Baden (Pittsburgh Titans 1)

It’s only when I reach my car door and open it that Baden pulls up beside me. I actually feel the weight of fear lift off me.

He rolls down his window, and his words come out in a frosty breath. “Hey, hot stuff. Going my way?”

His smile is warm and encouraging. He doesn’t look frustrated over my insecurities.

“I’m going your way, for sure. Going to cook you a wonderful dinner.”

Baden nods toward my car. “Then get in. I’m hungry.”

I take one step and turn back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he warns me, eyes hardening. “Don’t ever apologize to me for being scared. In fact, you don’t apologize to anyone for being scared.”

We stare at each other, and I’m pretty sure when I look back on things, this will be the moment my heart decided it fully belongs to Baden.

“I’ll see you at home,” I murmur.

CHAPTER 25

Baden

There’s a lot of buoyant chatter as the team bus pulls in front of our hotel. Most everyone is super high off tonight’s resounding win against the New York Phantoms. For one glorious night—through three solid periods—our team clicked.

Communication was great.

Passes were calculated and smooth.

We seemed to be one step ahead of the other team.

And even Patrik had an exceptional night in goal, his confidence growing as every minute ticked by. He didn’t let a single puck into the net.

Players get off the bus and congregate in groups. I’ve noticed over the last week that some are forming solid pockets of friendship, and most are making plans to go out. They deserve it, and our schedule is such they can even blow it out tonight if they want. We’re in New York for another two days as we’ll play the Vipers on Saturday and then fly back that night.

We could’ve flown home tonight after the game as it’s only an eighty-minute flight, but that’s a call someone in operations made to have us stay an extra night in between for the back-to-backs, most likely so the team would be well rested.

I am most grateful we aren’t flying back tonight as I plan on buying cold medicine from the lobby gift shop, load myself up with it, and get a good night’s sleep. I’ve been feeling like shit all day with some crud that’s giving me chills, a slight fever, a cough, and sore throat. For tonight’s game, I was feeling so crappy I actually watched the game from the visiting coaches’ office where I could sit the entire time rather than stand down at the boards.

I make my way into the lobby, noting some players are foregoing a night out, heading to the elevators instead. While some are clicking, some just aren’t. But I’m hoping in time, it will get better.

The small gift shop has a rotating rack of various medicines, toiletries, and other items people might need when traveling. I nab some Tylenol and cough drops. I consider the variety of sinus medications, but I don’t know what to get. I’m rarely ever sick, so I’m not familiar with much outside of what I already have in my hand. I’d call Sophie, but I know she’s asleep by now. My girl isn’t a night owl and is usually conked out by eleven. It’s close to midnight, so I don’t want to disturb her.

I will, however, miss her fretting over me. We talked about an hour before the game tonight, and she could hear the hoarseness in my voice. I admitted to not feeling all that great, and she was adorable in her concern. I’ve never had a woman want to take care of me like she does. She even threatened to get on a plane to come here, but I assured her it was just a bad cold.

Besides that, we both know that’s way too out of her comfort zone and she’d never do it. But it’s endearing that she wants to be here.

“Mucinex,” I hear from behind me. I twist my neck to look over my shoulder to see Gage standing there. He’s got a bottled water in hand along with a candy bar.

Gage has been a shining star on this team and was, in my opinion, the best acquisition we made. He’s not only been playing stellar hockey, he’s been the voice of wisdom and reason, and frankly, he should be wearing the C on his sweater rather than the A.

But Keller felt Coen should get the captaincy since he’s an original team member and one of the best players in the league. Of course, Keller and I disagree as to what makes a good leader, but I have no say in the decision.

I grab the box of Mucinex and wave it at Gage. “Thanks.”

“You look like shit,” he says with a smirk.

“Feel that way too,” I admit, suppressing a cough from the tickle at the back of my throat. We both head to the register, and I nod down at his purchases. “Potato chips?”