Page 45 of Power Play Pursuit

Her face twitches. “Right. Hopefully, it’ll take some of that swelling down. You look like an eleph—”

“What! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” My eyes fly wide.

I push the chair back, eager to check the mirror, but Elizabeth’s giggles mix with the scrape of the chair.

“Are you pulling my leg again? You’re mean. How did I not notice that about you before?”

She only laughs harder, clutching her stomach.

“You look so sweet, with your blonde hair, pretty eyes, and perfect smile, but underneath that, you’re a meany.”

She bubbles another laugh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You’re fine. You’re great. You look—yeah, I’ll grab the ice pack.”

She hands me my meds before pulling the ice pack from the freezer. As she passes it to me, our fingers brush. I swear, the heat coursing through me right now could melt the pack in seconds. Our eyes meet, and the intensity in her gaze tells me she felt the same sensation.

I open my mouth to speak, then close it right away.

She frowns. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I say, my eyes flitting away before returning to hers.

The intensity in her gaze deepens. “Tell me.”

“We’re not supposed to flirt, remember?”

Her face flushes a deep red, and she clears her throat. “Well, I’m off to bed. I’ll check on you a few times throughout the night to make sure you’re okay, if that’s all right with you.”

I nod, a small smile pulling at my lips. “That’s perfectly reasonable.”

Her eyes linger for a moment. “Have a good night.”

“See you tomorrow, Elizabeth. Sleep tight.”

21

"You have to wear my jersey."

Beth Bowen

I first had an inkling after our dinner at Monsieur Leon, and I’m sure of it now: James is not well, and it’s deeply troubling to see him so down.

He’s usually full of life, goofy and fun, but I haven’t really heard him laugh in days. The last time he cracked a joke was a week ago. It doesn’t help that a couple of nights ago was Miles’ birthday, and they video chatted. The team and their girls were all getting ready to go out to dinner since it was a night off. And even if James said he was fine, I can see that the light in his eyeshas dimmed. He may be taking it easy physically, but his mental health is suffering, I can tell.

I know it’s technically not my fault that he’s in this situation. But at the same time, it kind of is, and I really hate what it’s done to him.

He’s now sitting at the kitchen counter, eating the muffins I just brought back from work in an attempt to cheer him up. But so far, it’s not working.

“Excited for the guys to come back tomorrow?” I ask between bites. “Are you going to the game?”

He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s weird enough to watch them on TV, and it would probably be even weirder in real life. I might just sit this one out.”

My heart aches because I know how much hockey means to him, but clearly, it’s starting to weigh on his mental well-being. “Oh. I guess it’s a bad time to ask you for a favor then?” I venture, suddenly feeling inspired.

He frowns in confusion, his curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“Well, my dad’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to surprise him with tickets, but maybe I can just ask—”

“Your dad’s a Raptors fan?”

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