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I dab at my shirt. It’s not perfect, but I think it’ll work until I can get stain remover or something. I go to set it on the coffee table, but Sean takes it from my hand, his fingers brushing against mine.
“I’ll take it, don’t worry—” he stops, looking down at me, then smiles. “You missed a spot, here,” he crouches down to be closer to eye level and dabs at a spot. He’s careful not to touch me, but my breath stills anyways, and my sharp intake of air catches his attention.
His gaze lingers on my lips and then back to my eyes.
And then he stands. “Do, uh, do you want more to drink?” he asks, getting up suddenly. “I can get you more water.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, halfway up the stairs before I regain the ability to speak.
CHAPTER 7
SEAN
Ididn’t mean to almost kiss her, but I also didn’t stop myself. I set up my pucks and go down the line. Astrid was minding her own business, icing her ankle, and I’m the idiot that almost kissed her.
“Jesus,” Cory says, pulling off his helmet. “What’s gotten into you?” His stare pierces me, but I choose to ignore it.
I tap my stick against the ice. “Working something out,” I say. It is true. Practice ended half an hour ago but I’m still out on the ice, and the thing I’m trying to work out is Astrid. Since that day helping her move, I haven’t been able to get her pretty little face out of my head.
Or the way she watched my lips as if hoping for a kiss.
“Well save some of that for the scrimmage next week, idiot.” He skates over to me and slaps my shoulder.
I line the pucks up again. And again.
I don’t stop until hands hurt. I also take extra time in the shower. It’s become a part of my routine. I turn the water on as cold as it will go, rolling back my shoulders as a bit of the tension releases. It helps. But it never seems to release everything.
That feeling has been building for a while now.
Violet and Astrid have spent a good deal of time together this week. I wasn’t sure at first how it’d be to work with older kids and then someone Violet’s age. Kids can be a lot. Especially when the kid isn’t yours. But they get along well. And Astrid says it’s a nice change of pace to spend time with her instead of her high school students.
I can see bits of that teacher mentality. It has only been a few days, but I think having Astrid around the house has made some improvements. For one, Violet seems happier, less closed off, less quiet. Less like me. And when she’s happier, she does a better job at remembering to put away her toys when she’s done playing with them, which means I’ve had fewer early mornings stepping on stray Legos.
Being busy has meant that I haven’t seen much of Astrid either. Probably part of the building tension that knots beneath my skin.
I haven’t brought up our almost-kiss since it happened. I wanted to give her space at first, and now it seems too silly to bring it up. Maybe she didn’t notice. Or, maybe to her it didn’t mean anything. And that’s fine. Definitely fine. As long as she isn’t mad.
I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than it is. So I’ve just never brought it up again, which has been easy since the high schoolers started classes and Astrid has been working a lot. We haven’t really had much time together, but it’s cordial. She’ll say hi in passing, tell me if she needs anything. But otherwise, she acts as if everything is normal.
And everything is definitely normal.
But I have the weekend off. As nice as that sounds, it means that we’ll be home together.
I close my locker and pack up my stuff, throwing on my hoodie. The locker room is empty now, I think even Cory is long gone. The only sound that I can hear is the sound of the Zamboni on the ice, just outside the player’s tunnel. I suppose I don’t have a choice but to go home now.
And this is Victoria’s weekend, so Violet won’t be home.
It is for that reason only that I choose to push back the drop-off time tonight. I said I wanted to have dinner with Violet, and that’s not a lie, I do.
But I also want that buffer. Not for me, but for Astrid.
The less time we spend alone the better… right?
“Daddy!” Violet yells from across the front yard as the school bus drives away. She runs right into my outstretched arms.
I lift her into the air and spin her around, making her giggle uncontrollably.
“How was school?” I ask, carrying her inside.
“I had so much fun, we had art today.” She takes off running to the table in the kitchen when I set her down.
