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

He took a step toward her.

She skittered back. “Stop.”

Hurt edged into his expression. “Dani?”

“I can’t.” A sharp shake of her head. “I just . . . I can’t.” More time. Space to think. A moment to clear this out, to push back the panic and to come back into herself. Then she could find the words, tell this man—

“You don’t love me?”

She shook her head again.

Ethan paled, and she watched in horror as his hand lifted, pressing to his chest, to the spot over his heart, as though the organ inside ached.

Pain splintered through her.

He staggered back.

She stepped forward, realizing that he’d thought the shake was in answer to his question. That wasn’t what she’d intended, not at all. She’d just been trying to clear her head. To stop the fucking tornado in her mind.

“Ethan.”

He’d been staring at his feet, but the sound of his name on her tongue had him looking up. “It’s okay, Dani.”

There was a note of resignation in his tone.

One that had the panic in her disappearing in an instant.

As though he’d expected this all along.

“That’s not what I meant—”

He turned and disappeared down the hall.

Horror froze her in place for a long moment then she hurried after him. Because fuck the panic, fuck having to think.

She needed to tell Ethan she loved him.

But when she made it out to the bar, it was to find that Ethan and his parents were gone. She spun in a circle, searching, and then caught a flash of him, walking toward the front doors of the hotel.

All but running through the lobby, she snagged his arm just before he would have pushed out.

“Ethan,” she began.

Constance turned. “Oh, there you are, honey. Ethan said you’d gone up to bed.” She stepped forward, pulled Dani into a hug. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. We’ll come out to San Francisco soon.”

“I—I’d like that,” Dani murmured, her eyes on Ethan.

But he wouldn’t look at her, just stared out the large plate glass windows.

Brian swept her into a hug the moment Constance released her. “He gives you any trouble, you just call me, and I’ll get him in line.”

“He won’t,” she murmured. “You raised a good man.”

Ethan flinched, and she stepped out of Brian’s arms, reached out to grab his hand. He backed away, moved to the doors so the sensor picked up his presence and the glass panels slid open.

Brian and Constance waved goodbye and walked out.

When Ethan went to follow, she gripped his elbow. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m going to walk them to their car.” He slipped free. “Wait here.”

“O-okay,” she whispered.

His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and then he turned and walked out the doors.

She waited.

But he didn’t come back.

And when, hours later, she knocked on the door to his room, he didn’t answer.

Why, fucking why hadn’t she just been able to say she loved him, too?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ethan

They’d hopped on a plane for an early flight.

Meanwhile, he was a ball of misery.

But he was in the business of pretending he wasn’t miserable, dodging Dani at the hotel, arriving at the plane mere seconds before they were supposed to take off, and deliberately choosing a seat far away from her.

All to bask in his misery . . . and his idiocy.

He’d fucked up royally. He’d pushed when he should have been patient, and because of that, he’d gotten an answer that stung like a motherfucker.

Dani liked him.

But she didn’t feel the same way about him.

Not yet, anyway.

He yanked out his notebook, spreading out his papers and books next to him, determined to focus on his schoolwork, something he’d been neglecting of late, and hockey.

The team typically traveled to their road destinations right after their game, unless there were more than the usual two down days in between matches. It made for a killer type of red-eye, but it was safer than potentially hitting a delay that might make them late for a game.

Because there was nothing professional athletes hated more than being off their routine.

Arriving the day before a game, sometimes getting in a practice or an optional morning skate in, let them get acclimated to the time zone, the weather, to get enough rest and exercise, and to continue their aforementioned routine.

For Ethan, this included joining in on Brit’s killer off-day workout and then spending an hour on the bike and another in either the hotel’s hot tub or sauna or the arena’s—if they happened to have the facilities for the away team. Not all did, including the one they’d be playing at the day after tomorrow—the final game of the road trip.

Which meant that he’d wake up in the morning, be tortured by Brit and company, and then head back to the hotel for food and hot tub time.

And all the while, he would be pretending that he hadn’t fucked up with Dani, that he hadn’t blown it, that he wasn’t spending all his time trying to figure out a way to explain to her what had gone through his head, and trying to find the strength to not push, to be patient, to hope she’d eventually feel the same way as him—

“Fuck,” he whispered, stretching back in his seat, the rumbling of the engines a pleasant drone that would normally make him sleepy. Most of the team was similarly coaxed, the adrenaline wearing down and the familiar sound luring them under. Brit was curled up in a seat across the aisle from him, Coop in the row behind her. If they abided by their routine, Calle would join him shortly, the two lovebirds, still sickeningly infatuated with each other. They’d probably fall asleep holding hands.

Ick.

Also, this just in, he was jealous.

Soft footsteps made him grip his pen tighter, writing faster in the notebook where he was jotting down ideas for one of his final papers. He just wanted to finish it, to get his thoughts on paper, and then he’d try to sleep for a bit.

Try to pretend he wasn’t responsible for gouging