Page 28 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

It was one of the best times of my life.

Despite only having a few hours’ sleep, I’m awake before my alarm, just like every other morning. Years of conditioning to be up for training sessions have left me unable to sleep in. Well, unless I’ve been drinking heavily. Then, I sleep like the dead. But while I might have been hitting the alcohol recently, I haven’t been wasted. At least, not as much as I would like to have been.

I throw the covers off, my knee aching before I even put any weight on it, a reminder that I’ve been overdoing it.

With a pained groan, I press my foot to my thick carpet and limp toward the bathroom to take a leak and freshen up.

It’s while I’m making my morning protein shake that an idea hits me. I gulp my breakfast down in record time before getting dressed and heading out.

Sienna was insistent that she was going to work today, and despite my suspicion that she’s going to be too sick to do so, I may be wrong. I don’t like to admit it, but it has happened in the past. Only once or twice, though. She might wake up this morning right as rain and already be getting ready for work. I might be able to tell her what she does for a living, but I’m no stalker. I have no idea what time the salon opens, or when she likes to get there.

Aware that I’m on the clock, I move faster, my knee complaining every step of the way. Thankfully, I don’t need to go too far, and thirty minutes later, I’m walking back into our apartment building, wishing Harold a good morning, seeing as he came on shift while I was out, and heading up to her floor.

There are four apartments on the level below mine, two of which take up the expanse of my floorplan. I stand between the two front doors and weigh my options.

One of them has a battered doormat outside and nothing else. The other has a pretty welcome mat and some fake flowers on either side. Even before I mentally work out which apartment is beneath my gym, which I assume is where all my noise comes from, I know exactly which one belongs to Sienna.

Standing between the flowers, I lift my hand and knock.

Silence greets me, and I worry that I’ve already missed her.

I try again, hoping that I’m not waking her.

“Shit,” I hiss when there still seems to be no movement from inside.

I should leave. Return to my own apartment with my tail between my legs and pretend this never happened. I should be getting ready to head to the arena.

I—

The click of the lock has my heart lurching into my chest.

“Bea, I told you that I didn’t need—Oh, it’s you.”

My brows shoot up, but not because of the comment, which I’m going to pretend I never heard, but because of how sick she looks.

Lifting the bag that’s hanging from my fingers, I say, “I brought you breakfast.”

Her expression hardens. “I don’t need breakfast. I need to get ready for—achoo.”

She sniffles before bringing a tissue to her nose.

“Ready for—a-a-achoo.”

“You’re not going to work,” I state, stepping forward and giving her little choice but to move aside and let me in.

“What the hell are you doing?” She tries to shout, but her voice just gets raspier before she begins coughing.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “There’s no way you can treat clients like that. Sit down,” I demand, pointing at her couch. “Let me take care of you.”

“Why?” she wheezes.

“Why?”

Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever cared about. Because I want to spend enough time with you that you remember me. Remember the time we had together.

Thankfully, those thoughts stay firmly in my head. “Because you’re sick.”

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