Page 77 of Trade It All

That one word nearly undoes me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper before he can even get close. “I know this is dumb, I just—”

“No.” His voice stays low and steady as he closes the distance between us. “Don’t do that.”

I look away because suddenly I can’t stand the idea of him seeing how irrational this is. “I can’t leave yet,” I admit quietly. “I know they’re fine. I know nothing’s wrong. But…” My throat tightens painfully. “What if something happens and I’m not here?”

Dean doesn’t interrupt me. Doesn’t brush it off. Doesn’t tell me I’m overreacting. He just listens.

“I keep thinking about Luka,” I whisper, my eyes burning again. “What if someone gets hurt and I leave before they’re okay? What if I’m not here when they need someone?”

His face softens so much it physically hurts to look at him. “Maddie.”

His hand slides gently under my chin until I finally meet his eyes. “There is nothing crazy about caring about people.”

A tear slips free before I can stop it, and he wipes it away immediately with his thumb. Then he glances toward the rink where the rookies are still yelling loud enough to echo through the arena. He nods once like the decision is easy.

“Then we wait.”

My brows pull together. “What?”

He steps beside me and leans back against the wall like he has absolutely nowhere else in the world he needs to be. “We wait until everyone’s gone.”

Emotion climbs so fast into my throat it aches. “Dean…”

His fingers find mine, hooking our pinkies together softly. “I’ve got time, Baby.”

So we stand there together in the quiet arena while the last of the guys slowly trickle out for the night. And when the final rookie finally disappears through the exit doors, Dean pushes away from the wall, takes my face gently into his hands, and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Let’s go home, Baby.”

Chapter 34

Dean

Ihaven’tsleptinmy own bed in three nights. Not once. Every night after practice, after film, after whatever else I have to do, I end up right back here.

At Maddie’s.

My truck knows the route by memory at this point. I don’t even think about turning into my own parking garage anymore. I leave the arena, grab food half the time, and drive straight to her apartment like that’s where I’m supposed to be. Because it is. I let myself in now. That should probably feel bigger than it does.

The first night she tossed me the key and told me to stop knocking because she knew I was coming anyway, something in my chest did this stupid tight pull that I’m man enough to admit I felt for hours.

But I still haven’t asked her. Haven’t asked the question that’s been sitting on the tip of my tongue every single time I leave in the morning. Come stay with me. Move into my place. Make this permanent.

And the only reason I haven’t is because I’m not stupid enough to ignore the possibility that she says no. Not because she doesn’t want me. I know she wants me. I know she loves me. I see it every time she smiles at me like she is waiting for me to step into the living room counting down the minutes. But this apartment is hers. Her safe place.The first thing she took back for herself.

And if I push too hard, too soon—if she thinks I’m trying to take over that too—she’ll pull.

So instead, I do what any sane man deeply in love and slightly obsessed would do. I just keep showing up. Every day.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world that my duffle bag now practically lives by her couch and my toothbrush is sitting beside hers.

We leave for another away stretch tomorrow. But first—Denver. At home. Tyler’s team. My jaw tightens the second the thought crosses my mind.

I’ve been trying not to make this game bigger than it already is, trying not to let my brain run wild with every possible version of how tonight could go, but it’s useless. Because all I can think about is her. Seeing him. Him seeing her. What his face lookslike if he gets too close. What mine looks like if he says one wrong fucking thing. Thank God he won’t be on the ice with me. Because if I had to stand ten feet from that asshole all night pretending I’m just another coach shaking hands and talking strategy, I’d end up unemployed by morning.

Maddie is standing in front of her bathroom mirror curling the last piece of her hair while I pace behind her like a caged animal. I know I’m making her nervous. I know it because every few seconds her eyes meet mine in the mirror and that little amused smile pulls at her mouth. The one that says she sees right through me.

“Dean.” Her voice is soft. Too soft for the riot going on in my chest. “It’s going to be okay.”