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Everything they’d done since dinner had held way more weight than a bunch of words. Why say the words when they could simply show each other how they felt?
Padding to the kitchen barefoot, Blake grabbed a travel mug from her cabinet and pressed the button on the Nespresso to brew the coffee, adding creamer and sugar the way she liked. He’d just popped the top on when she came out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go. He could see from the pensive look on her face she was already thinking about what she would be facing at the hospital. He’d become a bit of an expert over the years in reading Erika’s expressions, so he knew her worried doctor face.
“Here,” he said, holding the coffee cup out to her once she’d thrown on her coat and grabbed her purse and car keys.
“I’m sorry I have to run like this.”
Blake leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. I would have had to leave in a couple hours anyway. I’ll see you when I get back.”
It looked as if Erika wanted to say something more, but in the end, she just nodded. “Safe flight,” she said, just as she had a million times before.
Unfortunately, this time…something felt slightly off.
Before Blake could reach for her, intent on giving her a proper kiss goodbye, Erika turned toward the door. “See you in a few days.”
He frowned, annoyed. What the hell kind of goodbye was that?
He shook it off, chalking it up to her rush to get to the hospital. Obviously, there were a lot of people who needed her help. When he considered that, he felt selfish for trying to steal a few more minutes.
Sighing, he returned to her bedroom, pulling his phone from the jeans he’d shed last night. He fired off a quick text. Given Erika’s lacking relationship history, it appeared it was up to him to show her how a decent boyfriend treated his girlfriend.
The irony of that wasn’t lost on him because God knew he had less experience than she did with committed relationships.
Regardless…he was willing to give it the old college try.
Miss you already. Hope everything is okay at the hospital. I’ll text when I land. Dream of me tonight, because I’m sure as hell going to be dreaming of you.
Blake hit send, grinning. Not too bad if he said so himself. He waited for the three dots to appear, just in case Erika hadn’t gotten to her car yet.
When they didn’t, he figured she was already driving. She’d dealt with too many injuries thanks to distracted driving, so she never looked at her phone when she was behind the wheel.
* * *
“Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Tank stowed his bag in the overhead compartment of the plane before plopping down next to Blake. They were heading back to Baltimore after three days bouncing around the West Coast, starting in Vegas before moving on to San Jose. Finally, they were on their way home.
All Blake had to do was get this six-and-a-half-hour flight over with, then he could get back home to his girls.
Or at least, he hoped they were his girls. He didn’t question Corky’s devotion to him, but it felt like he might be on shaky ground with Erika.
No. Not shaky.
Just the same fucking ground he’d been on for the past three years. When he left her place after what he was now calling the greatest night of his life, his feet didn’t touch the ground for hours. In his mind, he and Erika had turned a corner, had embarked on what he hoped was going to be his first—and, God willing, last—serious committed relationship.
“I’m fine,” he lied to Tank, though his crossed arms and scowl were probably belying that fact.
“Dude,” Tank said with an arched brow. “You just played two of the best fucking games of your career, and you’ve set yourself up to break your own personal scoring record. Not to mention if you score forty goals, it’ll be your third consecutive year doing so, which means you’ll be tied with Alex Stone, who currently holds the record for the Rays. You’re on fire this season.”
Blake tried not to think about stuff like that too hard because fixating on records could fuck with a guy’s head. “I don’t look at the numbers, you know that.”
“I get it,” Tank hastened to add. Probably because his best friend was also in line to tie Stone’s record, and like Blake, he knew it was best to take it one game at a time rather than start obsessing about the bigger picture. “Just trying to figure out why you’re doing a damn good impersonation of Victor this morning. Because you’ve got his scowl down, man.”
“I fucking heard that,” Victor grumbled from across the aisle.
Coulton, who had the window seat, peered around Victor and chuckled. “Tank’s right. Blake looks just like you right now. Grumpy as fuck.”
“I’m not grumpy,” Victor grumbled. “I just don’t like people.”
“You’re surrounded by your team,” Tank pointed out. “It’s not like you’re flying coach alone.”
