Page 129 of The Risk Taker

His helmet’s slightly crooked when he skates right back to me, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “You alright?”

It’s the first time we’ve spoken since that night in his room. The first time he’s looked at me like this—like I’m still his.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I snap.

He steps closer, his breath steaming up between us. “No one touches my goalie.”

The words slice through me, cutting me open in front of everyone.

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on his, wanting to rip off this mask, grab his jersey, and kiss him right here in the middle of the ice. Screw the crowd, screw the refs, screw everything.

But before I can move, before I can do something reckless and irreversible, the refs drag him away. His gaze lingers on me for one heartbeat longer, and then he’s gone, skating off to the penalty box.

I straighten, flex my sore shoulder, and reset in the crease, but my chest won’t settle.

Because all I can think about is how much I want to run after him. To be brave. To tell him I don’t care who sees, I don’t care if it complicates everything. We were happy, and I’ve never been happier than when I was his.

I don’t know how we’re supposed to go back to being just teammates after sharing a bed, after the kisses and touches that felt like they meant something.

I had my chance to say more, to do more, and I let it slip away because I was afraid. I was a fucking coward, and because of that, I lost him.

I blink hard behind my mask, force my eyes back to the play at hand, knowing I need to focus. But every piece of me—my mind, my heart, fuckingeverything—is stuck on him.

34

LOGAN

Didn’t this used to be fun?

Cheap beer, bad music, and a table full of idiots I actually like. Normally, this is where I thrive. Nights like these are supposed to be a reset. Lose track of time, lose count of drinks, and just let go. But nothing feels normal tonight. Not even close.

Our table is crammed into a booth that’s too small, half my ass hanging off the seat, while Austin drones on about fuck knows what. I’m not paying attention, too busy staring at the door.

He’s not even here, but he might as well be. Every time I glance toward the crowd by the pool table, I picture the way he leans against the wall, arms crossed, pretending he’s not watching me. Every time a girl brushes past our booth with a smile, I picture the way his jaw ticks when someone else gets too close to me.

How he could ever think I’d want anyone but him is beyond me. When I close my eyes, all I see is Nathan curled up in my bed, his forehead tucked to my chest, his pinky wrapped around mine. Nobody else even comes close.

The bar’s loud as hell, and I’m surrounded by my friends, but the room feels empty anyway, because the only person I wanted to see tonight isn’t here.

Austin leans over and nudges my arm with his. “You’re quiet tonight,” he says, lifting his eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

I shrug and force a grin. “Just wallowing in our loss.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he drains the rest of his drink. “I swear that game was rigged.”

“We were just off, man. It happens.” I shrug. “I’m just glad we didn’t get shut out.”

I know how much pressure is on Nathan’s shoulders, and if that were to happen, I just know he’d feel even worse than we’re all feeling right now.

It’s probably why he didn’t come out tonight.

Either that, or he just doesn’t want to be in the same room as me, since shit got awkward between us. Not that I blame him.

I’m pulled out of my head when a pretzel bounces off my cheek. I blink and look up, catching Ryan grinning at me from across the table.

“You even here tonight?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “That girl at the bar’s been staring since we walked in. Are you gonna say hi, or just keep pretending you don’t notice?”

I glance at the bar, seeing the redhead with flushed cheeks, biting her lip when I catch her eye.