Page 206 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Don’t,” I warn, aware that I’ve avoided the last few events she’s hosted.

The first couple were just after my injury, and I wasn’t in any mood to put on a smile and fundraise. And then, well, Sienna happened, and there wasn’t a chance I was missing out on spending time with her.

“You guys are good though, yeah?”

Stepping away from my player ways and opening my eyes to what being in a real relationship is really like for the first time gives me a different perspective on how the married guys on the team are forced to divide up their time. It can’t be easy. While I might be gagging to get back on the ice, the thought of next season approaching, knowing that I’m going to spend months on the road and away from Sienna, fills me with dread. Assuming, of course, she’s still interested in me by then.

“Yeah, we’re great,” he says, a smile appearing on his lips as he thinks of his wife, but unlike usual, it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

I’m about to ask more when Ridgeway, our defensive coach, calls time on their session, and all the guys turn toward us.

Fletch is immediately swept up into a conversation with Rett and Monroe, while the other guys stomp past us, pulling their helmets off.

Nash, though, lingers at the back, and the second our eyes meet, I know he’s heading my way.

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through the air.

“Hey.” I fight to keep my expression neutral, but I have no idea if I succeed.

“How’s it going? With your rehab?”

“Honestly, it fucking sucks. It’s long and painful and fucking torture.”

He winces. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” I muse. “I’m sure you are.”

57

SIENNA

“Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” I beg once we’ve closed the salon for the night.

“You’re doing the right thing,” all of them say in unison.

“Calvin seems really sweet,” Lessy says.

“And not to mention hot,” Rachel adds.

“And he genuinely seems to like you,” Savvy points out.

I know all of these things, I do, but they’re not helping with the nerves over tonight.

It’s stupid. We’ve hung out after work numerous times. He’s cooked for me before—none of this is new. And yet, the butterflies are having a freaking riot in my stomach. Suddenly, it seems like the stakes are higher.

He’s told me how he feels. Okay, so it was through a message. But when he was talking, explaining everything while I was doing his manicure the other night, I felt it. And not just that, I saw it in his eyes.

He’s serious.

Mr. I Don’t Do Serious is freaking serious.

I’m terrified.

What if I jump into this and he hurts me again? What if I regret trusting him again?

What if it’s the best decision you’ve ever made?

I blow out a long, calming breath.