The way he smiled at her and the happiness shining in his eyes, dared her to throw her usual caution aside. Maybe she could do this after all. Maybe everything could be okay. She laced her fingers with his. "It's a date. And for now, I wouldn't mind walking a little more."
"Good. Because I'm nowhere near ready to say goodnight."
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE WASN'T ENOUGH coffee in the world for him to wake up today. Dylan shuffled past Rod at the oven, grateful that his brother was cooking breakfast for them, filled his mug and joined Leo and his dad at the kitchen table. It seemed like only hours ago the Bedlam had won the fourth game against Tampa Bay, getting the sweep and earning the advance to the Conference Finals.
He glanced at the clock. It had been only hours ago.
Yet, instead of sleeping in, he'd been woken by the arrival of Leo and Kelsey and his parents. Kelsey and Arielle had appointments for wedding dress fittings, and his mom had gone with them. He wasn't sure why his house had been the meeting place, or why his dad and Leo had come over, but he was too tired to ask questions.
Dad glanced around the table. "You all look beat."
Rod yawned and carried plates of bacon and eggs to the table. "The flight was delayed due to bad weather. We didn't get in until two-thirty. Didn't get to sleep until after three."
"Dylan, you took a pretty hard check last night. Are you feeling okay?"
He contemplated his half-empty coffee mug, thought about the huge bruise on his ribs from his collision with the goal net, then smiled at his dad. "Never better."
At least he hadn't hit his head on that one... Blair had still freaked out a little. Her expression when he skated back to the bench had wrecked him. She'd asked him about concussion symptoms on the bench and after the game too. He hated that she was going to worry about him with every hit he took. But if he were completely honest, he worried a little bit too.
"Leo, how's that cut? It bled a lot. I'm surprised you didn't need stitches."
Leo angled his face and showed off the four-inch slice across his cheek he'd received from a Tampa Bay defenseman's stick in the middle of the second period. "Just a little scratch. No big deal."
Dad stirred his coffee and sighed. "I should know better than to ask a hockey player how he's feeling. Regardless of what's wrong, the standard answer is always 'just fine'."
"Of course. Anything else might get you taken out of a game. No one wants that." Rod retrieved the coffee pot, poured another cup, then topped off everyone else's mugs.
"I brought the paper over. I've been collecting them for the entire playoff series." Dad held up the sports section from the morning paper. The front page had a photo of the Bedlam players crowded around each other on the ice celebrating last night's win. "Moving on to the Conference Finals is huge. The race to the Cup is down to four teams. How are you feeling about facing Washington next?"
Dylan set his cup down. The caffeine had finally lifted away enough of the fog. "It's not going to be an easy sweep. We had some tough battles when we faced them this year."
Leo nudged Dylan's leg with his foot, and he gave a slight tilt of his head in Rod's direction. "Washington's goalie is awesome. One of the best. Did you see the highlights from their game last night? The dude is unreal."
"Yeah, the last time we played against them, he was practically standing on his head out there." Dylan pressed his lips together and hid his smile behind his coffee cup and waited for his brother's reaction.
Rod's head whipped up. "Excuse me? Um, I'm sitting right here. He wasn't standing on his head. You hit him in the head with your shot. That was just dumb luck on his part and a bad shot by you."
"Relax, dude. We're just messing with you." Leo reached over and ruffled Rod's hair. Laughing, Rod ducked away and carried the empty coffee pot to the sink.
Dylan's phone pinged with a text alert. He looked up. "Where did I leave my..."
"Here." Rod grabbed it from the counter. His brows rose as he looked at the screen. Then he handed it over with a smile. "Hmmm."
Blair's name was next to the tiny message icon. Ears growing hot under his brother's stare, Dylan leaned back in his chair and held the phone low.
Blair: I'm at a doctor's appointment with my dad. The women next to us in the waiting room are gushing about how cute you are. I'm tempted to chime in.
He grinned and typed his reply.
Dylan: You're pretty cute too. Everything okay with your dad?
He was aware of movement and murmurs at the table but didn't look up. Behind his phone, Rod set down the food.
Blair: It's a regular follow-up with his neurologist. I'm looking forward to our hike tomorrow. I so need it.
Dylan: I'll make sure you have a good time.
He set his phone aside. Three sets of eyes were on him. "What?"
"Nothing." Rod snagged a piece of bacon. "Let's eat."
Dylan glanced at his phone again. While Blair had to drag herself out of bed on little sleep, and was stuck in a doctor's office with a father who didn't like to admit that he had any health problems, he was very lucky to be sitting in his kitchen sharing breakfast with his very healthy father. The two older men had played hockey at about the same time for about the same number of years, but the outcomes couldn't have been more different. "Dad, how many concussions do you think you had in your career?"
Frowning at the question, Dad rubbed his hand over his chin. "I'm sure I had a couple. God knows I was in enough fights and slammed enough guys around. But back then,
