Page 71 of Home Ice

“Why?” I don’t mean to sound defensive, but it comes out anyway.

Hawke takes a steady step forward. “Make the phone call.”

“I don’t need⁠—”

The choking sound in his throat cuts me off. “Are we going to ignore that you’ve literally pushed things aside to make a path in here?”

“We have a lot of furniture,” I snap.

“Barrett …”

I glare at the floor. The wall. The stupid grandfather clock in the corner. Not only did Dad inherit this house, but a lot of what’s in here was inherited too, and when we replaced the TV, I might not have had time to get rid of the old one yet. Or the box it came in. When Dad broke the coffee table leg, stacking books under it to hold it up was just practical. I didn’t have time to fix it. Or money to replace it. Or⁠—

His hands close over my shoulders. I didn’t even notice him get closer. “Tai.”

The whispered way he says my name makes me break. “I hate it here.”

Then I hate myself for saying the words.

“Make the phone call.” His voice is firmer this time. “Now.”

“Are you going to keep coming back to that until I do it?”

“Yes.”

“Therapy isn’t a magic fix.”

“Of course it isn’t. But it’s a start.”

I step away from him, breaking contact, even though I want to lean in closer. “You know from experience?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve seen a sports psychologist for plenty of things.”

That shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. “Really?”

“Really.” I don’t stop him when he moves closer. Then he slides his hand into my pocket and pulls out my phone. “I can be really annoying about getting what I want.”

I glare at him. “You mean this isn’t annoying?”

“Haven’t even started.”

“So that’s just your usual personality, then?”

He pinches my chin gently, leaning closer, and for a split second, I think he’s about to kiss me again, but he stops. And I’m disappointed that he stopped. Fuck me. “And you want to be best friends with this personality.”

I don’t want to smile, but I can’t help the way my lips fight me on it. “Now I see why I need a therapist.”

“Whatever it takes for you to make the call.”

I know we’re trying to lighten the mood, but I swallow past my nerves and grab his shirt to stop him getting away before I can work out my thoughts. “I really am okay. Sometimes everything feels like it crashes together in my head, and the work is never-ending, but we really are doing a lot better. I know that looking around, it might not seem like it, but we’ve hit a point where I can finally see an end to the constant overdue notices, where I get a day off through the week, and Dad and I have a great routine working for us. It’s the change that has thrown me off.” I take my phone from his waiting grip and stare at it. “But I’ll make the call. If it will make you happy.”

“It will.”

I lift my head to meet his eyes again. His gaze is as intense as it ever was, and there’s this … this something. It tugs me to get closer to him. Makes me crave crossing that boundary of personal space until we’re in a bubble of our own.

His gaze drops mine, slowly moving to my hairline, then down the side of my face, to my nose, before settling on my lips. This time, my nerves really do fucking explode. My hand tightens on his shirt, preparing to tug him closer, and it catches me off guard how ready I am for him to kiss me again.

The other night could be written off as two best friends who missed each other to our bones reconnecting. It happening again? When I feel this intensely about going there? There’s no brushing that off.