Page 67 of Crossing Lines

“What’s wrong?” Leaning in, he skimmed his knuckles down my cheek.

“Nothing. Just, uh, brain fog from the concussion, you know?” Yeah, I wasn’t thinking straight, that was all. My brain was jellied, like he’d said. I forced a smile at him. “I should probably go lie down again.” I scanned over the table. He’d never let me help him do the dishes.

“Okay.” He ate the rest of his muffin, then set his plate over mine along with our silverware. “Let me clean up, and I’ll join you in bed?”

“Yes, please.” Grabbing his wrist, I pulled him toward me and pressed a long kiss on his mouth. More cuddling in bed would set things right. Gazing into his gray-blue eyes, I said, “I think having you in bed with me will heal my brain faster than anything else.”

“Yeah?” He tongued the corner of his mouth. “And no funny stuff. You need to rest.” He stood, lifting the plates off the table.

I’d spentmost of Saturday in bed with Ryan, curled up in each other, with me dozing while he binged some series drama. I’d never done anything like this before. I was usually a guy on the go, working out, studying, practicing, or hanging out with the squad. The only time Ryan had left me was for practice and the Saturday night game. I’d been cleared to stay home, given the ruckus of sitting on the bench and the fact I needed quiet.

After the game, Ryan had brought me dinner and then gotten right back in bed with me. He could have gone out with the team to celebrate the win, but no, he’d wanted to be with me.

By Sunday afternoon, I was feeling much better, and I’d actually showered and dressed. Well, I wanted to show Ryan I was up to meeting this ex of his. “So, have you heard from Laurentyet?” I sat on his couch, drinking water and watching a replay of the Wild playing the Blackhawks.

Ryan rounded the couch and sank in next to me. “Yes, he texted. We’re going to pick him up at his hotel and take him into Old Town Scottsdale.”

“Yeah? Where?” I’d only been up there to hit the nightclubs on the weekend. I faced him, lifting a leg onto the couch cushion between us.

“I thought we could go to The Mission.” He laid an arm across the back of the couch.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen that place. Mexican food, huh?” I was pretty sure it was next to some sort of historic landmark as well. I teased the hem of my fleece. Of course, he didn’t want to take Laurent to a restaurant in Tempe, not with me along. Someone might see us together.

“Latin food. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to show him something a little different. Something you only get in the American Southwest.” He ran his fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck.

A shiver played over my spine. “Yeah, well, I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’re feeling okay? No dizziness?” His gaze roamed to mine.

“No dizziness, not even this morning.” Okay, that was a tiny lie. I’d had some blurred vision when I’d first gotten up, but I was fine now. I wasn’t going to miss this outing.

“Okay. If you start feeling unwell, let me know, and I’ll bring you home.” Wrapping his fingers around my neck, he leaned in for a soft kiss.

An hour later,we rounded the drive to the hotel and stopped under the large portico. Palm trees rose up all around the property, giving the place its namesake. The hotel was builtin the typical Spanish revival style that was common around here, with red clay tiles on the roof and a white stucco finish, made to look like the old mud they’d used on the buildings way back when Arizona was first settled. I peered out my window.

A tall man with short, dark hair, dressed smartly in a form-fitting gray polo and black slacks sauntered out of the sliding doors to the hotel.

“There he is.” Ryan climbed out of the car and met him on the other side with a quick hug and a kiss on each cheek.

I squirmed in my seat. The kiss was no big deal. This guy was French. It was to be expected. I glanced out at them again. Should I get out of the car? Shit. I should. I stepped out and stood, then waved. “Hi, you must be Laurent?”

“I am.” He hitched up his slacks and walked to me with his hand out, his brown-eyed gaze taking me in. “Nice to meet you, Jonah,” he said in an accent I couldn’t place. It was part French, part Canadian, and what? German maybe? Fuck if I knew. It was just different.

“Likewise.” I gave his hand a firm shake. I was a hockey player, for fuck’s sake, and I’d let him know it.

“So, get in, and I’ll take us into Old Town.” Ryan opened the back door behind my seat and gestured to Laurent.

With a smirk at me, he ducked into the back seat.

It was weird, but I felt like I’d won a prize because I got to keep my front-seat privileges. After I sat down, Ryan drove the car onto Mill Avenue. It would be a quick ride into Old Town, but all on side roads.

“So, Jonah, I heard you ended up with a concussion on Friday night?” Laurent leaned over to peer at me.

“Yes, but I’m better now. It was pretty minor.” I patted Ryan’s forearm while he drove. “Ryan’s been taking really good care of me.” I snuck a peek at Laurent.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Laurent chuckled. “You should have seen him with his mother before he came down here.” He cocked his head. “He told you about her, I assume?”

“He knows all about Mom’s cancer diagnosis.” Ryan gazed at Laurent through the rear-view mirror.

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