Page 71 of Locke

“The incidents on the ice,” she says, and I sigh in partial frustration.Part of me respects her tenacity.“The disciplinary record, the anger flags, the pattern of escalation with officials and opposing players… That doesn’t come from nowhere.”

“What’s your point?”I ask.She’s doing nothing more than reciting my record.

“You’ve been better,” she says carefully.“Not a single incident outside normal, run-of-the-mill penalties in three weeks.”

“There you go,” I say, giving her a squeeze.“That’s progress.Therefore, we probably don’t even need that last session.”

“Nice try,” she says with a laugh, but then she sobers, snuggling into me.“My guess is you’re aware that your job has conditions attached to it now and you’re white-knuckling it.Managing the symptoms because the consequences got real.”

She’s not wrong.I’ve been working hard not to explode, but that doesn’t mean the rage isn’t still there, trying to get out.

Livia’s voice drops low.“That works until it doesn’t, Locke.Whatever’s underneath it is still there and it doesn’t go away because you’ve got more incentive to keep the lid on.”

I stare at the ceiling.

The woman has a talent for being not wrong when I’d most prefer she were.

“So, your professional opinion,” I say glibly, “delivered from your bed, is that I’m a pressure cooker.”

“My professional opinion is that you’re a man who has been managing alone for a long time and that management strategy has a ceiling.”She lifts her head to look at me.“And my personal opinion, delivered from my bed, is that you don’t have to.”

“Don’t have to what?”

“Manage it alone.”

She stares at me, and I know she’s saying that she’s the one who won’t let me be alone with this.But I have no clue if she’s talking about her professional or personal capacity.

It doesn’t matter, because I’ve heard enough.I roll toward her and find her mouth in the dim light.Livia makes a sharp gasp of surprise, but I deepen the kiss with enough intention that whatever she was going to say next doesn’t make it past her lips.

She pulls back a half inch.“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” I agree and put my mouth to hers.

She lets me.

For now.

We both know she’ll get revisit it eventually.That’s the thing about Livia… she’ll put a subject down and let it sit, then return to it when the conditions are right.

I won’t see it coming until it’s already hit me.

I’m aware of all of this and the danger she presents, yet I kiss her anyway.

Chapter 22

Livia

Theconferenceroomonthe executive floor has floor-to-ceiling windows on the long wall, and I always wonder why they do that in rooms designed to hold meetings.I think it gives too much opportunity for someone’s attention to wander if they get bored, but lucky for me, that won’t be a problem.

While I’ve been in many meetings since joining the Wildfire, I can honestly say they’ve all been far from boring, and I think that’s a testament to how much I love this new job.

Patrick’s assistant Janine has arranged the room with drinks and breakfast pastries, no doubt made in the Blue Line on the first floor.Coach Monahan is seated at the far end, deep in conversation with Van and Oliver.The analytics director, Steve Durham, works on his tablet beside me, making grunting sounds when he reads a piece of data.

Not sure what that means, but while we wait for Patrick, I let my gaze drift out the window.

And immediately my thoughts drift to Locke.He came over again last night—merely told me he’d be there rather than asking.Once again, I made dinner.The only difference is we actually ate first and fucked later.

Both nights, he stayed all night, and that seems to carry some weight, although I’m not sure how much or what it means.