Page 43 of Cherry Picking
Riley smiles and rolls to his back, taking me with him and settling me on top of his chest. “Locke drove. I think he kidnapped your roommate.”
Reminder: I-O-U gift for Locke for putting up with my boyfriend on what was likely a nearly twelve hour drive in the middle of the night.
“You’ll be getting an earful from Coach when we go over the game on the bus.” I prop my chin on his pec. “You’re coming with us, right?”
He strokes a hand through my hair and hums. “Long trip to Toronto, right?”
When I nod, he flips me back to the side and sits up, making me instantly miss the warmth of his touch.
“Make a deal with me. You go shower and get some water in you while I hunt down Coach and the doc to work out a traveling PT schedule.”
“What about rest and recovery?”
Riley shrugs and pats the mattress. “I can rest and recover during games. Keep you out of trouble.”
His dimpled grin makes my chest feel warm and tight, and though I want him to wrap up in the sheets burrito style with me, I reluctantly agree to his terms. It earns me a short kiss and asmack on the ass until my feet hit the ground, and then I watch Riley reach over for his crutches and hoist himself up to his feet.
Regret and fear are what hit me first. Regret that I might never get to play on the ice with him again—my beast on the ice. Fear of what the loss of connection could do to our relationship.
I swallow it down, because at least for the next few hours, I’ve got my Riley back.
It turns out our day of rest and reconnection has to be put on hold because that short conversation I was promised turned into two hours waiting for Riley to come back to the room.
Which turned into a team meeting where we got reamed out by Coach about the game. Then, he announced Riley would be traveling with us to keep an eye out and discuss plays with the other coaches.
By the time we finished, it was time to board our plane—which Riley wouldn’t be on as it was booked, but would hop one arriving an hour later—and even though the flight to Toronto was only a little over an hour and a half, I’m ready for the day to be over when we land.
We all drop our stuff off at the hotel, and then I Uber back to the airport to wait on Riley. There’s only a few hours before we have to suit up and get prepped for warm ups, so I go ahead and find one of the bars in the building and order both of us some food.
A quick text of where he can meet me, and then all there’s left to do is wait.
Which is a little torturous, and only serves to remind me why I want at least a little piece of the world who is in on how absolutely crazy I am for this man.
It’s not long before the food comes out, and I pick away at the platter of fries while scrolling through my phone and checking out the highlights from last night. Maybe I should say lowlights.
A familiar warmth fills my body, and I look up just as Riley leans his weight on the edge of the booth, tucking both crutches under one arm. Those coal gray eyes watch me with a fervent reverence so strong I can feel my body burning.
He swings into the booth opposite me and gives the tiny dining area a once-over. “Dimly lit corner of an airport restaurant. I’d almost say this looks like a date.”
I kick his good leg under the table and toss a french fry at him. He chuckles and reaches for his own burger and fries plate—not piping hot anymore but still warm.
“Maybe I need a date, and this is better than nothing.”
I mean for the words to come out playful, but it’s impossible to miss the longing bleeding through.
Riley puts on a thoughtful expression that melts into content appreciation. He rests his hand palm up on the table, and I don’t waste a second covering it with my own.
It’s not often that Riley accepts public displays of affection, and after last night I desperately need the way his fingers squeeze mine and his thumb strokes over the inside of my wrist.
“Sometimes I forget that you aren’t used to this,” he says softly, swirling a fry in some ketchup as he avoids my gaze.
My throat clogs on the bitter honesty that wants to crawl out, but I swallow it down with half a glass of iced tea.
“So. You square everything away with Coach and Nash?”
“I’ve got a rough PT schedule outlined, and I’m allowed to come to practice and as long as I stay in the locker room.”
“Basically the same permissions they would have given you in six weeks when you get to ditch the crutches.”
