Page 244 of Risking the Pucking Defense
She wants to argue, I can see it in her eyes, but mostly, I see relief.
“I owe him,” she says finally.
“He’s a good person.”
“The best.”
“So, are you ready to head home, baby? I’m dying to watch you handle this thing.”
She studies me for a beat before she looks at the wheel. “Or you could show me how you handle it,” she suggests.
“Can’t, baby. I’m injured.” I point at the bandage on my cheek and pout.
“You can’t pull that card after going back out on the ice,” she points out with a laugh, although she presses the start button as she does.
“Damn, you look hot right now,” I muse, watching as she sits wearing my jersey, her bare legs stretched out in front of her and her delicate hands on the wheel of this beast.
“That’s better than so terrified I look like I’m going to vomit in my own lap.”
“Nah, you’ve got this, baby.”
I sit quietly as she puts the car into drive. After taking a deep breath, she pulls out of the space, and then soon after, the parking lot. I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh, hoping my presence gives her the confidence she needs.
Hell, she doesn’t need me. She got here all by herself. I like to think I’m helping, though, so I squeeze gently and let her do her thing.
“I’m excited for our first road trip,” I say, speaking for the first time once we hit the highway.
“I’m not sure I agree. But if I were doing it with anyone, I’d want it to be with you.”
“We need snacks,” I point out as I pull my cell from my pocket and connect it to her car. “Snacks and a killer playlist.”
Ignoring all my notifications, I pull up Spotify and begin searching for the perfect playlist to get us home.
Hailee laughs. It’s like music to my ears, hearing her relaxed enough to find humor in my words. “We can get you snacks.”
I’m not sure how I’m actually going to eat any of them. Just talking hurts, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I need to limit it to protein shakes and a straw.
“You’re a really good driver. You know that, right?”
“It was never about my skills. My issues are all in my head.”
“Have you ever seen anyone about it?”
“No. I shoved it all in a box while I was ordering an Uber.”
“We’re gonna work through it. We’re gonna get you driving again, baby.”
“Looks like I already am.”
“You absolutely are,” I praise.
With my chosen playlist filtering from the speakers, I sink into the seat and rest my aching head.
I had some pain relief before leaving the arena, but it’s safe to say it hasn’t kicked in yet. I guess that’s my own fault for refusing any anesthesia when Eddie stitched me up so that I could get back on the ice.
Fuck. That hurt.
Worth it, though.
