Page 90 of Over the Line

“Won’t that make all the muscles stiffen up?”

“Goddammit. Stupid meat puppet…”

I snorted and patted his thigh. “They kind of suck, don’t they?”

“Especially after three decades of beating the shit out of myself on the ice.”

“So you’re saying it’s self-inflicted.”

He gave me the finger, and I laughed, which made him roll his eyes, but he was chuckling.

It did kind of figure—tonight was a rare night when Liam wasn’t on the road or heading to the airport, so we’d both been looking forward to spending it together after his game. With the racy texts we’d been exchanging for the last few days, we hadn’t left much to the imagination about what we’d planned on doing.

Then Liam had gone for a rebound tonight and snapped it over the netminder’s shoulder. Before anyone even had a chance to register that he’d scored, the defenseman who’d been trying to stop him collided with him, sending him into the goalpost.

For an excruciatingly long moment, he’d lain there on the ice, conscious but in obvious pain. I didn’t imagine I was the only one who’d had visions of horrific injuries—after all, Chris had broken his collarbone slamming into a goal like that, and one of his teammates had injured his neck the same way.

To the relief of everyone in the arena, though, Liam had gotten up. To the roar of the crowd and the stick taps of both teams, he’d skated back to the bench on his own power. He’d gone into the locker room, but he’d come back shortly after. In fact, he’d only missed one shift.

He was fine, but he definitely wasn’t up for much tonight. He’d texted that he still wanted me to come over, though, and I was glad I’d taken him up on it. Even if we couldn’t tear up the sheets, it was good to spend some time with him for once.

So, here I was, my car tucked into the fourth bay of his garage while I sat beside him on his couch. Yeah, I wished we could be in his bed right now, but truthfully, I was grateful for this much. Texting and FaceTime just weren’t enough.

I squeezed his leg. “So how bad is it?”

Liam made an unhappy noise and slid his hand over mine. It was cool from the icepack. “Just some bruises. My gear mostly protected me, but…” He gestured at the side of his neck, where there was a mark coming in that I suspected was from the impact with the post. “And of course my shoulder is still bitchy about every goddamned thing, so it’s not happy, which means my neck and back aren’t happy, so…” He rolled his free hand.

“It’s almost like they’re all connected or something.”

“I know, right? Major design flaw.”

“Seriously.” I turned my hand over beneath his and laced our fingers together on his leg. “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

“I am.” He met my gaze with a soft smile. “Thanks for still coming over. Even if… you know…”

I leaned in and brushed my lips across his. “We’ll get to that. I’m just happy to finally be in the same room with you again.”

“I know, right? This is the toughest part of the season—when there’s someone at home I want to see.”

My heart actually fluttered at that. “That must be really hard. Like for the guys with families, but also…” I gestured at each of us.

“It is,” he whispered. “It took its toll on my last relationship. It’s… not an easy thing. I love my job and wouldn’t trade my career for anything, but I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t have some serious drawbacks.” He met my gaze, a startlingly vulnerable expression on his face. “It’s the part that worries me every time I start seeing someone. How long they’re going to stick around before the novelty wears off and the realities of the regular season kick in.”

Shit. That was kind of heartbreaking to think about.

I released his hand and slid mine over his leg again, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

Before I could think of anything, Liam cleared his throat and laughed halfheartedly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a buzzkill. It is tough—the regular season is a bitch—but as long as we’re both patient…” His good shoulder lifted slightly.

“I’m happy to be patient.” I grinned. “We just got started, but I’d say it’s been worth it so far.”

His eyebrow arched. “Even when…?” He gestured at the icepack.

“Yes. Even then. Like I said, I’m just happy to be in the same room. The rest—we’ll get to that.”

“Hopefully sooner than later,” he said on a groan. “I’m happy to hang out and chill, too, but my God, I haven’t jerked off this much in years.”

My spine prickled with goose bumps. “You too, huh?”