Attached to You (A Carolina Rebel Novel)- Lindsay Paige(ang.)

**** Attached to You A Carolina Rebels Novel Copyright © 2017 by Lindsay Paige ISBN-13: 978-0998195551 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Newsletter Sign Up: Stay up-to-date on books, news, sales, and giveaways by signing up for my newsletter! http://eepurl.com/hqcTw

Table of Contents Title Page Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Acknowledgements

About the Author Coming Soon Carolina Rebels Roster

September Why do I do this to myself? Come to bars, take shots of tequila, and hope to find another fuck. I can’t believe this, but I miss Zane. Of the few guys I have available to regularly fuck, he hasn’t been around for months. He’s a sweet guy. Honestly surprised me that he goes along with my ‘no strings attached, you won’t be the only guy I’m sleeping with’ lifestyle. He doesn’t seem the type to do that for long. But he has. He’s the nicest of the guys I see. Well, the guys I did see. That has to be the reason why I miss him.

I’m in a dry spell. The other guys found girlfriends, so my pool of guys is down to Zane. Which is what brings me to the bar. I need to get laid. As my gaze scans the guys on either side of me along the bar, I wonder if I’m getting tired of this or if the guys here look unappealing because my mistake was coming on karaoke night. Either way, I wish I figured that one out before I walked in. I down another shot. Surely I’m not tired of the hunt, of the thrill of finding a new fuck buddy. This is fun. No one gets close. No one gets hurt. It’s perfect. I sigh when no one catches my eye. This is not one of my good nights, apparently. A body rams hard into my side, and my ribs go straight into the bar’s edge. “Fuck.” “Damn. Sorry. Motherfucker bumped into me.” A hand gingerly rests on my elbow, the touch at odds with the harsh tone and words of the man. “You okay?” A shudder runs through me at the sound of his voice. It’s deep and gruff and commands attention. My gaze runs from the hand, up the arm, across a vast chest, and then lands on his face. Holy shit, he’s hot. His eyes are dark green and so serious. His hair is a dark red, and he has ridiculously stronglooking jaws. “You okay?” he repeats. “My ribs hurt. Buy me a drink to make up for

it?” His eyes widen ever so slightly, the only sign that I’ve surprised him. “Yeah, sure.” He takes the empty barstool next to me. “A drink or another shot?” he asks as he waves the bartender over. “Two shots, please.” Once he orders me two more shots and a beer for himself, he gives me a once-over. I let him look, let him take in my tight, low-cut shirt, and my shorts. It might be September, but it was still warm when I walked in here. It’ll probably be a little chilly when I leave. “I’m Brayden.” “Deanna. You here by yourself?” He nods. “Just needed to get out of the house. Ended up here somehow. Didn’t realize there would be karaoke.” He winces as the next singer, who is terrible but energetic, begins her song. “Same here.” Needed to get out of the house, needed to get fucked. Same thing, right? Brayden would be perfect. He’s a big man, tall and wide, muscular too. Just the right amount, though. Not too buff that you’re worried a hug may kill you or that he’d be like a rock if you rest your head on him. He seems strong and sturdy. Have I mentioned lately that he’s insanely hot? And he has this whole serious look that makes me want to force him to be fun. What would his smile be like? Does he smile? Can he smile? He doesn’t look like he does, if he

can. What a ridiculous thing to wonder. A man as gorgeous as him surely has plenty of reasons to smile, so obviously he does. My shots are placed in front of me and I knock them back one after the other. Heat runs through me and I turn on the barstool toward Brayden. I think I’ve had a few too many at this point. “You’re smokin’ hot.” A faint smile quickly appears on Brayden’s face and just as quickly disappears. I’m beyond disappointed that I got not even a half-assed smile. “You always tell people you don’t know that you think they’re hot?” I lay a hand on his arm. His muscular arm. “But I do know you. Your name is Brayden and you injured me.” He reaches out and gently runs his fingers over my ribs. I wince. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding.” The expression on his face changes as he touches the tender area. He frowns when I suck in a breath. He must think it’s because my ribs are sore, but they’re not. His knuckles grazed my bra and I wish I wasn’t wearing one. Brayden’s hand falls. “Give it a few days and you’ll be as good as new. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I bumped into you that hard.” “It’s okay. So, what do you do for a living?” “I don’t want to talk about work.” I frown. All I asked was what he did. I wasn’t going to dive in and ask every detail about his job.

Quite frankly, I’m playing nice until it’s mostly appropriate for me to ask him to take me somewhere else to fuck my brains out. Plus, small talk helps weed out the creeps. “Okay. Then, what do you do for fun?” Brayden eyes me for a moment. “Honestly?” “Well,” I shrug, “you can lie if you want.” He laughs and holy freaking shit, there’s a smile! I grab the edge of the bar to steady myself. The man goes from sexy and edgy to downright beautiful and I’m-going-to-faint-he’s-so-hot status. “I don’t do much for fun.” “There must be something,” I push. “Well, in my spare time, I like to buy houses, renovate them myself as much as I can, and then sell them.” In his spare time? What does this man do for a living where he either has a lot of spare time or he has a lot of money to do such a thing, or both? And he does all of that hard labor for fun? “So you’re good with your hands?” Dear lord. There’s that smile again. My body leans forward on its own accord. “Of course I’m good with my hands, darlin’.” Swoon. Normally, I’d be internally barfing right now, but it rolls so easily off his tongue with a slightly Southern accent that a swoon can’t be prevented. Holy hell, what is happening to me? “What about you?” he asks.

I take a moment to let my brain reform from its state of mush before answering. “I find my fun in many ways. Just depends. Sometimes, it’s going to a concert, playing pool, acting silly, doing something a little wild, whatever.” “Like karaoke?” he asks. I laugh. “On occasion.” An idea hits me. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to visit the ladies’ room.” I step away and make my way through the throng of people. Elbows and shoulders bump into me along the way, making me feel like a pinball. Brayden watches me go; I know because I glance back and see him. Once I’m sure he can’t see me anymore, I move toward the DJ in charge of taking names for karaoke. Let’s hope Brayden won’t kill me for signing him up and picking his songs. My excuse is that he can use some fun and if Mr. Serious goes through with it, then he’s definitely worthy of getting laid tonight. Afterward, I do make a pitstop in the bathroom. By the time I return to Brayden, there’s a glass of water in place of my empty shot glasses. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Don’t want you drunk,” is all he says. So, I drink my water. Brayden has switched to water too. He’s a guy who walks on the safe side of the line, which is a good sign. Brayden turns on the barstool toward me and asks a question, but my eyes fall to his thighs.

How did I not notice those before? His legs must be powerful based on how big those suckers are. Oddly, it reminds me of Zane. “Deanna?” I lift my gaze. “Why don’t you give me a kiss?” I ask. Watching his face carefully, I see that I’ve surprised him again. He barely widened his eyes. For the most part, this guy keeps his emotions close to the vest. That intrigues me because it reminds me of myself in a way. Brayden grabs my hips, pulls me off the barstool until I’m standing between his knees, and tilts his head a bit to the right. He rests his forehead against mine, his lips a breath away. Oh, no. He’s one who likes anticipation. That can be good and bad because it can be such an agonizing, yet amazing thing. He licks his lips, stealing my breath when his tongue brushes my mouth, which parts immediately. His hearty chuckle is almost too much to deal with. “Next up is Brayden.” The DJ’s voice calling out breaks into our little bubble. Brayden frowns. “He means you,” I say. “Do this for me? Please? I’ll make it worth your while, especially if you give me a good show.” He eyes me long enough that I think he’ll say no. “I’m supposed to get up there? For you?” He

somehow manages to say that without it sounding like an insult. “Yes.” “You’re not taking no for an answer?” “Correct.” He sighs, but stands and makes his way to the stage. He grabs the microphone from the DJ, blinking a few times from the bright lights. Damn, he’s stiff as a board up there. Definitely out of his comfort zone. He rubs a hand over his head a few times. There’s a shift in the crowd, as if they’re just as surprised as he is that he’s up there. “Oh my God, Brayden!” someone shouts. Okay, so apparently, someone here knows him. Brayden forces a chuckle. “Obviously, this isn’t my usual stage.” Is that a hint as to what he does? Maybe he’s some indie singer that I’ve never heard of before, but that doesn’t quite make sense. There’s a laugh through the crowd too. His eyes seem to find my general area. “First, let me say that darlin’, I know I just met you, but I already don’t like you a little bit.” That worries me until I see a faint smile. When the music starts for “Low Rider,” he groans. “Seriously?” he mumbles, but the crowd rumbles with excitement. Chairs scrape across the floor as people stand to dance. I can’t help but grin. When his deep voice gets seemingly deeper as he sings the first line, I shiver. The music and the

words fall away and all that’s left is the tone of his voice. Holy hell, his voice is hot. Then, I’m distracted because he actually does give me a show. His hips do a little wiggle and he manages to slowly dance. It’s hilarious because it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable. It’s probably a sign of how evil I am to find pleasure in this. When the song is over, he takes a deep breath, but the DJ says, “Hold up, man; she signed you up for another one.” “For fuck’s sake.” The crowd cheers, though. His next song is more of a hint based on his accomplishment of doing the first song. The music starts for “Gettin’ You Home” by Chris Young and Brayden relaxes a little until a few women in the bar catcall him. Ha. Sorry, ladies, but he’s going home with me. What surprises me the most, as he gets into a groove with this one, is that the man can actually sing. And with that low voice? I’m squirming in my seat from that alone. When the song is over, Brayden quickly leaves the stage, weaves through the people, and comes over, but he doesn’t look at me. He pulls his wallet out, waves the bartender over, and hands him some cash. “I believe you said something about making that torture worth my while?” Finally, those dark green eyes focus on me. I hold my hand out and he takes it. He insists on

driving since he only had the one beer. That’s totally fine because I took a cab since I knew I’d be drinking. God, it’s been forever since I’ve left with someone I don’t know and gone back to their house. Too late to hope he’s not a bad guy. We could go to my house, but I try not to do that too often, if at all. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I find a text. Zane: Back in town. When can I see you? Such a simple question. If he had just messaged me earlier, it could’ve been tonight. But now I’ve met Brayden. Me: Tomorrow. I haven’t had sex with the man yet, or even kissed him, and I’m already hoping tonight isn’t the last I’ll see of him. I clear my throat to prepare myself for my usual speech. If I wasn’t already hoping to see him on a regular basis, then I wouldn’t worry with it. “Is this a normal thing for you?” I ask instead. “Pickin’ up girls from a bar?” he asks. “Yeah.” “Not really. Not that often at least. I’m pretty focused on my work.”

Oh. Well, I wonder if that means this is automatically a one-time deal? “I’m a chronic nostrings-attached girl, but I do have a fuck buddy, and sometimes have buddies. I haven’t had sex in two months, though, and I’m clean. Just wanted to let you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Brayden enters a nice neighborhood, and it’s a really nice one. He definitely has money if he lives in this area. He pulls into the driveway of a home that’s a bit secluded compared to the others. When he has the truck in park, he looks at me. “Are you done talking?” “Yes.” “Good.” We get out and it’s silent as I stand behind him while he unlocks the door and then disarms the alarm. He turns to me the second he’s done, kissing me so fiercely, I take a stumbling step backward. Oh, hell. I grab his shoulders because I need something to hold onto. Brayden grabs my thighs to pick me up. It doesn’t matter where he’s taking me as long as we’re getting naked and doing dirty things once we’re there. I knew Brayden would be perfect. I’m not wrong. I definitely need this to last longer than just one night.

The last time I saw Deanna, she dragged me into a quilt shop. Our fuck-buddy relationship went from sex only a few times a week to her asking me if I’d go shopping with her. A no was on the tip of my tongue until she said she’d make it worth my while. Whenever those words come out of Deanna’s mouth, the woman follows through. So, I went shopping. Except, Deanna didn’t buy a damn thing. She browsed for a bit before she pulled me into the quilt shop. I followed along aimlessly, ready for the part that would make it worth it, when we suddenly found ourselves in the back of the store in what

appeared to be the break room. “Have sex with me.” That’s what she said seconds before she grabbed my neck and pulled me down for the hottest kiss between us yet, and things are always off the fucking charts with Deanna. I had no time to object but only once before I was having sex with her in the break room of a quilt store. I dragged her out the moment we were done. She had a big grin on her face and because I knew she was watching me carefully for a reaction, I gave none. If I was caught having sex in public? God, it could’ve been so bad. I’m still waiting for the owners of the shop to review their security cameras, catch us, and send the police to my house with the appropriate charges. She also didn’t get a reaction because I was pissed. How could this one woman so easily without saying more than four words get me to have sex with her in a public place? It’s insane! Hot, but insane. That was when I knew for sure that I definitely couldn’t make an exception for her. So before the season started last week, I had sex with her one last time. It’s been a week and a half, we’re on the road, and I’ll be damned if that woman didn’t get under my skin. I can’t stop thinking about seeing her once we get back. Deanna is a bad idea, though. She pushes me

out of my comfort zone. First with the karaoke singing, which I’m still hearing shit about, and then with the sex in the quilt shop. She’ll be a distraction during the season and that is something I refuse to have, even for some of the best sex I’ve ever had. And it’s absolutely the best sex of my life. However, I can’t have her fucking things up for me. My new mantra should be Say no to Deanna. My focus is hockey. Always has been. I’ve never been able to find a balance between hockey and my life when hockey is in season. It’s why I’m in my thirties, single as they come, and my last serious relationship was over five years ago. I want to bring this team further in the playoffs. I want to hold the best trophy in all of sports over my head, and I want my teammates to be able to do the same. The last thing I need is a woman to distract me from my goals. And Deanna is the kind of woman who could knock me flat on my ass and destroy everything around me in the process. “Damn, I’m ready to get home,” EJ says as he sits down next to me with a plate of food. “I miss my princess.” His princess is his infant daughter who he learned about at the end of last season. “Did you ever find a nanny?” He scoffs. “Bree goes through nannies like they’re diapers.” “Bree does or you do?”

He glares at me while he stabs his fork into his pasta. “My mom hasn’t liked any of them either. The search is being tabled for the moment. I’ll know the perfect nanny when I meet her. You still seeing your karaoke girl?” That’s what they’ve decided to call Deanna since I won’t reveal her name. I shake my head. “Something happen?” EJ asks. He’s brave to ask, but we’ve become a bit of friends. Not to say my teammates aren’t my friends, but we don’t normally hang out if hockey isn’t involved in some way. My mom was a single parent and EJ is raising his daughter with the help of his mother. I’ve offered to babysit. He’s never taken me up on the offer, but he’s invited me over to hang out and his daughter kind of likes me. So, we hang out some, which is why he probably feels he can ask. “Season started,” I answer. “So? You don’t fuck during the season?” “Leave me alone, EJ.” I don’t like talking about this shit and I’m not talking about it with him, especially when so many of my teammates are around. No wonder my friends are few and far between. I keep to myself too much. “Okay, okay. Want to see the latest picture of Bree that Ma sent me?” He’s already pulling his phone out, and his daughter is a more enjoyable topic of conversation than I am. Soon, we’re on the ice for a game against

Detroit. Our season is off to a hot start, having won four of our five previous games. I try not to think too much about past games or future games. Only the here and now. Only what’s right in front of me. Right now, the puck is on my stick. We’ve had a few opportunities to score so far, but no one has slipped the puck past either goalie. I want to change that. I don’t have an opening, so I pass to Nathan O’Donnell, who is waiting. He rears his stick back, the puck flies through the air, hits the arm of a player, but still makes it past the goalie. One to zero. We work hard, once spending almost two minutes in Detroit’s zone peppering their goalie with shots and keeping them from clearing the zone. It also wouldn’t truly be the start of the season if I didn’t hook one of their players. It’s my first hooking penalty of the season. I don’t know why I have this bad habit or why I can’t seem to rid myself of it, but I hate it. It’s like the same way my muscles are familiar with skating, they’re familiar with reaching out and hooking someone. I’ve been able to reduce the number of times I do it a season, so there seems to be hope that I can eliminate the habit altogether. My team is able to kill off the penalty with only a few close calls. Once I make it back to the bench, Marco slaps my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?” “We placed bets on when you’d get your first hooking penalty and a few of us, myself included, had this game.” “Fuck off.” I shove him away. He’s the exact type of person who can be distracting during a game. That’s fine...if he’s distracting our opponent. I get onto the ice for my shift, happy to focus on the one thing that matters the most to me. This is all I have and it won’t last forever. I plan to give it two hundred and ten percent, which means I don’t have room for anything, or anyone, else.

“My birthday is coming up.” I laugh. “Yeah, Mom. I know. I’m shopping for your present today.” She gasps, but it’s all for dramatic effect. “You’re just now shopping for my present, Brayden?” “Cut me some slack. I was on the road for the past two weeks.” “Which is the perfect time to find me something while you’re traveling.” “Too late for that now. Is there anything in particular you want?” I ask. “Oh,” she starts and I can picture her waving

her hand. “You know I don’t need anything.” True, but... “Not what I asked.” She’s quiet for a moment before finally admitting that she would like a new clock for her mantel. That’s my mom; the most exciting thing she can ask her son for is a clock. She doesn’t like asking for anything, though, after having raised me on her own with little help. She’s stubborn, too. When she gives in and tells me what she wants, best believe that’s what she gets. We talk while I drive, but hang up once it’s time for me to shop. My mom doesn’t ask if there is a woman in my life. She gave that up a few years ago. Should it mean something when a mother doesn’t ask her only son about any potential wives and, by extension, grandchildren? It seems as if she’s given up on that idea. It’s not that it’ll never happen, but it’s not my current focus. And yet... I can’t help but be reminded of the last time I was shopping. I haven’t heard from Deanna since the last time I saw her, but then, when she gave me her number the morning after I first met her, her words were, “Use it if you want to see me again.” She never texted me wanting to have sex. It’s not surprising that she hasn’t texted. She did spout something about how she had a fuck buddy, so she’s probably been satisfied by him the past two weeks. Meanwhile, I can’t stop thinking about her.

This is exactly why she needs to stay out of my life. She’s already fucking with my head. The only time she’s out of my head is when I’m on the ice. I spend the next hour shopping for a clock and avoiding thoughts of Deanna. I find the clock, but am walking around the outdoor shopping center when my feet lead me to the door of the fucking quilt shop. I really don’t know what it is about this woman. We mostly fuck. She likes to talk some after sex, but not in a getting-to-know-you kind of way. The only personal question she asked was the night we met. She asked me again about my job. She wanted to know what I did and I froze. I blurted out that I was a financial analyst. That’s my normal go-to lie if I’m lying about my job. Girls think it’s boring and they don’t ask questions. I’m about to return to my car, but stop short when I see Deanna, smiling and laughing as she stands behind the counter, chatting with a customer. She works here? Before I can think twice, I storm through the door. Her eyes widen when she sees me. Luckily, the customer is walking away. “What the fuck, Deanna?” She takes my hand, calls someone to take over the register, and leads me back to the break room. “Okay, so surprise,” she smiles, “I own this place. We were never going to get caught, but it was fun to think you might, right?” What? “You’re fucking crazy.”

That causes her to grin. “You’ve been worried about it, haven’t you?” She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, Brayden, really, but I wanted to push you a little without actually putting us in any danger. My employee that day happened to be my best friend, so it all worked out.” Her fingers walk up my chest. “I hate you.” “Yet you still want to fuck me, don’t you?” She smirks. I grab her hand when she starts walking her hands downward. “What’s in the bag?” she asks when I don’t reply because yes I want to fuck her, but I’m having a hard time remembering why I don’t want to. “A present for my mother.” Deanna plucks the bag from my hands and peers inside. “A clock?” she asks with curiosity. “It’s what she asked for.” She hands the bag back to me and glances around the room. “So, it’s been two weeks.” Her eyes flick up to mine and I grin. “And?” She shrugs. “You barged into my shop. Just making conversation.” “I got an explanation, so it sounds like I can leave.” She frowns, and I add, “Unless there’s something you want to ask me?”

Deanna folds her arms over her chest. I have a feeling she’s never had to ask her fuck buddies for sex; they’ve always reached out to her. She wants me? She can ask for me. I grab her hips and pull her flush against me. “You like to play games with me, Deanna.” I lean forward to press a kiss to her jaw. “I don’t like playing your games.” That makes her laugh and I kiss her neck. Her back arches as my mouth travels to her chest to place a kiss on what cleavage she has exposed. A breathy moan catches in her throat and she grabs the back of my head. “Sounds like you want me to fuck you again. Do you?” I bring my mouth up to hers, but I don’t kiss her yet. “I don’t like your games.” I chuckle. “We’re even then.” Her hand tightens in my hair before she breathes her answer, “Yes please.” I kiss her finally. Kissing her is never enough. I’ve only been with her a handful of times, but I know that already. There’s too much tension, her mouth a source of too much pleasure, and the woman doesn’t know how to keep her hands to herself or in relatively safe zones. I pull away before her hand gets too close to the waistband of my jeans. “Come to my house tonight.” She hesitates for a moment. “I have plans.” “More important plans?” “I can be swayed to cancel if you’ll feed me.”

