Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Sorry, I was daydreaming,” she replies, forcing a smile as she tosses her makeup in her bag.
I fucking hate that fake smile.
“Try again, Red.”
“I really was. I’ll pull on my clothes, and I’m ready to head out. We’re in the box again tonight, right?”
We’re supposed to be attending the game, but now I’m second-guessing if we should go or if we should stay home and talk about whatever has put that look in her perfect blue eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“What?” She shakes her head and moves to walk around me, not looking me in the eye. “I don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Okay. You’re going to piss me off, Ivy.”
But she doesn’t stop walking. She doesn’t stop to look at me.
And my heart kicks up.
Because what the fuck is this? My girl doesn’t freeze me out. Ever.
“Are you tired?”
“I’m fine,” she calls out from the closet. “Just lost in thought.”
She comes walking out in jeans and a black sweater.
Not my jersey.
We’re going to a motherfucking Flurry game, and she’s not wearing my jersey.
“You’re wearing that to the game?” I lift an eyebrow, and she looks down at herself, and then her eyes widen and she rushes back into the closet.
“Sorry! I swear, my brain isn’t here today.”
She returns in my jersey and does a little spin.
“Better?”
“No. I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
The smile falls from her face. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just having an off day. We all have them. And I have to leave early tomorrow morning so I can get to work, and I’m just thinking about all of that. There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go.”
I shake my head and reach out to brush my fingers through her soft hair.
“I love you, you know.”
Her eyebrows pull together for just a second, and she’s staring at my chest when she says, “I know. I love you too.”
“But do you trust me?”
That has her eyes darting up to mine and she frowns. “Of course.”
“When you’re ready, I want to know what’s going on in your perfect head. Because I don’t buy for a minute that you’re daydreaming or thinking about work.”
She sighs and shakes her head, and then to my surprise, she leans in and rests her forehead on my chest and her hands on my sides.
“I’m a bad girlfriend.”
“Whoa.” I frown and drag my hands up and down her back. “Not true.”
“Totally true,” she says, still leaning on me. “I forgot to put your jersey on.”
“You remembered.” I kiss the top of her head and then lift her chin so I can look in her eyes, and feel my heart catch when I see tears. “Baby, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Her deep inhale is choppy, and then she swallows thickly.
“I just worry about you, that’s all.”
“About me?” She nods, and I brush my thumb over her gorgeous freckles. “I’m great. I really am, and I wouldn’t bullshit you. The knee is holding up well in practices, and this trip has been great. You’re here with me. It doesn’t get much better than this.”
She nods, watching me closely. “So, you’re happy? This is what you want?”
“It’s exactly what I want,” I assure her and bend down to kiss her plump lips. “Don’t worry about me, Red. I’m fantastic, and if that ever changes, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Okay.” She lets out one more shaky breath and nods. “Let’s go to the game, then.”
“Are you sure you want to go?”
“We have to go. You have interviews lined up, and you said you’d make an appearance in the pregame.”
“We don’t have to do anything, so you tell me the truth. Do you want to go tonight?”
“Yes.” She squares her shoulders and nods. “I want to go.”
I kiss her once more and then lace my fingers through hers and kiss the back of her hand.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
She’s trying too hard.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on with my woman, but something isn’t right. Last night at the game, she kept her smile in place, paid attention to the game, cheered, and gave me a replay in the bathroom of our first time in the box.
That part was fucking awesome.
But I feel the tension. There’s something simmering that has my gut telling me she’s not okay, but no matter how often I ask her, Ivy denies that anything is amiss.
I set my alarm extra early this morning because I want to sink inside my girl and make sure she thinks of me often over the next thirty-six hours that she’ll be gone, but when I roll over, she’s not in bed with me and the sheets are cool.
So, with a frown, I climb out of bed and use the bathroom, then tug on some sweats and pad out to find her sitting at the island in the kitchen, typing away on her laptop.