Page 50 of Second Shot

Just tell him. Just say the words that will give him some closure.

But I don’t say the words. Instead, I lift the covers and pat the bed. “We should get some sleep. We have that early flight tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” He smiles at me, his green eyes full of trust. He slips beneath the blankets and he snuggles against me.

I put my arms around him, and his breathing slows and his muscles relax. I kiss his hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. I promise myself I’ll do the right thing soon, but for now hiding is the best thing for both of us. After all, the truth will be very painful for Ryan to hear. Why not postpone that horrible moment, just a little longer?

For Ryan’s sake.

My chest aches with the weight of my cowardice. But I finally understand why people will do awful things, just so they don’t have to suffer. They’ll abuse others, physically and verbally, simply to avoid pain. They’ll lie and withhold information to avoid shame. They’ll do just about anything to save their own ass.

In this moment, I’ve never understood Ryan Caldwell more.

Chapter Twelve

Ryan

We won another game last night and I’m in a damn good mood. Of course, I was already feeling very cheery because I’ve spent the last three nights at Gabe’s. I love being at Gabe’s house. It truly feels like a home, and not just somewhere to shower and sleep, like my mausoleum of a condo.

I’m sitting at his breakfast bar with a cup of coffee that’s deliciously strong. In front of me is a chess board, and in between taking his turn, Gabe is also making breakfast for us. The morning sun streams through the kitchen windows, casting everything in golden light as I watch Gabe moving around the kitchen. He whistles a little tune as he whisks the eggs in a small white bowl. He’s in a very good mood as well, and I think I know why.

Things have really turned around for the Seadragons. Five wins in our last six games. Five games where everything clicked, where the chemistry we’ve been building finally translated into the kind of hockey that makes playoff dreams feel possible. The trade that felt like a disaster weeks ago now feels like destiny.

“Checkmate in four moves,” I announce, studying the chess board on the breakfast bar between us.

Gabe looks up from the eggs he’s scrambling, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Four moves? You sure about that, hotshot?”

“Dead sure.” I lean back in my chair, grinning at his disbelieving expression. “Your queen’s trapped, your king’s exposed, and my knight fork’s about to ruin your whole day.”

“Only if you think I didn’t see that move coming,” Gabe says distractedly. “You better check the whole board before you get cocky.”

I laugh. “No, I’m serious. There’s not a thing you can do about this perfect play I just unleashed on you. You’re about to get your ass kicked.”

“No way,” he grumbles. He sets down his spatula and comes over to study the board, his shoulder brushing against mine as he leans in. The casual contact sends warmth shifting through my chest. We still have the same desperate heat in the bedroom, but our relationship outside of the bedroom is turning into something steadier. More comfortable.

“Shit,” he mutters after a moment of studying the chessboard. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” I smirk. “I’m a chess genius.”

“I told you not to get cocky.” But he’s smiling as he says it.

I rub my hands together. “Hmmm, now, should I take your king or your queen? Ahh, decisions, decisions.”

He shakes his head. “That’s mydecisionto make, dumbass. It’s my move next.”

“Yeah, but either way, it’s gonna hurt.” I blow on my fingernails and buff them against my shirt with a smug smile. “You’re going to lose to the master.”

He laughs and turns toward me, grabbing my hands. “You’re a punk this morning, aren’t you? You haven’t won yet.”

“It’s just a matter of time, baby.” I lift my face to him, grinning.

He’s still smiling, but his eyes focus on my mouth. He lowers his head without a word and takes my mouth in a slow, sensual, tongue filled kiss that leaves me dazed and breathless when he finally lifts his head.

“No fair,” I mumble, touching my throbbing lips. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“It’s your fault for looking so fucking sexy,” he says, moving back to the stove. He scoops food onto plates and glances up. “Let’s eat breakfast and then you can slaughter me.”

“Nah. A true champion can show mercy when he wants.” I smile and knock over all the pieces on the chessboard. “Let’s call it a draw.”

---