I shake my head. “See me tomorrow.” At her frown, I add, “I’ll feed you then.” I don’t like the idea of being responsible of her canceling whatever plans she has. I give her one more kiss and leave. It’s not until I get to my truck that I groan with mild regret. I was doing just fine until I saw her again. Without trying, the woman draws me to her. One more time can’t hurt, right?

I watch Brayden storm off with a smile on my face. I was seeing him pretty regularly for a little while and then poof! Nothing from him. I won’t lie; I was pretty bummed about it. Things with him are so...explosive. It’s addicting and I didn’t want it to end. Who would? I almost wish I hadn’t promised myself to Zane tonight. He’s back from his trip and wants to see me. How odd that I find myself in such a situation where I’m seeing two men, both are physically fit, but Zane is that way because he’s a professional hockey player. Brayden must work out because he’s only a financial analyst. Zane has asked me to

come to a game before, but I’m too busy for that. Besides, I’m more of a college football fan if I do watch sports. “He didn’t look too happy with you,” my best friend and co-worker, Rose, says when I come to stand behind the counter. “He’s happy with me.” She snorts, clearly not believing me. “Is that your latest conquest?” I shrug. “I’m seeing him tomorrow.” Rose shakes her head. “When will you settle down?” “When it doesn’t feel like I’m settling for the man.” She sighs as she straightens the fabric on sale. “Deanna, I love you—” “But?” I prompt. “You’re so high maintenance with these ridiculous standards.” I ignore her. I don’t have but one standard, really. Make me feel as if I can’t live without you. If I can do without, then it feels as if I’m settling for less than I deserve. If I don’t miss you, then I’m settling. If I can still sleep with other people and I want to sleep with other people, then I’m settling. I don’t want to settle. That’s all. What’s so crazy about that? The day passes rather quickly as I help customers and teach a few classes. By the time my

workday is over, I have enough time to grab a quick bite, shower, and drive to Zane’s house. He greets me at the door with a smile and a kiss. “You cooked?” I ask when he leads me to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. Red flags pop up all over my mind. We normally kiss our way straight to his bedroom. He never cooks. “I wanted to talk to you first,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Oh, god. That can’t be good. “I ate before I came.” “Oh.” Zane doesn’t seem to know what to do now that I’ve thwarted his plans. I step forward and run my hands over his chest. “Do we need to talk?” “Do you ever change your mind?” I frown in confusion. “Um, sometimes? Depends.” He takes my hands in his, his thumbs moving over them in soothing motions. “What if I don’t want to be your fuck buddy anymore?” “Then I don’t know why you called me over here because I could’ve been elsewhere.” He flinches at that and I wish I wasn’t so forward. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” “I’m confused.” What else could he have meant? We’re either fuck buddies or we’re nothing. Zane huffs and shakes his head, releasing my hands. “Never mind.” He turns away from me to

open the fridge. “You should go.” With him studiously avoiding me, I quietly walk out of the house. I’ve never seen Zane in a weird mood before, but there’s a first for everything. I also try not to get close enough that I would know his moods. I wait until I’m sitting at a stop sign a few miles away before I text Brayden. Me: My plans canceled on me. He texts me back by the time I reach the next stoplight. Brayden: Come on over then. An excitement I haven’t felt in a long, long time races through my body and thrills me. There’s this electric heat between Brayden and me, and it’s irresistible. I haven’t felt a connection like that in, well, never if I’m truly honest. I’ve had fantastic sex before, but just thinking about it with Brayden makes me want to turn the A/C on in the car. I knock on Brayden’s door. He opens it within seconds, as if he was standing on the other side waiting for me. His hand strikes out to grab mine, yanking me inside. My back slams against the door and my shirt is off within seconds. He kisses me hard, pushing up my skirt as my legs wrap around his waist, and groans when his hands brush bare

skin. Brayden may not like to step out of his comfort zones, but he sure as hell likes to take charge and be in control. It’s why I was so eager to catch him off guard in my quilt shop. Brayden’s mouth moves to my neck and up to my ear where he whispers, “First, I’m fucking you the way I want. Then, a punishment is in order.” My entire body shivers. Brayden chuckles. His mouth returns to mine, dominating control, stealing my every breath, and weakening my knees. My heartbeat pulses so loudly it’s a roar in my ears. Brayden teases me just once before slamming home. “Oh, fuck.” It feels so good that I momentarily forget there’s a door behind me and bang my head against it. Brayden keeps thrusting into me, but with a hand cradled behind my head. This is what I need. A powerful man fucking me senseless while managing to take care of me at the same time. A girl could get used to this. Later, we’re lying in Brayden’s bed when he asks, “How did you come to own a quilt shop?” For a moment, I hesitate. Telling him would require me to get personal, which could lead to a string forming and attaching. But the question is innocent; he’s probably only curious. “My grandmother owned it. She passed when I was eighteen, and she pissed off the whole damn family

by leaving the shop to me. Her instructions specifically were for me to take over and run it. I already knew how because I helped her here and there.” “Are you happy she did that?” he asks. “Yeah. I was pretty wild back then and she gave me stability by forcing me to take over. There was no way I would let her down.” “So, no college?” “Nope. I had a business to run. Plus, the last thing I needed was to go to college and have a chance to get even crazier and be stupider.” I prop myself up on my elbow. “Why are you asking me all these questions?” “I’m curious.” “Does that mean I’m free to be curious too?” “Do and be whatever you want.” He shrugs. How he can be laid-back in moments like this yet so tense at almost every other moment? Maybe it’s because of the sex. I also find that I am a little curious. I blame the fact that I knew he was shopping for his mother today. “Does your mom live close by?” Brayden shakes his head. “She lives back in Michigan in my hometown.” I didn’t realize he wasn’t from here, though it makes sense. He doesn’t have the accent except for when he called me darlin’. He must pick it up here and there. “How did you end up here?”

“I liked the weather better.” Such a simple reason to move, but I suppose people leave northern states for that reason all the time. “What have you been doing for the past two weeks?” Brayden laughs. It’s an amazing laugh. He should do it more often. “Is that your way of asking if I fucked someone else? Or if I missed you? I don’t know you well enough to know which.” I roll my eyes. “We were asking questions and that was the only one I could think of.” “That doesn’t answer my question,” he points out. “Neither,” I answer. Obviously he can fuck someone else if he wishes. He doesn’t need to miss me either. Brayden’s warm hand, which was resting on my ass, glides up my back to my shoulder. “I worked and did little else.” “That’s boring.” “What did you do?” I smile and laugh a little. “The same thing, actually.” “That’s boring,” he mocks. “Are you leaving tonight or in the morning?” “Depends. Will you make it worth my while if I stay until morning?” “Have I let you down yet?” “No. No, you have not.”

He grins and pulls me on top of him with one hand as he reaches for a condom with the other. “Then let’s have a little more fun.” And fun we do have. Brayden finally “punishes” me. He tortures me by bringing me to the edge only to drag me away before I can fall over and enjoy the highest pleasure. I damn near go mad before I orgasm, but it’s well worth it. We conk out after that, each of us on one side of his massive bed. However, when I wake up in the morning, I’m curled into Brayden’s side. One of his arms is across my back so his hand can rest half on my hip and half on my ass. Even in his sleep, he loves to touch my ass. The thought makes me giggle. “What are you laughing about?” he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re an ass man, Brayden,” I say as I lift my head to look at him. His lids are still heavy, only a slice of green peering at me between his thick red lashes. “I’m a woman man,” he corrects. I roll my eyes and he pinches me for it. “Should I still expect you tonight even though you came last night?” I normally don’t do back-to-backs, as I have this crazy idea that it’s easier to form strings if I do. However, do I turn down another night of downright scorching sex? No, I don’t.

“Yes. I can be here around,” I pause to think about which class I have to teach tonight, “eight. Will that work?” He nods. “I have to get going. Thanks for a good night, Brayden.” I’m about to move away, but he holds me in place. “Good?” he questions. I glance at him with a raised brow. “Now, Brayden,” I start with an admonishing tone. “I didn’t take you as a guy who needed his ego stroked.” He’s back to trying to hide his expressions. The corners of his mouth barely move upward. “I don’t. Go on then.” His arm falls from my side and I leave his bed, walking naked out of his room since my clothes are still downstairs. Brayden and I? We’re going to have a lot of fun together.

Fuck. Inviting Deanna over again royally fucks with my plan to stay away from her after one last night. But damn. Last night was so good, to use Deanna’s weak adjective. Her body must be full of an addictive drug so that every time you fuck her, you want to fuck her again. And again. And again. I need to ask her if she still wants to be fed, too. That particular request seems odd to me. People talk over meals, and we only have each other to talk about unless she surprises me by being able to avoid talk of ourselves for that long. Last night was the chattiest and the most personal she’s been. I’m curious to see what will happen tonight.

First, I must get through my day. I mail my mother’s present. Practice is smooth. For the first time, my karaoke girl isn’t mentioned. Maybe they are finally getting over that. My hope crashes and burns when I get to my truck. A red flag should’ve popped up when I saw a few guys hanging around. Sitting in the bed with a big red bow is a karaoke machine. “When are you hosting karaoke night at your house, Hook?” Scotty says as he tries to muffle his laugh. I send a death glare his way. “My brother and I can do some killer duets,” one of the Kessy twins adds. “No suggestive songs for us, though,” Marco adds. “I hate all of you,” I repeat what I’ve been saying since that dreadful video was posted by some fan online. After glaring at each of my grinning teammates, I get into my truck and leave, half-hoping I’ll accidentally run over one of them. No wonder they didn’t say anything today. They had the karaoke machine waiting for me. I stop by the grocery store to stock up on all my favorite healthy foods, get confirmation from Deanna that I’m cooking dinner for her tonight, and once I get home and drop that atrocious karaoke machine in my living room, I head for my home gym. Stress or annoying teammates or anything

really sends me straight to the gym. I don’t overdo it as that wouldn’t turn out well for me. Being a pro hockey player means working out with the team, with trainers, and here at home when I need to clear my head. Pushing myself too hard can lead to injury or overworking my body, and neither are ideal. Not to say that I don’t work as hard as I need to, but I don’t try to kill myself either when I’m here at home. For the billionth time, I wish I had a dog. I could burn off some of this energy by playing with a dog. I’ve always wanted one. As a kid, it wasn’t happening. Mom didn’t want something else to take care of and with me playing hockey as much as I was, she didn’t trust my word that I would care for one. And now, I travel so much and work so much, it doesn’t feel right to have dog when I live alone. I’d have to hire someone to watch him and walk him when I leave on trips. That’s no life for a dog. Not the one I want for mine, at least. Not while I’m still single. After a good hour in the gym, I shower and waste more time until I start dinner. This’ll be it. One last night with Deanna. Sex be damned. Between that and what little I’ve seen of her personality so far, she’ll prove too much of a distraction sooner or later. I’d rather not get that far at all. Even a no-strings-attached relationship is a distraction, especially when it comes to Deanna.

“Knock, knock,” she calls as she steps into the house. “I would’ve waited, but I couldn’t.” She jogs into the room. “Bathroom?” I give her directions for the downstairs bathroom and she disappears. She soon reappears and it’s with an uneasy look. “Grab a plate and a glass of water,” I order. She arrived just as I finished plating our dinner. We each grab a plate and a glass. She follows me into the living room where TV trays are waiting. Once we’re situated, I hand her the remote for Netflix. “Find us a movie.” The surprise is clear on her face. “What? You don’t think we’re going to talk over dinner, do you?” “Well, yes.” “You’d rather we not,” I point out. Her cheeks turn pink as she nods. “I did not think this through when I initially mentioned it.” “I know. Find us something to watch.” It doesn’t take her long to pick some romantic comedy that I hope we won’t watch all the way through. A few minutes in, EJ sends me a text with a cute picture of Bree. He can’t help himself sometimes; he has to share pictures of how cute she is. “Hey, what is that?” Deanna points to that damn karaoke machine. I come up with a quick lie that is dosed with a bit of the truth. “Apparently, one of my friends was

there that night and saw me. He showed a video to the rest of my friends. That’s their gift to me. Want it?” She laughs. “What? No way. You need to keep that so you can do more shows for me.” “That was a one-time deal, darlin’.” No way in hell am I doing that again. Not after the hell I’m paying for the first time. “You’re no fun.” “You’re missing the movie by talking to me.” That ends the talking, but not for long. “Was it worth it?” Her voice is softer now than it was a moment ago. “Was what worth it?” “Having to hear so much shit from your friends?” She leans forward, anxious to hear the answer. “Worth every word.” Her smile is nearly blinding. We finish eating in silence. I pull the trays off to the side and Deanna stretches out to rest her head in my lap. We aren’t actually finishing this movie, are we? “You know, Brayden,” she starts, “that was a good dinner.” I laugh. “I know; I cooked it.” “I actually thought we’d go somewhere.” “I’d rather cook. It’s easier.” “How so?” “I’m picky about what I eat because it has to be

healthy.” “So, you’re a health nut.” “I care about what I eat,” I correct. She’s surprising me by talking. Hell, she’s surprising me because we haven’t had sex yet. Why are we watching a movie or talking when we’re supposed to be having sex? Isn’t that the point of no strings attached? Not that I mind, well, I kind of do because I’ve been thinking about sex all day, but I’m confused. She rubs my leg from mid-thigh down to my ankle, but I can’t tell if it’s an absent-minded gesture or an intentional one. All I know is a hand is touching my skin and I want sex. Deanna rambles something about the movie, but obviously I’m not listening. “Deanna.” My patience has run out. She rolls over and glances up at me with innocent green eyes, her curly blond hair splayed over my lap. “Yes?” “What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are we doing?” A slow grin pulls the corners of her mouth up. I’m immediately suspicious. “What? You only want to have sex with me, Brayden?” She tsks as if she’s disappointed. I shove her shoulder. “You and your fucking games. Get up.” “That was hardly a game,” she replies as she

sits up and then stands. I reach out, grab her wrist, and yank her back down to straddle my lap. “It’s a game when I’d prefer for you to be straightforward.” “There’s no fun in that.” Her lips make a small pout while her hands slip underneath my shirt. “For god’s sake, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already?” That evil grin returns. “I thought you’d never ask.” Her mouth crashes into mine. Time speeds up as we shed our clothes and throw them haphazardly away from us, letting them fall where they may. This is what I love about being with Deanna. When she’s around, everything else on my mind falls silent. The world disappears and there’s only one person before me. One fantastically hot person who gives me one of the world’s best highs. It’s a lot like being on the ice. Instead of the roar of the crowd fueling me, it’s her moans and sexy little sighs. Instead of a hit or needing to chase after the puck spurring me into action, it’s her biting and nipping my lips and shoulders, her nails dragging down my skin, and her hips grinding over mine. She brings the same kind of high as winning the most important game of the season. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to walk away. I can’t walk away from hockey and now, I’ve found another addiction.

“I swear you’re the best fuck,” Deanna sighs afterward, resting her forehead on my shoulder. “It’s ridiculous.” At that, I smile. “Why?” “No one should be that good.” “Wish I could say I was sorry.” “No you don’t. How old are you?” she asks. “Thirty-one. How old are you?” “Twenty-four.” She sighs and lifts her head. “If I get up, will there be a spot here when I come back? Be warned that if you say no, then I’m not getting up at all.” “Get up and we’ll move to my bed.” She smiles, happy with my answer. Once we’re all cleaned up and lying in bed, she asks another question, “Do you ever see yourself getting married?” “Maybe. You?” “That’s the ultimate goal, but my best friend says I’m too high maintenance.” That last part ends with a grumble. “Are you high maintenance?” She doesn’t seem so, but what do I know? “No.” Deanna props herself up on one elbow to look at me. “She says my standard is ridiculous, but it’s not. All I want is to not feel like I’m settling for someone, that’s all. How is it my fault that I can’t find someone I don’t want to live without?” I chuckle, which makes her frown.

“What?” “You pick up guys in bars, openly admit that you have multiple fuck buddies, and you wonder why you can’t find a guy that won’t feel like settling?” Her frown deepens. “Are you calling me a slut?” What little bit of a smile I had fades quickly. “No, Deanna. I’m saying that if you want a good man, the likelihood of finding him in a bar and you keeping him while you’re sleeping with more than one guy is slim. There’s nothing wrong with your standard; it’s your method.” Deanna sighs. “I guess you have a point.” She lies back down. “Why do you sleep around if you want a relationship?” “Because I’m at odds with it. I want it, but I don’t.” Her hand slides down my stomach and down to wrap around my cock. “Enough talking.” I’m definitely okay with that, especially as she places open-mouthed kisses on my chest and begins to head south.

Friday, I get a text from Deanna. I haven’t seen her in a few days. I’m at the arena because there’s a

game tonight, but her text surprises me. Deanna: So, do you want to spend Halloween with me? My employee/best friend bailed and we hand out candy at work. You’d have to dress up. If not, no worries. I’ll get someone to work in her place instead, but thought I’d ask. Is she asking me out? That’s basically a date for my no-strings-attached karaoke girl. My instinct is to say no, but these past few days without her have not been fun. I’m still thinking about her too damn much. I thought about her less when I was fucking her regularly. Me: Make it worth my while? Deanna: Don’t I always? I toss my phone into my locker. Shit, now I’m in a dilemma. How can I be with Deanna on Halloween and not attend my yearly Halloween party? I can’t cancel; too many of the guys look forward to it. I know Ian, in particular, is. His son, Andrew, was born just a couple of weeks ago right before the season started; my Halloween party is his and Sydney’s first night out together since he was born. “What’s wrong?” EJ asks as he takes a seat next to me.

“Ah, would it be a big deal if I don’t come to my own party?” His eyes widen. “Why wouldn’t you be there?” “I have other plans.” EJ grins. “Are you still seeing karaoke girl?” “How big of a deal is it going to be?” I ask, ignoring his question. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe get Rams or Marco to keep an eye on things and take over as hosts.” That’s a good idea. I thank him before getting up to find those two knuckleheads. Noah isn’t too bad, but Marc likes to push my buttons. He likes to push everyone’s buttons; I’m not special. I find them sitting on a leather couch, talking. “What’s up, Captain Hooker?” Marco asks, and I glare at him. “I need a favor.” That makes both of them sit up straighter. For a moment, I feel awkward and wish I was closer to my teammates than I am. “What do you need?” Noah asks. “I’m not going to be at the Halloween party.” “But it’s your party,” Marc points out. “No shit. You two want to play host and make sure nothing gets out of hand?” “Why aren’t you going to be there?” Marc asks. “Is there a girl? Is it karaoke girl? Why don’t you bring her?”

I firmly ignore him and focus on Noah. “Will you?” “Yeah, sure. No problem.” “Thanks.” I turn and walk away with Marco yelling after me about how I need to quit hiding my woman and keeping her a secret. If he only knew I don’t have a woman, not really. She also doesn’t know I play hockey. No way am I introducing her to my teammates and therefore, telling her I play. Things aren’t serious and likely won’t get serious. There’s no reason for her to know about my little white lie now.

