Sin Bin (Carolina Comets #4)

“Wow!” Blake whistles, tipping his head back to stare up at the massive building in front of us. “This is…a lot to take in.”

We’re currently standing outside Smith’s apartment building.

The same one I was in two years ago.

The same one where he laid me bare and made me feel like I’ve never felt before.

And somehow, I have to walk inside and act like I’ve never been here. Like I didn’t fall to my knees in his entryway. Like he didn’t take me against his kitchen counter and have me for breakfast. Like I wasn’t pressed against the window and fucked from behind for the whole city to see.

And like we didn’t just slip up two weeks ago at Christmas.

I have to act like none of that ever happened…all while a film crew is here.

“You know, my best friend, Carsen, grew up wealthy and Nate and I lived with him in college, but even his place wasn’t as grand as this. This is definitely NHL money here.”

“Just wait until you see the inside.”

The words slip out before I even realize what I’ve just said.

“You’ve seen it?” Blake asks, not missing it at all.

“Oh, uh…sort of? Pictures,” I lie, and I hate how easily those are beginning to pass from my lips. “I’ve seen photos from the girls.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Blake nods. “Well, come on. Let’s get this stuff set up and get started on filming. I’m sure we’re losing good lighting or whatever it is film people say.”

He leads the way into the building like he’s the one who has been here before, and I, along with the crew, follow behind.

I’m trying hard to control my breathing as we pile into the elevator.

Being back here is hard.

Being back here after Smith kissed me at Christmas is even harder.

Because now it’s not just a memory from two years ago, not when I can still feel his lips on mine.

The guys have been on a six-game road trip, and I’ve been so happy for the two-week reprieve. Truthfully, I’m scared of seeing Smith again. I almost canceled, but I knew I would have to dodge a million and one questions from Blake on why.

So, here I am, trapped in an elevator with him and three other guys on our camera crew as we make our way to the top floor. The elevator chimes as we arrive, and my heart feels like it’s beating a million times a second, like it’s going to leap out of my chest and fall on this elevator floor and everybody’s going to know what happened between us.

It’s ridiculous, I know it is, but I’m nervous.

The doors open and I hold my breath, counting the steps it takes to make it to his door.

Ten.

I count the seconds it takes for him to open it.

Eight.

And I count the seconds it takes for his eyes to meet mine.

Four.

I brace myself…waiting for what, I don’t know.

But…nothing happens. There is nothing in Smith’s eyes when he looks at me. It’s like he didn’t just have his tongue in my mouth or have me pinned against a counter where if we hadn’t been interrupted, who knows how far it would have gone.

Hell, he hardly looks at me at all.

“Good morning, Mr. Smith!” Blake says cheerfully, clapping his hands together. He’s a total morning person, and as seen at the rink, the grumpy hockey player in front of us is not.

Based on the grunt that leaves Smith, I can see that hasn’t changed much.

Blake just laughs it off as Smith opens the door wider, letting us all into his expansive apartment. When I walk past, I try to make eye contact, but he refuses to meet my stare.

Frankly, it pisses me off, because seriously…he’s blowing me off?!

I shouldn’t be upset. I really shouldn’t considering the kiss should have never happened, but it stings in a way I wasn’t expecting.

“This is an incredible place you have here.” Blake spins in a circle, taking in the dwelling I’m familiar with.

“Thanks,” Smith says quietly. “It’s nothing like you’d get from Wright or Rhodes, but it’s all I got.”

He’s definitely right about that. If we were shooting there, we would see the touches of Ryan and Harper and the lives they’re building together. This is clearly a bachelor pad. There’s next to no furniture, no real décor. It’s all very minimalistic and missing that touch to make it feel like a home.

“Still…” Blake laughs. “It’s nicer than any place I’ll ever have unless Nate takes up stripping or something and starts raking in the dough.” He tips his head, picturing that. “Never mind.” He points around the room. “Nobody give him that idea. He’s an awful dancer.”

We all laugh.

I’ve met Nate a few times during functions with the team, and it’s obvious they’re madly in love with each other. Blake told me a bit of their story, how they grew up best friends and didn’t realize until college that they were ready to take the next step in their relationship, how things were a little touch and go with them for a while, but they’ve overcome it. Now, after moving down here from Massachusetts to start fresh, they have a little girl their friend Elliott helped bring into this world, and they’re happier than they’ve ever been.

When he told me the story, I was happy for him. Hell, I’m still happy for him…and maybe a little jealous too.

But now isn’t the time to dwell on what I don’t have…even if he is in the room with me.

“So, uh, where did you guys need to set up?” asks the man I can’t seem to get out of my head.

“Did Emilia run through what we’re looking for today?”

Smith’s eyes flick to mine for only a moment. “Kind of. Something about my rest-day routine, right?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Blake answers. “She can explain while we start setting up the cameras and finding the best places for some shots for lighting and everything.”

He and the camera operators head from the room toward the kitchen to get to work. Hopefully, we can capture enough usable material in the next few hours and won’t have to come back here.

