Page 64 of Scoring Chance

I shake the thought loose and scrub shampoo through my hair like it can wash away the desire.

This is stupid.

We’re not together. We’re pretending to be married. For insurance. There is nothing less sexy than insurance.

I’m not built for permanence. I grew up watching a marriage rot from the inside. I swore I’d never get tied down. Never do to a kid what was done to me.

But...Tanner’s different. Always has been.

And I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that’s not what’s driving me absolutely insane.

We dress in silence, except this time, it’s different.

There’s no awkward fog. No tension.

Just...awareness.

Every time he brushes past me, my skin sparks. Every time he looks at me, I feel seen. It’s all charged. Alive.

We say goodbye to the rest of the team and walk to the car, side-by-side.

He unlocks the doors. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” I say.

“Burgers on the way home?”

“Only if I get fries.”

He snorts. “You always get fries.”

I grin. “Yeah, but this time I want extra.”

He smiles back, and the way he looks at me⁠—

It’s not just friendly.

It’s not just nothing.

And as I slide into the passenger seat, sweat-damp and sore and stupidly content, I realize something else.

I might be falling for him.

For real.

And I don’t know if I can stop.

After a lunch of drive-through burgers and fries, we relax at home and watch some football. Despite the pullout mattress being a form of torture, Tanner’s actual couch is shockingly comfortable. It’s so easy to sink into the cushions and rot for a few hours. Lulu dozes off against me during the third quarter. My heart swells as I watch her sleep, her small body an accordion filling and emptying with breath.

As the sun sets, Tanner gets to work on dinner. I offer to help, but it’s decided I’ll clean up and take out the trash after. The kitchen smells like garlic and butter. Tanner’s doing his usual wizardry with spaghetti and sautéed zucchini, humming some off-key tune.

On game days, my appetite is insatiable. I have two servings of spaghetti and meatballs. I probably could’ve eaten more, but there are five other humans who need dinner. We sit around the dinner, Davy regaling us with highlights from today’s game when Tanner and I made magic on the ice. I keep looking over at Lena, moving spaghetti around her plate, only half-listening. The way she keeps looking down, it’s obvious to me she’s stealthily reading her phone.

“Lena.” I clear my throat. “No phones at the dinner table.”

“Sorry.” She puts it in her pocket.

“She’s probably texting with Matthias.” Dean turns around and mimics making out with extra-loud kissing noises.