I’m still steamed at Rose. She asked to work Halloween with me and then she bails! Sometimes, I hate having Rose as an employee. She doesn’t take advantage of the fact that I’m also her friend often, but she does do it here and there. Like today. She totally banked on us being friends for me to let her off the hook so she can go on her stupid date. It was also her idea that I ask “one of my men” to hang out with me instead of asking one of my other employees to fill in for her. At first, I thought it was absolutely ridiculous to ask Zane or Brayden. That’s not what you do with a fuck buddy. But my stupid mind kept wandering to Brayden and

wondering what his plans might be on Halloween night. There’s no way I’d ask Zane, especially with him being weird with me lately. My phone vibrates with a text, and for a moment, I worry that it’s Brayden, canceling on me already. Zane: Hey. Sorry about the other night. Come over after my game? Deanna: Sure. Text me when you get home. Maybe he’s out of his funk. I’ll be pissed if I get over there and he sends me away for a second time. I’d rather stay at home than be turned away by a moody man. My mind wanders back to Halloween and Brayden while I work. I’m thinking it’s about time I push him out of his comfort zone again. How? That is the question. He likes control, so maybe I need to show him that it can be fun to let someone else take over. He might not like that at all. I won’t know until I try. The day is long. Made longer by a basic sewing class I teach after the shop closes. I actually teach two. My grandma would be proud to see how well I’ve done, I think. It shocked the hell out of everyone that she was trusting me with her business. Just because I was reliable when I helped her here and there didn’t mean I could run a

business and do it well. There’s been hurdles, of course. I nearly lost it because of this douche I was dating, who turned out to be stealing money from the business. My mom tore me a new one when she learned of that. The entire family did. It was just one more reason why Deanna shouldn’t have control. To me, it was the perfect reason to stop dating and turn to fuck buddies only. I was in love with someone who stole from my grandmother’s lifework and the only thing she left me in the care of. Then, there was the cheater. There was the drug dealer and car thief. I once dated an older guy, like way older, thinking he’d have to be more mature, but when he wanted me to call him daddy and start dressing like I was still in high school and in pigtails, I had to run the hell away. I sure know how to pick ʽem, don’t I? Thinking about this makes me second guess inviting Brayden to hang out. I’ve been burned one too many times, and the last person I want to be burned by is Brayden. After work, I take a long bath to relax. My skin is pruney, but by the time I make it to Zane’s, I’m back to being plump. I knock and he opens the door, taking my hand gently with a smile. “I’ve missed you,” he says. It’s his own fault, but I don’t say that. I give him a smile back, which widens because he’s

leading me to the bedroom. Thank goodness. “How was your day?” “Good. Y’all win?” He nods. “Four to two.” I pull my hand from his to remove my shirt and effectively put an end to the talking. Zane’s eyes immediately fall to my breasts. I giggle when he bumps into the wall, as he’s been walking down the hallway backward. “Don’t get so distracted that you hurt yourself.” His cheeks redden a bit, only for a few seconds. It’s adorable that he gets embarrassed. Even after all this time of seeing me, he still gets a little flustered. Zane drags me into his room, sits on the bed, and pulls me between his knees. His kiss is soft, but hungry. His fingers dig into my hips. “Come on.” He pulls me onto the bed. For a moment, I wish he was more like Brayden. I’m not in the mood for a laid-back, slow, thorough type of fucking. I don’t want to be pulled onto the bed; toss me up there, climb over me, and pin me down. Then, I feel guilty for thinking of someone else while with Zane. “You okay, Deanna?” I realize I froze. Plastering a smile on my face, I banish all unnecessary thoughts out of my mind. “Fine. Kiss me already, Zane.” He grins that cute boyish grin full of charm. “Anything you want.” As I expected, he kisses me and proceeds to

alternate between fucking me fast and taking his sweet time. “Stay?” Zane asks a few minutes after we finish. Sometimes, I’ll stay longer just to fuck a few more times, but it’s been a crazy week and after all the fucking with Brayden, I’m tired. “I should go.” He frowns, but nods. I kiss him on the cheek before sliding out of bed. “Hey, Deanna?” I glance at him from over my shoulder. “Yeah?” Zane hesitates. “Do you want to go to a Halloween party with me?” It takes everything I have to keep my face neutral. He’s asking me out? Why? I come over, we fuck, I leave. Why in the world would he want to go on a date with me? I’m relieved that I have a legitimate excuse to say no. “I have to work.” “Get someone to cover for you.” Shit. I should have said no flat-out. Feeling like a bitch before the words ever leave my mouth, I say, “I don’t want to.” Zane presses his lips tight together and nods. With that, I leave. Why in the world would he ask me out? Brayden knows more about me than Zane does and I’ve been fucking Zane longer. Zane doesn’t even know where I work or what I actually do. I told him I work in retail, which I do. We don’t talk before or after sex past how was your day and

replying that it was good or shitty. It’s truly just fucking. On top of that, I can obviously be a bitch to him. I feel bad about it because Zane seems nice from what little I do know of him. He has that good guy vibe and I certainly don’t want to be the girl to tarnish that. As I get dressed and head out of his house, I wonder if it’s time to cut things off with him.

Monday comes and it’s Halloween. I don’t have any classes tonight because of the trick-or-treating. I leave the shop early and in the safe hands of one of my more reliable employees, so I can head over to Brayden’s. He doesn’t know I’m coming, which will either work out fine or blow up in my face. I knock on his door. The rush of anxiety that hits me is unnerving and annoying. As much fun as it is to pull Brayden out of his element, I’m putting myself outside of my comfort zone as well. I’m starting not to like it. But then, Brayden opens the door. His expression is blank, but once he sees me, he smiles a little. I relax; he’s happy to see me if he’s smiling. “What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later.”

“Well, I normally bake cookies and hand them out as well.” I hold up the bundle of supplies in my arms. “I thought you could help me.” “You want me to help you bake cookies?” One eyebrow rises with skepticism. “Yes.” He leans against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, the cool, detached expression back on his face. “What are you up to, Deanna?” I laugh. “Nothing. I only want to bake cookies. Are you helping me or not? Because if not, I need to go home and bake them.” When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “You can have a cookie or two if you want, as a reward for helping me.” His eyes flick down to the bags of ingredients in my hands and then back up to me. “I don’t eat sweets.” What? What kind of person doesn’t eat sweets? Is he an alien? I mean, I know he said he likes to eat healthy, but everyone still likes to treat themselves, don’t they? “I help you, my reward is eating you before we go.” He turns and walks away before I can fully process his words. “Come on, darlin’,” he calls out over his shoulder. “The sooner the cookies are in the oven, the sooner my mouth is on your body.” That certainly gets me moving. We are quiet at first as Brayden turns on the oven and pulls out pans while I take the ingredients out of the bags. He leans his hip against the

counter, crosses his ankles, and folds his arms over his chest again to watch me. Before I can remind him that he’s supposed to be helping me, he says, “You feel comfortable enough to drop by unannounced? What if I wasn’t home?” “Then you’d have never known I was here at all. I’d prefer to think of it as me surprising you. Why in the world don’t you eat sweets? I know you like healthy stuff, but surely you sneak something full of sugar in every now and then.” Brayden shakes his head. “I don’t like sweets.” I reach up and touch my forefinger to his nose. “You’re weird.” I grin when I see flour left behind. “What do you indulge in then?” There must be something. Brayden reaches into the bag of flour and leaves a streak across my forehead. “Payback,” he explains. Then, he reaches up and opens the top cabinet above the fridge behind him. There’s a stash of at least three kinds of chips: one regular, one kettle-cooked, and the Pringles brand. “My guilty pleasure is salt and vinegar chips.” “That’s not very healthy.” “I know, but I work out enough and have them only here and there, so it balances out.” I dip my fingers into the flour, pretend there’s something on his lip that needs to be wiped away, and hum. “And how often is here and there?”

Brayden grins, my heart stuttering from how marvelous he looks, and his fingers find the flour again while I start rolling the dough. “Once every week or so. You know,” he places another streak along my cheek. “I don’t like a messy house.” I pause and glance around. His house is pretty orderly, but I also know that he won’t freak if something is out of place. After all, our clothes have been strewn about many times for hours and he didn’t care. There’s also always a towel lying around in odd places like he took it off and hung out to dry wherever he was standing at the moment. Does he never get dressed in the bathroom? “You’re the one who keeps retaliating,” I point out. “And nothing is messy yet. Too bad you don’t like sweets. Flour doesn’t taste good and icing would be so much better to lick off.” Brayden frowns. “We have to ice them too?” “No, we don’t have the time for that. You don’t get to put your mouth anywhere near me if you don’t start helping.” That spurs him into action. He helps me cut the cookies with the cookie cutters I brought and then we pop them into the oven. Brayden drags me over to his table and lifts me to sit on top of it. “Where do you want my mouth first?” he asks as he unbuttons my jeans. I lift my hips, and he pulls them off, yanking at my shoes when he gets to my feet.

I slip my hands behind his neck, locking them together, and pull him forward for a kiss. His hands rest on the inside of my thighs, causing me to shiver with anticipation. His mouth is hungry and demanding. The rough slash of his tongue against mine steals my breath away. My entire body loosens as his body towers over me. Brayden kisses his way down my neck as one hand slides to the center of my legs. “I hate how fucking addicting you are,” he mumbles. His comment throws me for a moment, but his free hands goes to my chest and pushes me to lie down. It’s nearly forgotten when his mouth replaces his hand and then completely gone when they work in sync with my legs wrapped around his head as he works me to an explosive orgasm just as the timer for the cookies goes off. For a moment, all I can do is lie on his kitchen table while he washes his hands and pulls the pans out of the oven. It would normally take me forever to bake all the cookies, but with his double oven, it takes no time at all. My chest heaves and my eyes are closed when I feel something being poured over my chest. I open my eyes to see Brayden dumping flour on me. “What the hell, Brayden?” I snap, sitting up. I’m still wearing my shirt, too! He reaches in and sprinkles some over my head. My mouth drops in outrage, but his face is as calm as ever.

“Oops. Looks like you need a shower. I’ll help you with that.” He holds out his hand. “You didn’t have to pour flour on me for shower sex.” He grins. “No, but it was fun doing it anyway.” “Who are you and what have you done with Brayden?” He laughs as I take his hand. “Are you saying I’m not capable of fun?” “It seems like it’s out of your bubble at times, yes.” When he frowns, I feel bad about saying it. Man, I’m turning into a bitch this week. First to Zane and now to Brayden. What’s worse is my comment totally got to him because he gently shows me to his master bath and looks as if he’s leaving me here to shower alone. “Where are you going?” I ask. He turns around. “I, ah, feel bad about that,” he motions to my flour-covered body, “so I was going to leave you to clean up without me.” “Didn’t your momma ever teach you to clean up your messes? Clean me up, Brayden.” He eyes me for a moment before undressing and reaching around me to turn on the shower as I remove my shirt. “What are you going as tonight?” he asks as we step in. “I’m a fairy godmother. What are you?” His lips flex, but he shakes his head. “I’m

something ridiculous. You better give me the world’s best blow job for this.” Brayden pumps soap into his hand, lathers, and starts running his hands over my body. “What are you?” I’m even more curious now. “Olaf from Frozen.” I lean forward, grabbing his biceps before I fall over from laughing so hard. “Seriously?” He nods. “It was the first kid-friendly costume I saw.” That makes me smile. He’s full of surprises. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to dress as, but it certainly wasn’t a snowman. Not to mention, he’s not making any moves on me right now. Well, his hands are definitely caressing my body, moving leisurely, but he’s mainly just washing me. He even washes my hair. This has never happened to me before. It all feels very intimate. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

In between trick-or-treaters, Deanna lobs questions at me. The most recent being, “What’s something on your bucket list?” That’s something I have to think about because there are a few hockey-related things up there and I certainly can’t mention those. “To buy my mom a brand-new Corvette,” I finally answer. Deanna tilts her head at me. “I need more than that.” I take off the head of my costume. “She was a fantastic single mom and she loves Corvettes. She’s always wanted one. I have the means to buy her those things, but the woman is stubborn and too

independent. She doesn’t want me to do it. She’s insisting that she buy her own Corvette one day, so if I could convince her to let me do it, then it’d make my fucking year.” “You are too sweet,” she whispers. I grin. “Don’t tell anyone.” I settle the head of the snowman back into place just in time for another round of trick-or-treaters to come to the shop. I knew I needed something that would hide my identity. No way did I want to chance getting recognized. “What’s something on yours?” I ask when the little kids leave. Her voice is far more serious than I’d expect it to be, but it matches what she says. “I want to make my family proud. I want to be something other than Difficult Deanna.” “You can’t be that bad.” She snorts. “You have no idea, Brayden.” “Tell me.” Her cheeks redden. “I’d rather not. It’s not pretty and it’s often embarrassing.” The bell over the door jingles as two kids and their parents walk in. She seems relieved, but she’s not getting off that easy. I’m curious now. “Tell me,” I repeat when they leave. “Where do you want me to start?” she snaps, annoyed that I’m pushing her. “I didn’t go to college, even though I’m doing exactly what my grandmother wanted me to do and that ended up

being the best decision for me. I’ve gotten high from marijuana on multiple occasions. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t touched the stuff in years. I have a DWI on my record because I drove drunk once. There was a pregnancy scare in high school and Mom hasn’t let me forget that yet. Then, there’s the string of bad boyfriends, one of whom nearly cost me this business because he was stealing from me and I was too busy thinking I was in love to pay attention. A bad decision looks just like a good one to me, but I pick the bad ones way more than the good. I can’t do right.” Damn. That’s a lot to absorb. Deanna reaches up to swipe a fallen tear away. I grab her wrist and pull her against me, though it’s a bit awkward with my costume. “I think you’re doing pretty fucking awesome right now.” “Thanks. I wish my grandma was here to see it. She was really worried about me and the path I was on.” I bet she was. There is so much more to Deanna than I ever realized or thought to consider. I’ll be damned if she doesn’t intrigue me even more. She pulls away from me, glances at her phone for the first time, and a slightly fake smile slides onto her face. “Trick-or-treat time is over. We can get you dropped off back home. Thanks for coming to hang

with me.” “You’re not staying with me tonight?” Shit, I was hoping she would. I probably won’t see her until next week because we have two away games this week and then a home game. Deanna avoids looking at me as she puts away the candy and coupons she had for the parents. “I decided not to.” Which means she was planning on it and changed her mind. “Why?” She shrugs, but that’s unacceptable. “Give me a fucking answer, Deanna,” I demand as I yank off the head of the snowman. Her spine stiffens, but she faces me. “You know way more about me than any of my other fuck buddies past and present combined. I know more about you than any of them. That sounds like a string is attaching. Don’t you think we should take a little break?” Now, I’m confused. “Deanna, you’re the one who fucking asks me the questions for me to answer, so you can know all that shit about me. If you don’t want to know, don’t ask. If you want nostrings-attached, then why the fuck am I here with you, handing out candy to kids? Why am I baking damn cookies with you? I’m not the one initiating that shit; you are and I’m following along because I don’t see a reason not to. If you want fucking only, I can do that, but make up your mind. I’ll find my

own way home.” I leave her behind, wishing I was wearing something other than this stupid fucking costume. I really wish it when it’s annoying getting into the taxi and the driver recognizes me and is snapping a selfie before I can stop him. I can’t wait for that to make its rounds on social media. I’m becoming more and more convinced that the Internet is the brainchild of the devil. When I get home, I take off the costume and wonder about going to my own party, which is being held at a banquet hall. Any potential plans with Deanna for tonight are obviously not happening. But if I show up to the party now? And in this mood? I can only imagine the shit I’ll hear and the questions they’ll ask. No fucking way am I going. Instead, I clean up the mess I made with the flour. That only makes me grouchier. Flour is a bitch to clean. It’s like I can’t get all of it up. What pisses me off about this entire thing is I didn’t even want to see Deanna right now and somehow, I still am. Somehow, I haven’t minded that things aren’t as strictly no-strings-attached as she wants them. Yet, she wants a break because of shit that’s her fucking fault? This is why I don’t deal with women during the season! Who needs this stress and annoyance and drama when I have a job to do?

Fucking women. No. One fucking woman is the problem. Once the kitchen is clean, I plop down onto the couch and turn on the TV, not really caring what’s on. The peace and quiet relaxes me a little. Thank goodness I’ve been using a banquet hall for party. Otherwise, my house would be full of people right now. It takes two hours before my door opens. “Knock, knock,” Deanna says. “In here.” She’s changed her clothes, now wearing yoga pants and a tank top. She doesn’t hesitate at all as she rounds the couch and lies on top of me, her head over my sternum. “You changed your mind?” If she’s here, then it seems she did. However, I can’t help but ask. The conversation from earlier cannot be swept under a rug. “Not really. I only decided that I’d rather be here with you than at home without you.” As an afterthought, she adds, “I’m sorry.” “I’d rather hear that you know what you want.” She groans. “I don’t know.” “What are you afraid of? A relationship? We aren’t going to have that.” At this, she sits up with surprise on her face. “For one, as long as you have your fuck buddy, there can be no relationship. At the most, we’re friends. What’s so bad about

having a friend?” Deanna’s entire body suddenly relaxes. “You’re right.” “No shit.” She grins. “So, problem solved.” All it takes for her to feel better is telling her to keep fucking her other buddy and whatever strings are formed won’t matter. Which is more fucked up? That it’s what makes her feel better or that I’m okay that it makes her feel better? As she relaxes over my body, I find I don’t care because I’m too relieved that she’s still here.

“You missed your own party to be a snowman?” The incredulous tone comes from Bruiser. That fucking taxi driver. A phone is shoved in my face for me to see the photo he took and I look as pissed as I feel. The driver is grinning like he just won the lottery, though. I shove the arm away. “Why in the hell were you a snowman?” This time, it’s EJ. “Can’t you guys leave me alone?” “No,” Marco answers. “We’re officially worried about you.” “Because I dressed up for Halloween?”

“Because you didn’t hang with us and you were a snowman!” Marco rests a hand on my shoulder like things are suddenly serious. “We want to meet her, son.” I sigh and shove his hand away. “We have a game to focus on. Leave me alone.” I level a glare at all of them until they walk away. Everyone but EJ. “Why are you being secretive?” he asks curiously. “Because she’s not important.” His eyebrows jump up and the sentence sounds odd to me. “It’s not serious, I mean. Can I come over to see Bree when we get back?” “Yeah, sure thing.” That’s all it takes for him to start talking about his daughter. “Hey, we have a family room near the locker room back at the arena. Why is it never used? The family always stays up in the box.” “Ah.” I glance around to see if Liam Irving is anywhere around, but he’s playing soccer with the guys. Lowering my voice, I answer EJ. “One of the guys was married. All I’ll say is that he did something his wife was not happy about and she found out about it while she was in the family room. She blew up at him and reporters were nearby. The reporters didn’t keep the moment private. After that, they decided to basically sequester the family and let the players go meet

them.” EJ’s eyes widen. “Got it. I was just curious.” It was years ago, but the organization hasn’t changed things since. The story about Liam was the headline of too many sites for months. His hockey has bounced back, but I’m not sure he has. A few more smart-ass comments are made about how I spent Halloween, but I ignore them and focus on this game against the Nebraska Bucks. They slip a nasty one past Savage within the first minute. It energizes our team. The Kessy twins are on the ice, speeding like mad demons, zipping in and out of the traffic, and confusing the Bucks because they aren’t sure who they should cover. Thing Two swings behind the net and passes it to Thing One. Collin quickly shoots the puck, sending it high over the goalie’s shoulder. There’s not too much room between his shoulder and the crossbar, but the puck finds its way into the back of the net. Tie game. Later, in the second period, I’m in the neutral zone, my eyes briefly on the goalie before seeing Donny on my right. There are two players surrounding me, but after I cross the blue line, Donny passes us with no one within two feet of him. I quickly pass the puck. He hesitates, holding onto it until he’s closer to the net. Their goalie blocks it and we converge to try to hit it past him

while Buck players are trying to clear it away. The puck slides to the far left, away from the congestion of sticks and feet, and I reach over to tap it in just as everyone seems to follow to either help me or stop me. All of that happens in about ten seconds, but we come away with a goal. My teammates hug me with big smiles on their faces. “Smile, Hayes!” Donny laughs as he pats my helmet. “You scored.” If I had a penny for every time someone said something like that to me, I’d be richer than I already am. No one understands my lack of a celebration, not even me. I’m happy and I’ll hug the hell out of my teammates and fist bump those on the bench afterwards, but a smile is asking too much of me. My celebration is simply me nodding to myself and closing my hand into a fist. A lot of people seem to think it’s a show of arrogance, but it’s not. Shows like that are not my thing. I barely smile at my mom; I’m supposed to smile at thousands of people in the stands and however many are watching at home? No, thanks. Just the thought gives me the willies. I don’t want to attract any more attention to myself than scoring already does, I guess. For some reason, celebrating my goals has always been outside of my

comfort zone. Rarely do I leave my comfort zone. I left my zone when I pursued my career because I had no choice if I wanted to play professionally. The only other time I leave my zone is occasionally with Deanna. I’m in my hotel room after our four-three win when my phone plays one single and brief beep to notify me of a new text. Deanna: Need company tonight? Shit. I didn’t expect her to ask to see me. Do financial analysts travel for work? I picked that particular job as a cover because I have a cousin who is one and when he talks about it, he bores me. I figured no one would want to know details about my job. Deanna tuned out the moment I mentioned it, which proves my theory is right. It’s too late to text my mom to find out if he travels; I think he does occasionally. Besides, Deanna won’t know differently. I have to tell her I’m out of town because if I don’t, what if she wants to meet tomorrow? Me: Out of town for work. Sorry. See me when I get back? Deanna: Just say when.

