Page 22 of Behind the Net

His expression changes, barely perceptible, and he frowns. “He was. He died.”

“Oh.” My heart drops, and now I remember reading this. Shit. I should have remembered. “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I don’t remember him. It happened when I was really young. He was a drunk, and he wrapped his own car around a pole.”

“Shit,” I breathe. That’s so tragic. I study Jamie, but he seems unaffected by this.

“Seriously.” He stares at me. “I don’t remember him. It’s always just been me and my mom. That’s enough for me.” He glances away, rubbing his sharp jaw. “Hockey’s fast-paced, more than any other sport, and the feeling of being focused on the game, shutting everything else out, it…” The corner of his mouth twitches again, and his gaze comes to mine. “On the ice, it’s like nothing else exists.”

My heart squeezes. That’s how I feel when I’m writing songs. Or when I used to. Like everything fell away.

“I like being part of a team,” he tells me, arching a brow. “But I like being the only guy in the net, too.” His big shoulders lift in a shrug. “I like the pressure.”

“Do you like your new team?”

“I’ve played against them before, but I’m not friends with any of them.”

“What about those cupcakes?”

His gaze shoots to mine in confusion.

“The container was empty. You gave them to your teammates, right?” He freezes, a guilty look crossing his handsome face, and my jaw drops. “Oh my god. You threw them out.”

He shifts, glancing around the park. The guilty look intensifies.

“Jamie.” I’m giving him an appalled look, and when I say his name, he turns and gives me his full attention.

It’s intoxicating.

“Did you dump those cupcakes in the garbage?” I cross my arms, but I can feel the smile twisting on my mouth. “They were terrible, weren’t they?”

Our eyes are locked, and the side of his mouth isn’t even twitching; it’s curving up. God, his eyes are pretty. The way he’s looking at me, amused and intense, it’s making my stomach flutter like crazy.

Are weflirtingright now? I can’t look away from him.

“They were incredible.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and my eyes widen a fraction.

We aresoflirting right now. What?

I blink about twelve times, memorizing this moment so I can analyze it with Hazel later. “So you didn’t dump them.”

He shakes his head, still giving me that smirky half smile. “I ate every last one.”

I’m melting. That’s the only explanation for what’s happening to my insides right now. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He’s dropped the smirk, but his eyes are still sparkling, amused, almost happy, even.

“If I make more, are they going to make it to the team?”

“Probably not.”

I laugh, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

God, I want to see a full smile so badly. I bet it would knock me off my feet, make my hair flutter with the force of it.

“You brought your guitar,” he says, changing the subject.

My stomach drops. I can’t tell him the truth.

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