Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Eight

Finn

Y awning and stretching, but with my eyes still closed, I reach across the bed for Sammie. I want to feel her bare skin pressed to mine once again.

And a whole lot more than that.

But wait…

She’s gone.

My eyes fly open, and I glance around. Sammie is not in my bed, nor in the room.

Although there’s no sound coming from the en suite bathroom, she could be in there.

“Sammie?” I call out.

Silence.

“Are you in the bathroom?” I add.

Okay, now I just sound silly. She’s clearly not in there either.

I scan the bedroom once more, particularly the floor, and notice her clothes are all gone. At least the stuff she still had on once we made it up here.

Huh, this is weird.

Why would she leave?

It’s still early. I can tell that from the angle and amount of light coming into the bedroom.

To be sure, though, I check the clock on the nightstand.

Yeah, it’s only a little before eight.

Fuck, I was planning on making Sammie breakfast. Plus, I was definitely going to have her again. Last night was beyond incredible.

Hey, maybe she left a note or a text.

Fuck, my phone is still downstairs.

Tossing back the covers, I get out of bed and throw on a pair of lounge pants. My plan is still to get in a good skate today. But I’ll have to shower and eat something for breakfast first.

But before any of that can happen, I need to check around to see if there’s anything from Sammie to indicate why she took off so early, something I haven’t come across yet.

Plodding down the stairs, I first stop in the foyer to take a quick peek out the window by the door.

Yeah, her car is gone.

I had a glimmer of hope that maybe by some miracle she’d be down here on the first floor.

Well, that’s just been shot to hell.

Next stop is the entertainment room.

Hmmm, she was definitely in here, ’cause the lamp over by the bar is on. I know it wasn’t last night. I had the overhead lights turned on, albeit on a soft, low setting. And I distinctly remember reaching back and flicking them off when I walked out of the room carrying Sammie.

Fuck, last night already feels like forever ago.

I still can’t figure out why Sammie would take off without saying goodbye, or making a plan to hang again, or, really, anything.

I look all over the place, but there’s no note to be found.

When I pick up my phone from where I left it on the coffee table, I see there’s also not a single text.

Sammie’s purse and the rest of her clothes are gone too.

It’s like last night never happened.

For the hell of it, I shoot off a quick text to her.

Me: Hey, Sammie. I’m sorry I missed you this morning. Just checking in to make sure everything is ok.

Sitting down on the sofa, I hold my phone in my hand and wait for her to reply. This way, if she thinks I in any way regret what happened, or that I don’t want to see her again, she’ll know both of those things are far from the truth.

I wait…and wait…but a reply never comes.

Okay, now I’m a little irritated.

Tossing my phone across the sofa, I place my head in my hands. “Fuck. This is not the way I wanted this to go.”

Not only did I plan to make Sammie breakfast and spend more time with her in my bed, but I was hoping she may have even wanted to come with me to the rink today. We could have grabbed something to eat afterward. That is, if she didn’t have to work.

Hey, work.

Maybe that’s why she left?

Nah, I don’t think so. Neither Boots nor Applebee’s opens this early. Plus, I think she would have said something last night.

It’s clearly time to resign myself to the fact that she wanted to leave like this.

Hard to believe, though, after the night we had. Not only was the sex mind-blowing, but it felt like we were building something, connecting in some way. I mean, shit, we obviously like each other as people.

Sitting back and running my hands down my face, I consider how best to handle this situation.

If what happened between us is a one-and-done type of thing, I need to know. I want an answer, and I want to hear it from Sammie. If she never wants to see me ever again, she’s going to have to say it to my face.

And tell me why .

I reach over and pick up my phone.

There’s still no reply from her.

Not that I thought there would be at this point.

I think about texting her again, but I know in my heart that she’s not going to answer.

I have to go see her in person.

It’s the only way.

I don’t have her address, but I know where she works—both places. I’m going to wait until this evening, though. I’ll try Applebee’s first, then hit up Boots.

Even if she isn’t working the first shift—which I suspect she isn’t since she never mentioned going in to work early—she’ll hopefully be working evening hours at one place or the other.

I want to talk, but I should also have a backup reason for showing up at her workplaces, a cover of sorts as to why I’m there.

Sighing, I kick my feet up on to the coffee table and lean back to think about it. That’s when I feel something scratchy beneath my bare heel.

Putting my feet back down, I lean forward and discover Sammie’s black elastic hair tie, the one she had in her hair last night.

Ahh, so she did miss something in her apparent haste to get out of my house.

Good.

Now I have a reason to look for her later.

I’ll give her back her hair tie, and she can give me some answers.