Page 64 of Game Misconduct
The girl beams like she’s just been handed the world.
Something deep inside me shifts, a slow grind I don’t like.
I felt it when her palm pressed ice against my shoulder.
And now I’ve seen her give it to a child who believed her without hesitation.
The worst part?
I wanted to believe her too.
Soon, we say our goodbyes to the staff and make our way to the front of the hospital.
I keep my distance from everyone while we wait for the valet to bring up our vehicles.
Thankfully, Sloane’s is the last to be pulled to the front, so there’s no questions from anyone.
By the time we get into her SUV, the air feels heavier. There’s too much silence stuffed into the cab as she pulls out of the hospital lot.
The radio’s off, but I hear everything—the hum of the engineand, the faint sound of her breath change when the light turns red.
I sit angled toward the window, shoulder throbbing under my jacket, and try not to think about the fact that she smells like the little girl’s shampoo and her own expensive perfume tangled together.
Warm and soft and not something I should even be thinking about at all.
My reflection stares back at me from the glass. Hair rumpled, collar tugged open. Old dog.
End of the line.
And yet, unbidden, a thought worms its way in?—
What if there was a kid in the back seat? A boy with her dark green eyes and my jaw. A girl with her stubborn mouth and my sharp chin.
The image comes so fast, so clear, it punches the breath out of me. A family that never existed. Would never exist.
A life I never let myself want.
Jesus.
I clamp my jaw and, force it down. I can’t go there.
She’s too young. Too polished. Too…out of my league to be honest.
Not to mention she’s my boss, for fuck’s sake. The woman who signs my checks, who holds my career in her manicured hands.
Dragging a palm down my thigh, I ground myself in the coarse drag of fabric of my slacks.
I need to think about the crease, the ice, the saves I still have to prove I can make.
Anything but the way my chest pulled tight when I saw her hand on that girl’s cheek.
The stoplight flips green. She doesn’t look at me. Neither of us speaks.
By the time we get back to the parking garage of our condos,the silence is thick, suffocating, and alive with every thought I shouldn’t be having.
I’m terrified that if I let myself break it, I’ll say something I can’t take back.
We continue to stay silent as we walk together to the garage elevator and step inside, her heels sharp against the marble, my loafers heavier than they should sound.
