If she wouldn't come to me, then I guess I would come to her.

After blatantly disregarding the speed limit and one questionable four-way stop, I made it over to Bailey's complex in record time and parked haphazardly in the visitor zone. Killing the ignition, I slammed the drivers' side door shut and speed-walked over to her place like a heat-seeking missile.

I sprinted up the steps and came to a screeching halt in front of the navy blue door, staring at the scattered scratches and scuffs. Drawing in a deep breath, I held it for a few seconds before exhaling heavily through my nose. I tried to center myself. I pretended I was about to head out onto the ice and tried to get my mind right like I did before games.

It didn't work. At all.

Reaching over, I rang the doorbell and followed it up by pounding on the front door like a cop with a warrant. I hoped she was home studying like she said, because I needed some kind of explanation. Stat.

The lock rattled and the door opened a crack. A sliver of Jillian's face peered out at me. "What do you want, Carter?"

For you to get the fuck out of the way, but I couldn't use my outside voice for that sentiment.

"I need to talk to Bailey." I nodded at the door. "Let me in."

Jillian swung open the door, revealing Amelia standing beside her. They both eyed me disdainfully like two partners in snottiness. I knew they didn't like me. The feeling was more than mutual.

"B would let you know if she wanted to talk to you," Amelia said. Her eyes hardened, leveling me with a death stare.

Jillian curled her upper lip. "Maybe she's come to her senses."

My teeth set on edge. At the moment, I hated them. Well, I wasn't exactly the biggest fan of either to begin with, but my usual sense of hostility was amplified times a billion. They were meddling and I didn't appreciate it.

I could not fucking wait for James to move. Counting down the days.

"You know what?" I said, using every shred of restraint I had to keep from raising my voice. "After the way the two of you have treated her, I'm super not in the mood for you to play bouncer and pretend you give a shit now."

Amelia huffed. "You can't talk to us like that."

Since when? I guess in their eyes, a hockey player chewing out a hockey girlfriend violated some stupid bro code. Which meant I would probably hear about it from Paul and Mendez later. Whatever.

"Pretty sure I just did." They backed up as I took a step closer. I ducked my head through the doorway, leaning into the house. "James!"

A door creaked open, followed by the sound of footsteps. Bailey came down the stairs, wearing pink and grey plaid pajama pants with a matching grey sweater, bare feet, and messy hair loose around her shoulders.

And she looked so perfect that something inside of me broke.

I think it was the last tether to my sanity.

When she reached halfway down the staircase, her gaze landed on me, eyes widening. Probably because I looked like a madman running on adrenaline, frustration, and lust, which had combined to form some cocaine-like substance in my body. Or that was my best guess, since I'd never done cocaine, but I was amped as fuck.

For all the pride I took in generally being calm and collected, I most certainly was not right now.

Bailey came to stand next to Jillian and Amelia at the door. "Chase." Her brow furrowed. "What are you—?"

"We need to talk."

She froze, hesitating. Her hazel eyes swung from me, to Jillian and Amelia, back to me. If she took their side on this, I might never get over it. No, I would definitely never get over it.

I raised my eyebrows. "Now."

"Okay." Bailey took a step closer and waved me inside. "Let's go talk in my room."

I may have made a slight miscalculation in how I handled things. Because now there was a very large, very angry caveman on my doorstep.

His black t-shirt hung off his broad shoulders, just hinting at the muscles that lay beneath. And grey joggers sat on his hips, wrapping around the V in his hips. He looked every single inch the heartbreaker I was scared he might be.

Chase stepped inside and I walked over, taking his hand. Waves of tension radiated off him with such intensity that they filled the entire room, palpable and heated.

Amelia rolled her eyes and turned away, heading into the kitchen with Jillian trailing behind her. They pretended to be occupied with the fridge and dishwasher while I led Chase upstairs. In reality, I was sure they'd be up right behind us to eavesdrop. Then they could report the intimate details of my personal life back to everyone else. Super.

He followed me up the staircase and down the hall into my bedroom, lit by the yellow glow of the small bedside lamp. My iPad lay on my white comforter, still paused on the Netflix show I had been half-watching instead of studying like I told him I had been—like I should have been. But I hadn't been able to focus on anything in days.

I didn't know if we were about to talk, fight, or break up.

He shut the door behind him quietly and took a few strides. Before I could sit down on my bed, he closed the distance between us and large hands landed on my hips, gently turning me face him.

Eyes still locked on mine, he took a step forward, followed by another, until he backed me up against the wooden door. His divine, familiar scent enveloped me, going straight to my head and straight through my defenses. My eyes dropped to the pulse at the base of his throat for a beat, then traveled to the tense cords of his neck before snapping back up to his.

His gaze pinned me to the spot and my skin warmed beneath his stare. He had me cornered—figuratively and literally. I looked back up at him, victim to his commanding presence. Five extra inches was pretty significant when it was accompanied by 40 extra pounds of muscle.

Especially when he was pissed.

"What's going on, James?" He asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

His jaw ticked. "Why are you ghosting me?"

