Page 63 of Hat Trick

So does his company.

I pull open the large glass door that leads to the paved patio and shut it behind me. He turns at the noise, his chin on his shoulder as he looks at me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I shiver at the early evening breeze, wishing now I brought my jacket with me. The sweat from class has dried, and I’m suddenly missing the warm fall weather. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“Just needed a minute. You know how the guys get. My social tolerance is less than what it used to be, and I don’t want to snap at someone for being loud because I’m pissed off at everything these days.”

“Do you want to be alone?” I walk over and stand next to him. “I understand wanting some space.”

“No. You don’t piss me off.”

“What a relief.” I smile up at him. “You did great in class today. How are you feeling? Any pain I should be aware of?”

“Better than I thought I’d feel. I know we’ve been meeting every day, but it was nice to push my body in a different way. It almost made me feel like I was part of the team again, and I haven’t experienced that since our Cup win.”

“Nothing like some torture exercises to bring people closer together.”

“And me getting my head out of my ass. I’ve been pushing the guys away, but today was a reminder that they’re my brothers.” Riley leans back from his hips and reaches for his leg, seemingly adjusting something with his prosthetic. “I can push them all I want. They’re not going anywhere.”

“They really aren’t, Riley.” I put my hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “None of us are.”

“It’s taken me a while to understand that, but I finally do.”

“I’m glad.” I shiver and pull my hand away so I can wrap my arms around my body. “Hell. I didn’t know the nice afternoon was going to turn into a frigid night. The temperature must’ve dropped, like, twenty degrees.”

“Hang on.” Riley takes off his glasses and tugs his sweatshirt over his head. His shirt gets stuck in the unclothing process, the thin cotton material crawling up his stomach and showing off bare skin. “I’m not cold.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to?—”

“I wasn’t asking, Lexi. Arms up, please,” he says, and the hint of authority behind his voice has me nodding. It has my slowly lifting my arms above my head and exhaling in relief as he guides the fleece over my shoulders and down my torso. His fingers graze across my stomach when he fixes the pocket in the front, and I’m instantly warmer. I don’t know if it’s from the added layer or his touch. “There we go.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, laughing when he tugs on the drawstrings near my neck to tighten the hood. The move makes me step closer to him, but I don’t mind. Not when he moves his touch to my elbow to keep me upright. “I’m only accepting this because I like hoodies. The ones that don’t belong to me in particular.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

“No.” I bury my nose in the fabric. The scent of coffee and soap tickles my nose, and I do my best to hide my inhale. “I like to do things for myself. Accepting help is hard for me.”

“And watching you freeze to death is hard for me. We both can’t be winners tonight, and I don’t like to lose. Keep it for as long as you’d like,” Riley tells me.

“I’ll get you back one of these days,” I huff, my words all bark, no bite. “Are you excited to join the team at our away game next week?” Riley pivots his body so he’s facing me, and I mirror his pose. Our eyes lock, and there’s hesitation behind his gaze. “What’s wrong, Mitchy?”

“Can I tell you something that might make me an absolute asshole?”

“You could never be an asshole. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“There’s still resentment when I watch the guys play,” he says. “It’s not the same anger I had at the beginning of the season, but I’m not fully happy for them.”

“I think that’s a normal psychological reaction. They’re doing something you can’t do—yet—and it dredges up jealousy that they’re out there and you’re not.”

“That’s exactly what my therapist told me. He says traveling will be good for me. I’ve moved onto the testing stage of grief, apparently. Go me.”

“Yeah? What does the testing stage include?” I ask.

“Experimenting with new ways to cope and adjusting to what happened to me. Finding a new normal. A bunch of other zen bullshit I don’t buy into.”

Riley shrugs. He reaches my way, and for half a second, I think he’s about to touch my cheek.Oh, god. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to? That’s not something I’ve ever considered before but now I am. What is happening? Why is—he changes direction at the last minute, dusting something off my shoulder instead, and the twinge of disappointment that flashes through me almost makes me pause.

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