That makes me grin. Deanna: I’m totally bummed. I’m also embarrassed. Me: Embarrassed, why? Deanna: I figured you’d say yes, so...I was seconds away from pulling into your driveway. Deanna: Did you get a dog? At that, I call her. “Why would you ask me that?” Her voice is cutely embarrassed. “I’m still in your driveway since we were texting. There was a dog lying on your porch, and now he’s at my door. He’s so skinny. Poor guy.” I hear dinging in the background as if she opened her door to get out of the car. “Hey, big fella,” she coos at him. “He’s not wearing a collar,” she says to me. “I think he’s homeless.” She sounds so sad. “He was just hanging on my porch?” “Yeah. It’s been rainy today; maybe he wanted shelter. I think I’ll take him home. Someone should love him.” I’m amazed and a little in love with her right now. She finds a stray dog and doesn’t even hesitate to take him in. “Damn, he reeks and he’s wet.” “There’s a spare key under the mat at the back door. Go inside to the hallway closet upstairs and

there are some old towels. You can dry him off and put them in your car for him to sit on,” I suggest. “Aw, thanks.” By doing this, I also have to give her the code to my alarm system. “Are you sure you trust me enough for this?” she jokes. “If anyone ever steals my stuff without setting off the alarm, I know who to direct the police to,” is my reply and it cracks her up. “Oh! No! Dog! Get out! Brayden’s going to kill me! Outside! Outside! Out!” she shouts. “Shit. Now, I feel bad because I scared him, but I’ll come back and clean your house. There’s muddy paw prints everywhere.” “Don’t worry about it.” “No, I know how you like your house clean,” she teases. Deanna continues to talk to me as she gets the dog into her car, stops to buy him food, toys, a bed, and other things he’ll need. She tests out various names to see what he’ll respond to, but gives up and decides to name him Otis. She thinks he’s a Rottweiler. Apparently, he knows a lot of commands already, so she thinks he was someone’s pet once, but based on how skinny he is that might have been a while ago. Deanna sends me a few photos and he’s a handsome dog. He’s big, too. Once he eats steadily, he’ll be even bigger. Deanna will have her hands

full. I’m a little jealous of her. Is it bad that I’m ready for this trip to be over with because the sooner it is I can see Deanna and her new dog?

Otis didn’t have a chip in him, and neither the vet nor the local animal shelters had heard of anyone missing a Rottweiler. He’s all mine, it seems. Aside from needing to be fed regularly, he’s also healthy. The vet thinks he’s about a year old. The poor fella is still a puppy, practically! I love animals, but I haven’t had a pet since I was a kid and that was a cat. I don’t know a thing about Rottweilers other than what they look like and that they are supposed to be super protective of their owners. At least, I think that’s right. What I do know about Otis is that baths are his enemy, he’s super smart, and he does not like his

bed; he prefers mine. I’m working on training him to sleep in his, or at the very least, at the foot of mine, but I always wake up to find him with his head on the pillow next to mine. Like he’s a human! It cracks me up and makes me smile, so how much can I really complain? I’m still working on making him listen to me, though. I bought a crate, but his big ass refused to go in and when I tried to help him along, he went crazy the moment he was inside and quickly escaped. Scared the hell out of me to see him scared. I don’t know what happened to him, but I refuse to leave him in the crate. He hasn’t used the bathroom in the house. However, four of the new toys I bought him are now without their stuffing. I’m thinking he may need a morning jog to run off some energy; it’ll help keep me in shape too. So far, he only has one major bad habit. Otis has fallen in love with me. When I come home, he runs over and jumps up to place his paws on my chest. He’s already huge and he nearly knocks me on my ass every time if I don’t grab onto something. He’s supposed to weigh at least ninety pounds at this age; I really need to curb this before he gains his healthy weight back. Otherwise, I’m in love. He’s kept me so busy that I haven’t missed Zane or Brayden that much. I haven’t had the time! My phone vibrates on the coffee table and Otis

leans forward to sniff the thing making noise. I grab it. Brayden: What’s your address? Why does he need to know that? No one ever comes to my house. But... What if he’s back in town? I do know where his spare key is and his alarm code. I can give him something in return, can’t I? Before I overthink it, I respond with my address. An hour later, Otis suddenly jumps off the couch and stands at the door, growling low in his throat. I stand just as there’s a knock, which makes him bark. “It’s okay, Otis.” I pat his head and step in front of him. “Sit.” He doesn’t look away from the door and it takes him a moment and me repeating it more firmly before he sits. Just to be safe, I tell him to stay before opening the door. Brayden stands on the other side. I lean against the door because damn, he looks good. Dark red hair reflecting the sunshine, dark green eyes running over my body with hunger, and then the largeness of his body, unfortunately covered by clothes. He steps forward with a hand out, but Otis growls and he freezes. “Otis, no,” I chide. I step aside and motion for

Brayden to come inside, closing the door behind him. He does and I step forward this time to hug him. That’s when Otis moves and sniffs him to check him out. “Otis, Brayden. Brayden, Otis.” Brayden holds his hand out, which Otis sniffs, and then Brayden rubs behind the dog’s ears. That’s all it takes for Otis to fall in love with Brayden. He steps closer, seconds later falling over to lie on his back in a silent demand of a belly rub. Brayden laughs and happily obliges. “How are things going?” he asks, glancing up at me. “We’re battling it out for the alpha role, but things are mostly good.” He already knows about most of my issues because I’ve been keeping him posted. “Maybe we should find a trainer to help you, especially since we don’t know what happened with him before you found him.” I’ve ignored that suggestion when Brayden mentioned it in the past. There are a few reasons: he said we; I’ve spent quite a bit of money on this dog already, so if I can do it myself, I want to try that route; and he said we. I think Brayden wants my dog or wants to co-own him, even though he hasn’t said as much. That’s just taking things too far between us. “I can pay for it,” Brayden offers. “He’s getting better.”

“Deanna,” he starts with a frown on his face. “He listened to me just now, didn’t he? He was in protective mode too, so that’s major,” I interrupt, having no clue if it really matters that he listened to me in that moment, yet he still refuses to move to the foot of the bed and stay there. “If you change your mind, let me know. I want to help.” “Did you come over just to see the dog?” I mutter, walking around Otis and back to my living room. “Primarily.” At his admission, I whirl around in disbelief. When I see his smirk, I laugh. “You’re mean. I’m also surprised you’re toying with me, Brayden. I thought you didn’t like games.” He stands and comes to sit next to me on the couch. “I said I didn’t like yours,” he reminds me as Otis tries to crawl between us, but I direct him to the end of the couch. He listens and I send a pointed glance at Brayden. I’m three for three on Otis listening to my commands in the last few minutes. “Why Otis?” Brayden asks. “Why not Otis? He looks like an Otis to me.” Brayden chuckles. “If you say so.” “Don’t hate on my name choice for my dog. How was your trip?” He hasn’t talked much about it. “Lots of meetings,” he replies with a shrug.

Those eyes swivel and fixate on me. “Did you panic when I asked for your address?” I grab the throw pillow next to me and hit him in the stomach. “What is your problem today? I’m supposed to say shit to you, not the other way around.” He grins. “I’m in a good mood.” “Well, I don’t like it,” I grumble, even though I really do. It’s nice to see a playful side of him. “Too bad. When do I get to see your bedroom? You saw mine less than two minutes after entering my house for the first time. I’ve been here for at least five.” Man, I can’t get over him being like this! I love it. I stand, hold out my hand, but when Brayden stands, he hauls me over his shoulder. Otis barks once and through my laughter, I tell him to stay and give Brayden directions to my bedroom down the hall. “Miss me?” I ask once Brayden sets me on the bed. It was supposed to come out as a breathy tease, but...is that hope in my voice? What in the world? I don’t understand. Brayden places his hands on either side of my hips. He presses a firm, quick kiss to my mouth. “Yep.” All the air in my lungs evaporates. I expected a chuckle or a grin or more kissing, not an actual answer, and definitely not a yes.

I relax when he adds, “I missed fucking you.” It reminds me we’re fuck buddies; at the most, friends. It means nothing that he’s the first guy to ever come to my house since I stopped letting guys come over. It means nothing that he’s about to fuck me in my bed. This means nothing at all. I remind myself of that as he strips me naked, kisses me, and runs his hands along my body as if he actually missed me, and as I ignore how ridiculously fucking good it feels to be with him. It all means nothing. Afterward, we’re lying side by side, facing one another, and Brayden frowns. His fingers graze over my chest. “What are these bruises from?” I’m surprised he noticed them; they’re already fading. “Otis. He runs and jumps on me when I come home.” Brayden’s hand dips beneath the sheets and brushes over the top of my thigh. “You have one here too.” “He accidentally jumped on me when he jumped on the bed.” The concern in his eyes is sweet, but it means nothing, too. “You need a trainer to help you, Deanna. I’ll find someone and you’re going to let me. Then, you’ll at least know if you’re doing the right things or not.” “Fine.”

Speak of the devil, Otis appears and jumps onto the bed. Brayden immediately tells him to get off. I’m amazed when he listens. That turd. He’ll listen to Brayden just like that? He does come over to my side and rests his head on the edge in a pout. I glance at Brayden, as if I now need permission. “Make him sit first. He should need permission to jump onto the bed.” We spend the next half hour getting Otis to sit, giving him a command to let him know it’s okay to jump onto the bed, and then trying to make him stay at the foot of the bed. “He’s exhausting. It’s like trying to raise a kid.” Brayden chuckles. “You didn’t realize what you were signing up for, huh?” “Nope. He’s too cute to regret it, though. Hey, I’m hungry. Are you cooking or shall I order us a pizza?” “We can slack today.” At that, I gasp, and he ignores me. “Order a pizza.” I expected it to be weird, having him here in my space, but it’s not. Other than the obvious fact that he’s here, I’m not bothered by it. And the longer he’s here, the less I’m bothered. We get dressed, order pizza, and start a movie while we wait for it to be delivered. My phone vibrates with a text while Brayden is paying the delivery guy.

Zane: Can I see you tomorrow? It doesn’t feel right to commit to that when Brayden is in my house, so I put it down without responding. Brayden appears with the pizza and we dig in. “Where would you like to travel?” I ask. “Um,” he seems to think about it. “I don’t know.” “Really?” Most people know of at least one place they’d like to visit. “Yeah. What about you?” “All fifty states. I want to see my own country before I think about visiting others. Did your mom like her clock?” “Oh, yeah,” he says with a nod. “She was excited about it.” “Tell me a secret.” “You first.” His reply is so quick, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to tell me a secret. “I called my mom a bitch yesterday.” Where did that come from? Brayden glances over at me with surprise. I feel like I should save this somehow. “She called. She’s mad again because she asked if I’d let her work in the shop and I told her no. She hates that I have that kind of authority, especially since she doesn’t think I should have it.” I pause and focus my gaze on the TV. “We sort of got along before my grandma died. Better than we

do now, at least.” “Why does she want to help? Why do you say no?” I glare at him. “It’s my business. I’m not letting her step a foot into the door for her to try and take over.” “Understandable. I was only asking since I don’t know.” I decide this is a good time to stop talking. Brayden must agree. He pulls me into his arms as we lie on the couch with Otis on the floor in front of us. This is nice. Really nice. His hands rest on my ass. His heartbeats sound strong and could lure me into a nap. Taking care of Otis is tiring; it’s a lot more work than I expected when I made the spurof-the-moment decision to keep him. I can’t imagine having Zane in my house or talking to him as much as I talk to Brayden. But none of that means anything.

Me: Sorry, I totally forgot to respond to you! Zane: It’s fine. He’s not happy, and I can’t say I blame him. He messaged me on Sunday and it’s now Wednesday. I feel bad, but Brayden ended up spending the night

and things have been crazy this week between work and going to the training sessions with Otis that Brayden hooked me up with. I haven’t had time to see him either. “How is it going with your two guys?” I glance over at Rose. “What do you mean? They are just guys.” “But you’re texting a lot.” “It’s about Otis,” I lie. Thankfully, my phone rings and I don’t have to talk about my two fuck buddies. “Hello,” I answer. “Deanna.” The seriousness of my father’s voice makes me pause. “Yes.” The words that follow don’t make sense, ultimately causing me to sit down on the floor because my knees are too weak. How did this happen? Is he sure? Oh my god. I can’t believe I called her a bitch. “Deanna!” Rose’s voice snaps me out of it. “What happened? Are you okay?” “My mom died,” I whisper. “What?” She sits down next to me. “How?” “Two eighteen-wheelers collided and one fell over onto my mom’s car. She died on the scene. It happened this morning,” I blandly repeat what was said to me. The rest of the day is a blur as I see my father, try to help him with anything that needs to be done,

and try not to break down. This can’t be real. It’s simply not possible. Yet, it is. My mom is dead and in our last conversation, I called her a bitch. Around ten at night, I decide that I need to escape from all of this. My heart hurts too much. I can’t stop wondering why I haven’t actually cried yet and what’s wrong with me that I haven’t done so. Regret suffocates me. The image of my mom’s vehicle is glued behind my eyelids; the news shows it over and over. I want it all to stop, just for a little while. Sweet Zane seems like the perfect option. I text him, asking if I can come over, and his yes comes all of thirty seconds later. When I get to his house, he pulls me inside with the smile I knew I’d find on his face. Yes, this is normal and good. If only my mind and body can get with the program instead of robotically going through the motions. Zane kisses me with so much passion. It’s there; I know it is, but I don’t feel a thing. His hands gently slide under my shirt, caressing my skin for a moment before removing my shirt. At least, that’s the way it should feel. My skin crawls from his touch. Fuck. Why can’t my body react the way I want it to? I want to escape from today. There’s nothing wrong with Zane! He sits me onto his bed, bringing me back to the present, and I lean back while he kisses over my chest.

I stare at his ceiling. What was her last minute like before she died? Did she see the truck toppling toward her? Did she scream? Did she have any regrets? Fuck, I’m an idiot. It’s unlikely she had time to think about that. Zane pops open the button of my jeans. I shouldn’t be here with him. I want Brayden. “Deanna?” My gaze flicks down to Zane who hovers over me with a concerned look. “What’s wrong? You’re crying.” My fingertips brush my cheek and feel a dampness. Fuck. More tears fall as I sit up and push Zane away. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. It’s been a rough day. I have to go.” I rush out of his room, find my shirt along the way, and get the hell out of Dodge. Instead of going to Brayden’s, I drive home and pray for sleep once I get there.

My security alarm blares, startling me awake, but just as quickly, it stops. “What the fuck?” I mutter. For a minute, I’m still half-asleep and simply sitting in bed. Then, it hits me that my alarm went off and I should get out of bed to find out why. I’m fucking screwed if it’s a robber since my reaction apparently sucks. Alarm goes off? Oh, you know, take your time getting out of bed. A figure appears in my doorway as I’m tossing the covers off. “Hey,” a female voice whispers. “Deanna?”

“Yeah.” She walks over and crawls into my bed, covering me up. “Is this okay?” she asks as she sidles up to me, her arm hooking around my waist as her head rests on my shoulder. “Yeah.” I glance over at my alarm clock. It’s two in the morning. What is she doing here? She might show up unannounced, but never this late. “Are you okay?” “I just wanted you.” Which means no, she’s not okay if I had to take a wild guess. Deanna throws me for a loop more often than not, but I do know her well enough to know that this is too much of a step toward attaching a string. Her saying she wanted me is a string latching onto me and that means something happened that wasn’t good. I hold her tighter, not willing to let her go. She did seek me out after all. A whine alerts me to Otis’s presence as well. How in the hell did I miss him? Man, I’m no good at this hour of the night. I let him jump onto the bed and I’m happy when he goes to the bottom. That trainer is already helping with things. Deanna suddenly bursts into tears, and I’m frozen for a second. What the hell is happening? “My mom died today,” she sobs. “What?” “She died this morning in a car accident.” My heart breaks for her and the sadness clearly in her voice. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry.”

“Hold me.” She wiggles closer, wetting my chest with her tears. Holding her is the only thing I can do. I almost want to ask why she didn’t call me or come over sooner, but that gives our relationship more credit than it deserves. She was also probably busy dealing with things. It shouldn’t bother me that she waited until two in the morning to come see me for comfort. She’s here now, so I hold her until she falls asleep. In the morning, she lifts her head with her red, swollen eyes landing on mine. “Will you go to the funeral with me?” “When is it?” I ask while I panic. What if someone there realizes I’m Brayden Hayes, Carolina Rebels hockey player, and not Brayden Hayes, financial analyst, like I’ve told Deanna? Or what if it’s when we have a game and I can’t go? What kind of excuse could I possibly feed her? This is starting to become more and more trouble. “Saturday at eleven thirty.” Of fucking course. We have a game that day. I’ll have to leave morning skate early to go. Fuck. I don’t like this, but she’s watching me with big hopeful eyes. She came to see me last night. Damn it, I want to be there for her. “Are you sure you want me to go?” “Just say no if you don’t want to come, Brayden,” she snaps, turning away from me.

I grab her waist to keep her close. “I’m only making sure it’s something you actually want and won’t regret later.” My lips find the crook of her neck for a kiss and she relaxes against my chest. “It would be helpful to have you there,” she answers. “I’ll be there.” “Thank you.” Deanna rolls over to kiss me. “I should go so we can both get ready for work.” She doesn’t give me the opportunity to kiss her again like I planned or to hold her a second longer; she’s out of bed before she finishes her sentence. That’s when I realize she’s not wearing pajamas; she has on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Is she still wearing the clothes she put on when she went to work yesterday? I really need to start paying attention to things when she comes over in the middle of the night, if it ever happens again. I’m also officially concerned. We have a game tonight, but I think I’ll stop by her shop sometime between morning skate and my afternoon nap. I can bring her lunch, check on her, make sure she’s okay. We’re friends at the most; that’s what I’ve told her. Friends check on friends when they’re going through something like this. My mind is on Deanna all morning and all throughout my time at the practice facility. I barely notice Zane’s grouchy mood because whatever girl he’s seeing is apparently ignoring him and he’s

pissed when Ian says as much. I guess he doesn’t want everyone knowing his business, which is fine. That I relate to and understand. I’m about to leave to buy lunch and meet Deanna, but I stop by the bathroom first. The sounds I hear make me pause. The sharp gasps are fast and loud. Is someone hyperventilating? I round the corner to see Collin with his head against the wall, hyperventilating, and Cal rubbing his back in an almost motherly way. “Is everything okay?” They both jump, but Cal is the only one who looks at me while Collin manages to inhale an, “Oh fuck.” “We’re fine.” Gotta give credit to the kid. His voice is solid and he has a hard glare on his face that clearly communicates I should leave. Collin’s breathing worsens and he grabs his brother’s shoulder. “Will you get the fuck out? He’s fine! You aren’t helping him!” “Doesn’t look like you are either,” I murmur, wondering what in the fuck is happening here. Deciding to take action, I grab Collin’s shoulders, spin him to face me, and grab his face. “Hey, one deep breath.” “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” Cal tries, pissed that I’m helping for some reason. I ignore him, stare at Collin, and breathe the way I want him to breathe. Whenever he tries to

glance away, I force his gaze back on me. It takes a solid two minutes before his breathing is normal and he pulls away from me. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” He refuses to look at me, his gaze flicking over to Cal as if he could save him from this situation. His hands tremble, too. “Anyone want to explain that?” “Nope,” they both say. “It wasn’t a request.” The brothers glance at each other. Collin sighs and Cal nods. It’s like they had a conversation without ever speaking. “Management and the coaching staff knows,” Cal says, which is not the explanation I thought I would get. “He doesn’t want anyone to know who doesn’t have to know.” “I can keep a secret.” Collin begins to pace and Cal watches him with worry. “I have panic attacks,” Collin blurts out. “An anxiety disorder,” he adds. “Can we pretend this never happened?” “Sure.” I don’t know anything about anxiety disorders or panic attacks but as the twins move around me to leave, I find myself saying, “If you ever need anything, let me know. I mean it.” The surprise on their faces tells me I really need to step up at being a better teammate and captain off the ice. “Thanks,” they reply and then hurry to get the hell out of the bathroom.

Well, that was an experience. They hide his condition (do you call it a condition?) well because I never would’ve known he was any different from his brother. They both seem laid-back and at ease with being at this level of play. Maybe Collin isn’t as comfortable with it as I thought? But then, I don’t know what caused his panic attack in the first place. Finally, I leave, grab food from Bagels and Butts, and head over to Deanna’s shop. I’ve never been to Bagels and Butts, but I’ve heard it mentioned enough from Sylvia, Scott Boyd’s wife, that I figured it has to be good enough for Deanna. She’s sitting behind the counter of her shop, next to a woman, and she’s staring into space. The woman glances over when I walk in and slaps Deanna on the shoulder to get her attention. I also hear her not-so-quiet whisper, “I didn’t think fuck buddies brought lunch.” Deanna glares at her for that before managing to smile at me. “Hey. What are you doing here?” “Came to check on you and brought you lunch.” I follow her to the break room where we take a seat. The good news is she’s not wearing the same clothes as this morning and she’s pulling out the food, so it seems she’s hungry. The bad news? She looks rough. “Nothing for you?” she asks, flicking her gaze

over to me. “I’m guessing that’s not healthy, so no.” She rolls her eyes and pushes the fries halfway between us. “It won’t kill you.” Her eyes water. “How are you doing?” “My dad refuses to let me help. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t trust me or because he knows I called her a bitch the last time I talked to her and this is payback or what.” “I’m sorry. Maybe you should head home and hang with Otis.” She doesn’t seem to actually be working. Deanna shakes her head. “Not yet.” Her eyes fill with enough water this time that tears spill over. She pushes her food away. “Come here.” I hold out my hand and she easily comes to sit in my lap, her face burying into my neck as I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “Why are you apologizing? Your mom died, darlin’; cry all you want.” And boy, she cries. I’m beginning to think her breakdowns are only happening with me, which is fine. I don’t mind being the one to hold her through them. I truly don’t. Once she settles down, I make sure she eats, kiss her forehead, and regretfully say goodbye to her.

