Sloane's POV
"I'm not letting you sit through a chaotic team dinner with thirty loud hockey players and a room full of glares," he speaks in a voice as soft as velvet, reaching out to gently curl his fingers around mine. "Put your coat on, Sloane. I'm taking you out on a proper date."
A date.
The word echoes through my mind like a dropped coin. My brain instantly spins into overthinking mode. Then I reassured myself that he’s putting on a show for me. He genuinely believes that I forgot our history, and that he needs to take care of me.
"Just the two of us?" I venture, keeping my tone soft, curious, and perfectly in character.
"Just the two of us," he confirms, a tender smile touching his lips, his eyes on mine. "No pack politics. No hockey strategy. Just dinner."
Beneath my skin, Zi
