Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
His ridiculous fur mohawk bristles, and he stares me down with his wide, slightly unhinged eyes.
“Gio?” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
I shift on my feet, suddenly overcome with the urge to wrap her in a hug and squish her.
“I was on my way home from the airport and I’m hungry, so…” I say, holding up my protein bar wrapper. “I thought I’d stop by.”
“You stopped by because you’re hungry?”
“No. I stopped by because I’m worried about you,” I say, stepping inside the apartment. It’s warm, cozy, and the last time I was here we played strip Connect Four and I gave her a lap dance.
Good times I’d love to repeat.
“So?” I say, tossing the protein bar wrapper into the trash. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we going to play another round of ‘Austin avoids my questions while your dog waits for an opportunity to strike.’”
Austin laughs. “He’s not going to bite you.”
I’m not so sure about that.
I follow her into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.
She joins me—and instead of sitting on the other side like I expect her to—she lays, her head resting in my lap.
My hands go to her hair.
Her hair is soft under my fingers, and I start running them through it without thinking. It’s a habit by now—something I do when she’s stressed, even if she pretends she doesn’t need it. Gio trots over, leaps up onto the armrest, beady eyes locking on me.
Fine.
Whatever.
Austin sighs, and for a second, it feels like the whole world slows down.
She doesn’t say anything, just stares up at me with those wide, tired eyes. It’s enough to make me forget how much my left shoulder still aches from getting slammed into the boards last night and how hungry I am.
I ignore the growling in my stomach.
“How do you feel?” she asks, resting her head against the back of the couch.
“Glad we won. Glad to be back.” Her long lashes flutter at me. “Couple of highlight saves. No big deal.”
Her lips twitch. “No big deal? That’s the most humble thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I say with a shrug. “I’m just saying, it’s not every day you stonewall their best shooter in a breakaway with five seconds left on the clock.”
“Ah, there it is,” she teases, smirking. “The humility was fun while it lasted.”
“Come on, admit it—you’re impressed.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smirk softens into a smile. “I’m always impressed. I’d be more impressed if you weren’t still scared of my dog.”
“That’s different,” I argue, pointing at Gio, who yaps in protest. “He wants to bite me, I can see it in his eyes.”
The dog’s ears twitch.
She shakes her head, a small, tired smile on her face.
I brush a few loose strands out of her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“What about you? Did the students survive today, Professor?”
“Barely.” She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I had to explain to two different students why Wikipedia isn’t a credible source of information. One of them argued that if it’s on the internet, it’s basically fact.”
“It’s not?” I tease.
Her lips twitch, but she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you start. I get enough of that from my students.”
I hold up my hands in surrender, grinning. “Hey, all I’m saying is— if Wikipedia says I’m the best goalie in the league, would you argue?”
She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile. “You’re ridiculous. Wikipedia would probably say you’re a unicorn if the right someone edited the page.”
“I’d take that as a compliment.”
For a moment, the conversation pauses, the room settling into an easy quiet. Gio, the dog, gets up. Stretches. Without missing a beat, he crawls onto her lap and curls into a skinny ball, glaring at me like he’s daring me to even think about petting him.
She strokes his body absentmindedly, her gaze drifting to the window. Her fingers move in slow, comforting circles, and I can tell she’s lost in her thoughts.
“Thanks for coming over,” she says softly.
“Want to order food and watch a movie?” I ask, keeping my tone light, worried she’s going to reject my offer.
Austin sighs, leaning back into the couch. “I was watching one of those housewife shows before you showed up.”
I nod. No surprise there—she loves reality TV, especially the messy kind that involves arguments over champagne and passive-aggressive party invites.
“Sounds good to me.”
Her head tilts, her lips quirking into a small smile. “You hate those shows.”
“I don’t hate them,” I say. “I just don’t understand how they’re always fighting. But hey—if you’re into it, I’m into it.”
The smile grows, and for a second, I feel like I’ve won the Stanley Cup.
“That was easy.” She’s happy so I’m happy.