Thursday night, Deanna comes over around midnight. She wordlessly climbs into my bed, cuddles against me, and falls asleep. The difference is that in the morning, she’s gone before I wake up. I stop by her work and bring her lunch, but she doesn’t say much and she doesn’t break down into tears anymore. It’s like she’s withdrawing all of a sudden. I’m not looking forward to finding out what happens when she starts dealing with this again. Tonight, she comes over around nine. I understand that people grieve, as they should, but it’s killing me to see her like this. She hasn’t truly smiled and definitely hasn’t laughed since her mom passed away. I need to see that Deanna is still in there somewhere. “What are you doing?” she asks as I grab the karaoke machine, which has yet to move from where I initially set it down, and begin to take it out of the box. “Going to sing for you.” I’m that desperate to see her smile. When I glance over my shoulder, she’s sitting up, leaning forward, and watching me. “Really?” “Yep. You have to dance with me, though.” “Can I pick the songs?” Her voice finally sounds normal instead of that bland, monotone shit

I’ve been hearing. “Absolutely.” I’m sure I’ll regret that, but this isn’t about me. At least this time, she’s my only audience. Once I get it set up, her first song for me is some Barry White song. “I don’t feel like dancing,” she admits. “I don’t feel like singing.” Yet my hand is outstretched, waiting for her to take it, and there’s a mic in my hand. It takes her two seconds to decide to take my hand. I don’t care that her dance is only us swaying. It’s better than nothing. “God, your voice is hot.” I’m tempted to laugh, but that would interrupt my song. She doesn’t go so easy on me for the next one, but that’s okay. She’s feeling playful with her song choices and I can deal with that while trying to rap an Eminem song. “Are you fucking serious?” I ask when she picks “Achy Breaky Heart” next. “Yep.” She grins and giggles, especially when Otis starts howling. Night made. I also get her to actually dance. Now, that is a sight for sore eyes. She loosens up right before me with every shake of her hips and twirl of her body. When her hands slip underneath my shirt and her grin turns evil, I know she’s feeling normal at least

for the moment. “You know,” Deanna begins, “you haven’t done more than kissed me in far too long.” It’s been five days, but who’s counting? “I’m sorry, but you’re interrupting my performance.” She lifts my shirt and places an open-mouthed kiss on my chest. “Are you sure you mind? I’d rather you perform in a different manner.” She lifts her head and bats those pretty eyes at me. Fuck this. I’m not singing some stupid song for her when I could be fucking her. “Go to my room, get naked, lie on the bed, and wait for me.” Deanna doesn’t hesitate to leave me behind and do as I told her. I turn off the karaoke machine and TV. I take my time as I grab Otis’s leash and take him for a short walk, as it’ll probably be the last time he’ll go out tonight. Once the alarm is set and the door is locked, I walk upstairs. She’s lying in the center of my bed with her hand between her legs. “What the fuck are you doing?” Her eyes crack open. “I don’t think your orders specified against this.” “I said to wait for me.” She laughs. “Oops. You were taking too damn long. What were you doing?” she asks as I close the door to keep Otis out for the time being, which causes him to whimper.

“I walked Otis.” I shed my clothes. The lamp on the nightstand gives plenty of light for me to see her watching me, and to see that her hand is still moving between her legs. “Oh.” I walk over, grab a condom, tug her hand away, and finally lie next to her. “Come here, Deanna.” Once she’s straddling my waist, I hand the condom to her for her to put on. My eyes roam over her body. Man, she’s beautiful. Fucking hot as hell. Deanna hesitates and I know she’s starting to get lost in her head again. I slide my hands on either side of her neck, pulling her down until our foreheads are touching. “I’ll take care of you, Deanna.” She stares at me for only a moment before her mouth crashes against mine. “Take complete control,” she murmurs. If that’s what she needs, I sure as fuck can do that. I grab her waist and flip us over.

I stare out of a window while people talk mostly to my father and give him their condolences. I’ve never felt especially close to either of my parents, but damn it, I really want my mom right now. We fought over so many stupid things, said hurtful things, and now she’s dead. We never got the chance to find that happy medium in our relationship that so many mothers and daughters eventually find when they have a rough start. The guilt from our last conversation overwhelms me more by the second. Can’t do much about it now. “Hey.”

I whirl around at the sound of Brayden’s voice. Finally! I was starting to think he wouldn’t show. He’s late as it is. “Hey. Thanks for coming.” My arms are around his waist and my head against his chest before I can stop myself. He’s very stiff; is he uncomfortable being here? “Of course. Sorry I’m late.” “It’s fine. It should be about time for them to shoo people out and move her into the car, I think.” His hands rub my back. “How are you doing?” “Terrible because people won’t stop asking me that.” “It’ll be over soon.” That’s not really reassuring, but Brayden himself is. I allow myself to lean on him, to let Brayden be my rock today, just as he’s been the past few days. He rides with me to the cemetery. He stands by my side, holds my hand, and I lean into him while Mom’s preacher sings her praises. No more tears fall. Maybe I’m finally cried out. Afterward, everyone heads to my father’s house to eat. While I would love for Brayden to come with me, I don’t feel comfortable asking him. As he watches everyone walk to their cars, speaking softly about heading to my father’s house, he’s still tense, probably hoping I won’t ask him to come with. “Just take me back to the funeral home, so we can go our separate ways.”

He nods, his shoulders immediately relaxing. “Yeah, sure thing, darlin’.” The drive back is silent. I wonder how pissed my father would be if I don’t show up. A nice, strong drink sounds nice. Brayden parks next to my car and I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe I’ll see you later,” I say. “Text me if you need me, okay?” I don’t like the idea of needing him, but the past few days have proved that I have. I also haven’t minded too much. Although, having him be there for me through this confuses me. How can I keep him at arms’ length if he’s holding me together? How can I ignore his strength and how good he’s been to me? “Deanna?” Snapping out of my thoughts, I glance over at him. “I will. Thanks again.” I hurry out of his car and to mine. After a quick trip home, I change and call a cab to take me to the bar. The plan is to eventually get drunk, so I won’t be driving home. I text Rose to meet me, but ultimately, I don’t care if she shows or not. The bar is rather empty, save for about five other people. At least this means I get to pick practically any seat I want. One drink and thirty minutes later, Rose shows up. “You seriously cannot be drinking this early in the day.”

“It’s not that early,” I argue. “Early enough.” “You weren’t supposed to come and bitch at me.” She frowns as she orders her own drink. “Fine. Anything you want to talk about?” One glance at me and she asks, “Brayden or your mom?” “What makes you think I’d want to talk about Brayden on the day of my mom’s funeral?” “Because he’s supposed to be a fuck buddy and he went with you. I’m your best friend and I was there, but you were glued to his side the entire time.” “I don’t want to talk at all,” I suddenly decide, waving the bartender over to order another drink. “Yes, you do. How are things with Zane?” I shrug. “I forgot about him earlier this week and then Mom died. I went over there, but burst into tears and left before anything happened. He’s been texting me because he’s worried. I’ve been ignoring him.” Rose shakes her head. “I really don’t understand you.” “What do you mean?” “They are both good guys, right?” “I guess.” I don’t really know Zane that well, but he seems nice. “Then why won’t you date one of them? What are you getting out of a sex-only relationship?

Nothing! What’s the point?” She stares at me, waiting for an answer. She’s been dying to ask me this for a long time, I bet. “I get that you have a bad track record,” she starts when I don’t answer fast enough, “but come on. You’ve matured greatly since then. All of your former buddies find themselves getting girlfriends and getting married because you never show interest in anything more with them. Do you realize how many great guys you’ve allowed to walk out of your life because you won’t see them as anything more than a fuck?” I frown. “None of those guys wanted a relationship with me.” “Oh really? You don’t think there’s a possibility that Zane hopes for more? He’s been fucking you for what? Almost a year? Kevin was with you for two years before he gave up and left.” “They didn’t want a relationship,” I firmly repeat. “What guy wants a relationship with a girl who sleeps around? Besides, I don’t let them get close.” “Yes, you do. In the beginning, you do. Just for a little bit. You went out with Zane a few times before you pulled back and pulled the whole fucking-only stunt. You did the same thing with Kevin. You’re doing the same with Brayden right now, though it’s going on longer than it did with the others. It’s like you have to reel them in and get them hooked on you before you cut them off from

everything but sex.” Shit. I forgot that there were a few times Zane and I hung out in the very beginning. It was only like three or four times, now that I think about it. Same with Kevin. I’m over that limit with Brayden. “You need to stop this if you ever hope to settle down. You’re messing with good guys in the process, Deanna.” “It’s my fault now?” Anger swells inside of me. “I’m not forcing them to stay. I don’t get their hopes up. I don’t text them for sex or ask to see them.” “So, what? You like the attention they give you? You still come when they call.” “Not always.” There’s been plenty of times when I didn’t see Zane or Kevin or any of the other guys because either I was busy or already had plans with one of the guys. “I don’t do it for the attention either. Since when did this become a bashing Deanna session?” “I’m trying to sort your love life out for you before you ruin it completely.” “I don’t need your help! I don’t even have a love life!” Her voice softens and there’s freaking pity in her eyes. “But you could. That’s my point. I think Brayden could be that guy.” “What? Are you crazy? He doesn’t want anything more than sex.”

“Yet he’s been there for you through your mom’s death. He brought you lunch without you asking or even knowing he was doing it. He cares about you, Deanna. That could turn into something! The fact that you haven’t pushed him away means something, too. Don’t fuck it up with him. You need to stop seeing Zane, tell Brayden that you stopped seeing him, and try things out with him.” She is crazy. Absolutely bonkers. Yet, after she leaves, I do find myself crafting a text to Zane. I’m not sure what to think of what Rose said. However, I know that I could never see myself in a relationship with Zane. It’s time to end things with him. There’s a spark that’s missing. The craving to be with him is not there. Then again, maybe I’ve never given him a chance. I don’t know. Too late now. Text sent. Me: Sorry for ignoring you. It’s been an extremely rough week for me. I also think we should stop fucking. Doesn’t have anything to do with what happened or what’s happening with me. It’s just time. Good luck with your life. God, that sounds so lame! I don’t know what else to say, though. Or how to say it. I’m also surprised that he doesn’t text back relatively quickly, but maybe he has a game or something. Maybe Rose was right and I need to get my

love life in order. Life is short. After all, my mom died without warning. But I still don’t want to tell Brayden that he’s now the only person I’m sleeping with. As long as he thinks I’m fucking other people, then the possibility of a relationship is off the table. Fear can rule me for a little while longer. As the bar fills with more and more people, I continue drinking. It’s not karaoke night, but there is live music. Unfortunately, that means it’s extra crowded and I get hit on too many times for me to handle in my grieving, pondering-my-love-life state. At some point, I text Brayden. Me: Ar oyr bar.Cime hdmg wth me. When he doesn’t respond, I drag my drunk, bummed butt out to dance. The last time I was truly trashed was when I made the very stupid decision to attempt to drive home. At least I won’t get behind the wheel this time. Mom would probably be still disappointed that I’m letting myself get this drunk. Even in death, I can’t make her happy. The thoughts bum me out even more, so I return to my seat, order another drink, and rest my head on the bar. I apologized to Mom so many times over the years for so many things, but it was never enough, was it? Here I am, drinking my sorrows away, when she was the stubborn one! She couldn’t forgive me. Hell, this might just be my

sweet grandma’s fault. Because she wanted me to take some responsibility and get my life together, she caused everyone else to be pissed with me in the process. I miss Grandma, too. If she were here, she’d straighten them all out. “Are you okay?” I glance up at the bartender and point to my empty glass, indicating I want another. “Bring her check,” another voice says from behind me. I sit up and turn to find Brayden. “Hey, you came!” At least, that’s what I’m supposed to say. Not sure it comes out so clearly. “Fuck, Deanna. How long have you been here?” He reaches up and wipes my cheeks. Am I crying? I lift a hand to my cheek and find it wet. Guess so. “I’m taking you home.” I frown, and then I realize what he’s wearing. “Is that a suit?” “There, ah, was a company party.” “Damn.” He’s exquisite in a suit. My hands fumble as I attempt to run them over his chest. He quickly grabs both wrists, holds them in one hand, and pulls out his wallet with the other to pay the bartender. “Fuck, Deanna. That’s one hell of a tab. How long has she been here?” he asks the bartender. He then curses when he realizes I’ve been here starting

only an hour after he last saw me. “Let’s get you home.” I wobble on my feet, making him curse again. The room spins, and I’m not so sure walking is a great idea. Another curse from Brayden as he tries to drag an unstable me through the throng of people. Wait just a minute! I wanted him to come and drink with me. Not take me home! “What are you doing?” He sounds exasperated as he turns to face me now that I’ve stopped walking. “I’m not done drinking.” “Yes, you are.” He yanks me closer, flush against his chest. “You’re going home.” He lifts me up and starts walking. I push against his chest, even as I hide my face in his neck because the sudden movement makes me want to puke. “Suppose to drink with me,” I mumble. “You drank enough for the both of us. Quit fucking pushing my chest, Deanna. We’re obviously leaving.” Fine. Brayden manages to get me into the car and drives to my house. I’m bummed that he came to my rescue, but the bright side is he’s in a hot suit. Uh-oh. “Pull over.” “What?” Before I can repeat the command, I open my door, lean over, and puke.

“For fuck’s sake, Deanna!” He slams on the brakes. The seatbelt cuts into me, but I’m too busy puking to moan from the pain. “What were you thinking?” That I was wearing a seatbelt and I really needed to throw up. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I get carsick when I’m drunk.” “You couldn’t have warned me?” “Sorry,” I repeat. Sitting up slowly, I close the door. “Go slow.” We stop three more times for me to throw up, but we make it to my house. Brayden walks Otis and I feel really crappy then. Poor guy has been cooped in the house all day! Amazingly, I don’t see where he went to the bathroom, but he did destroy the cushion from the rocking chair and his bed. Can’t say I blame him there. Brayden finds me already in my pajamas and brushing my teeth. Otis pushes past him to bump his snout against my leg. I pet him with my free hand. He sits and leans his big body against me. I have to brace my legs to keep from falling over. “You want me to stay?” When I nod, he says, “Good, because I was planning on it anyway.” I laugh, nearly choking on the spit-toothpaste mixture in my mouth in the process. I spit, rinse, and face him. “Then why ask?” “More polite that way.” I find him a spare toothbrush, still in the

packaging, that he can use and leave him to crawl into bed. Otis jumps up behind me. I rub him while I watch Brayden brush his teeth and then shed his clothes until he’s only wearing his boxer-briefs. He slides in next to me, pulls me against him, and wraps his arms around me. “Get some sleep.” “Yes, sir,” I mumble, already dozing off.

A loud groan wakes me up. Sounds like Deanna regrets yesterday right about now. My phone rings and she groans louder. “Make it stop!” I chuckle as I reach for it. It’s EJ, which concerns me because he doesn’t normally call me and if he does, it’s never this early in the morning. “Hey,” I answer. “Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” “No. What’s up? Everything okay with Bree?” “Oh, yeah. It’s just that Mom’s sick and I feel like she should be quarantined so Bree won’t get sick. Do you mind if we hang with you today?”

Shit. “Who are you talking to?” Deanna crankily asks. “Fuck, man,” EJ starts. “It’s fine; hold on a second, will you?” “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t sound so sure, however. I press mute and glance down at her. “It’s a friend of mine. He’s a single dad and his mom helps him take care of the baby because his work keeps him busy. His mom is sick and he wants to hang with me today to keep the baby away from the house.” Deanna props up on an elbow. “Oh.” Then she shocks the hell out of me. “He can come here.” “What?” “I want to meet your friend. Plus, babies are fun.” “Brayden?” I hear EJ say. I unmute the phone and hope like hell this doesn’t blow up in my face. “Um, so my friend here says you can come here and hang out with us. I’ll warn you though, she has a dog. He’s mostly well-behaved.” “Are you sure?” “No, but come anyway. I’ll text you the address.” “Thanks.” After I do that, I send another text.

Me: Do NOT mention hockey. You’re a financial analyst/my co-worker. She won’t ask questions. EJ: Wtf. Yeah, I need to tell Deanna about my actual job and it needs to be sooner rather than later. I feel comfortable enough with her that I’m not worried about telling her, aside from not being sure how she’ll feel about me lying. We get out of bed and get ready for a day with company, me having no choice but to wear my suit get-up from yesterday, when I get another text, this time from Scott. It looks like a mass text to the team. Scott: Come to my house tonight at six. Bring your family if you want. I have an announcement and yes, there will be food and alcohol. This might be the perfect way to tell Deanna and immerse her into things. But is that the right way to do it? We’re not dating. I don’t need to “immerse” her into my hockey life. However, if she’s surrounded by people, she’s less likely to make a scene because of my lie, right? Would she make a scene? When EJ arrives, we don’t have to worry about him lying about his job. Deanna takes one look at

Bree, asks to hold her, and it’s all about the baby. We sit in the living room and I keep an eye on Otis since this is his first time around a baby that we know of. He’s sitting as close as possible to Deanna with his head on her knee, watching. “Did you get Scotty’s text?” EJ asks me. “Yeah. What do you think it is?” “It’s about Sylvia, I think. She hasn’t been coming to—” He stops himself before he can say that she apparently hasn’t been coming to the games. “She hasn’t been around lately,” he corrects himself. “Has to be good news if there’s food and booze, so it’s essentially a party.” “What are y’all talking about?” Deanna asks, taking a few seconds to look away from Bree. “One of our friends is having some sort of party tonight because he has news.” “Oh cool.” She resumes playing with the baby. “Want to go with me?” I ask. EJ’s eyes widen because he knows I won’t be able to keep everyone from talking about hockey, so he doesn’t understand why I’m asking. He also doesn’t know my relationship with Deanna. If he did, he might have paused like Deanna just did. “Is Bree going?” EJ laughs. “Yeah, my babysitter is currently sick, so she’ll be with me and I’m going.” “Then, yeah, I’ll go.” Nice. She’ll go for the baby, but not for me?

She gives me a small smile, though. Otis whines and lifts his big paw for attention, just missing landing on Bree’s leg. He’s a big jealous baby. “Come here, Otis. She’s busy. Let’s make breakfast.” He reluctantly comes with me and EJ into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he whispers. “I’m telling her tonight, obviously.” “Why did you lie in the first place?” I glance at him. “Seriously? You don’t wonder about people’s motives sometimes? Besides, she was only supposed to be a one-time thing, and then only a preseason thing, and somehow, I’m still seeing her. When are you finding a nanny?” I ask to get us off this conversation and because I know he’s been picky. EJ glares. “I’m not leaving my princess with just anyone.” “Your mom can’t do it forever.” “I know that. I’ve restarted the search. I’m hoping to have someone before the new year.” I hope he can find someone. At the very least, his mom could use a break. Although, I’m sure she doesn’t mind and I know that EJ does most, if not all, of the work he can associated with raising a kid when he’s home. The three of us spend the day together. We mostly play with Bree and watch movies until it’s

time for us to separate and get ready for Scott’s party. “This seems like a big step,” Deanna says when I return to pick her up. “Me meeting more of your friends.” “Are you changing your mind?” “No. I’m excited.” The smile she gives convinces me that she’s telling the truth. This is also a much healthier outing than going to a bar and getting drunk. “Good.” With that, we head to Scott’s house. Sylvia greets us at the door with what seems like a tentative smile. Her stomach is bigger and a little too round to be from simply gaining weight. I’m guessing the news is she’s pregnant. “Hello, Brayden.” Her eyes slide to Deanna and then to me. “Would it be bad form to ask if this is karaoke girl?” Ah, fuck! I totally forgot about that. “Karaoke girl?” Deanna asks, confused. “Can’t I tell you congrats and walk inside?” She smiles. “Thank you.” She steps aside so we can come in. Just when we’re a good distance away, I call over my shoulder and say, “Yeah, it’s her.” “What is she talking about?” Deanna asks. “Don’t you remember there was video of me singing karaoke? They knew a girl was involved, so

they started calling you karaoke girl.” “So, all these people know about me?” She stops walking. “No, they just know I did karaoke for a girl. They don’t know more than that.” “Oh.” “Come on. Let’s find EJ and Bree.” I pull her through the house, ignoring the surprised glances from my teammates at the fact that I’m here with a woman. I find EJ easily, leave Deanna with him long enough for me to find Scott, so I can go ahead and give my congrats, even though it seems he’ll do a formal announcement once everyone is here. “Scotty.” He’s grinning already. “Did I see you with a woman, Captain Hook?” It’s weird; I grin, too. “Yeah. Sylvia is pregnant?” I ask even though she all but confirmed it for me by accepting my congratulations. He nods. “Congrats. I wanted to tell you before things got crazy.” “Thanks, man. You really don’t know how excited we are. Looks like you’re in trouble.” At that, I follow his gaze to see Deanna hurrying through the crowd toward me. “We need to go,” she says. “Or at least I do.” “What are you talking about?” She grabs my arm and pulls me back toward EJ. “You play for the Carolina Rebels? You’re a

hockey player?” Okay, why does she not sound angry, but instead, worried? “Yes.” “And your entire team is coming here?” “Yes.” “I need to leave, Brayden.” “I’m sorry, man. She overheard Stella and Stephanie and asked,” EJ says as we reach him. “I’ll explain later, okay?” Deanna says. “But I really can’t be here.” I grab her wrist as she starts to walk away and pull her against me. “Tell me what’s happening.” “It’s not the place.” “Deanna?” She winces at the sound of Zane’s voice. Her eyes open and she whispers, “That’s why.” Between that and the look on Zane’s face, it hits me. He’s the other fuck buddy. Fuck! Zane advances with Ian and Sydney, who is carrying their newborn, close behind him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks her. His gaze falls to where my hand is around her wrist. “You’re here with Brayden?” At that, Deanna yanks her wrist from my hold. “I’m sorry; I was just leaving.” “Like hell you are. You’re fucking both of us?” Deanna goes rigid. The few people around us fall silent, and I’m pissed with Zane for saying such a thing in front of everyone.