"I'm not." At least, not on purpose. It started innocently enough, taking some time to think. But thinking had turned into catastrophizing and now I was pretty sure I had blown things way, way out of proportion.

"You absolutely are," Chase said. "And I didn't spend this much time working my ass off to get you to trust me only to have you throw it away without an explanation."

Desire, guilt, regret. Everything slammed into me at once like a wrecking ball. I reached up to touch him and he took hold of my wrists, pinning them against the door.

He shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Why do you want to touch me when you don't want to be with me?"

I didn't know how answer that because the truth was, I did want to be with him. I wanted it so badly it hurt, and that was the problem.

This wasn't the kind of thing you walked away from in one piece.

"That's not it."

His pupils dilated as he continued to watch me. "Then explain."

It was order, not a request.

My breath grew shallow. "I don't know how."

Every time I had tried to talk to Luke, he either gaslighted me into thinking I was crazy or twisted the narrative to make me the bad guy. Eventually, I stopped trying. I knew I was letting the past interfere with the future. But knowing that and overcoming it were two separate things.

"Try harder." He wedged a muscular thigh between my legs and brought his mouth down to hover above mine, almost touching.

I lifted my chin, and his lips crashed down against mine, tongue pushing inside my mouth. The minute we kissed, every doubt I'd ever had, every question, every second-guess vanished.

Our mouths moved against each other, indomitable and wild, sending a wave of want surging through my body. He tore apart from my lips, placing a trail of frenzied kisses down my neck and sending my desire into overdrive. I squirmed slightly against his grip, trying to touch him, but all that did was make him press his thigh harder between my legs while I moved against him in response.

"If this is your idea of convincing me to talk," I said breathlessly, "I don't have a very good incentive to comply."

But it was sensory overload with him everywhere around me, pressed up against me while I was unable to touch him back. I wanted to feel his body beneath my hands, to map the muscles beneath his skin, and to run my fingers through his dark, silky hair.

I hit the breaking point. "Chase."

"Stop?" He pulled back, looking at me pointedly like he was trying to prove something.

"No," I said. "Just let me touch you."

He released my wrists and cupped my chin, tilting my face up to his.

"Answer my question first," he said calmly.

I bit my bottom lip, looking back up at him. He slid his hand from my jawline to the side of my neck. With anyone else, I would have been scared, but he wasn't applying any pressure. It was just a power move.

I knew he would stop instantly if I said.

But I didn't want him to.

With his free hand, he rubbed the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip, gaze focused intently on my face. Then he traced down my cheek, along the curve of my neck. I drew in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as goosebumps popped up all over my body.

"I missed you." He leaned in, kissing just below my ear. I tilted my head, yielding to give him better access. "It's only been a couple days and I'm like an addict in need of a fix."

I'd missed him too, which was why I was l melting like butter beneath his hands, unable to think clearly or form coherent sentences. He splayed his palm, cupping my breast and squeezing, and I melted a little bit more.

"Mmm-hmm," I murmured, brain going offline.

His fingers skimmed lower, gliding down past my ribcage. My breath snagged as he toyed with the elastic waistband of my pajamas, but he didn't move his hand any further. He pulled back suddenly, removing his hands, and my eyes flew open.

"But I'm pretty confused. Because here's what I think," Chase said, voice low. "I think you do want to be with me."

He was right, of course. I did. Not just wanted—in the moment, I needed him like air. I just found it really, really scary to fall so hard, so fast for someone. Scariest thing I had ever done. Hands down.

I wanted to say it was at least a calculated risk, but in truth, it wasn't. I never had a choice.

"So tell me." He bracketed the wall above my head with his hands, towering over me. "What the hell is going on?"

My brain slowly kicked back into gear now that he wasn't touching me. "You realize Amelia and Jillian can hear all of this." I nodded to the door. "The walls in this place are paper thin."

"Don't care. I'm afraid I used up all my fucks worrying about you."

He nudged my legs apart with his knee and I complied, pliant against his touch. Grabbed the backs of my thighs, he hiked me up and pinned the upper half of my body against the door. I drew in a ragged breath as the length of him pressed up against the perfect spot between my legs, rock hard and ready.

I held onto his shoulders and leaned in, trying to kiss him.

"Explain first." He pulled away, expression stern. "You were in my bed a few mornings ago, kissed me goodbye like everything was fine when I dropped you off for class, and you've been dodging me ever since. Why?"

His tone was razor-sharp but there was hurt in his eyes. He tilted his hips, pressing up against me and creating a jolt of pleasure that radiated up through my core. Heat flooded my body, desire unraveling. I was about two seconds or one more thrust away from trying to take off his clothes. But the tiny part of my brain that was still functional knew he was right—we had to talk first.

"Was some girl sitting on your lap at O'Malley's recently?" I finally forced out. "Because that's what I heard."

Chase furrowed his dark brow. "What?"

Slowly, he lowered me down until I was standing upright. I let my hands linger on his shoulders, soaking up the heat beneath his soft black t-shirt.

