Page 30 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Do you have a tray?”

“A tray?” I echo.

“Yeah, you know, usually a wooden or plas⁠—”

“I know what a tray is,” I snap.

I shouldn’t be getting irritated by him. He’s turned up to help me out. But I can’t help it.

This incredibly hot hockey player has no place flitting around in my apartment looking all hot and—ugh.

I throw myself back on the couch and force myself not to watch him. The last thing I need is for him to catch me and think I’m interested in more than what he’s about to serve me.

It takes a few minutes more of him crashing about in my kitchen before he finally makes his way over.

His walk is awkward as he tries not to put all his weight onto his bad leg, making the tray wobble ominously.

But before I can untangle myself from the blanket to help, he’s lowering it to the coffee table before me.

“Oatmeal, fresh fruit, and a smoothie, all packed with vitamin C. Plus a chocolate croissant and a caramel latte because…well, what woman doesn’t love a pastry and coffee?”

“Right,” I muse, staring at it all, my eyes burning with emotion.

What he’s done is incredibly sweet, and…fuck. I don’t need to look at Killer through any other eyes than the ones that know without a doubt that he’s a fuckboy.

“That’s okay, right? Oh shit, you’re not lactose intolerant or something, are you? I didn’t even think to⁠—”

“No, I’m not. Thank you, this was very thoughtful.”

“I figured that I owe you an apology.”

My brows pinch; my brain too fuzzy to figure out riddles.

“For the noise,” he says, filling in the blanks.

“Oh, right. Yes. That.”

His eyes hold mine for a few moments before he lifts his arm and looks at his watch.

“Shit. Linc is outside.”

“You’re leaving?” I blurt like a fucking idiot. I blame the meds, because there’s no way I want him to stay with me. Nope. Not a single one.

“I’ve got a rehab session, and we’ve got a team meeting and⁠—”

“Of course,” I murmur. “Thank you for all this. I hope you have a good day.”

“Can I get you anything before I leave?”

His eyes bounce between mine as he waits for a response, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s silently begging me to give him a reason to stay.

But why? I’m sick. I won’t exactly be good company.

“N-no, I’m good, thank you.”

He nods once before turning around and disappearing from my apartment, almost as fast as he entered it.

I’m left with my head spinning, as the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastry fills the air.