Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,43

bottling it all in.

“Did you… were you ever able to figure out what was making things difficult?”

“Yeah, and when we learned it was her body not working the way most women’s do, that was tough for her. She felt broken. No longer a woman. But then we learned it was me too, I think that was the tipping point.”

He hangs his head in such sadness I can no longer stop my instinct to comfort. I reach out and wrap my hand around his wrist, squeezing. “You?”

“Turns out my swimmers aren’t the manliest either.”

Another huff, that disgusted, hard rough sound that sounds like it’s torn from razor blades and sandpaper.

“You…?”

“Can’t help her make kids even medically. Not anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

“Not exactly something I planned on talking about,” he admits slowly. “Or ever, but yeah… after we learned that, it was her final reason for leaving. Together, we can never have what she so desperately desires.”

I drop my hand.

There’s nothing I can do for him. No way I can comfort him. He’s just confessed it himself.

I have more questions, about adoption. Or surrogacy. Maybe one of her sisters. Or a company. Yet it’s not the right time and if I’m being honest with myself even though it makes me feel like there are ugly bugs crawling inside my stomach at the thought… I don’t want to hear any more about Madison.

I can though, switch the topic to something I’m hoping is more pleasant.

“How’d you get started in hockey?”

Chapter Fourteen

Sebastian

I’ve had absolutely no intention of telling Gigi any of this. And yet I’m learning that’s part of my draw as well as concern with Gigi.

She’s too easy to open up to. She’s too easy to talk to.

And when she reaches out and touches me?

My blood sizzles and sparks so deep in my veins it’s possible she electrocutes me.

None of these things are what I should be thinking. Or why I’m so drawn to being around her, and yeah, I might have royally screwed up earlier, but everything I said is true.

I like being around her.

I like her.

It’s confusing.

For fifteen years I haven’t looked at a single woman and yet now, even on this stupid hiking path, my lame excuse to be able to spend time with her, my muscles are feeling the strain of forcing myself to not stare at her.

Ask her about her tattoos. Her hair. Her piercings. Good Lord. I want to trace all of her visible tattoos with parts of me that shouldn’t be anywhere near her. I want to discover if she has any that aren’t visible, ones she keeps hiding.

More intimate ones with deeper meanings in more intimate places.

And piercings? She has several in her ears, one in her nose. Does she have her belly button done like Madison and her sisters got in their rare rebellious act as teenagers? When their parents freaked out and made them all remove it.

If Gigi does, I bet there’s a brightly colored jewel dangling from a ring.

She’s too intentional with everything else she does to have a simple hoop, that much I’m certain.

The thing I’m not certain of is why I’m so damn curious outside the fact I haven’t had sex in months.

I’m too smart to know it has anything to do with simple horniness though.

No, it’s Gigi. The way I’m drawn to her.

The way I want her even knowing it’s the dumbest thing I could do right now.

I blow out a sharp breath, clearing my head.

In front of us, Bruiser is slowing down. He’s not used to these kinds of long walks but I’m not ready to turn it around. And since I’ve slowed to Gigi’s smaller steps, this hasn’t even been a workout for me.

I take the out she’s giving me, not surprised in the least she’s changed the subject. Sometimes I think she can read my moods better than I can.

“Hockey?”

“Yes. I imagine you were one of those kids strapped to skates before they can walk, put in all the fancy camps. I bet you were a rock star from the time you could tie your own shoes. Or skates, I guess.”

Her nose wrinkles at her joke and I chuckle.

“That’s not it at all.”

“No?”

I scoff. “Hardly. I started when I was six.”

“Oh. That’s late, isn’t it?”

She’s not wrong. Not entirely. I’m also enjoying the way she’s teasing me.

“For us Minnesota boys? You betcha.” I throw in the heavy accent and earn a laugh from her which makes me feel all kinds of good about myself. “Truthfully, I