lost back-to-back against Florida in Finland. We had a few days off before our next game, and I needed to get my head back on hockey.

The problem was, I couldn’t untangle thoughts of Miller and hockey anymore, which was the only reason I found myself following him when he left the apartment that evening.

“Sir, some might consider this stalking,” James said.

“Thank you for your sage wisdom, but I’m merely ensuring my teammate is safe. I’m a concerned citizen and teammate, not a stalker.”

I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like James snorted bullshit, but I was too focused on Miller and the man he’d met up with to care.

Did he have to touch this asshole so much? Fuck. I wanted to rip this guy’s hands off for being that close to him. Not that I cared. Obviously, I was only concerned he’d get sick, and then we’d be down a player tomorrow. Yeah. That was why this rage filled me.

Okay, so maybe there were three things I’d realized: Miller was right, I was a coward,andI was obsessed with him.

Admitting that to myself felt good, and all the energy I’d spent denying it evaporated. Miller and his companion disappeared into the bar, taking them out of my purview. I squared my shoulders, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened my door.

“Wait here,” I ordered a second before I slammed the door.

I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got inside, but I’d figure it out like I did any play on the ice—assess, plan, and act.

It had served me well in my career, so I didn’t see why it wouldn’t here, too.

Except when I stepped into the dimly lit bar and saw Miller’s curls dangerously close to the asshole, all logical plans went out the window, and I reacted.

Shoving my way through the crowd, for once, I didn’t care if I was recognized. My goal was the sexy brunette with hazel eyes that stole my breath and befuddled my brain with one touch.

His companion noticed me first and lifted his pea-green eyes to mine. Shock and awe flashed in them as Miller clued into my presence.

“You’re Lathan Silver,” the interloper said.

“Leave,” I grunted. The man squeaked and glanced at Miller, making my anger rise. “Don’t look at him.” His eyes widened, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care how this looked, how this would affect my mother, or how this might blow back on me.

Miller rolled his eyes at me and took a swig of his drink. “Hello,Roomie. Nice to see you here. What can we do for you tonight?”

“You’re coming with me,” I gritted out. The urge to grab and haul him out of there was strong, but I had enough mindset to know the optics wouldn’t look good. So I curled my hands into fists at my side and exhaled so harshly my nostrils flared.

Miller sighed and leaned too close for my liking to the guy. He whispered something in his ear before standing and stepping closer to me. My breath caught as he peered down at me, a mischievous smirk on his face. He reached into my pocket, and I swallowed at the contact. My eyes threatened to close at my neediness, but I kept them open. Barely.

Miller pulled out a few bills, tossed them onto the table, and then returned my wallet. Once he was done, he patted my pocket and smirked. “Drinks are on you since you ruined my date,” he said.

Date? Fuck that. The ground beneath me swayed, and I reached out to steady myself. Miller’s smile dropped, and he stepped closer, bringing his unique smell with him.

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern.

I shook my head, hating and loving his concern in the same breath. I didn’t want to want him, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. I needed Miller Fahn more than I needed to toe the line. My sanity depended on it at this point. It felt more reckless to keep avoiding him than to give in.

He said goodbye to his date and ushered me out of the bar. I hadn’t looked to see if anyone else had noticed us. It seemed like the lesser of my worries as I gasped for breath. James had the door open as we approached. This time, I didn’t miss the glance that passed between him and Miller, but again, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Miller buckled me in with care before sliding in next to me. I hated how much I liked his attention. Had anyone else ever taken care of me this way? My mother never had. Maybe a maid or staff member, but not anyone who wasn’t paid. That much I knew for sure.

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