Page 63 of Westward

Atlas had one hand by my head, leaning against the wall, and he took the other to pinch my hip. “Excuse me? Are you over here saying another man is hot?”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. Thatcher is hot. I mean, Ashford Creek doesn’t have a shortage of hot men. I’m just saying.”

“I realize that you’re trying to make me jealous, but I’m holding it in.”

“So you’re not going to glare every time he needs to help me with something around the house?”

He scowled then, and I reached up and tapped his nose with my finger. “I have never been on a date or liked or wanted Finnian, Sterling, Thatcher, or anyone else.”

“You just like Thatcher’s mustache, don’t you?” His scowl deepened as he grumbled.

“He has to wear that mask as a firefighter. You can’t get a good seal if you have a beard, hence the mustache. Although I don’t think his kids like it, so he tends to shave it. He’s all barefaced right now.”

“Again, I hear the tone.”

I fluttered my eyelashes, trying to play coy. I wasn’t good at it, but Atlas loved me anyway. Loved me. What a concept. It still surprised and scared me daily, but I was learning to lean into it—even with the fear. “What? They’re our friends. We’re allowed to find them hot.”

“Is that in the rule book somewhere?” he asked.

I loved teasing Atlas. Because when I did, it felt like we had no worries, and time wasn’t quickly escaping us.

But that obviously wasn’t the case.

“You leave soon.”

He studied my face, his gaze intent. “I do. Training starts soon, and I want to make sure I don’t let the team down.” He was a force behind team morale. The only reason he wasn’t a captain in truth was that goalies couldn’t be captains thanks to logistics. “We have tonight. And a few more days.”

“And then you’ll be in Portland,” I said softly. “And frankly, I know you’re antsy to get back on the ice.”

He grimaced but kept his eyes on me. “I love being on the ice, baby.”

It wasn’t a kick to the heart because I loved that he loved it. He shined on the ice. Whenever he was in the crease, the world stopped, and he was a master at his craft. Just like before, I couldn’t and wouldn’t hold him back. It was all the other pesky details that stood in the way. “And you should. You’re good at it, you know.”

“Just good?”

“I mean, you’re fine, I guess.”

“You really do love testing me, don’t you?”

“There’s a reason that you are always a fan favorite and win all the awards.”

“Not all of them.”

“Enough of them. And while the forwards usually get the best of things, because of those whole point things. You do okay for yourself.”

“I appreciate that,” he said dryly, then softly, “It’s not forever.”

“I know. And whatever you decide for next year, that’s up to you. You do realize that, right?” I reached down, hooking my fingers in his belt loops as usual. “You need to be the one to decide if you want to retire and find something else to do. I’m not going to take that from you.”

“I love being on the ice,” he repeated. “But I don’t love all of the traveling, the constant hotels, the media, the eccentricities of this job, or the fact that my bruises take a little bit longer each time to heal. I love this job sometimes, and other times it’s not for me.” He shook his head. “I haven’t really said that out loud.”

“Atlas. Just make sure the decision is yours.”

“I love you, Lizzie. And that means while the decision is mine, you’re part of it too.”

“I don’t know if I can have that on me.” I shook my head. “Which makes me sound horrible and selfish.”

“There’s nothing selfish about you.”