Breakaway

Chapter 8 - Breakaway

DANA

I had a mouthful of oatmeal when Jim Sutter sat down across the table from me.

"You're coming with us today, aren't you?"

Today was a practice day for the team, a day between games. We were staying in the same hotel in New York after last night's overtime loss to the Rangers because tomorrow the Storm would play the Islanders and a game against the New Jersey Devils was up on Thursday. Three games in four nights wasn't exactly unheard of in the NHL, but it was never an easy stretch to get through, particularly on the road.

At least they'd managed to come away with a point last night by getting to overtime. The guys weren't satisfied with that, but it was better than nothing.

I nodded. Since I was playing the part of a coaching understudy—even though the guys knew what was really going on—I had been taking part in just about everything the team did, at least in terms of being present. "Unless you don't want me to come."

Jim winked at me. "We want you there. Go back up to your room and get some clothes you can be active in. We're doing something a little different today.... It's not going to be a normal practice."

Before I had a chance for that to sink in and question him on it, he got up from our table and moved on.

I darted my eyes over to Eric, giving him a questioning look.

He just shrugged, a how-am-I-supposed-to-know expression on his face.

He was supposed to know because he was the one who had been playing in this league, on this team, for years. I wasn't even officially a part of the team, so I couldn't imagine what this whole something a little different might be, or why I needed to be involved in actuality instead of just in name like I had been so far.

After I finished eating, I went up and got the workout clothes I intended to wear tomorrow morning for my session in the gym. The ones I'd worn today were still damp with my sweat. Jonny, as Cam Johnson had insisted I call him, had really put me through my paces before breakfast. But I was getting more confident with everything he was having me do. I tossed my clothes into a small duffel bag and headed out.

By the time I got back down to the lobby, the guys were already starting to load onto the team's charter bus. Eric was waiting for me. He took the duffel from my hands and slung the straps over his shoulder. With his free hand, he reached for me.

I took it. My pulse kicked into gear, but it wasn't my usual panic. It was more of a tingly sort of thing, like anticipation. Excitement. Nervous excitement, definitely, but not panic.

The change, or maybe it was more my realization of the change, had my face filling with a different kind of heat as we got onto the bus and took a seat about halfway back.

"You're blushing," Eric said. He was leaning down near me, his voice barely more than a whisper close to my ear. He sounded amused, and maybe just a little amazed. Probably just amused, like Brenden would be.

Still, it only made me blush deeper.

As the driver led us out into the New York traffic, Eric shifted his grip on my hand. His fingers twined with mine, like they had the other day on the plane. It was like a surge of electricity jolting through me. I sucked in a breath.

"I like it when you blush."

"You used to try to embarrass me all the time. You did it on purpose."

"I've always liked it when you blush."

When we were kids, I'd thought he was doing it to be mean, to pick on me like Brenden always did. It had felt familial, like he was my brother. It felt different now. I let that sink in, wash over me and fill me up. But it couldn't really be different, could it? We didn't talk much during the rest of the bus ride. We just sat there together, holding hands while all sorts of new sensations flew through my body and unfamiliar thoughts peppered my mind.