Page 14 of Crossing Lines

“Oh, fantastic. I was wondering, I mean, since you left,” he said.

“Yeah, I stayed with her until she got the final test results, then made my plans.” My mind filled with the memories of cleaning up after her, making her meals she could stomach, and just being with her while she’d been miserable. My gut tightened. No one should ever go through cancer alone.

“That was a good thing you did, son. Taking care of her like that. I’m proud of you,” he said.

The corners of my eyes stung and the phone blurred. “Thanks, Dad.” I swiped my nose before I’d have to sniffle. He didn’t need to know he’d made me emotional. But fuck, I hadn’t heard that from him since I’d won my last game. The one before the injury.

“Anyway, I need to get going. I just wanted to check in since I hadn’t heard from you,” he said in a stern tone.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But everything is going well here, so don’t worry about me.” I twisted my lips. Well, everything except for the stalker I’d picked up at the gay bar and the player I was fighting to stay on a professional level with.

“Okay, good to know. Don’t be a stranger, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yep. Bye, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The call hung up.

I stared at my phone for a moment. He’d acted more caring than he’d been in a long time. Was it the physical distance, maybe? I didn’t know, and right now, I had footage to watch, noodles to heat, and whisky to drink.

The next evening,I stood at the back of the bench, Coach Finley on one side and Coach Patterson on the other. My other half, Coach Hammett, had gone off to scout for next season. I glanced at the scoreboard at the top of the arena. We had five more minutes to hold on to our lead of two to zero.

I leaned over to Finley, my gaze following Boehm as he powered the puck down the ice and into Michigan’s defensive zone, then shot a pass to Hopkins. “Boehm’s playing well tonight.”

Hopkins slapped the puck at the goal.

With a flick of his arm, the goalie snatched the puck and then set it on the ice.

“He is. Last night, he was…off. I’m not sure why.” Finley rubbed his chin, laser-focused on the players. “In fact, it seemed like he might have been distracted by something.” His gaze dragged to mine, and he hooked a brow.

“Huh.” My heart stuttered. Had Finley noticed something between us? I’d caught Jonah looking my way so many times it was obvious to me anyway. “I wonder what.”

He scoffed a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, I wonder.” Looking around for a beat, he leaned in close. “It’s common for players to crush on coaches. It happens all the time on the women’s hockey team.” He looked me up and down. “He knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yeah, I told him.” I glanced at my shiny black shoes, then focused on Hodge, going after the Michigan winger who tookout Jonah last night. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted, “That’s right, go for it, Hodge. You got this!”

“Anyway, let me know if you need any advice.” Pursing his lips, he signaled Hopkins.

Hopkins up-nodded him and skated toward us.

“Yeah, sure.” An ache teased my heart. That was a warning if I’d ever heard one. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t doing anything unethical and would not be doing so in the future.

A few hours later,after holding our lead and taking a win, I strolled down Mill Avenue toward The Club on Mill. Owen was already there. I’d gotten at least five text messages from him asking me where I was. I had a feeling tonight would be the last time I’d meet up with him. He was a stage-five clinger, for sure.

I hopped up the metal steps, showed the bouncer my ID, then strolled inside the club. The dance music was thumping through the crowd and lights flashed overhead. The place was packed tonight.

Owen strode to me, a thin-lipped grin on his face. “Took you long enough.” He wound an arm around my waist and led me to the bar.

“I told you. I was working.” I planted an elbow on the bar and wriggled out of his hold, then signaled to the bare-chested bartender.

The bartender sauntered down to me, and I ordered a beer. No shots tonight. I wanted to keep my head clear with the way Owen was behaving.

“But the game ended what, two hours ago?” His grin faded and his gaze grew hard. “What the hell were you doing for the last two hours?”

I stared at him a moment. Was he serious right now? “Well, there are things a coach has to take care of. We talk to the players after and?—”

Jonah and his buddies on the team waltzed in through the door of the bar, all of them dressed to kill. A sheer black cropped shirt stretched over Jonah’s wide chest and his ab muscles flexed over his form-fitting jeans. His black bangs fell to his cheekbones on either side of his blue eyes.

Good God, the guy was an adonis. Desire flared in my gut, and I parted my lips.

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