“You believe in signs,” I repeat. She nods. “Yeah, I do. And right now, all signs point to me taking you down to my room and fucking your brains out.” Dead. RIP Jake Compton, the best grinder the NHL ever had. He died doing what he loved most. “I have a flight out first thing in the morning,” she goes on. “And I don’t want to be alone tonight.” She looks up at me through those dark lashes. “I think…maybe you don’t want to be alone either.” “I don’t,” I choke out. She smiles at me again. “Good. So maybe we should…” “I’ll get the check,” I say, already pulling my wallet from my pocket.
