Page 18 of Offside Possession

“Do you believe in fate?” I asked, unable to hold back the raspiness in my voice.

“Is this some kind of joke?” She tried to pull her hand away, but I didn’t let her. Instead, I shook my head.

“No, not at all. I’m serious. Look.” I bunched my brows. “In the field I work in⁠—“

“Hockey?”

“Yeah.” I tried to ignore the heat that washed over my face. “Fate. Destiny. Luck. We’re known to be a little superstitious, and I gotta admit, I’m one of them.”

“You are?” Most people scoffed or teased you for this. But as I stared at my girl, I realized there was none of that.

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe in psychic abilities?” she asked, and my eyes widened.

“What?”

“Do you believe in the ability to know something before it happens for no reason?” she explained and then sighed. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Full disclosure? I don’t know how it happens, but I can do that.”

“Really?” I asked without judgment.

And just like that, my troublemaker got even more interesting.

“Yes.” She licked her lips and leaned in closer. Her bare arm brushed against mine, and her fingers laced tighter through mine. “Last night, before I walked into the bar, I knew something was going to happen. Something good and out of this world. Then, when I walked in here… honestly? I chalked it up to deciding I was going to go back to your place to give you my number.”

“A number you already have.” I reminded her. “And now?” I asked, unable to blink, too afraid I’d miss some kind of expression or emotion.

“Now it turns out the world is weirdly smaller than either of us could have imagined.”

“Fate.”

“Or destiny.” She chewed on that plump bottom lip I knew I would dream about tonight.

“So… you’re Sam’s sister. I’m Sam’s friend.”

“That we are.” She smiled sadly.

I lost her warm gaze when the waitress came by to drop off our plates and drinks, along with a complimentary appetizer the chef had sent for me. It wasn’t unusual for people in Houston to recognize me and do things like this. Gestures of kindness were the way of the people in Houston. Especially with their hockey players.

“This looks great,” she said, but when I glanced down at her next to me, she shuffled her food around her plate like she wasn’t hungry.

“Something wrong with the food?” She shook her head, giving me a polite smile.

“No, nothing like that. The French toast looks great.” I looked at my own dish and had to agree with her.

“It does,” I agreed, and both of us dug in. The silence as we ate side by side felt heavy.

I tried to make small talk, but she was deep in her head and thoughts. Once we finished brunch, I took care of the bill and slipped out of the booth, not hesitating to take her hand with mine.

If Stella thought her brother would stop me from pursuing her, from claiming her, she had something else coming to her.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“I’m sure you have more important stuff to do,” she argued. “Your phone’s been going off nonstop since the food hit the table.” It had, but I didn’t give a shit.

“And?”

“And… I don’t know, that’s more important, right? You have a game tomorrow and⁠—“