Page 26 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

“He was.”

“Was?” His brows pinch, and his eyes soften as they connect with mine, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

My patience appears to be limited todaybecause I’m out of conversation points. “He died five years ago. Heart attack. Anything else you’d like to know?”

He tucks his hands in the pockets of his trainers and shakes his head. “No. Sorry to hear about your father. You must miss him.”

His question almost sounds curious. I remember feeling like that after my father’s death. Anytime I met someone who’d suffered a loss, I wanted to ask a million questions about how they dealt with their grief. Probably my way of looking for ways to process mine. Maybe Luke’s doing the same thing.

My irritation slides into this desire to help him find some answers, even if it means being vulnerable with him. I take a breath, then let out a harsh exhale. “Every. Single. Day. He was my best friend.”

He nods before turning to leave.

I lurch forward a step. “Wait. You never said why you came.”

Luke comes to a stop and pivots halfway around, giving me the full effect of very photogenic profile. “Doesn’t matter.”

Then he strides down the hall and turns the corner, leaving me a tad shell-shocked by our conversation. Or was it a confrontation?

What set him off more? The interview with Payton? With his clear distrust of the press, I’m almost positive he was snooping. Or did he overhear Payton asking me out?

But that would mean Luke was jealous, right?

Perhaps the bigger question I should consider is, why does that make my heart stutter?

CHAPTER 9

LUKE

By the time I hit the locker room the next morning, most of the guys are geared up and heading down the tunnel to the ice. Payton, who’s on the bench a few feet from my locker, finishes lacing up his skates. He glances at me but says nothing.

Which is good because I don’t want to talk to him. Not yet, anyway. Not until I process this prickly feeling that’s been stuck in my chest since yesterday. I suppose it could be jealousy, but that makes no sense. I’m trying to avoid Sophie Adams, not date her.

Payton saves me the trouble by leaving as I pull my shirt off and get my gear on. Practice will give my brain time to figure this out while my body works off some steam.

Coach has the guys gathered in front of the bench when I hit the ice. He pauses, giving me a pointed look, then continues his pre-practice pep talk. I make a tight arc and stop next to Ethan, who lifts a brow in question.

I reply with a curt head shake to shut him down—nothing up for discussion here. I’m late. That’s it. No way I’m going to tell him I overslept because thoughts of Sophie and her captivating eyes kept me tossing and turning until almost dawn.

We start with warm-ups and then move into flow drills. Once those are completed, Coach transitions us into competition drills. Near the end, my muscles feel like rubber, so I take a breather by the boards to shake my hands out and relieve the tension.

Payton comes to a stop next to me. “About yesterday.”

“What about it?” One of the trainers passes me a water bottle. I gulp down a long slug while Payton flexes his neck, trying to figure out what he wants to say.

“Sorry if I crossed a line.” He exhales as if he’s relieved to finally get it off his chest.

I lower my bottle. “You didn’t.”

He raises his brows. “Are you sure?”

I nod.

His expression turns borderline cocky. “Then you won’t mind me asking Sophie out.”

I grunt. “I didn’t say that.”

He snorts. “Then youdohave a thing for her.”

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