Page 20 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Theo sidles up next to Colt, practically towering over us in his skates and quips, “Fitting too. Like she’s a thorn in our side.”

“Clever,” I note. I pat his pec like he’s a good dog while refusing to fawn over just how hot the bastard is or how good he feels in the palm of my hand. And that’s through the thick material of his pads and practice jersey. The idea of touching his actual skin?

Swoon.

Lips pursed, I drop my hand to my side and rub my palm against my jeans.

“You done for the day?” Colt asks me. “Wanna ride home with me?”

“Russ said I should wait––”

“Thorne!” Russ yells. Our heads snap toward the back office. Russ cringes and points to me. “Girl Thorne!”

“Baby Thorne,” Theo suggests with a wry grin.

Nodding, Russ repeats, “Baby Thorne. Got it.”

“Thanks a lot, Teddy,” I mutter, tossing a quick glare at my nemesis. Raising my voice, I reply, “Yes, Russ?”

“I just got off the phone with Burrows’ doctor. He’s been cleared for the first game, but I want you to come with me. I’m gonna show you some things we can do to help with mobility before and after the games.”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you need,” I answer.

“Burrows, introduce yourself,” Russ adds. “Then meet me in the office.”

He disappears down the hall as Burrows approaches, his hand outstretched.

Ignoring Theo’s hot stare on the side of my face, I take it and smile. “Hey, Burrows.”

“Hey, Blake. Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I admit, refusing to look at Theo, the culprit for why I’ve been so absent since the first night I met him.

Burrows looks good, though. No crutches this time. Same boyish grin. And lucky me, he isn’t wearing a shirt.

Hello, pectorals.

“We’ll have to have you at the Taylor House again soon,” Burrows adds, watching me as I blatantly check the guy out. His mouth is tilted in a knowing smirk as my gaze snaps to his. “I think I owe you a rematch.”

“You mean when you aren’t cheating?” I tease.

He laughs. “Cheating?”

“You already told me your secret, remember? Start sober. Pick an opponent who’s already buzzed. Very sneaky, my friend.”

An annoyed huff interrupts our friendly banter, and Theo storms back toward the rink without a word.

What the hell?

I exchange a confused look with Colt and Burrows.

Burrows shrugs, and Colt calls out, “Where are you going, man?”

“Gonna work on sprints,” Theo yells back, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Sprints?” Colt’s nose wrinkles.

“Chop, chop, Baby Thorne,” Russ orders from his office. “Burrows, you too. Let’s go!”

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