Page 84 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
“I haven’t found the right apartment yet. Just want to be ready when I do.”
As I spoke, his eyes drifted past me, scanning the space. His mouth ticked, amused. “You’re right. His kitchen is nicer than mine.”
I frowned. “What?”
He looked back at me. “That first day in my office, you said it. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. I had forgotten the words, but not the moment.
I remembered it too well. Nolan’s office, the moment Liam walked in. My eyes had gone rogue, down his chest, across thoselines of muscle, before I yanked them back where they belonged. He’d seen it. I’d felt the flush give me away.
I blinked, realizing Nolan was looking at me like he’d been waiting. My brain was still busy rerunning that first day, broad shoulders, green eyes, and me getting caught staring.
“I asked you something,” he said, one brow up. “Care to join the conversation?”
“Sorry. Repeat the question?”
“Is Liam here?”
I shook my head. “He’s out. Why?”
“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Then I can ask without him hearing.”
My chest tightened. “Ask what?”
“What’s going on with him?”
“What do you mean?”
Nolan frowned. “Something’s off. He’s stiff. Doesn’t trust his instincts. The last couple days he’s been second-guessing plays he usually reads before the puck even leaves the stick.”
I forced a shrug. “And you think I’d know why?”
“You live with him.”
Not an accusation, just a fact.
I looked back at the boxes, then went to the kitchen to get some water.
“We used to… drink coffee in the mornings. Eat dinner at night.” I hesitated. “Then it just… stopped.”
“When?”
I swallowed. “Two nights ago.”
Nolan leaned against the counter, arms crossed tighter now. “That’s when I saw the shift.”
Nolan’s gaze lingered. “Two nights ago,” he repeated, almost to himself. He drummed his fingers once against his arm, thoughtful.
Then his eyes came back to me. “So, what did he say when you told him you’re moving out?”
I froze. “…I haven’t told him yet.”
Nolan’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t speak right away.
My mouth opened, closed, opened again. Nothing came out.
“That’s not like you,” he said finally.
