Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (36)
His contented sigh is all I hear, like somehow my lotion has put a spell on him.
“Are you asleep?” I ask.
There’s a long pause before he shifts to fit me into the curve of his body. “Trying to.”
“Oh.”
He sighs, and I don’t particularly like it. “What’s on your mind?”
I’d do anything to make this less awkward, but Elias seems completely okay as we are. “Nothing. You should sleep. Just because I’m an insomniac doesn’t mean you have to be too.”
“I’m awake.” My long silence pushes him to continue. “I don’t get them every night.”
My ears perk like an excited dog. “The nightmares?”
“They used to be rare, but once I got to the league they’ve gotten worse. They come back when I’m stressed.”
Cuddling and revealing his deepest darkest secrets is so unlike Elias, I have the urge to turn and make sure it’s not a very warm robot. “Have you talked to someone? Sean used to get them, and his child psychologist really helped.”
“No. I never want my parents to know and feel guilty about anything.”
I try not to say something that might offend him, but I can’t hold back. “That’s not really fair to you. All that extra stress on your body can’t be helping hockey either.”
Instead of pulling away like I expected, he buries his head in my hair. “Guess not.”
Judging by his tone, I’m assuming the conversation is over, but even as my eyes start to close, I ask, “Does it help you too? Having someone here, I mean.”
“I wouldn’t know. This is a first for me,” he replies.
“You’ve never just slept with someone?”
“Never. But I’m beginning to think you’ll always be the exception.”
FIFTEEN
ELIAS
I’VE BURNED THREE pancakes in the span of ten minutes.
Scraping the pan clean, I toss the charred ones into the compost and restart the batter.
Cooking usually relaxes me, but today it fails because I’ve been on edge since last night.
I can still feel Sage’s cold feet resting on my calves. She only fidgeted under my hold for a few minutes before falling asleep. I’m not sure how long it usually takes or if I helped, but I’m glad she got some rest. The number of classes and auditions she does requires sleep. But the trade-off with last night’s arrangement is that I couldn’t sleep. Not when I felt her everywhere.
With her body cocooned against mine and our conversation replaying in my head, I didn’t realize how much time passed. It soon turned to morning, and the light from the shitty curtains sliced through the room. I ordered blackout curtains as soon as I slipped out of bed.
I’m plating the first decent pancake when Sage ambles into the kitchen. It’s still early so I’m surprised to see her because neither Aiden nor Summer is awake. Aiden and I have to head out in an hour because we have a game in Tampa tonight.
Sage looks a little lost, and she freezes when she spots me. Her eyes drift down my torso. I should have thrown on a shirt, but I didn’t want to wake her by opening the squeaky closet door.
She rubs her eye, and the collar of my shirt slips off one shoulder, showing the smooth skin that’s there. She looks both rested and disheveled, and I have to turn away, just in time to save another pancake from burning.
“Sit. I’ll bring you a plate,” I say.
“Don’t treat me like a guest, Elias,” she scolds.
Then the sound of cupboards opening is the only noise in the kitchen besides my thumping heart. I try my best not to stare when she shuffles on tiptoes to find the right cupboard.
Aiden and I put the dishes pretty high because it’s just us living here, but seeing Sage struggle to reach them, I realize that might need to change. I let her try on her own until she lifts her leg to climb onto the counter. I lower the heat of the stove to move behind her.
She stumbles into my chest. I reach an arm around her to grab a stack of plates.
“I could have reached them,” she mutters, sounding breathless.
“I think you mean thank you.”
She twists and her gaze catches mine, holding it for a beat. “Thank you, Elias.”
I nod, knowing her words have less to do with the plate and a lot to do with last night. I break our eye contact and focus on plating her food.
“Are my pancakes smiling?” she asks, amused. I hadn’t realized I’d done it, but I’m so used to making them for the guys at Dalton, it’s autopilot. Kian would suggest something lewd, and I always indulged him by arranging the chocolate chips.
She’s beaming as I follow her to the table and take a seat across from her. Before I can reach for the maple syrup to pour it on my pancakes, she snatches it. “I’ll do it.”
She flips the bottle to draw a swirl, but her aim runs askew, and the syrup coats my thumb.
Sage’s eyes widen as she assesses my blank expression, waiting for a reaction, but I don’t give her one. I only stare right at her.
“What? Want me to lick it off?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice that sends a lance of heat straight to my groin. She looks at my throat and watches my Adam’s apple bob with amusement, giving away my thoughts.