Page 35 of Westward

Maybe. I’m trying to figure out some paperwork.

Me

Let me help.

Lizzie

I think if you try to help, we’ll both end up throwing things. I hate this paperwork.

Me

All the more reason to help. Do you know how many contracts and things I have to deal with for my job?

Lizzie

You pay people for that.

Me

I picked a few things up along the way. I’ll make dinner.

Lizzie

I don’t want to die from food poisoning.

Me

Hey. I’ve gotten a lot better in my old age.

Lizzie

Okay. Your house or mine?

Me

Mine. I rarely get to show off my place.

Lizzie

Whatever you say. Just let me know when, and I’ll be there. And please don’t poison me.

My lips twitched as I said my goodbyes, and I wondered if I was making a mistake. Oh, I was probably making a terrible one, but there had always been something about Elizabeth that did things to me that I should probably step away from. But we weren’t fighting, we never had. We teased one another and lived our separate lives because that’s what was easier. But things were changing, and Lizzie didn’t need to be alone, and I didn’t want to be either.

Not to mention I wanted to kiss her again. Damn it, I needed to kiss her again.

I tossed my phone onto the mats next to me and rolled my shoulders back. It was the off-season, because thank God it was summer, I didn’t stop training. While I knew most of my younger brethren would go out and drink tons of beer, eat what they wanted, and work it off later, I tended to focus a little bit more on cleaner eating. Although thanks to my nutritionist and therapist, I was doing better with my relationship to food. Meaning, if I wanted to grab a burger, I could. Restricting myself only led to harmful thoughts later, and frankly, a bitter attitude. Enjoying food was something I had always loved doing, and I wasn’t going to deny myself.

That also meant I couldn’t roll around in chocolates and call it dinner.

I paused, imagining Lizzie rolling around in chocolate and me licking it off her.

“Maybe that’s enough of that.”

I had no idea what the fuck I was doing with Lizzie. Yes, we had fun together, we’d leaned on one another, but she was mourning. She probably wasn’t even thinking clearly, and here I was, kissing her at every opportunity and constantly texting her. We texted often enough when I was in Portland, but not daily like we were now. Of course, we were neighbors, and even with both of us trying to watch out for Will—at least as much as he let us—we weren’t in each other’s pockets.

Maybe that’s exactly where I wanted to be.

I stretched a bit, getting ready for my workout. I had to lift today, as well as put some cardio in. Every morning I woke up and did yoga, it didn’t matter if I was feeling like shit, or I didn’t have a game anytime soon. Flexibility was king when it came to being a goalie. I knew that there were tons of jokes and innuendos out there about goalies and other hockey players stretching, but I wasn’t about to hurt myself because I didn’t stretch enough. As a goalie, I needed to constantly pay attention, be observant, and be quicker than a damn puck.