She shakes her head, but I catch the smile she’s fighting. “You’re ridiculous.”
I smirk, leaning back slightly. “And yet, here you are. Sitting beside me.”
The bus hums beneath us as the engine starts, all I can focus on is her.
The warmth of her leg pressed against mine. The faint scent of her perfume that smells so sweet. I shift slightly, pressing my thigh into hers.
She glances around the bus, scanning for anyone watching. Austin’s still up front, talking Coach’s ear off like I told him to. The rest of the guys are mid-convo about god knows what, and Cole’s still got his eyes out the window.
No one’s looking.
So, I take the chance.
I reach over and find her hand. She tenses for a second when my fingers brush hers, but she doesn’t pull away. When I lace our fingers together, her grip tightens like she’s been waiting for me to do it.
I bring our joined hands into my lap, letting my thumb trace slow, lazy circles over the back of hers. Her skin’s soft and so warm. I drag my thumb over the curve of her wrist, feel her pulse thrumming beneath it.
My brows tug. “You’re shaking.”
She lifts her head slightly, eyes flicking to mine before looking away. “Yeah. I’m a little nervous,” she says, blowing out a breath. “This is a big game for you guys, and if I screw up, it’s all on me.”
I shake my head. “We’re the ones out there on the ice. If one of us screws up, it won’t be on you.”
Her gaze drops to our hands, her thumb brushing lightly over mine, like she’s trying to believe me. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”
I squeeze her hand a little tighter. “You won’t.”
She swallows. The silence stretches.
“You nervous for the game?” she asks softly.
I almost laugh, giving a small shrug. “Yeah. Always.”
She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t seem like the type to get nervous about anything.”
I smirk. “That’s because I don’t let it show. But of course I get nervous, Bels. I’m the captain. I’m supposed to lead the team, and Westbrook plays dirty.”
She watches me for a second. “You worried you’ll get hit again?”
My lips twist. “I dunno. I’ve been hit plenty. I just…” I shift in my seat, dragging my thumb over her hand again. “Losing. Fucking up. Letting people down. That’s what gets to me.”
She goes quiet, her gaze on mine. “I’ve seen how the team looks at you. You won’t let them down.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. I glance at her, searching her face, looking for any sign she’s just saying it to make me feel better—but there’s nothing. Just honesty. Conviction.
Her brow lifts slightly, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “And if your family can’t see that, then they’re wrong. You’re not the failure they make you out to be.”
Fuck. Her words hit hard. Like she peeled back the part of me I don’t show anyone and touched it without flinching.
I drag in a breath, trying to cover the ache with a grin. “That confident in me?”
She hums, her eyes still on mine. “I know you better than you think.”
And maybe she does.
Maybe that’s what’s so fucking terrifying.
Because the more she sees, the less I want to hide.
