Page 96 of The Risk Taker

Those eyes. That look. I swear it does things to me I don’t even want to think about.

I clear my throat, trying to play it off. “You’re gonna do great tomorrow,” I say quietly. “Even if the spark’s not the same for you, you’re still one of the best goalies I’ve ever seen.”

His fingers shift closer, until our hands are fully touching and this time, when my thumb brushes across his knuckles, he doesn’t move away and intertwines our fingers together.

If someone had told me back in October that I’d be sitting here—with his hand in mine—I would’ve laughed them off the rink.

Nathan’s mouth curves. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

“About the game?” I lean my head back against the seat. “Not really. I mean, yeah, I wanna win, obviously. But mostly I wanna sleep for about twelve hours.”

He shakes his head and lets out a low laugh. The noise of the road blends with Nathan’s steady breathing beside me, and before I know it, my eyes slide shut.

I must’ve dozed off, because when I blink them open again, the windows are a little foggy from the cold air, and Nathan’s leaning against me.

I glance around, just to be sure, but the guys are all still asleep.

But my heart is racing all the same, because—holy fuck—Nathan’s head is on my shoulder, and it’s the most contact we’ve had in public… ever.

I know he would freak out and move away if he was awake, but I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

I adjust just enough so that he’s more comfortable, and he lets out a low hum and shifts his head on my shoulder.

My heart’s pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

I glance down, watching as his lashes rest against his cheeks. He looks so… peaceful. Which isn’t something I ever get to see.

So I stay still, afraid to ruin the moment.

Because this is—fuck—this is new.

Him choosing to rest on me. Letting his guard down. Trusting me enough to fall asleep like this.

I stare straight ahead, a smile tugging at my mouth. My fingers itch to reach for him, to lace through his again, but I settle for his head on my shoulder, pretending it’s casual when it feels like anything but. I breathe in slowly, catching the faint scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his skin seeping through his hoodie.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps moving up the aisle and look up to find Austin standing there, grinning when he sees us.

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he can get a word out.

“If you wake him up,” I say flatly, shooting him a glare, “I’ll kick your ass.”

Austin freezes. “Damn,” he says, holding his hands up. “Sorry.”

“Walk away, Rhodes.”

He chuckles under his breath and keeps moving toward the bathroom.

I glance down again, relieved that Nathan hasn’t moved. He’s still out cold, his perfect mouth parted slightly, a tiny crease between his brows.

I want to reach up and smooth it out with my thumb, but I don’t. I’m scared he’ll wake up, pull back, remember that we don’t do this in public.

So I just sit there and let the bus hum around us, closing my eyes to catch up on some sleep, wishing I could freeze time and just stay like this forever.

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