Page 67 of Smitten Pucking Orc

“Sorry,” Mikael said, his gaze dropping from mine. “That was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t say a lot of things. I won’t do it again.”

I nodded once and sat back down.

Conversation resumed, voices careful now. The joke had been heard and rejected, and everyone had noticed.

Including Ellie. I could feel her eyes on me from across the room, but I didn’t look up.

When I finally risked a glance, she wasn’t looking at me with gratitude or embarrassment. Her expression was somewhere between annoyed and amused, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to thank me or remind me she didn’t need defending.

She mouthed something that looked like, “Really?”

I shrugged.

She went back to her meal.

Crim caught me in the hallway twenty minutes later.

“That was territorial,” he said, falling into step beside me.

“She can handle herself.”

“I know she can. That’s not what I said.”

We walked in silence for a few paces. The hallway was empty, most of the team still at lunch or working out.

“You’re serious about her,” Crim said. Not a question.

“I am.”

He stopped walking, so I stopped too and turned to face him.

Crim studied me with the same focus he used to read plays on the ice, looking for weakness, tells, or anything that would give him information he could use to defeat them.

“Don’t make me regret that nod in the parking lot,” he said.

“I won’t.”

“The last thing she needs is⁠—”

“I know what she needs,” I said. “And it’s not someone who’s going to make her feel like she’s not enough.”

His eyebrows rose. “Good answer.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “She’s the best person I know, Kedish. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” I said.

He walked away, then called back, “And just so you know? I’m glad it’s you.”

He left me alone with my pulse roaring and the realization that I’d meant every single word. And so had he.

By 11 PM that night, I was supposed to be asleep. I’d watched the second game on TV—they won—then told myself to go to bed.

Instead of sleeping, I stared at my ceiling, my hip aching from working out in the gym and doing my exercises tonight. I’d sent the 9:41 PM ice photo to Ellie. She’d responded with a thumbs up, which was both disappointing and enough to make my throat feel tight.

I rolled onto my side, trying to find a position that didn’t make the hip pull.

Finally, I sat up.

“Fuck it,” I grumbled. “I’ll go do pool work.”