Dallas throws me a remorseful look before turning back to tend the sizzling bacon on the stove. “Now I feel like a dick.”
“It was an accident. Besides, I don’t think that was about coffee.”
“Dammit!” Sera’s voice carries into the kitchen from the foyer. The distress in her voice is like a knife to the gut.
Fueled by pure instinct, I’m halfway to her before I even realize it.
“What’s going on, Tink?” I ask, drawing closer. She’s got her puffy winter coat on, and her purse is slung over one shoulder, but she’s pacing in frantic circles, picking up random objects and looking beneath them. If she doesn’t want to talk, at least I can say I tried.
She sets down a pair of noise-canceling headphones someone left on the couch and throws her hands in the air. “I can’t find my fucking keys!”
Okay, we’re in full-on meltdown mode. Noted.
“Where’d you last see them?” I ask. “I can help you look.”
“If I knew where they were last, I’d have them right now!” Pivoting on her heel, she bumps the glass lamp on the entry table with her padded elbow, sending it toppling off the console. Immediately, my hand shoots out and I catch it before it hits the ground. Goalie instincts have their uses.
I set the lamp back before coming to stand in front of her. “Breathe, Ser.” I keep my voice soft, my fingertips gently touching her arm through her coat.
Lifting her chin, she peers up at me, her chest heaving with ragged inhales and exhales. We stay that way for a couple more breaths, wordless. There’s something so raw, so vulnerable written across her face. It takes all the self-restraint I have not to reach up and cup her chin like I want to. With Dallas in the next room, I can’t risk it.
“You don’t understand! If I’m more than ten minutes late, they won’t let me into the class, and they’ll charge me a late cancellation fee and the roads are bad and—”
“Realistically, you’re not going to make it in time. That’s okay. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying you need a rest day. We all do, once in a while.” The fee is something like ten bucks, and her family is loaded. This isn’t about the coffee or the money. This is a stress spiral because of everything she’s dealing with between the move and her mom.
Seraphina looks marginally less agitated, but that isn’t saying much. “I’m supposed to meet Abby there.”
“I’m sure if you text her and explain what happened, she’ll understand.”
She scrunches up her mouth, and she pauses, considering. I can see her softening, little by little. The panic in her eyes fades, leaving behind a resigned weariness. She looks tired, like she didn’t sleep much last night.
“My whole morning has been thrown off. I was going to shower at the gym.”
If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that she does not cope well with change, however minor it might be. Unfortunately, she’s been dealing with a lot of it.
“Why don’t you go shower while I make you some more coffee? I can cook some breakfast too, while I’m at it. We can look for your keys after that. Everything is easier on a full stomach, and they have to be around here somewhere.”
Seraphina heaves a sigh. “Okay…”
Reluctantly, she heads downstairs while I go into the kitchen. I drain the last of my mug and refill it before washing out the machine to make her decaf. Despite what I may have led her to believe to spare her feelings, I need caffeine like I need air.
Dallas frowns, sliding the cooked bacon onto a paper-towel covered plate to absorb the grease. “She okay?”
“Think so. She’s dealing with a lot.”
“No doubt. I’m sorry about their mom.” Pausing, he studies my face. The room turns oppressively silent. His pale blue eyes feel like laser beams aimed at mine, searching for any hint of a lie. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“What do you mean?” I deflect, playing dumb.
“You two seem awfully close.”
Bringing my cup of coffee to my lips, I take a sip to buy myself time before I answer. “We’re friends.”
“Tink doesn’t happen to be short for Tinker Bell, does it?”
Holy shit, did I call her Tink when Dallas was in the kitchen?
“No.”
He points at me with the spatula. “She’s the one you were texting with at our hotel when you were acting all goofy awhile ago, isn’t she?”
This keeps getting worse and worse.
I have no idea how to respond to that, so I drink my coffee instead.
“Dude.” He throws his head back and stares up at the ceiling like he’s pleading with the heavens, muttering a string of pleas and expletives beneath his breath. When he looks at me again, his expression is a combination of desperation and reproach.
“For the love of hockey and all that is holy.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Tell me you’re not fucking Carter’s sister.”
For the briefest second, I almost wish I could tell him the truth. Wish I could admit to someone, anyone, that I’m in over my head. That I can’t think straight when she’s around—and that she’s all I think about when she’s not.
“What do you want me to say here, Ward?” There’s a friendship hierarchy within the house, and Dallas is closer to Chase than he is to me. They’ve been friends for longer. I know that. He knows that. And we both know how Chase would take this.
Dallas groans and tugs at his dark hair. When he withdraws his hand, it stands straight on end. “For both of our sakes, this conversation never happened.”
After he eats, he clears out of the kitchen with a promise never to throw away coffee again and his grudging blessing to eat the leftover bacon. I cut up fruit, scramble eggs, and make toast while I wait for Seraphina. I’d make extra for Chase, but he’ll probably be asleep for a few more hours. On brand as ever, he pulled an all-nighter writing a paper at the last possible minute.
Seraphina appears in the doorway changed into a fuzzy white sweater and jeans, her hair still damp from the shower. It’s a darker shade of pink when it’s wet, a stark contrast against her fair skin. She looks beautiful. There’s something I like about getting to see her in these everyday moments. It feels special, somehow. Like a part of her most other people don’t get access to.
“Guess what I found?” She dangles the key fob from her fingers with a guilty look. “They were sitting on the bathroom counter downstairs. I feel so ridiculous.”
There’s a pang in my gut at her last words.
“Don’t, Ser. I’ve done the same thing before.”
She shrugs off my remark and averts her gaze. When she notices the food sitting on the counter, her eyes brighten. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll return the favor sometime.”
“Careful or I might take you up on that.”
The energy in the room shifts from comfortable to almost unbearably tense. Her eyelids hood as she steps closer, coming to stand almost toe to toe with me. The sweet scent of her freshly applied perfume drifts over to me, mingled with her tropical-scented shampoo, and my cock perks up in anticipation.