Page 59 of Crossing Lines

“Jonah, we need to have a talk about, well, what happens next.” He pressed his lips together. “I mean, if all goes well, you’ll be traveling to Toronto this summer and…and I can be there.” He watched me.

“Of course, I want you to fucking be there.” A smile swept over my lips. “The first camp is only for a week, though, right?” Wait a minute, how the hell would this all work? I was supposed to be home for part of the summer and how much time did a coach get off between seasons?

“Yeah.” He glanced out the patio doors. “You know what? It’s getting late. How about we get through this season first, and then we’ll figure out the summer.”

“You’re right. We have plenty of time to plan.” With a sigh, I climbed off him and stood next to the couch. He was right. It was getting late, and I should go home. We had some busy days ahead of us.

He righted himself, then rose up next to me. “Walk you out?” Holding my elbow, he led me toward his door. “Sorry, but probably shouldn’t walk you to the parkade.” He tensed the side of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I can defend myself against Owen.” As we stopped at the door, I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, then my forehead to his. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you.” He grabbed my elbow as I left. “And, Jonah? Your friends won’t say anything, right? I mean, word isn’t going to get around behind my back about us.” He wrinkled his forehead.

“No, they won’t.” I squeezed his forearm. “They know better.” Except that Mason sometimes had a big mouth, even though he always meant well. Shit, I needed to watch him.

“Okay.” He sucked in a breath. “And, Jonah?”

“Yeah?” I asked, lifting my brows. Maybe he didn’t want me to leave after all. A smirk teased my lips.

“Love you.” He kissed my cheek, then patted my ass. “Now, go.”

“Love you too.” I waltzed out of his apartment, a little hop in my step, and headed for home.

The next day,I had a few hours between classes and practice and came home from the university to nap. As I strolled down the hallway to my bedroom, my phone buzzed in my backpack. “Shit.” Who could that be?

I set it on my bed, then slid the phone out of it and dropped onto the edge of my mattress, holding the phone to my face.Momscrolled over the screen. “Oh shit.” I answered it. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, Jonah.” Her smile carried through the phone. “How are you, honey? I haven’t heard anything from you for a month.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” I hung my head. I’d forgotten our bi-weekly calls with all this shit with Ryan. “Well, a lot has happened.”

“Really? Tell me.” Clanging sounded through the phone.

A smile broke out over my face. I could see her so clearly, standing in front of the kitchen sink, doing dishes, and glancing into the yard through the window. “First off, I have a boyfriend.” My heart bloomed with warmth. “In fact, I’m in love. I think for the first time.”

The clanging stopped. “No, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” I toed the beige carpet under my sneakers. “But he’s a coach.” I braced myself.

“Not a hockey coach. Not a coach for your team, though, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yes, Mom. A hockey coach for my team.” I held my hand up as if she could see it through the phone. “B-but he’s notmycoach. He coaches the defensive line, you know, Archer.” Like that made it so much better. Fuck.

In a low voice, she asked, “How old is he?”

“He’s a young coach, only twenty-eight.” I played with a string hanging from the hem of my fleece. I should have known she’d be concerned. Everyone was when they found out. “He’s from Canada, Toronto.”

“Okay…” She breathed into the phone. “So, how did this start?”

“Well, he’s new.” I snapped my brows together. “The NCAA allowed coaching staff to be added to the teams and they hired him last summer.” A smile tugged at my lips. She was going to like this part. “But get this, he didn’t join us until the new year because he was helping his mom through her breast cancer treatment.”

“Oh, bless his heart.” She sighed. “You’d leave me on the side of the road to rot.”

“What? Stop it.” I snickered. She was fucking with me now. She was okay with me dating a coach. Well, as okay as she was going to be. “I’d at least get one last meal out of you.”

“My tuna hotdish?” She giggled.

“You betcha,” I said in my best Minnesotan accent. Mom loved that.

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