“Uh,” I stumble over the unanticipated question. “Not today, no. Just homework.”
“Okay, I’m breaking you out. Text me your address.”
I blink. “What?”
“You need to clear your head before you look at lesson plans that a future Olympian wrote,” he says, as if this were obvious. “And then you need to start from scratch.”
My stomach twists. A sharp pang in my chest. “That future Olympian used to be me,” I mutter.
“I know, Abrams,” he says softly. “Put your shoes on. I’ll see you in ten.”
He hangs up on me and I stare at my phone. At the open text thread. My fingers hover over the keyboard.
I could just…not text him. If I don’t send him my address, he can’t come get me.
Instead, I type it out and hit send before I can chicken out.
Chapter Fourteen
Rhodes
Well, I was planning to spend my morning running errands alone. Now, apparently, I’m dragging Monroe along with me.
I think she needs it—needs something that isn’t tied to skating, to the weight of expectation, to whatever hell she’s been clawing her way out of for the past two years. I’ve stopped trying to fight the attraction I have to her, and the need to be close to her. I’m embracing it now. She can fight it, but I’m patient.
I pull into the parking lot in front of the address she sent me, tapping my fingers against the wheel as I glance up at her building.
When was the last time Monroe actually had fun?
I hop out of my car, jog up to her door, and rap my knuckles against it. Before I can knock a second time, it swings open.
Swaths of auburn curls and scowling, hazel eyes hit me like a truck. A ten-ton semitruck full of concrete or bricks. I clear my throat and try to collect my thoughts so I can speak somewhat coherently when she bites up at me.
“It’s nine a.m., Rhodes. Why are you dragging me out of my apartment?”
I snort. Fucking hell, Monroe off the ice iscute, like an angry fox. Annoyed at me, but I’m quickly discovering that that is obviously my type.
I lean against the porch railing of her apartment and smirk at her, crossing my arms across my chest.
I watch her eyes slowly trail the curve of my biceps and I flex. Monroe quickly glances away, caught, before narrowing her eyes at me again. Heat flares in my chest. I almost call her out, but decide not to risk her going back inside and slamming the door in my face. Baby steps and all that.
“We are going to grab coffee, because it looks like you need one.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And then we’re going to go get our asses whooped at pickleball by a bunch of old people.”
“I’m sorry.” Monroe blinks up at me, grinning at her. “What?”
I push off the railing and walk toward my car, tossing a wink over my shoulder.
“Get in the car, Abrams.”
I hear the stomp of her footsteps behind me, her muttering under her breath as she follows. I pull open the passenger door of my Land Rover, catching the flicker of surprise in her face at the gesture. She hesitates for a second.
But then, with an exaggerated sigh, she climbs in.
I slam the door behind her, shaking my head. It almost feels like a date. She would probably argue about that, but, depending on how it goes, I might count it anyway.