Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,42
instead. Well, plus Micky ended up on my knee.” Genevieve shudders, and I fast-forward to the next big play. “Okay, so here I managed to save Petey’s ass. See Petrovic give up the puck there at the blue line? We got lucky. But now watch this face-off. Keep an eye on Legace. I played with him in juniors, and he always passes left from that spot. But instead he fires a one-timer right off the pass from Shen.” I press play again, and we watch the puck slip just over my glove into the back of the net. Genevieve makes a face, and I laugh. “What?”
“How can you spend so much time watching replays of your mistakes?”
“Well, first off, there’s not much I could have done there. That was a freaking laser.”
“Still, if it were me, I’d want to focus on highlight reels of all my awesome saves.”
I tuck her closer and breathe in her citrus scent. “Because as much as it hurts, you only get better by studying your mistakes.”
She stiffens slightly in my arms, and I rest my lips on her hair. We’ve been watching hockey for over two hours now, and she still doesn’t seem bored of it. I’ve been providing as much commentary and insight into the action as I can, loving how she seems to absorb my every word with rapt fascination. She wants to know it all. Why the winger passed instead of took the shot. Why I moved out of the crease to challenge instead of pulling back. What happens after the period ends and we go through “that mysterious tunnel.” I answer her questions with patience and amusement, enjoying her interest as much as she seems to be enjoying learning. There’s something magical about seeing a world you love open up in someone else’s eyes.
“Well, I’m hungry, so you must be starving,” she says, pushing up from the couch and stretching. I already miss her warmth. It’s strange how much we’ve come to fit in such a short time. She checks her phone, her face falling.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, straightening as much as possible.
“Nothing,” she says absently. “Nothing.” She forces a quick smile and starts toward the kitchen. “Mind if I go through your fridge and cabinets?”
I don’t like her brush-off one bit and hate that I can’t even follow her easily. “Sure. Help yourself,” I call out, reaching for my crutches. They’re a mandatory precaution over the next couple of days. My knee is already feeling better from the fall, and I’m sure I could limp around fine now, but I’ve spent enough time being stupid and making bad decisions. I need to give my recovery every chance it can get, so if it means using crutches to get around my small apartment, then so be it. Hell, I gave up sex with my smoking hot girlfriend.
Girlfriend?
I stall at the blurted thought. We just met, and she’s never said anything to indicate she’d want that. If anything, she’s spent as much time pushing me away as pulling me close. And yet, my subconscious was clearly trying to tell me something just now. Probably that I’m in deep shit because I can’t imagine myself with another woman anymore. Now that I’ve glimpsed the girl in the mirror, I’m hopelessly hooked.
When I finally make my way to the kitchen, I stop cold. Warmth spreads through me in a sweet ache at the scene. Genevieve has a pile of ingredients on the counter, her hair twisted up and out of her way like she means business. Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she studies the container of fresh pasta and vegetables with a mystified expression. God, I’ve never seen anything so adorable in my life. It takes my entire arsenal of willpower not to interrupt her.
She must hear me in the doorway, however, and glances over with a quick warning look. “Don’t try to stop me. I want to make you dinner.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. Geez, I’m even getting hard over this. She’s just so damn amazing. I pull out the chairs at the table so I can sit in one and prop up my leg on the other. There’s no way in hell I’m missing a second of this. I might even sneak a couple photos and videos for my own enjoyment later.
She turns back to the counter, visibly bracing herself, and I prepare to keep my mouth shut until she asks for help.