Page 325 of Power Play

“Looking for coffee.”

“It’s beside the coffee maker.”

Silence followed before he answered, “That feels manipulative.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the gray ceiling. For one disoriented second, nothing hurt except my ribs. Then I breathed, and Charm entered my body with the air.

Grief returned first, low and crushing beneath my sternum. Anger followed closely enough to hold it down, spreading ice through every place that burned the night before. I lay still and let both settle because fighting either one would require energy I didn’t have.

Yesterday, I woke up believing I had a woman. This morning, I woke up without one and knew exactly who made that choice.

There was no panic driving me toward my phone or desperate instinct to reopen the door I closed in her face and see whether she was still standing on the other side. Whatever broke on the ice the night before hadn’t repaired itself while I slept. It had frozen.

I sat up carefully as pain spread across my ribs. Briggs had checked me harder than I remembered, and my left cheek throbbed where his shoulder caught me during our completely illegal interpretation of hockey. The bathroom mirror had confirmed sometime after two that a black eye was forming beneath the swelling, although Briggs looked worse, which helped.

“Make enough coffee for me.”

“I already did.”

I glanced toward the doorway and found him leaning against the frame in Frost sweatpants he had definitely stolen from my dresser. He held two mugs, and one side of his jaw was bruised while his lower lip remained swollen where I punched him.

“You stole my clothes.”

“You told me I smelled like the rink.”

“I told you to shower.”

“I did.”

“And then you dressed in my clothes.”

He crossed the room and handed me a mug. “I’m adaptable.”

“You’re a parasite.”

“I prefer guest.”

“You weren’t invited.”

“That still hurts.”

Briggs drank his coffee while I held mine between my hands. Heat seeped into my palms and warmed the knuckles I had split against the glass before he arrived.

His gaze moved across my face. “You look like shit.”

“You look worse.”

“Yeah, but I have a naturally approachable face.”

“You have a naturally punchable face.”

“That too.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t force the smile to remain when I didn’t return it. His attention shifted toward my phone, which sat facedown on the nightstand exactly where I left it when we returned from the arena.

I had blocked Charm before leaving Kimball Falls and removed myself from the group chat before anyone had the chance to turn my breakup into a discussion. No messages from her could reach me during the night, yet I checked anyway. Twice.

My phone showed texts from Cade, Chris, two Frost players, and the team trainer reminding everyone practice had been moved to four. Nothing from Charm appeared, and it shouldn’t have been possible for her silence to hurt after I made it the only option, but it did anyway.