Page 70 of Full Tilt
“Yeah …” she breathes out with a cutting edge to her tone, almost like normal service has resumed between us. And I should be relieved that it has. “Perhaps you should head home now.”
She motions to the door with her hand, and my own falls to the nape of her neck—a silent plea for her not to push me away.
At this point, hell only knows where my brain is at. I’m so fucking confused, so fucking conflicted and torn. None of this is familiar to me. Jenna’s absolutely right; she is the first person to truly invite me to open up to her. In my adult life anyway.
“Jenna, I …” My sentence fails under the heavy weight of scrambled thoughts.
Reaching behind her neck, Jenna places a palm over the back of my hand, wrapping her fingers around the edges of my own.
I can feel her touch all the way to my toes, and more goose bumps erupt across my skin.
“Let go of me, Tommy.”
My hand drops to the pillow behind her, eyes still fixed on hers.
I don’t want to leave, even though I’m going to miss my flight and land myself in more shit with the team if I don’t head out now.
“I’ll be gone for eight days,” I tell her. “Keep your door locked and the dead bolt on at all times.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Tommy.”
I know I don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that I will. Especially when it comes to Jenna’s safety and sickos like Ethan.
Sensing that she’s about to ask me to leave for a second time, I rise from the bed and make for the door, harboring a shred of hope that she’ll ask me to stay, like she did last night.
It feels wrong for us to part like this. I don’t want to go on bad terms. Not after what she’s been through.
I pause just as I reach her door and turn to look at her. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me the whole time.
“In case you were wondering, I stopped by last night to apologize for kicking you out of my apartment the last time we … yeah.”
Jenna goes to say something, but I get there first, raising a hand in front of me.
“I also wanted to congratulate you on the game and that save you’d pulled off.” I can’t help the smile as it tugs at my lips. “Sure, Orlando’s center forward connected with the ground before the ball, but still, the shot was bending away from you when you made contact. It was a wild strike and an even better stop. You’ve got serious talent. Even if you feed your body like shit.”
On a headshake that feels like it’s made to mask her emotions, Jenna scoffs softly at me. “Thanks, asswipe. I’m sure you’ll need to lie down after that display of kindness.”
I want to laugh so hard, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself.
Jenna flicks a hand out in front of her, reaching for the pancakes and picking them up. “Now, be on your motherfucking way. I’ve got cold and distinctly average pancakes to annihilate.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TOMMY
We’re destroying Colorado, dismantling their defense and outplaying them on every inch of the ice.
The team player in me should be happy to see the Blades dominate strong opposition and especially on an away series.
Fuck. That.
With every goal and shutout the Blades secure, it feels like any reason or previous justification the GM might have had for keeping me gradually fades into nothing.
I should consider my place on the bench a privilege compared to my incoming fate—aka the farm team in Connecticut or the trade list by March.
And who the fuck is going to want me? While I’m warming this plank of goddamn wood beneath my ass, I’m not out there, proving to other teams that I’m worth taking a chance on.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Sawyer takes a seat next to me at the next line change.
