Page 109 of Pucking Hitched

Silence stretches between us.

Then he exhales through his nose, almost reluctant.

“Keep it going.”

“Yes, Coach.”

His gaze lingers a second longer, then he walks away.

***

The rest of my day is the usual grind. Training center. Physio. Video analysis.

I sit with the coaches and watch clips, jaw tight while someone freezes the frame to point out that my shoulder angle is off by a degree. I get my hip flexors worked on until I’m biting back a curse. Mobility drills. Strength work. Reps on reps.

All while pretending I’m not thinking about the fact that I’m going home to a woman I can’t stop picturing naked.

By late afternoon, there’s one more thing I need to do.

An errand.

I want to give her something.

Because I didn’t exactly make her feel welcome when she first moved in. It’s only been a few days, but something has already shifted.

I still hate the mess we’re in.

But I also know we’rebothresponsible for it.

And now that she’s here, I can’t imagine anyone else in my house without it feeling like an intrusion.

With her, it doesn’t.

I’m actually glad to have her there.

So I need a gift that says “I’m glad you’re here and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

Earlier, I looked up a specialty art store in the city. The kind that sells real pigments, stretched canvases, brushes that cost more than a decent dinner.