“She didn’t know,” I tell him. “Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “I didn’t!” she insists. “He told me he was a financial analyst. I just found out ten seconds ago that he played hockey and I tried to leave before I saw you.” “That’s true,” EJ adds to help her out. “But you knew I played. You never watched a game?” “No. You said you played; I never thought much about it past that.” “So, it’s a coincidence that you’re fucking both of us?” Deanna notices Zane has garnered even more attention. “Never took you to be like this,” she says quietly before pushing her way past him. Everyone else moves out of her way. As I go to follow her, Zane grabs my arm. “How long have you been seeing her?” “She’s karaoke girl. That was the night I met her. I can promise you, she didn’t know.” He curses under his breath and turns as if he’s going after her. I grab his arm and pull him back. “You can stay.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I walk away. Deanna stands by the street with her arms wrapped around herself. I call her name and she turns to face me. I wave her over to my car. I’m not walking

back in there. “I’m sorry, Brayden. I swear I didn’t know.” “Don’t apologize to me; I believe you.” “Why did you lie about your job?” she asks, the hurt now coming through in her tone. “I mean, Zane didn’t hesitate, so I’m confused.” I sigh. “Well, for one, I only thought we would be a one-time thing. Short-term at the most. I normally lie if it doesn’t appear that the girl recognizes me because you never know what people’s motivations might be. You never know if they are going to be more enamored with your job and career than you. Considering things are normally short-term and don’t turn into relationships, I haven’t had any issues with lying. “I brought you here because I planned to tell you. It was getting more difficult to lie and annoying, too. That’s why I was late yesterday. I had to leave practice early and I was still late coming to meet you. I was wearing a suit last night because that’s what we wear to and from games. And I won’t lie, this changes things. Zane being the other person. We’re teammates and we work together. We can’t—” “I cut things off with him yesterday. I haven’t slept with him since right before Halloween. Though I’ve seen him a few times since, that was the last time I actually slept with him.” “You—” I try to wrap my head around this. She

stopped things with Zane yesterday? “Were you planning to tell me that?” “No,” she admits, glancing out the window. “I didn’t know if things would change and if they would, if I wanted them to.” It’s been about two weeks that she’s only slept with me, but only since yesterday that she decided to end things altogether with Zane. Huh. “Does it change things?” she asks when I pull into her driveway. I sigh. “Let’s go inside.” She nods. I sit in the middle of the couch while she takes Otis outside. Deanna sits at the end and pats so Otis will sit between us. She’s putting an actual barrier between us. “What do you want?” I ask. “To keep seeing you like I do now,” she answers easily. “How were things with Zane?” I need to know what kind of issue it’ll be if I do keep seeing her. “Like they are with me?” She shakes her head. “I mean, we did go out a few times in the beginning. I forgot about that until Rose brought it up, but it’s been mostly sex.” “How long have you been seeing him?” “At least since December or January, I think. We were going to a hotel when we met because I don’t let guys come here and he said he didn’t want to go back to his place because of his roommate.”

“Fuck.” This is crazy. “I was his roommate; he was living with me until he found a place.” Deanna’s eyes widen in surprise. “He just said that he was new and crashing with a teammate.” “So, you’ve been fucking him for a long time.” “Well, not really,” she responds almost defensively. “He was gone for most of the summer; that cuts it down a little. He’s not the longest guy I’ve seen. There wasn’t anything between us but sex. I mean, he’s asked me out a few times. Like, most recently, he tried to get me to go to some Halloween party, but I always said no.” I start laughing because this is absolutely insane. “That would’ve been my Halloween party. I host one every year, but I didn’t go because I was with you.” She smiles. “Seems like our paths could’ve crossed many times.” “Yeah.” “But Zane shouldn’t give you problems after the awkwardness is over. I mean, he’s never been here. I’ve already told you that you know more about me than anyone else. That includes him.” I grin. “Why won’t you just admit you like me?” She laughs. “Are you going to admit you like me?” Okay, so she has a point there. “What’s your deal anyway?”

I shrug. “Hockey comes first. Always has. There’s supposed to be a balance between hockey and the woman when you’re in a relationship, right?” She nods. “I’ve never been able to find the balance, and after one of my relationships ended, I decided to stop trying.” “That’s why you’re okay with not having a relationship.” “Yeah.” “Do you think you’ll ever find that balance?” I glance down at Otis to avoid looking at her. “Hope so.” Looking back at her, I say, “Let me think on things for a bit and see how it’ll be with him, okay? I can’t jeopardize things with the team.” She nods, looking disappointed as her hand goes to Otis’s head to rub behind his ears. “Yeah, that’s understandable. I’m sorry you’re missing the party.” “Eh, rather be here with you anyway.” Deanna smiles. “I think you should spend the night and cook me breakfast in the morning.” “What will I get out of this?” “Great sex. You should do it either way; it’s the least you can do for lying to me.” Now, isn’t that tempting. I ignore the part about lying. If I had any idea I would still be seeing her, I wouldn’t have lied to her in the first place. I think. I’ll find a way to make it up to her, though. Part of me feels like I should have dropped her

off and left immediately. I can’t seriously fuck or see a girl who was also sleeping with my teammate, can I? Zane seemed pissed when we left Scott’s. But if their relationship was like Deanna said, strictly fucking, then there will be mainly awkwardness to get over, right? He didn’t have an actual relationship with her. I have more of a relationship with her than it sounds like he did. Once he also realizes that Deanna honestly didn’t know she was sleeping with teammates, he can’t be pissed about that aspect. If Deanna started things as she did with me, by being open enough to say that I wasn’t the only one she was sleeping with, then I don’t see the problem unless she somehow led him on. More and more rationalizations form in my mind as Deanna puts on a movie and lies down with her head in my lap. Eventually, it hits me that I keep coming up with these rationalizations because I don’t want Zane to be a problem. I want to keep seeing Deanna.

Zane mutters something under his breath once again. All I clearly heard was motherfucker. He’s been making comments under his breath all throughout practice. He’s pissed or upset or both,

but that should stay away from the ice. He bumps into me, ramming into my shoulder too hard for it to be unintentional. That’s when I hit my limit. I grab the neck of his sweater and yank him in front of me. “Will you fucking get over it already? You fucked her and now you don’t, but I do. Stop moping.” His eyes widen. “You’re still seeing her?” The outrage is palpable in his voice. Shit. I figured he’d realize that, but he’d have no reason to assume so. “Yeah.” He jerks back from me. “You’re fucking kidding me.” “No. Stop being an ass while we’re here; can you do that? You lost your fuck buddy, get the fuck over it.” “She was more than that,” he argues. “Not to you, she wasn’t. You barely knew her!” He’s been slowly pissing me off all practice. I don’t get his anger, but I am sick of it. If everything was as Deanna said, then he shouldn’t be that fucking pissed. I’m not pissed to find out he was the other guy. Why is he so fucking pissed to find out that I’m the other guy? That she ended things with him? “You don’t know what I know about her.” “Yeah?” Before I can stop myself, I throw it all in his face, what I’m banking on that he doesn’t know about her. “Do you know she has a dog

named Otis? Does she know where your spare key is? Does she know your alarm code so she can come over to your house whenever she wants? Does she come to your house uninvited?” His face starts to blanch. “Do you even know where the fuck she lives, Z? Have you been in her house? Do you know where she works or what she does for a living? Do you know her mom died last week? Were you the one who went with her to the funeral? No. You’re full of shit if you actually think you know anything about Deanna except what she looks like naked.” “You son of a bitch.” That’s all the warning I get before he uppercuts me a good one. Whether I deserve his anger and his punches or not, I fight back. There are yells as the guys rush to break us up. My jaw aches a bit and my lip feels like it might be spilt; Z’s nose bleeds, but otherwise, he looks okay. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Bruiser asks. “Look, Z,” I start, ignoring him. “I’m sorry that she didn’t care more for you. My point is to deal with what happened, face the fact that there was nothing between the two of you, and keep the shit off the ice. We can’t win games if you’re too busy being pissed at me. I didn’t do shit to you anyway.” Zane pushes against Ian’s hold. “Let me hit him one more time.”

“I walk away for five seconds,” Coach Mike yells, “and two teammates are fighting? You’re on the same fucking team!” “We’re all good now, aren’t we, Z?” I level a stare at him. This ends now whether he wants it to or not, whether he likes it or not. The thought of giving up Deanna gives me an uneasy feeling, even if I’m doing it for hockey. I have realized that much today. I’m not losing her because of Zane. No fucking way. “Yeah,” he grunts. “Personal issue and it’s over.” “I’m glad it’s over for you two! There are reporters watching. What do you think the headline will be for what should be a boring optional skate? My office, now.” As we skate off the ice, Zane says, “She came to my house last week and started crying before she left.” As if that should mean something. “Yeah, and I don’t know which day it was, but I can tell you that she spent every single night since her mom died at my house. She ended up with me.” His shoulders slump. “I don’t want issues, but you pissed me off with all your shit, so I said what needed to be said. Deanna ended things with you for a reason, Z. Whether that’s because of me or not, I don’t know. But you don’t have an actual reason to be pissed at me unless it’s because I’m still seeing her and even

then, you’re reaching.” “Just shut the fuck up, Brayden,” he snaps. “It’s over and everyone’s fucking happy. I can do my job without this interfering.” At the end of the day, that’s all I needed to hear.

The chiming alerts me that the door to my shop opens. I glance up and see Brayden walking in. His lip is fat, there’s some blood crusted on it, and he’s sporting a black eye. Seeing him like this makes me gasp. “What happened to you?” He shrugs. “Hockey stuff.” That doesn’t make sense to me, but if he doesn’t want to explain it, then I’m not pushing it. “How did it go with Zane?” “He’s still not happy, but I think we’ll be fine at work.” “Really?” A sinking feeling settles in my gut. Maybe Rose was right; Zane hung around, hoping

for more, and I was purposely blind to it. “He’ll be okay, Deanna. I didn’t come to talk about him.” “Wait, does this mean things are staying the same with us?” I ask as I realize he said things should be good with his work and the continuation of our...whatever we are hinged on that. “Yeah. Give me your key. I’m picking up Otis on my way home, then you’re coming to my house for dinner. Dessert will be served first.” He grins. “And then, I have a surprise.” “What kind of surprise?” “A good one.” I laugh and grab his hand to lead him to my office. “No hints?” “No. That taints the point of a surprise.” I pull him into my office and lock the door behind us. Hearing that distinctive click makes Brayden stop his once-over of my office to glance down at me with a frown. “What are you up to, darlin’?” “Are you in a rush to be somewhere?” I ask, though I don’t think he is. I walk around him to clear some space on my desk. “What’s your point, Deanna?” He knows my point; that’s why there’s a seriousness in his tone. I try to reassure him. “The door is locked and unless it’s an emergency, no one will bother us.”

“Why do you insist on making me have sex with you where you work?” I laugh. “I don’t make you.” “Deanna,” he warns just as I turn to him and unbutton my jeans. I’m extremely disappointed when there’s a knock on my door. “What?” I call out. “I’m sorry, but there’s a woman out here and she insists on talking to you personally.” Damn it. Brayden grins, which only causes me to glare at him as I fix my jeans. “Okay,” I call out to her. To him, I say, “You suck.” “Me? Why? I didn’t do anything.” “For the grin.” I walk past him, suddenly in a sour mood for my quickie being completely ruined. Brayden sticks his hand into my back pocket to haul me back to him and against his chest. “I’ve never seen you pout before,” he comments. I’m not pouting, even though my arms find themselves folding over my chest at his words. “Look at me.” I glance up, over my shoulder. He leans down and captures my mouth. My body immediately turns toward him, wanting more. I always want more from Brayden. My greedy hands grab at his neck to hold onto him and pull myself a little closer. He kisses me so deeply and passionately; he kisses me as if he’s saying goodbye to me. For a brief moment, I worry before kissing him back just as hard, stealing his breath as my own, but then he

pulls away with one final soft kiss. My eyes refuse to open. This is why I had to say goodbye to Zane. The energy buzzes through my veins, my heart throbs in my chest, and my lips feel as if they’ve been wondrously seared by the fire burning healthily between us. I don’t know that I could do without this. It lifts me up far higher than cloud nine. Brayden’s chuckle causes me to open my eyes. “Ready?” “Yeah.” “Wait, I need your key.” Right. I find my purse and then my set of keys. We walk out of my office while I am in the process of removing my house key from the ring. As we come around to the storefront, we see a young woman rushing over to a toddler as he was about to follow a woman out of the store. She carries the little boy over to an elderly lady who just started to turn this way and that, as if in search of him. “He was trying to escape,” the young woman tells her. “Oh, thank you.” She takes the boy and holds him close, checking him over as if he could’ve been injured on his short walk on his apparent escape. “Who wants to see me?” I ask Stina, the employee who knocked on my door. Brayden is apparently sticking around for a moment longer because he takes my key, but also sticks a hand in

my back pocket as he stands next to me. She points to the young woman who rescued the little boy, and who is now walking over to me. She looks a little disheveled, frazzled, as if her day has not gone as planned and it’s showing through her appearance. She holds out her hand, which I shake. “Hello, my name is Raelynn Woods. I’m sorry if I bothered you while you were busy,” her gaze keeps flicking to Brayden, “but I wanted to make sure I talked to the person in charge.” The woman reaches into her purse and hands over a résumé. “I don’t know if you have any positions open, but I’m in desperate need of a job, so if one opens up, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in mind.” “I will,” I promise. “I don’t have anything right now.” Her shoulders droop as she nods. “Are you open to any kind of job?” Brayden asks her, causing us both to look at him with surprised eyes. What is he doing? “Yes,” Raelynn quickly answers. “What about as a nanny?” “I can do that,” she rushes to say. “I have references, experience, and I’m CPR-certified.” “Stay here for a second.” “What are you doing?” I ask. “EJ,” is all he says as he steps away with his phone in hand. Raelynn and I watch him, though

we can’t hear as he makes sure to talk quietly enough that we can’t. When he returns, he says, “Here’s the deal. I have a friend who is a single parent and he needs a nanny to help with his little girl, Bree. She’s almost nine months old. He can explain everything to you during the interview, which he’d like to do as soon as you can make it to his house because he’s in between interviews right now. Deanna, where’s a pen and paper?” I walk around the counter to find him what he needs while he continues, “Can you go now?” “To this man’s house?” she asks and I hear the hesitation in her voice. “He’s a good guy,” I tell her. “I can go with you if you’re uncomfortable going alone; that’s totally understandable.” Meanwhile, Brayden writes down EJ’s phone number and address. Raelynn gives another wary glance to him, mostly his injured face. “Can you read that?” He holds out the piece of paper with his handwriting and she nods. “Are you going? He doesn’t have all day.” I reach across the counter and slap his arm. “What?” he asks. “Don’t pressure her. She doesn’t know us and you’re trying to send her to a man’s house and she doesn’t know him either. And you got beat up at work, so you look a little sketchy.” He frowns. “I’m not pressuring her.” He glances at her. “I look sketchy?”

“Intimidating,” she corrects him. He smiles at me when she says that. “That’s a better answer.” He looks at Raelynn again. “We’re all good people, but Deanna can go with you if you want. Here.” He pulls his phone back out and after a moment, he turns it toward her. “That’s his daughter. How dangerous does she look?” “EJ is pretty cute too,” I add, which earns me a glare from Brayden. “Watch your mouth, darlin’.” I grin. “He’s smokin’ hot, Raelynn, and he’s sweet with his daughter. Anyway, would you like me to ride out there with you?” “You don’t mind?” “Not at all.” “His mom is probably there too,” Brayden tells her in another effort to reassure her. Once I make sure the shop will be covered, we all walk outside. Brayden kisses me on the forehead with a grin, muttering something about payback, and reminding me to come straight to his house once I get off work. Then, I enter the address he wrote down into my phone’s GPS because I’ve never been to EJ’s house. I’m parked in the back of the lot and it turns out, Raelynn isn’t parked too far away from me. I get Raelynn to EJ’s, introduce them, and once I make sure she’s comfortable, I leave. All I want to do is cut out early and see Brayden, but I can’t. I’m

the only one who teaches the classes, and there’s one tonight. Maybe seeing only one guy again won’t be so hard. Brayden could make it worth my while in more ways than one; the truth of that hums in my veins. I should call Mom and give her the happy news that just maybe I’m finally settling down. At the very least, I’m returning to monogamous relationships. The phone is in my hand and her contact is pulled up when the reality of her death hits me all over again. Calling Mom is no longer possible. “Excuse me, can you help me?” I glance up at the customer, happy to be needed for the moment. By the time I make it to Brayden’s, I want to get Otis and go home. While work kept me busy, my thoughts lingered on my mom. I should check on my dad at some point, too. Not today, though. I knock on Brayden’s door, hearing Otis happily barking on the other side. Brayden’s smile slides off his face when he sees me. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Where’s his stuff?” I ask as I step inside and pet Otis. His happy-to-see-me face cheers me up slightly. “You’re leaving?” “Yeah? Can your surprise be postponed?” “Not really.” He grabs my hand and pulls me against him. Otis wiggles between our legs in an

attempt to separate us. “What’s wrong, Deanna?” My eyes betray me by watering and he guesses, “Your mom?” I nod. “Then why don’t you stay and let’s see my surprise. Don’t you want a distraction instead of going home to be alone?” I don’t know which I’d prefer. “You can be alone tomorrow,” he adds. “Okay, fine. Better be a good surprise.” He releases me so I can walk Otis before we leave. I worry about leaving him in Brayden’s house because he may get bored and destroy something. Let’s face it: Brayden’s things are nicer than mine, and I am not in the position to replace anything that Otis may ruin. “Are you sure you want to leave him here?” I ask. “He’ll likely tear something up.” Brayden nods and grabs a bag I hadn’t noticed from the end table. “I’ve closed all the doors, so he’s limited on where he can go. Plus, here’s a bunch of toys for him to play with. I’m leaving the TV on for him too.” Hm. I hadn’t thought of doing that. I wonder if it’ll actually curb his boredom to have sounds constantly on. Doubtful, but one can hope. Brayden dumps the bag of toys, Otis gets to work, and we leave for an unknown destination. I stare unseeing out the window. What would Mom think of Brayden anyway? With the way he looks right now, she’d think he was a hoodlum. She may

like the fact that he has money. He’s a pro athlete, so I’m assuming he makes a very good living. His house and his vehicles are examples of this. We never talked about guys, so I honestly don’t know what she would say. Was she hoping for grandchildren? The thought makes me shudder. Definitely not ready for that any time soon, though a trickle of guilt burns my heart for not giving her any at this point in my life. I could only imagine what she’d say if I did have a kid. She didn’t think I was competent enough to run my grandma’s shop; I highly doubt she’d think I could raise a kid. Hell, I’m not certain at this point I could do it. Bad decisions are still a good friend, if not my best friend. Then again, Mom may be proud that I snagged a pro athlete. She might even try to push me to start seriously dating him and get him as a boyfriend. She may just think this was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Somehow, I doubt that. I’ve successfully kept the quilt shop up and running with only one major mistake, and she could never acknowledge the success, only the mistake. There’s no way she would be proud that I found a good man with or without a career like Brayden’s. “Deanna, we’re here.” I shift my gaze out the windshield to see a house. Not just any house in the bright moonlight.