Smith looks pained as they go, leaving just the two of us alone together. There’s a hushed silence that falls over the room, and I don’t know what to say to him. It seems like he doesn’t know what to say to me either, so we stand there in uncomfortable silence for far too long.

So long that I can’t stand it and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “How was your road trip?”

It’s a stupid question, so I’m not surprised when he pins me with a dark stare.

“We lost. A lot.”

I nod because I know they did. I read the comments the fans left; they weren’t pretty, but I don’t tell him that.

This feels awkward being here with him, and I’m not entirely sure why. We texted a few times while he was gone to set up this interview, and everything was cordial. It seemed like maybe we could move past what happened.

But this? Being here in this apartment with him when it holds so many memories? It doesn’t seem like we’ve moved past anything. It’s like so many more floodgates have been opened and I’m starting to drown, desperate for land right now.

I clear my throat. “Right. So, uh, for today…we just want to follow you around and see what it is you get up to on a rest day. For some reason, the fans are more curious about that than game days. I think it just kind of makes you more…real to them. Little more normal and less of a hockey superstar.”

He snorts. “I’m not a hockey superstar. I’m practically a washed-up old man by now. Most people won’t remember my name whenever I leave this league.”

My chest aches for him because he sounds so certain, like he actually believes that, and I can’t understand why. Sure, he doesn’t have the same numbers as McDavid, Ovechkin, or Crosby, but he’s an incredible player in his own right. I just wish he’d see that.

Now isn’t the time for me to stroke his ego, though. It’s time for work, and that’s what we’re going to do.

“Okay, well, let’s start with meals since it’s always a question that gets asked. Show us what you can do in the kitchen.”

For the first time since I stepped foot in his apartment, he looks at me for more than two seconds. With the one look, I know exactly what’s going through his mind, because the last time I was here, he definitely showed me what he can do in the kitchen…and I was his meal.

Ignoring his heated expression, I spin on my heel, only to come to a complete stop. Hanging above the fireplace isn’t a TV like you’d normally see in someone’s house.

No.

It’s our puzzle. The one we left unfinished on the table when our clothes became a distraction.

He kept it.

I stare up at the castle, the same one I told him I wanted to see one day as I regaled him with plans of a trip to Europe I’m almost certain I’ll never get to take. I’m lost in the landscape, taken back to a time when I wasn’t worried about who he is, just how he made me feel. If it wasn’t for the warmth that spreads through me, I wouldn’t notice when he steps up behind me.

He’s standing so close I can feel him, even though he’s not touching me.

“There were a lot of things about that weekend left unfinished, but I couldn’t bear to leave that the same way,” he says in a low, deep voice, his lips nearly brushing my ear.

Then he steps away from and around me. This time, it’s his turn to walk away.

“How’s my baby doing?”

Hollis’ laughter fills my car. “You always have to ask about my baby first, huh?”

“Well, yeah, have to make sure my little angel is doing okay.”

“You say angel, I say demon.”

“Uh-oh.” I frown at the exhaustion laced in her words. “Still having morning sickness?”

“Oh yeah. You do not want to know how many times I’ve thrown up today.”

She’s been struggling with it throughout the entire pregnancy, and I hate it for her.

“But enough about me and my struggles,” she says. “I was just calling to see how you are. I know I just saw you at Christmas, but it feels like it’s been forever.”

To say Tori has been on my ass about getting the player profile started would be an understatement. I tried to explain to her that I’m trying to respect their game schedule and Smith’s personal time, but she wasn’t having any of it. Part of me wonders if she can see through that and can tell that, especially since Christmas, I really don’t want to spend time with Smith. I don’t trust myself around him. A few minutes alone in the kitchen on Christmas Day proved that to be a valid concern.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Hollis. “I promise to be back to begging you to hang out soon—if you have time for me, that is. You know, when you’re not bumping uglies with your baby daddy.”

She groans at my words, but I still hear the smile in the sound. Things with her and Lowell seem to be going okay after Christmas, and I’m happy for them. Lowell has always been a great guy.

“Speaking of hot hockey players…how’s it going with Smith? Who, by the way, I still can’t believe agreed to do the profile,” Hollis says. “He’s even more private than Lowell, and that’s saying something.”

I laugh because she’s right. After working with Lowell for the last couple of years, it’s safe to say he is indeed private. Hell, I think only about five of his teammates have ever even been to his house. Any time he has his captain’s duties and has to host a dinner or something, he either has it at a restaurant or rents an Airbnb.

He’s probably one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet and he’d do anything to help a friend, but emotionally? That man is a brick wall. I’ve heard whispers that it’s because of a past relationship gone bad, but I’ve never dug deeper into it.

“Things with Smith are…” Complicated. Weird. Tense. Electric. “They’re fine.”

“Just fine?” she presses, and guilt nibbles at me. Hollis still has no clue about our history, and right now, when she’s already stressed to the max about having a baby with her one-night stand, I’d rather not throw all the sordid details at her.