"I answered your question. Now answer mine, please."

"That's what this is about?" He asked, tilting his head incredulously. "That's why you've been avoiding me?"

"I just need a yes or no, Carter." Now that he was here in front of me, I felt like I knew the answer, but I still wanted to hear it from him.

His hands came to rest beneath my sweater, rough fingers warm and reassuring against my waist. "That was for like, two seconds. Lindsay plopped down into my lap from out of nowhere, I promptly turned her down, and she moved. The end."

"That's it?" My entire body relaxed, the ability to breathe returning to normal.

"That's it. Nothing happened," he said, voice gentle. "And it wasn't recently, it was before Ty's party."

He seemed completely genuine. And I felt like a complete jerk. A jerk who'd been baited into overreacting by Luke's crony.

Chase narrowed his eyes. "Who told you this, anyway?"

"Paul..."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, shaking his head. "Consider the source, James."

"But she did sit on your lap. Kind of." I didn't know why I was even arguing that point, except to say I felt silly for having gotten upset in the first place. And even sillier for how I'd handled it after that.

"Paul twisted things around to suit his agenda and you know it. Please don't let that asshole get in your head."

"Thin walls." I lowered my voice and gestured behind me. "Amelia?"

Chase glanced over my shoulder at the door, raising his voice a level. "I said, Paul is an asshole. He can't fucking skate, either. Feel free to quote me."

Despite the situation, I laughed. He was an instigator to the bone. At some point along the way it had become endearing. He was my instigator, at least.

Then he looked back down at me and his tone softened. "Paul say anything else to you?"

"Um...Well." I drew in a breath. "Just that you slept with his cousin's friend." Oh, and then he called me a desperate puck bunny. But that would make Chase even more angry with him, and I wasn't sure I needed to fuel that fire.

He nodded, studying my face. "Is there any chance it's the sex thing that set you off?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted. But I felt bad for saying it. It wasn't fair to hold that against him.

"Just because I have had meaningless sex in the past doesn't mean it's meaningless with you. It's definitely not. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

"As far as the other thing goes, I can tell you when girls hit on me, but it seems kind of pointless when I'd never act on it. Besides, I'm sure you shoot down guys all the time."

Not really. My little bubble of journalism classes, the school newspaper, and seeing Chase didn't lend itself to being on the receiving end of many pick-up attempts. I guess it was sweet he thought that, though.

"Probably not nearly as much as the other way around."

"You're going to have to trust me for this to work," he said tersely.

"I'm trying to. If I didn't, I never would have slept with you." My voice wavered, because suddenly I was dangerously close to tears. I tamped down on it with every ounce of self-control I had. "Maybe I am a little off-kilter right now, but that was a huge deal to me."

His coffee-brown eyes softened, shining with affection. "I know. I didn't take that lightly." He reached over, tucking my hair behind my ear. His lips tugged up at the corners. "I think deep down, you know that you can trust me. You just don't trust your own judgement."

Things clicked into place.

"Oh my god. I think you're right."

Chase leaned in and kissed me briefly, softly, sweetly. He pulled back and brushed my cheek with his fingers. "Then can you talk to me next time instead? 'Cause this pushing me away thing sucks. If you don't talk to me, there's nothing I can do on my end."

Right. That made a lot of sense. If I had been able to approach this like a rational person, that's probably what I would have done—talk to him. It's what I would do in the future. Even if it was difficult.

"I will. I'm just not as good as talking about things as you are." I glanced down at the floor, then back up at him. "You might not have a filter, but I have an extra-strength, industrial-grade one. With a spare for backup."

"You overthink, huh?" Chase gave me a half-smile. "I've noticed."

I tugged his arm, pulling him toward the bed. It sagged under his weight as he sat down and turned to face me. Shifting closer, I placed a hand on his sweatpants-clad thigh. "I know this is my baggage and I'm trying not to take it out on you. It's just not going to go away overnight."

"I get it," he said, rubbing my lower back. Warmth spread though the fabric of my shirt in the wake of his touch. "But I have feelings too, and that shit hurt."

Guilt settled in my stomach, heavy like a bag of pucks. For all my worrying about him, maybe I was the one who was going to ruin things.

I touched his muscular shoulder, fingertips resting softly on his t-shirt. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. But let's not handle things this way again, okay?"

"Okay."

We fell quiet for a moment. He dipped his head and caught my eye, forehead wrinkling. "I've been pretty open with you, but I feel like you're holding back."

"Holding back how?" I asked, trying to deflect.

Thing is, he was right. I'd been trying to hold back a tiny piece of myself...just in case. Maybe that wasn't really fair to either of us. It wasn't working very well anyway.

"I'm not sure where your head is at sometimes."

"I'm—" I faltered, trying to summon the courage to be vulnerable. He'd met me more than halfway, multiple times. Warmth rushed to my face and my nerves shot through the roof. "Crazy about you," I said. "Certifiable. I'm just a little scared."

Or, you know, terrified.