A house that looks like it’s about to fall over and die. He wants me to walk inside that thing? Hope not. It might collapse on us! Okay, maybe I’m overreacting, but the house is most definitely, without a doubt, in rough shape. “What the hell is this?” I ask. “Come on.” Brayden gets out of the car without answering me. I hurry to follow along, grabbing the hand he holds out for me to take. He turns on the flashlight on his phone. “Careful of the first two steps,” he says as we reach the porch. That’s because they are broken. “What kind of hell is this? Are you murdering me here? Is the house going to murder me?” Brayden laughs. “This is my next project.” “What?” I’m too busy carefully stepping over the broken steps and worrying when the third one groans from our weight to remember his hobby. “I buy houses, fix them up, and sell them, remember?” “In this state?” I didn’t realize he bought houses that were so bad off. “Shouldn’t this house be demolished? How is it not condemned?” But as we step inside, I see that the inside isn’t as bad as the outside looks. “How is this supposed to cheer me up? The house is depressing.” Then, I think of something else. “You’re not planning on having sex with me here, are you? I mean, I’m crazy, but I ain’t that crazy.”

Brayden laughs more heartily now. “No. This is part one of the surprise and the sex will come later. Let me show you around.” He not only shows me around, but sweeps me up into his vision for what he wants to do for this place. He clearly knows what he’s talking about. I don’t know when he had time to buy a house or to think about all the things he wants to do, but I like this side of him. “When are you starting?” I ask. “No time soon. You and hockey take up all my free time so far.” Just like that, my instinct to be single and keep people away kicks in. “Don’t let me stop you from fixing this place.” “You aren’t.” “But you just said—” “Stop it, Deanna,” he orders, tugging me out of the house. He doesn’t say anything else until we’re in the car. The words drop like a bomb and still the air. “You’re still not my girlfriend, so relax.” I don’t relax. I’m frozen like the air in the car. Am I happy about what he said? Comforted by it? Relieved? Do I wish for something else? Would I want to see if Brayden could make me a priority in his life, right there next to hockey? Would Mom scold me because I’m thinking I should be next to hockey and not above it? Asking to be above it seems like asking for failure. If Brayden has never

been able to accomplish the balance before, I doubt I would be the one that would rise above hockey. “Here.” Brayden hands me his cell phone. He gives me his password, tells me to find his photo gallery, and directs me to an album. “Look at the photos.” It’s of another house in similar condition to the one we just left. By the time I finish, we’ve arrived at a house with a sold sign in the front yard. We once again get out of the car and go inside. This house is much nicer. Empty, but nice. The wood floors are some of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. The kitchen is magnificent. It’s the kind of kitchen that makes you want to cook in it and have many family conversations around the island or at the bar. “Why are we here?” I ask, continuing to be swayed by the beauty of the empty house. “This is the house from the photos.” “What? No way.” Brayden nods with a satisfied smile. I look at the house in an entirely new light, trying to see the rooms as they were in the photos. “You did it all yourself?” “Most of it,” he replies. “Wow. I’m impressed. I have complete confidence that you can fix the depressing house now.” I can hear his smirk as I examine the master bath. “You doubted me?”

“A little,” I admit. “The house sold today, so I wanted you to see it before I couldn’t come back anymore.” “Thanks. I’m glad you showed me.” I really am. I’m totally impressed by this man. From his singing to his ability to fix a house, and I’ve yet to actually see him in his true element. “Come on.” His arm goes around my waist, but his hand dips to rest on my ass. “Let’s go home so I can feed you and finally fuck you.” That might just be the best thing he’s said today.

“I hired her.” I glance over at EJ. “The girl from yesterday?” I’ve already forgotten her name. “Raelynn, yeah. I went with my gut, so I think she’ll work out even with Jackson.” I frown in confusion. “Who’s Jackson?” “Her five-year-old son. She’s a single mom.” He’s stretching on the ice and I wonder why he waited until now, right before a game, to tell me this news. “Wait a second. She and her son now live with you?” “Yes, Mom. I trust my gut and my gut says

she’s the one. Plus, Bree actually liked her. Bree hasn’t liked any of the other potential nannies. That’s a sign.” “I hope it works out for you.” No more talking happens during warmups. Not by me, at least. Soon, I’m standing on the ice and some chick belts out the national anthem. We’re playing the Portland Vikings tonight. For the briefest of moments, I think about Deanna and wish I had time to ask her how things went. She planned to stop by her father’s after work today, but I didn’t get the chance to text her and check in. I mentally berate myself for thinking of her right now. The puck is about to drop and I’m thinking about a woman? What the hell? Somehow, I manage to snag the puck and send it backward toward Sergey Orlovsky. Game on. My head is stuffed with the occasional distracting thought of Deanna. There’s a frustration within me from the very beginning that is unhelpful on all accounts. I turnover the puck, which lands on the stick of Hudson King. He battles his way down the ice and scores on Liam Irving. Down one-zero. The game continues to fall apart. Passes don’t make it to their intended target. Penalties are taken too often, though I must say I don’t find myself in the penalty box once. The usual chemistry between

the Kessy twins is missing completely. People are out of position far too many times than what’s good for us. At the end of the second, we’re down six to zero. I almost wonder if I’ve cursed the team because I thought about Deanna just before the game. That’s the only change. My hands clasp together and I squeeze, my knuckles crunching together. Coach Mike talks, but it all goes in one ear and floats out the other. My eyes scan the room, full of tired players from chasing the puck so often tonight. Collin Kessy hunches over, his head between his knees, and he rocks. Cal’s worried eyes flick back and forth between Collin and Coach. Is Collin experiencing another panic attack? In the middle of a game? Is that normal for him? I’m shit on the ice tonight, but that doesn’t mean I need to be shit off the ice. I stand, walk over to Collin, and tap his shoulder. He glances up at me with wide, panicked eyes. Keeping my voice low, I say, “Let’s go.” To Cal, I add, “If Coach asks, I’m calming him down.” They both surprise me. Last time, they didn’t want my help at all. Now, Cal nods and Collin doesn’t hesitate to stand and follow me out of the locker room. We step just outside. I find the soccer ball from earlier. I toss it to him and he tosses it back, but with much more force than I tossed it to

him. We go back and forth in silence. “Is it helping?” He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, thanks.” He doesn’t ask to go back in, so I assume he isn’t quite ready. “This is embarrassing,” he mutters. “Why?” “They don’t usually happen during a game. The guys probably know.” “I doubt that. Even if they did, it doesn’t matter.” The ball returns to me extra hard. “Why are you being so nice?” “Am I not usually?” He shrugs. “Not so talkative and friendly, I guess.” And doesn’t that make me feel even more like shit. Why am I captain again? Am I the most selfcentered hockey player in the league? How’d this happen? Coach peeks his head out and looks at Collin. “You good, son?” “Yeah.” “You two get back in here for a few minutes then.” The third period struggles on, Collin’s words also stuck in my head now. Savage seems to be the only one working his ass off and it’s paying off. Miraculously, no more goals are scored against us.

I’m in a grouchy mood when the game ends. All I want is to go home, climb into bed, and sleep it off. Deanna’s car is in my driveway. I’m tired and moody as hell; not sure if I can, or want to, deal with her. Getting our asses handed to us will do that. Otis greets me at the door with his entire body wiggling with excitement. I rub his head, wondering where Deanna is. I find her asleep on the couch with a spiral notebook on her chest and a stack of them on my coffee table. I pick up the notebook on her chest. The handwriting is girly, but easy to read. Fuck, no wonder she came over. It looks like her mother’s diary or something. My blood boils because ninety percent of it is full of complaints about Deanna. I sit on the floor and read with Otis’s head on my leg. I still don’t understand why Mom left it to her. It should have been mine. Deanna has never been responsible enough to take care of anything. Thank goodness she hasn’t given me any grandkids. I’d probably be raising them. Deanna has kept the shop up and running well enough, I guess. I don’t know how she has the time with all those men she sees. Meanwhile I’m stuck here, tending to the boring household chores and my husband. It goes on and on. Occasionally, she talks about

something else. Her mother sounds like she was miserable in life. The diary is nothing but complaints. “What are you doing?” Deanna’s voice is sleepy and accusing. I glance over my shoulder. “Trying to figure out why you’re here.” I hold up the notebook. Deanna’s eyes water, filling up and spilling over. “I don’t think she ever loved me,” she whispers. “Why should I even miss her?” She sits up and I lift myself onto the couch, pulling her into my arms. “I think she was jealous of you.” “What?” Deanna rears back in surprise. “That makes no sense.” “She was miserable, Deanna. You were with lots of men, had fun, and had her mother’s shop. Sounded like she wanted your life.” Deanna leans against me once again, her head in my lap. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Brayden.” “I know, darlin’. Let’s head to bed; it’s been a long day for us both.” She sits up and I send her to my room while I take Otis out. She’s already in bed when I get there. “How was the game?” she asks as I begin to undress. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Does that mean it was bad?”

“Yeah.” I leave her behind for the bathroom. Otis is lying in my spot when I return, eyeing me with a look like I dare you to tell me to move, but he grumbles and moves to lie behind Deanna’s legs as I get closer to the bed. He props his head on her hip, still eyeing me. Deanna grabs my hand once I’m settled. “I’m sorry about the game.” “I’m sorry about your mom.” I pull her closer to me. The tension begins to leave my body and I sigh. To think that if Deanna wasn’t having a bad night, she wouldn’t be here and I would be moping about the game by myself. Now, I get to mope with her. “I’m sorry for showing up without letting you know. At first, I forgot you had a game. I was upset and wanted you. Then, just being here helped. I didn’t want to leave. If you’d rather me not be here, especially since you had a bad game, I can leave.” “You’re staying.” I tug her closer. “Show up unannounced all you want. I’ll let you know when it’s an inconvenience.” She laughs softly. “Thanks.” My phone rings, and I sigh as I reach for it. Who the fuck is calling me? I relax when I see that it’s my mom. Occasionally, she’ll call me late because she thinks it’s the only time I can talk to her. Or, she’s forgotten something and she’ll call

late so she won’t forget the next day. “Hey, Mom. What’d you forget?” “You’re in a good mood for how that game went. I’m surprised you’re still awake.” “I’m trying to sleep, but it hasn’t happened yet.” No need to mention that my mood has improved slightly by seeing Deanna. My gaze moves over to her. She’s turned onto her back and now Otis has his head on her stomach, enjoying her rubbing behind his ears. “Well, I’ll try to make this quick. You’re on a Canadian swing during Thanksgiving, so what’s the plan?” Mom does not skip out on Thanksgiving. If I’m out of town, she flies to me and we eat together. But glancing down at Deanna, I wonder what she’s doing for Thanksgiving. “Give me a second, Mom.” I press the mute button and tap my fingers against Deanna’s arm. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” “Nothing. Working, probably. I haven’t decided yet.” She nudges Otis away to turn and cuddle against my side. He huffs and moves to the foot of the bed. “Want to have Thanksgiving with my mom? I’ll be on the road, but—” Deanna’s nails dig hard into my skin as she pushes herself up. “What?” “Yes or no? She’s waiting on an answer. You

can say no; she’ll just meet me, but I figured that maybe you didn’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to be by yourself.” “That’s sweet, Brayden, but meeting your mom?” Her brows pull together with uncertainty. “It wouldn’t be like that. Just someone to spend the day with.” “You don’t want to spend Thanksgiving with her?” “Rather you have someone to spend it with.” She nods. “Okay then.” I unmute the phone and try to figure out how to tell this to my mom. “Mom?” “I’m still here. Are you with someone or something? What’s going on? I thought you were at home.” “I am. A girl is with me, though.” Mom gasps. “A girl?” “Mom, my point is that I wanted to ask if you wanted to have Thanksgiving with her instead? She would be spending Thanksgiving alone otherwise.” “Absolutely!” Mom hurries to answer. “But why can’t we both fly up to see you and eat together?” “Oh, yeah. That’ll work. I’ll email the details once I have them. Can I get some sleep now?” “Yes. I feel better knowing what we’re doing. I can’t wait to meet this girl of yours.” “She’s not mine,” I correct. “Night, Mom.” To

Deanna as I put my phone away, I say, “Do you have a passport?” “Yes, though I’ve never used it. I was planning to go on a cruise with some friends, but then my grandma died. Anyway, the answer is yes.” “Good. I’m flying you both to Canada. Keep any comments or objections for morning. I’m fucking tired.” I’m ridiculously satisfied when she relaxes against me and falls asleep a few minutes later. In the morning, my alarm goes off extra early. I quickly turn it off. Deanna rolls over, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip out of bed without disturbing her. Otis lifts his head, but I rub him behind the ears, and whisper, “Go back to sleep.” An early morning run is always called for after a loss. At least for this one. I need to clear my head. First, apparently, Deanna, Mom, and I are having dinner together the night before Thanksgiving in Canada. We actually have a game on Thanksgiving Day. That should be interesting. I need to call my travel agent and have her get everything booked for me. I’m sure I’ll have to field questions from my mom between now and then about Deanna. We’ll have to talk at some point, so I can set her straight and she can have realistic expectations. She sounded entirely too excited on the phone last night. Secondly, more than ever, it’s clear that I

should be a better teammate and leader. How to fix that? I’m not sure. Do more things like I did with Collin. Change my personality to at least appear friendlier and approachable. I don’t know how to fucking do that, though. “Brayden?” I pause the treadmill, turn around, and see Deanna. Her eyes are squinted and she rubs one of them. Now that she’s no longer underneath the covers, I can see that the shirt she’s wearing is one of my Carolina Rebels T-shirts. That makes sense; she didn’t come over with plans to stay. She’s looks fucking hot too. “What are you doing?” “Morning run,” I answer. “Why?” “Why are you up?” I ask her, opting out of explaining my routines. “I went to cuddle with you, but was met with a wet nose.” I laugh as I imagine her rolling over and running into Otis. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers play with the hem of my shirt, her legs shifting her weight, and her eyes bounce around the room. She seems stunningly vulnerable at the moment. “Will you come back to bed?” I turn off the machine and follow her back to my room. “Let me take a quick shower.” “Can I join you?” The vulnerability is replaced

with a devilish smirk. My fingers wrap around her wrist and I haul her to the bathroom with me.

After waking up from a nightmare involving my mother, morning shower sex with Brayden is exactly what I need. Brayden’s arms are hooked under my legs and if it weren’t for him, I’d be sitting. My muscles don’t exist anymore. How Brayden’s do, I don’t know. He leans against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. His breaths harshly hit my skin. Goosebumps rise on my stomach because all the hot water falls onto his back. Brayden’s hands squeeze my ass as he tugs me closer, even though I’m pretty sure he’s as far in as he can go. Brayden bites my shoulder before lifting his

head with a grin. He rears his hips back until his cock falls out of me and he sets my legs down. “We should shower.” He pumps soap into his hands and starts lathering me up. “There’s a game this Friday. Do you want to go?” His question, though causal, nearly causes me to fall over. How many times did I tell Zane no when he asked? Things are exactly the same between us, aren’t they? “How does that work? Like, would Zane know I was there?” My there squeaks out because he surprises me with a pinch to my nipple. “Not unless the guys go out after the game and we decide to go with them. You can sit in the box with the other WAGs, or I can wrangle a ticket closer to the ice.” “WAGs?” I ask with confusion. Brayden falters with his washing of me. “Wives and girlfriends, but family and friends, too.” He clears his throat and nudges me under the water. Deciding to push his buttons, I ask, “Which of those do I fall under?” Girlfriend or friend? How would he answer? Dark green eyes cut at me with a glare. “Don’t throw bullshit questions at me unless you want to answer it yourself.” “Well, you are inviting me to a game.” It’s my turn to wash him, and I take my time. “You invited me to help you out at Halloween. Same thing.”

He has a point, I guess. “Do you really want me to go? “I asked you, didn’t I?” Looks like I’m going to a hockey game this Friday. Hopefully, I can avoid Zane. Not that I worry about running into him, but I don’t want to when I’m with Brayden. Especially considering Zane asked me to games before and I always said no without even thinking about it. The last thing I want to do is throw it in Zane’s face that I’m hanging out with his teammate. Brayden said that he wasn’t happy about it, so I don’t want to ruffle any feathers. I’m actually surprised that Brayden would risk it. When I get to work, I’m the only one there. Where is Rose? She’s supposed to open with me. Annoyed that she’s late, I angrily get the shop ready for the day. Thirty minutes before we’re set to open, she arrives with breakfast to soften me up. Unfortunately for her, Brayden fed me before I left his house. “Where have you been? You’re late!” “I’m sorry, Deanna. There was traffic.” “Oh, come on. I got here on time with the same traffic.” She sighs. “Fine. I woke up late. Get off my back. I brought breakfast.” She holds up the bag like it’s the solution to all of our problems. “No, I won’t. You’re either late or asking for

shifts and then telling me you’re not working. I know we’re friends, Rose, but I’m starting to feel a little abused here.” Her mouth drops open in horror. “I was late; it happens. What has gotten into you? Did something happen with one of your boy toys?” “Oh, come on. I’m pissed because you’re late again. All I’m saying is do better.” “Fine,” she bites off. As we settle into our routines, the anger leaves her and she asks, “How is it going with your boy toys anyway?” Since we’re back on friendly ground, I decide to fill her in on all that happened since I last saw her. Finding out about Brayden, ending things with Zane, seeing the houses Brayden bought, and how he’s invited me to a game. “You’re going?” she asks. “Yeah.” Rose smiles. “You’re dating him!” “What?” “You’re totally dating him! Maybe you’re not quite at boyfriend-girlfriend status yet, but y’all are dating. You’re going to his game, so you’re getting more involved in his life. You’re meeting his mom and spending a holiday with him. He’s paying for you to spend Thanksgiving with him. You’re totally dating if you aren’t already his girlfriend.” My heart seizes for a moment before I realize I like how things are with Brayden. The label freaks

me out. Thinking about dating him freaks me out a little bit. Thinking about being his girlfriend freaks me out, too. Sounds like I need to stop thinking. The workday flies by as I do what I love. I couldn’t imagine spending four years in college. I do just fine with this. Why my parents still wanted me to go to college when this is what I love and working here was the best decision for me is beyond me. College isn’t for everyone. I’m at home, playing fetch with Otis, if you can call me throwing the toy and him keeping it once he gets it fetch, when my dad pulls into my driveway. “Dad, hey. What are you doing here?” “I want her diaries back. I’ve decided to keep them.” “Oh, okay.” I don’t want them anyway. I usher Otis inside and meet my father once again with the books in my arms. “How are you doing?” It’s the same question I asked him yesterday. “Fine.” Same answer. He looks terrible, though. At least it looks like he showered today. I couldn’t say that before. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he takes the books and heads for his car. No goodbye or anything. With a sigh, I head inside, change my clothes, grab Otis and his leash, and we head out for a run around the neighborhood. The trainer Brayden set me up with has been so helpful. She knows her stuff, that’s for sure.

“For fuck’s sake, Otis, you have to slow down.” I tug on the leash, which tugs on his harness, and he slows down a bit to match my pace. He gives me a bit of a pitying look for being unable to keep up with him. I haven’t ran since they forced us to do it in high school. Starting up again for Otis sure has shown me that I am not in shape! Otis is tired when we get home. He walks straight to the couch, hops up, and plops down with a thud. I head to my bathroom, thinking a bath is in order. I’m naked and the water is perfect when Otis barks and there’s a loud knock on my door a second later. Crap! I grab my bathrobe, clutch it together in the middle because I long ago lost the tie, and run to the door. Who would be here? I peer through the peephole to see Brayden. Otis wiggles so much in excitement that I drop one hand to push him back and use the other to open the door. “Otis, back up damn it!” He runs past me to greet Brayden. “Otis! What happened to listening to me? We were doing so well! Get back in here!” I lean over and pat my leg. What if he gets distracted? He doesn’t have his leash on or anything. He could run off and be lost forever! Otis is too busy walking circles around Brayden. I stand upright, about to stomp my foot, but I’m interrupted. Brayden’s hands are suddenly on my waist and he pushes me into the house, causing Otis to follow.

