Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

that was right with Roxanne, a woman she hardly knew, and yet a woman she knew would be—

“Dani?”

Perfect.

Beautiful and flawless and perfect for Ethan.

The pressure on the seabed compressed her heart, squeezing it on all sides, squashing the organ, forcing out the hope she’d stashed there after her conversation with Ethan.

Wisps flitting away into dark water.

Her heart crumpled smaller and smaller, until she felt nothing.

Nothing except for pain and the urge to clutch her safety net closed.

This was why she didn’t let people in.

Because Roxanne was lovely and perfect for Ethan, so much more than Dani could ever hope to be, and her only consolation was that if it hurt this much after a couple of conversations and a near kiss, then she was lucky to have been reminded of it now and not when she was in deeper and—

Fingers on her arm. “Dani?” Sara asked. “Are you okay?”

She shook herself. “S-sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I just remembered that I needed to meet with Jess before the game.” She edged away from Sara before the other woman could see how deeply the thought of Ethan with anyone else hurt. That was a ridiculous thought. He’d asked her out on one date, and she hadn’t even agreed to that much.

He was much better off with a woman like Roxanne than her.

That was just reality.

And if she was in the way, she would deny Ethan his chance at perfect.

She couldn’t do that. She . . . fuck, but she liked him too much to do that.

Perhaps, if her misery wasn’t so heavy and forbidding, perhaps if she wasn’t already on that seabed, water and pressure on all sides crushing her, she might have been able to recognize that Ethan could choose to be with who he liked.

Perhaps, if Roxanne just wasn’t so freaking perfect, Dani might have seen past the wretchedness that had swept up and was smothering her.

But Roxanne was perfect and lovely.

And Dani wasn’t good at shrugging off her insecurities.

“I should go,” she said.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sara asked.

A smile, one that felt and probably looked forced. “Just peachy.”

Sara’s expression darkened. “Are—”

Desperate times called for desperate measures. She patted her pocket, pulled out her cell and glanced at the screen. “Oh, that’s Jess, I’d better run.”

Sara opened her mouth, protest all over her expression, but Dani put words to action and hustled out the door of the Family Suite. Her face felt hot, and her pulse scattered. God, her lungs weren’t working. She couldn’t pull in enough air, couldn’t breathe.

She jabbed at the elevator button and managed to suck in just enough oxygen to stumble down the hall and into her office.

Then she closed the door, threw the lock, and sank into her chair, thinking how lucky she was to have had this close call.

Otherwise, she might have really gotten hurt.

Yup, she was really lucky.

“Definitely lucky,” she whispered.

And if there were tears streaking down her cheeks, then she was just going to ignore them.

God knew, it wasn’t the first time.

Chapter Twelve

Ethan

It took until he got into the locker room and sat down at his cubby before he felt it.

It being Dani’s rock, he realized as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the hard object that was jabbing him in the thigh.

Sparks skating down his spine, tiny fireflies floating in his blood as he stroked a finger over the smoothly painted surface. Turquoise flowers and pink toes, glasses sliding down a nose, soft fingers on his jaw.

Want tearing him up inside, need stitching him back together.

God, he was in deep for that woman.

Noise gathered at the door, Coop and Max chatting as they came in, their gazes coming immediately to him, and he knew the gossip train was fully boarded and awaiting departure to its next destination.

As quickly—and slyly—as he could, he stashed the rock in his backpack and set about getting ready for the game.

A quick workout, stretching, copious amounts of foam-rolling, and then finally, at the last possible minute (a fact that used to drive his coaches to worry) getting dressed. But there was a method to his madness. He only got his gear on when he was in the right frame of mind.

Game time.

Or, he thought with an inner snort, was it game mind?

Decisions, decisions.

“Someone looks happy,” Max said, sitting next to him, literally rocking the boat (bench) with his nosy enthusiasm. “I’m guessing this has to do with a certain shy female, who was looking at you like you’re wielding Mjölnir.”

Ethan waited for there to be more information in that sentence. When it didn’t come, he said, “I think you underestimate my nerdiness.”

“Right,” Max said. “You’re the career student who hasn’t had the chance to learn all the important things.” A beat. “Like Marvel.”

Tugging on his T-shirt, he raised his brows.

“As in one certain blond-haired hero.”

More brow-raising.

“As in Thor.”

“Ah,” he said, loving the irritation and disbelief creeping onto Max’s face right now, as if he couldn’t believe that someone hadn’t heard of Thor and the movies. Ethan knew of both, had watched them, actually, since he did occasionally do something that wasn’t book-related, but it was about fucking time that Max got a taste of his own brand of humor (that being mostly annoying and only somewhat funny). “We’re talking about Norse mythology now.”

Max choked for a moment then recovered. “We’re talking about summoning lightning bolts from the sky, kicking ass with a giant hammer, and—” He stopped, probably because Ethan had little to no poker face. “You’re fucking with me.”

“’Bout time someone does.”

Brit.

He glanced up.

She winked. “You boys running with me today?”

“God, no,” Ethan said. “I want to have legs for the game.”

Brit’s pre- and post-game workouts were famous . . . or perhaps infamous was more accurate. She was fast, could run like hell, and no matter how hard Ethan pushed during the workout or trained beforehand, he never could catch up with her. The woman was like liquid lightning, graceful and effortless as she all but flew up and down