Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,41
want to move.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur. “I’m so sorry.”
“I missed you too. And you can stop apologizing.”
“When you didn’t respond, I thought I’d lost you.”
I feel the air leave his lungs in a long exhale. “I know. I’m sorry for not responding. I was in a bad place over the last couple of days. Plus, I was busy with the doctors, coaches, and tests. God, I was so scared, Genevieve. I thought…” His voice trails off, and I glance up to read the fear on his face. “I don’t know what I would have done if I re-injured it permanently. Hockey is my life.”
I avert my gaze, the guilt returning in full force. A treadmill injury… I want to take him at his word, but is it just a coincidence that his treadmill injury occurred right after another fight with me? I’m starting to see a disturbing pattern. I may need him in my life, but am I good for his? I think back to the woman upstairs and her cold reception. She obviously cares about Oliver. Does she wonder why a guy whose life is hockey would risk it all on someone like me?
“Does it hurt?” I ask, staring down our bodies toward his knee. It looks purple, painful.
He shrugs. “Nah, not really. Not compared to the tear and surgery. And now that you’re here, I don’t even feel it,” he says with a smile. I reach up and trace his curved lips.
“I did it, Oliver,” I blurt out. “I recorded one of my songs.”
His eyes widen, then crinkle into the cutest smile. I don’t know why the confession came out like that, but I’m glad it did. It felt right to say. Necessary. Like he needed to hear it as much as I needed to release it.
“You did? When?”
“Last night. It’s why I was up so late.”
“Shit, Genevieve, that’s amazing! Can I hear it?”
The excitement on his face is almost too much, and I push myself up for a taste of that grin. One kiss isn’t enough, though, and I quickly melt into need for more. “It’s not mixed yet, but as soon as I get a preview, I’ll play it for you.” I kiss him again, lingering this time. It’s like our bodies are magnetized. I can’t pull away.
“This is a close second to hearing your song,” he says with a sly look, his lips still just an inch from mine. Sparks snap in the sliver between us. I feel the heat of his breath, smell the hint of shampoo and mint.
I’d argue this is first as I adjust to straddle him. “Good thing my knees are still okay,” I say, leaning forward to latch my fingers into his hair. I sink down on his hips, enjoying the firm pressure of him through his thin gym shorts. I start a slow, deep rock.
He groans and leans his head back in protest. “My doctor would kill me. I’m not supposed to exert myself for three days.”
“Three days? Oliver, that’s not fair,” I say, kissing him again.
“I know. I’m sorry, I just—”
He’s so conflicted, and I feel badly for teasing him. “I’m joking. We need to take care of that knee.” I plant one last, long kiss on his lips before climbing back to a safer position at his side. I reach for the remote and pluck it off the cushion.
“What are you doing?” he asks when I un-pause the game.
“Watching my favorite sport.”
“It’s not a live game,” he says. “I was just studying old footage.”
I smile and nestle against him. He loops his arm around me, and I slide the remote into his hand. “Perfect. I want to see it through your eyes. Show me your world, Oliver.”
CHAPTER 9
An ode to the one who’s never known sun
Inviting peek from the shadows deep
A whisper of prayer through stale air
She creeps out afraid
To finally face
The brilliant shade
Of the mess she’s made
OLIVER
“Geez. I never paid attention to how much you guys move around,” Genevieve mutters with a hint of awe. “I always thought being goalie was the easy job.”
I snort a laugh. “Easy? I have to be the best athlete on the team. Okay, there. See how the defender dives to block the shot? He’s late so when the puck deflects, I have almost no time to react.” I cringe slightly at the replay. “That’s kind of what happened with my injury. I was cheating forward on the shooter and didn’t have time to recover when he passed