Page 38 of Scoring Lessons

I shrugged. “It’s the one you get.”

I was met with silence once again. He didn’t push further—and part of me was grateful for that.

“You always do that,” he said quietly. His green eyes met mine briefly, something unreadable in them. “You always answer a question with the shortest version of the truth.”

The words hit me right in the chest. Alarms went off in my head, and my heart didn’t know where to escape to.

I opened my mouth then closed it.

“We’re more alike than you think.” He grabbed his towel and draped it over his shoulder with a tired exhale. “That’s all I’m saying.”

I stayed on the floor and looked up at him through my eyelashes. “That’s a big claim.”

“Is it?” He extended a hand to help me up.

I looked at it for a second longer than necessary before I took it. His grip was warm, a little rough, and he pulled me up easier than I expected, which left us standing closer than I’d planned for.

My gaze met his eyes then his lips. His did the same. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a silent challenge festering between us, one I sure as hell wasn’t going to fall for.

I took a small step back.

“You deflect with humor.” I should have stopped this conversation for my sake. But apparently, I wasn’t done digging my hole further. “I deflect with short answers. We’re not the same.”

“Different methods.” He shrugged. “Same result.”

The simplicity of it sat heavy in the space between us. I wanted to argue, but the words weren’t there, because he wasn’t wrong and we both knew it.

“You should ice that shoulder tonight,” I said.

The corner of his mouth pulled up. He recognized the deflection for exactly what it was—I could see it on his face—but he let me have it anyway.

“I will.”

He headed toward the exit, and I stayed where I was, watching him go. My heart stammered the more distance he put between us.

What was happening? This whole night had been odd at best, and yet…

“Wesley.”

He paused at the door without turning around.

“You played well tonight.” The words came out quieter than I meant them to. “First line or not.” It was no secret that the changes in his career were weighing him down. The late nights. The overworking himself to prove something.

I understood it, and I wanted him to know that.

When he glanced back, his expression was unguarded, like my words had taken the wind out of him.

“Get some sleep, Olivia,” he said softly.

The door swung shut behind him.

I stood there longer than I needed to, the gym humming steadily around me, thinking about what he said. Thinking about how easily he’d seen through me, and how, instead of using it against me, he’d just quietly put it down and walked away.

Different methods. Same result.

ELEVEN

WESLEY