Page 65 of Pucking My Bad Boy Boss
She rolls her eyes, but I can see the affection behind the gesture. "Resilient or stubborn, I'm not sure which," she quips back.
As I reach for the crutches leaning against the bedside table, Isabella helps steady me, her hands gentle yet firm. I'm struck by the care in her touch, the way she seems to balance strength with tenderness.
"Thanks," I say. “And, uh, not just for the help standing. It's for everything - for staying with me, for taking care of me, for being here despite this mess.”
"You're welcome," she replies, and there's something in her voice, a depth that suggests it's about more than just this moment.
As I steady myself on the crutches, I realize that despite the uncertainty of our situation, there's something real between us. Something that goes beyond fake engagements and public facades. It's a thought that both excites and terrifies me, but I know it's one I can't ignore. Not anymore.
The buzz of my phone draws my attention away from the serene morning. I grab it from the nightstand, reading a message from Rick. The training camp is starting back up, and he’s inviting me to join in, if I'm up for it. A surge of energy courses through me at the thought of getting back out there. Despite my injury and everything that's happened, I can't deny the pull of the ice, the game, the life I've always known.
But there's something else stirring inside me, something unfamiliar yet powerful. It's a sensation that's been building since Isabella and I crossed a line we can't uncross. Could it be... something more than just physical attraction? The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.
"I'm ready to go," I tell Isabella, the words carrying more weight than just my eagerness to return to the rink. She pauses, her expression conflicted as if she's wrestling with something on her mind. I can sense there's more she wants to say, something important, but she's holding back.
"Is everything okay?" I press, trying to reach out to her, to bridge the gap that's formed between us. She looks at me, her eyes searching mine for a moment, and I can almost feel the weight of her thoughts.
"It's nothing," she finally says, sliding out of bed with a grace that's all her own. But as she walks past me, she squeezes my butt playfully, a mischievous glint in her eye. It's a simple gesture, but it's loaded with unspoken words, a shared intimacy that's both comforting and confusing.
I can't help but laugh at her boldness, the tension of the moment easing slightly. "Watch it, Coach," I tease back, the familiar banter a welcome respite from the complexities of our situation.
She shoots me a sassy look over her shoulder, the kind of look that's become a signature of our interactions. "Just making sure you're still in one piece, Steele," she quips, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.
We dress, bundling up for the cold weather that no doubt awaits us.
Stepping outside, the world is a winter wonderland, blanketed in fresh snow, aside from the paths carved out by the snow plows. The camp is alive with energy, despite the early hour. Some of the team members are already up, stretching their legs with morning jogs, their breath misting in the crisp air.
Isabella and I walk side by side to the cafeteria, our easy banter from earlier continuing. The playful flirting feels natural, a comfortable rhythm we've fallen into despite the complexity of our situation. I can't help but steal glances at her, admiring the way the morning light plays off her hair, the easy grace in her step.
As we enter the cafeteria, a familiar figure catches my eye, and my mood darkens. Jason Sinclair is here, his gaze fixed on us with an unsettling intensity. He looks like he's got a secret, and I don't like it one bit. His presence is a stark reminder of the underlying tension in this whole charade.
Trying to shake off the unease Jason's presence brings, I focus back on Isabella. But the atmosphere between us shifts, turning more serious as we both seem to ponder the same question—what does last night mean for us?
"So, about last night..." I start, my voice trailing off as I search for the right words.
Isabella looks at me, her expression a mix of vulnerability and strength. "Yeah, about that," she replies, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
I pause, unsure how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that last night stirred up in me. "I mean, we can't just pretend it didn't happen, right?" I say, trying to gauge her reaction.
She nods, her eyes meeting mine. "No, we can't. But Dom, what does this mean for us? For this whole... arrangement?" Her voice is steady, but there's an undercurrent of concern that I can't ignore.
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her question. "I don't have all the answers, Isabella. But I know that what happened between us, it was real. More real than anything I've felt in a long time."
She bites her lip, considering my words. "I feel the same way," she admits softly. "But we need to be careful, Dom. We can't let whatever this is... complicate things more than they already are."
I nod, understanding her caution. "I agree. We'll take it one step at a time, figure it out as we go."
As we join the line for breakfast, the tension between us eases slightly, replaced by a quiet understanding. We're in uncharted territory, both professionally and personally. But as I glance over at Isabella, I can't help but feel a sense of excitement for the unknown path we're embarking on together.
35
Isabella
Themorningsuncastsa golden glow over the rink as I oversee the StarPucks running through their drills. Their energy is high, their movements sharp and precise. I can't help but feel a surge of pride at how far they've come. My mind briefly wanders to the upcoming end-of-training game against the Blades. It's going to be a great test of our progress, a chance to really see what my team can do.
I find myself occasionally glancing towards the Blades' side of the rink, where Dom is. Even from this distance, his presence is commanding, and my heart gives a little flutter remembering last night. But I shake off the distraction; I have a team to focus on.
During a brief pause in the drills, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Jenna. I can't keep the pregnancy a secret from my best friend. My fingers fly over the screen, typing out the news. Almost instantly, Jenna's response comes through, a flurry of excitement and questions. She's thrilled for me, but her immediate question hits hard: "What does this mean for you and Dom?"
