Page 91 of Check the Halls
She does look fine. Fresh and bright-eyed, not a trace of makeup on her freckled face. I want to be there in person to make sure she’s really as well as she seems and it’s not just some magical filter she’s using to trick me into not worrying.
“How are you?” Her brow furrows in concern as she squints at me on her screen.
“Don’t worry about me, Madness.”
“But you make worrying look like such a good time,” she says dryly. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”
I grin despite my exhaustion. “Well, you must be feeling better if you’re able to serve me all this sass.”
“I thought you liked my sass.”
“Nah, you’re mistaken. I like your ass.” My smile grows wider as her face flushes on the screen. “I love it, actually.”
Images of recent nights spent tangled up with Maddy dance in my mind making me miss her even more.
“You have to leave for a skate, don’t you? You probably shouldn’t be thinking about my ass.”
“You’re right,” I agree, solemnly before adding, “Tell me what you’re wearing?”
My question starts a laugh out of her. “What?”
“I can tell you’re wearing my training camp t-shirt.” I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I stare at her face on my phone. Seeing Maddy in my clothes is unlocking a new level of caveman in my psyche. I see her wearing anything that belongs to me and my brain screams MINE.
“I am,” she concedes, her voice taking on a sultry tone.
“Tell me what else you’re wearing. ‘Cause in my head, it’s just my shirt and thinking about you walking around, bottomless like Winnie The Pooh is just making me hard.”
Her laughter is loud and I swear it’s a sound I would live and die for. “I’m not Donald Ducking around your condo. I’m wearing a pair of your joggers.”
I ignore the fact that she continues to refer to it as my condo. I know it’s mine on paper, but I want her to think of it as her home, too.
“Hmmm.” I don’t mean it to come out like a growl, but I can’t help it. “And what panties do you have on?”
Her lips quirk up and her eyes spark with amusement. “Well. My underwear was putting pressure on my incision…”
I sit up in the hotel bed, one hand gripping my phone, the other adjusting the semi that’s currently tenting my sweats. “Madness. Are you telling me you’re wearing my joggers and only my joggers?”
She bites her lower lip and nods. My tortured groan is met by her half-giddy giggle as I collapse back on the pillows.
In the background I can hear Maddy’s mom calling her name. She turns and responds, “On my way!” before turning back to me. “Lunch is ready so I have to let you go. Have fun at your team skate.”
“You’re lucky I love you. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to skate with a hard on, baby?”
“Can’t say I do, big guy. Try not to poke anyone’s eye out. Bye!”
I stepoff the ice a few hours later feeling better than a person should after a meager three hours of sleep. More than anything I wish I were home with Maddy, taking care of her any way I can, any way she’ll let me. But after our call this morning, I felt better than I have all week.
She just seemed so…good. So vibrant. Happy, even. The most Maddy-like I’ve seen her since she came back into my life. Finally, the knot that formed in my chest at the hospital started to loosen and unwind itself.
She’s okay, I tell myself for the umpteenth time since Ileft her yesterday, forced to get on a plane and go to another country.
“Michaels.”
I freeze just before I reach the locker room and turn back to meet Coach Stetson’s fixed stare.
“Yes, Coach?”
“A word.” He turns and walks. I follow.