Besides, nobody can know. I have a promotion to protect.

“Yep. Blake and I actually just wrapped up shooting some content at his apartment. It took way longer than I wanted, but oh well.”

We planned to be in and out by lunch, but after some battery issues and other things that came up, we got started late. It’s nearly five now, and I’m just heading home.

“Hmm…”

“What are you hmm-ing me for?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” She trails off, then sighs. “I don’t know. I thought there might be something between you two. You disappeared at Christmas together, and then when you came back, your hair was down, and you left rather quickly after that.”

“We were just talking, and I wanted to get out of there before I started drinking too much, which was where I was headed dealing with Miller’s advances. Just being safe.” Lies, lies, lies. “Besides, there are rules against staff and players having relationships, you know.”

I don’t know if I’m reminding her or myself.

“Yeah, but who has to know, right?” She laughs.

I laugh too, hoping it doesn’t sound too forced.

Because…she kind of has a point. Who has to know, right?

No, no, no. Stop that, Emilia. Don’t even go there.

“Only kidding,” she says, pulling me back to the conversation. “Well, kind of. Oof.”

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Ugh. Yeah, just gassy. Pregnancy farts are a bitch.”

“Yeah, no thanks on that.”

“Trust me, never get knocked up. You’ll regret it.”

But even as she says the words, I know she’s lying. She might hate being pregnant sometimes, but she is already madly in love with her baby, and I really can’t wait to watch that love grow once the baby is here.

“We’re still planning the baby shower for All-Star weekend, right? You requested off?” she asks.

“Yep. Blake’s taking care of everything, so I’m all yours.”

“Yay! I’ll—” I hear a faint knock through the speaker. “Oh crap, my dinner is here. Hang on.”

She grunts, and I can imagine her pulling herself with her swollen belly off the couch. I listen as she unlatches the door, then pulls it open.

“Special dicklivery for one hot piece of ass.”

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing as Lowell’s words filter through the speaker.

“Oh my gosh,” Hollis mutters. “You think it sounds bad, but it’s worse—he just humped the air.”

“Are you sure that’s not Miller?”

“Are you on speaker? Is that Emilia?” The mortification is clear in his voice. “Fuck,” he curses, and I laugh again. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Emilia, and I’ll do whatever TikTok video you want me to!”

“Any?” I ask, my mind already spinning.

“Within reason.”

“It’s a deal,” I say. “Hollis, I love you, but I don’t want to be here while you get your dicklivery, so I’m going to go.”

“Bye! I love you!” she says.

Before I can press end, I hear, “Come here, darlin’. I get to eat first.”

Her squeal is cut off when the call ends, and I’m thankful for it.

And maybe a little jealous.

I wish I could have something that easy. Well, their situation isn’t exactly easy, but still. At least she can have what she wants. Me? I’m stuck wanting what I can’t have.

Another call comes in, and I press the green button.

“Oh, thank gosh!” Blake’s panicked voice comes over the speaker before I even have a chance to greet him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes—well, no. Listen, don’t hate me, but…” He hesitates. “I kind of left the laptop with all the footage on it at Smith’s, and I have dinner reservations with Nate and our surrogate and her husband tonight.”

I groan. “And you need me to go get it because those files need to be sent to editing ASAP.”

He sucks air in through his teeth. “Yeah, that.”

“I think I might murder you, Blake.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“Is it though?”

“Incredibly. But also a little justified.” He pauses. “Is there any way you can do me a solid? I’ll owe you. Big time.”

“It’s fine. You’re already covering All-Star weekend for me. I can grab the laptop and get the stuff sent over. We’ll be square?”

“Really?” He lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. So much. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Have a good dinner.”

“Kisses!” He blows them through the phone, and I end the call.

I was almost home, almost to a glass of wine I so desperately need. Instead, I whip a U-turn and make my way back to Smith’s apartment.

After sitting in traffic for far too long, I’m officially annoyed. I could wring Blake’s neck for this. But then again, it’s not like I had any plans tonight. I was just going to order Chinese and sip my way through a whole bottle of wine. Now, I think I’ll skip the wine and just eat ice cream for dinner in the bathtub.

When I pull up to his building, it seems even bigger than it did just a little bit ago. Darker. More intimidating. I chalk it up to coming back here alone.

In and out. Just grab the laptop and leave, Emilia.

I swallow down my nerves and climb out of the car. I do every breathing exercise I can possibly remember as the elevator takes me back to the top floor and my feet carry me to his door.

I knock.

Then wait.

There’s a shuffle from the other side, and when he pulls the door open, his head tips to the side.

“Emilia.”

“Smith.”

We don’t say anything else.

We just stand there for several seconds, eyes locked, neither of us moving, neither of us breathing.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

“Do you want to come in?”

I should say no.

I know that. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue.

But it’s not what comes out at all.

“Okay.”

And I walk over the threshold.