“You always answer the door naked?” The words are gritted out, snapping my eyes to his face. “What?” One hand moves over my stomach, up to my breasts, which are on clear display now, and the other goes to my ass. “You answered the door like this.” “It’s Otis’s fault,” I breathe. Where’d all my air disappear to? “I had a hold on it before he went rogue.” “Why are you dressed in this?” I open my mouth to answer, but he pulls me against him. “Because—” His hand moves between my legs. “Because I went—” His magical fingers drag a sigh out of me. “Hmm, Deanna?” I grab his wrist and take a step back so I can think clearly enough to answer him. “I went for a run. I was about to take a bath. What are you doing here?” Without waiting for an answer, I pull my robe closed and stalk off to my bathroom. “I’ve been texting you; I came to check on you since you didn’t answer.” I don’t even know where my phone is at the moment. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine!” Why am I snappy all of a sudden? Brayden laughs as I sink into the tub. “Are you flustered, Deanna? You like to show up unannounced, but you’re not a fan when someone

else does?” I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m flustered because I answered the door with everything hanging out! What if my neighbors saw? What if it was someone else who was here to see me? And then, you groped me!” Brayden grins as he sits down on the floor with Otis next to my tub. There’s not a lot of room, and I struggle not to smile at how funny he looks. Why is he in such a good mood anyway? Where’s my grouch? “I did not grope you,” he says matter-of-factly. “Then what would you call that?” He pauses as he thinks about it. “A greeting. Our special little greeting.” “You’re crazy.” But it makes me smile, so he wins. “How are you doing today?” I shrug. “Fine. My dad stopped by. He wanted my mother’s diaries back. I happily gave them to him.” I look over and rest my chin on the edge of the tub. “Should I be fine? I mean, she died a week ago and in some ways, it feels like she’s still alive and breathing down my neck.” “Everyone’s different, darlin’,” he replies softly. “I kinda miss her.” “Kinda?” He grins. “I mean, I do.”

He laughs. “Either way, it’s normal. Have you had dinner yet?” When I shake my head, he starts to stand. “I’ll cook us something then. Enjoy your bath.” He surprises me by leaving me all alone in my bath, but I don’t mind. My heart is still warm from knowing that he drove all the way over here to check on me when I didn’t answer my phone. And now he’s cooking for me? Steal my heart and keep it, Brayden.

Give me my heart back, Brayden! I decided to let Brayden choose where I sit at the game. He placed me in with the spouses of his teammates. The moment I walked into the box, it hit me that the last time I saw these people, they discovered I was sleeping with two teammates. I wanted to turn and walk back out, but the pregnant lady comes over and drags me to sit with her. Apparently, there are two pregnant ladies, but the one who comes to me is Sylvia. “Karaoke girl, I’ve been dying to talk to you.” “I haven’t,” one woman says dryly. Sylvia waves her off. “That’s Sydney; she’s good friends with Zane. You were never introduced to the rest of the girls, were you?” Before I can

answer, she points. “That’s Lizzy, Meredith, Sydney, and Theresa. Those two girls there are mine: Stephanie and Stella. That little girl is Ian and Sydney’s; her name is Savannah.” I wave at them, though Sydney keeps cutting glares at me. This may be more uncomfortable than I was counting on. “Tell me. What exactly happened between the three of you?” “Excuse me, but how is that any of your business?” Her eyes widen like no one has ever asked her that before while the other girls giggle. Sylvia glances at them. “I liked it better when the newbies are dumbfounded and eventually tell me.” Meredith laughs at her, but to me, she says, “She’s nosy; she can’t help it. She likes to know things, that’s all.” “I’m sure you know enough.” My eyes fall back to Sydney. “We know Z’s side,” Sylvia replies. “What more is there to know then?” I don’t think Zane, or Z as they call him, would lie or anything about us. “About you and Brayden.” Just when I think I’m saved because of the singing of the national anthem, the game starts and Sylvia brings it up again. I don’t want to share, and I can’t imagine that Brayden would want me to

either. “Can you explain the game to me? And help me find Brayden?” Sylvia frowns. “I reckon.” She points to Brayden. It’s helpful because at this point, I didn’t even know his last name. Hard to find him when I don’t know that. I also discover that he’s the captain of the team. The game sounds easy the way Sylvia explains it, but I’ll be damned if I can actually follow the action on the ice. I do like the close-ups of Brayden on the jumbotron, though. He looks pissed off the entire time. That’s one of my favorite Braydens. He scores a goal, but unlike one of his teammates who scored one earlier, he does not celebrate. His teammates crowd around him, pat him on the back and on the helmet, but they smile and he doesn’t. That seems to fit Brayden. Sydney gets up and moves to the seat next to me. “What are you doing here?” she asks. “Do you really think you should be here after what you did to Zane?” I frown. “After what I did to him? I didn’t do anything.” Her jaw drops a little. After a moment, she moves back to her seat. I’ll take a wild guess and say that she doesn’t like me. What exactly did Zane tell them? Brayden did say he was unhappy about this whole mess, so maybe he said some things while he was pissed?

Hockey seems like a fast game, but maybe it’s because I can’t keep up. When the game is over, the scoreboard says we’ve won. Yeah, I couldn’t even keep track of how many times everyone scored. Brayden told me to wait for him, so I do. My muscles tense the moment the little girl with the green seahorse—Savannah was her name, I believe —shouts, “Z!” “What’s up, Savannah?” I hear him say. I thought Brayden said we wouldn’t run into Zane? He probably doesn’t want to see me! I sink into my seat, hoping to go unnoticed. The room suddenly quietens a bit. I risk glancing over my shoulder to see that Brayden has arrived, which alerts Zane to my presence and now he’s staring at me. Brayden ignores him completely as he comes over, holds out his hand, and the second I take it, he leads us out of the room. His hand is tight in mine. His body is stiff. Brayden did not like walking in there and waltzing me out with all those eyes on us. That makes two of us. “Deanna!” We stop, but I’m the only one who turns at the sound of Zane’s voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?” I glance up at Brayden, who looks down at me. “It’s up to you,” he says softly. “Don’t go anywhere.” I let go of his hand and

hesitantly walk over to Zane. “Hey.” “Hey. You finally made it to a game.” “Yeah, I guess so. Sylvia tried to explain it to me, but I couldn’t manage to follow it. What did you want to talk about?” This is so awkward. He keeps looking at me and flicking his eyes back to where I know Brayden stands with his back to us. He smiles. “I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you. How are you doing?” His eyes flick back to Brayden. “I’m good. How are you?” He shrugs. “You were clueless that I liked you, weren’t you?” A knot ties in my stomach. “Basically,” I answer. “I’m sorry, Zane.” There’s that shrug again. “It’s okay. I was able to work out my frustrations on Brayden, so it’s all good. Hope things work out for you.” “What are you talking about, you worked them out on Brayden?” “Deanna, let’s go,” Brayden calls. “Ah, maybe you should go,” Zane says. I frown. What are they hiding? “Deanna,” Brayden repeats with a more demanding tone. I whirl around to find him facing us now. “Hold your fucking horses, Brayden.” Zane snorts, but stops when I face him. “What did you mean?” “You’re in good hands, Deanna. I’m sure he’ll

tell you.” “I will, if she’ll get her ass over here so we can leave,” Brayden says loud enough for us to hear. “We’re going to a bar. You guys should come,” Zane says. When my eyes widen, he laughs. “You told him to hold his fucking horses and he smiled. I’ve seen him smile like once since I’ve known him. I’ll be fine.” He gives me a quick hug before returning to the box. “Deanna, darlin’, I won’t say it again.” Slightly stunned, I return to his side. “I’m so confused. You don’t smile around your teammates? What did he mean about that whole frustrations thing?” “I smile plenty,” Brayden grumbles. “Do you want to go to the bar?” I slap his arm because he totally avoided my question. “If you want. Now, answer me.” He sighs. “Remember that day we met Raelynn? My face was all messed up?” I gasp. “Don’t worry. Z’s face looked similar. We worked it out, and it’s no big deal. It’s long over. Leave it alone.”

Deanna was stunned as I pushed her into her car. The last thing she was probably expecting to hear is that Z and I exchanged a few punches. Maybe she’ll be over it by the time we reach the bar. Things have remained tense yet civil between Zane and me, but maybe the tense part is over now. I most certainly never want to walk into that box again if all those eyes will be watching me. “I can’t believe you hit sweet, good guy Zane,” Deanna murmurs as we walk to where some of the guys are already sitting in a booth. “He hit me first,” I defend, gritting my teeth at hearing her call him a “sweet, good guy.”

“Who is the hot chick?” Cal asks as I take a seat next to him. “Hot chick is mine. Her name is Deanna. Deanna, this is Cal and Collin.” Deanna pinches my thigh and I glance over at her. “What?” “Hot chick is yours, huh?” She grins. “Don’t get cute.” That only makes her grin widen. “You’re the karaoke girl, right?” Cal asks. “Have you made him use the machine we gave him?” Fucking great. Deanna glances at me before nodding and explaining to Cal that I gave her another show one night, while leaving out that it was only to cheer her up. When Meredith and Rams show up, I’m thankful, if only because Meredith talks to Deanna and asks about her. Not about us. They also start to bond over the fact that they are pet owners. Z shows up, but Deanna doesn’t notice, even though he talks to Rams. The twins busy themselves talking to Hells about some video game. This is why I don’t come out with the guys. Most of my teammates are younger than I am. I don’t play video games anymore. Not exactly jumping into the conversation with Z and Rams because they’re across the table and I don’t know what they’re talking about. Where’s EJ or Savage when you need them?

Think of the devil and he shall appear. EJ comes over with a beer in his hand and I scoot Deanna out of the booth for him to take my place. I take Deanna’s seat and she sits in my lap sideways. “I didn’t think you’d come.” “I wasn’t going to, but Raelynn said if I wanted to, I should since the kids are asleep. I don’t plan to stay too long.” “How is she doing so far?” I ask. “Good. I almost feel like I can finally relax knowing that Ma isn’t away from home and away from my dad, but at the same time, I don’t feel like much has changed. She’s hesitant about some things, but I don’t really have time for her to be hesitant. And then, having Jackson there is kinda crazy, but he’s a quiet kid. It’s working out, so that’s all that matters.” He turns his bottle of beer on the table and glances at me. “You know what I kinda miss? Having the house completely to myself.” “Seems reasonable.” He went from living alone to having a baby and his mom with him and now, it’s two kids and a nanny. “I feel guilty for missing it because I love my princess, but one of my favorite pasttimes was lying on the couch in an empty house and watching movies. I never get to do that anymore.” He groans. “I’m not complaining, I swear.”

I laugh. “Didn’t think you were.” “Hey, EJ,” Deanna says, turning in my lap to face him. “When can we babysit that beautiful baby of yours?” “Don’t offer babysitting services for me, darlin’,” I tell her as I pinch her side. “Whenever you want,” EJ answers. “And he loves Bree, so he’ll do it anyway,” he adds, which earns him a glare from me. “She offers to babysit and you say yes. I offer to babysit and you never actually let me. What the fuck?” He laughs. “It’s not intentional. Why does someone need to babysit my daughter when I have no reason for someone else to watch her?” “Do it for the people who want to watch her,” Deanna says as if that’s the most obvious answer. “That won’t work either,” Meredith jumps in. “I tried that.” “What is it with women and babies?” EJ mumbles. “She’s my kid. Leave her alone.” “Women like to get their baby fix, even if they don’t want a baby,” Deanna answers. She shrugs. “Plus, they’re plain cute, and your Bree is freaking adorable.” EJ sighs. “All this talk about Bree, I’m heading out.” I’m ready to leave myself, so Deanna and I walk out to the parking lot. “How was the game?” I

ask her. “Well, I don’t think Sydney liked me too much because of the whole Zane mess. The girls seemed nice, I guess. Kinda nosy, but I like Meredith. As far as the actual game? It’s too fast for me. It made sense when Sylvia explained it, but I couldn’t seem to match it to what was happening on the ice. I tried. And why didn’t you tell me that you’re the captain? Or you know, your last name yet? I couldn’t even find you on the ice.” I laugh. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know my last name. The captain thing isn’t that big of a deal.” Besides, I’m not so sure I’m doing a good job lately. On the ice? I don’t worry about that so much as off the ice. I don’t think I’ve ever doubted myself as much as I have this season. “Brayden?” Deanna tugs on my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear me?” Nope. Didn’t realize we stopped walking because we’re at her car either. “What is it?” I ask. “Are you coming to my house?” She grabs the lapels of my suit jacket to pull me closer. I absentmindedly run my hand over my hair. “Rain check? You’ll keep me up for another few hours and I need some sleep.” “Yeah, sure.” She stretches up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. Maybe I should rethink going home. Alone. To a cold, empty bed. The longer she kisses me, the more I think I made a mistake. I push her

against her car, leaning into her. My mind quietens as my body comes alive against hers. Her breasts rub against my chest with her every breath, her hands grip my neck, and her hips push against mine. And then she groans when when my hands find her ass to squeeze and pull her closer to me. Regretfully, I end the kiss. “Go see Otis. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shakes her head, but it’s with a smile. “Can’t believe you’re leaving me hanging like that.” I chuckle. “Go.” We part ways. I arrive home to an empty house, but a mind full of Deanna. Damn woman. I should’ve gone home with her. I crawl into bed and text her. Me: Get home safe? Deanna: Yes. Otis thinks I was gone far too long today because he wants to cuddle. She attached a picture of her in bed with Otis right next to her, his big head on her chest. Me: He would probably miss you if you were gone for 30 minutes. Get some sleep, darlin’. Deanna: Yes, sir! I laugh, plug my phone into the charger, and get

some sleep myself.

Me: I’ll be there in an hour. We’re going on a date. My phone starts ringing. “Hello, darlin’.” “How can you tell me we’re going on a date when you haven’t even asked me out!” “Do I really need—” “This is a bit major for us, don’t you think? And you’re depriving me of the simple pleasure of having you ask! What the hell? How can you just spring this on me, Brayden?” “Are you done?” I ask. “Yes.” “I’ll be there in an hour. Wear workout gear.” I hang up and smile. She sounded pretty flustered. It’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine. She hasn’t been too bad about yanking me out of my comfort zone lately, so maybe I should feel guilty. It’s no wonder she liked doing it to me if it’s this much fun. When I get to Deanna’s house and knock on the door, she answers with a frown. “What the hell kind of date requires workout clothes? First, you don’t ask and now, I might sweat

in November?” I laugh. “You won’t sweat.” She’ll get wet, though. I won’t tell her that just yet. “Let’s go.” “No hello kiss either? Boy, you really are trying to work me up.” She’s smiling, so I’m not too worried. To satisfy her, I kiss her as we walk to my truck. She rolls her eyes and mumbles under her breath about it being a subpar kiss. She’s in some kind of mood today, that’s for sure. “Where are we going?” she asks once we’re on the road. “You’ll see.” I’m not confident in this date. In fact, I’m not even sure it can be called a date. Nevertheless, this is something we’re going out to do, so it counts, right? It’s sort of major. “After this, I need your email address, so I can forward you all the information you need for the trip. Everything has been booked. Are you nervous?” “Yes and no. Let’s not talk about it. I’ll handle it as it happens. Your mom is cool, right?” “Yes.” “Then, I’m sure I’ll be in good hands.” I leave it at that because she will be in good hands. My mom has met women I’ve seen before and I don’t hesitate at all about it. My mom is a good woman and she can meet anyone in my life that she wants, no problem. We arrive at our destination soon enough. “What the hell is this?” Deanna asks.

“It’s a 5K obstacle race.” “A what? You can’t be serious? I’m out of shape!” “You’ve been running with Otis lately. You’ll be fine. Besides, we’ll make it interesting,” I promise as we get out of the truck and head toward the registration tables. “And I nearly die every time!” she reminds me. “It’ll be fun, Deanna.” The look she gives me is full of skepticism. I ignore it. We register and sign waivers, attach the numbers to our shirts, and wait near the starting line until it’s our time to start. They send people off in groups, so the obstacles aren’t congested. Deanna wraps her arms loosely around my waist and looks up at me. My hands automatically rest on her ass. “This is your idea of a fun date, huh?” “Not yours?” “I’ll let you know at the end. You get points for being creative. You said something about making it interesting?” “Whoever does the best and finishes first between us wins. What do you want your prize to be?” Her grin is pure evil and I know just by looking at her that her prize will involve making me uncomfortable in some way; she’ll make it worth my while I’m sure. “I’d like to keep my prize a secret for now. What would you like?”

“If I win, I’ve decided to be nice for the both of us. You never got to have me in your office at work, so if I win, I’ll fuck you in your office.” She grins and pops a quick kiss on my mouth. “Oh, I kinda hope you win now! Not enough to let you win, of course, but I won’t be disappointed if I come out of this as the sore loser. Emphasis on sore.” I laugh and glance around, just to have a distraction from her. Some people look just long enough that it’s a stare. Becoming self-conscious, I move my hands up to her lower back. If these people are looking because they recognize me, which is the likeliest explanation, then I’m not sure that’s the proper hand placement for a crowd of people. There are some teenagers out here too. “What’s wrong?” “What?” I glance down at Deanna. “You’re tense. What happened?” “I’m not tense.” I’m as relaxed as ever. “I think there are some hockey fans here.” There are a few who look like they want to come over, their phones ready in their hands. There are a few who glance away every time my gaze falls in their general area. I actually probably shouldn’t be doing this during the season, but I doubt I’ll get injured from this. “Do you normally get recognized?” Deanna asks as she scans the crowd. “Sometimes, but unless it’s a kid, they don’t

come up to me. I guess I don’t look approachable.” She frowns at that, but our group number is finally called to the starting line. Thank goodness. I laugh as Deanna starts to stretch, which earns me a glare, especially since I don’t. After a few minutes, the horn sounds and the crowd takes off for the first obstacle: climb up onto an inflatable platform so you can take the monkey bars across. Deanna and I are side by side as we go across. “Fuck, I have no upper body strength,” she groans on the fifth bar. “If you don’t make it to the end, that’s a point for me,” I remind her as I pass her. She huffs. I make it to the end and turn around in time to see her fall on the fourth to last bar. “That’s okay, darlin’. Maybe you’ll do better on the next one.” “Don’t gloat. It makes you ugly,” she snaps as we jog to the next one. She curses as we climb onto another inflatable platform. This one is more like an open bouncy house that we have to jump across, but there’s a cliff at the end and Deanna beats me to it. “Ha!” is all she says, sticking her tongue out at me as we jog on. Some of the obstacles are seemingly easy. There’s one with giant red balls and you have to run or jump from ball to ball without falling off. I manage to make it a ball farther than Deanna does before falling off. We slow down a tad, too. It might be a race, but I’m not leaving her behind. After

climbing over walls, doing a sort of slip-n-slide, going through a foam pit, and a few other obstacles, there’s only one left. We’re tied essentially. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Deanna asks as event staffers hand us life jackets. We have to make it across these log-like walkways, which are over water, while these giant balls swing around. If you lose your balance or get hit, it’s the water for you. “It’s a bit nippy out here today. I can’t wait to feel the water.” She rolls her eyes. “Then I suggest you don’t fall in.” I grin. Deanna decides to go first. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on the balls, and then starts running. Her focus switches to her feet. She never sees the ball coming. I can’t help but laugh. Seeing her fly through the air for those few seconds and making such a splash is hilarious. I can only hope that I don’t suffer the same fate. Once she’s out of the water on the other side, I’m given the okay to proceed. I carefully go across, hurrying when a ball comes and pausing as another comes in front of me. Then, I make a run for it. “Oh, son of a bitch. Seriously?” Deanna mutters when I reach her. “I’m totally blaming the fact that you can skate on this. That has to be the reason you have such good balance.” I shrug. “Let’s call it even. Whoever crosses the finish line first wins?” We hand our life jackets

back. Deanna clutches the cloth of her shirt at her stomach and wrings it out. I’m suddenly distracted as hell. Her workout clothes were fitted on her body before. Now? Tighter than a glove. She looks up at me. “Sure? I love running in wet shoes. Ready?” Deanna takes off before I answer. My eyes follow, fixed on her legs and then her ass. The sight of it getting smaller is what actually springs me into action and into a comfortable run behind her. You know, I think we need to start running together. Just like this. Her in front, me two to three feet behind to watch her body as she runs. I could run all day, hell, for weeks, like this. “Yes!” Startled, I blink. Deanna turns around to face me and dances. Her breasts bounce, stealing my attention until I hear, “I won!” What? Damn her and her addictive body. “Wait.” I place my hand on her waist. “We need to go back and have a re-do.” “Why?” she demands. “Because I forgot to try.” She scoffs. “Too bad, so sad, sucker. Take your lame excuse and shove it. You lost to a girl, an unfit one at that, and now I want my prize.” She grabs my hand and drags me away from the crowd and toward the parking lot. An uneasy feeling rises within me. “What’s your prize?”

“You’re about to find out.” This can’t be good. When we arrive at my truck, I grab the towels from the backseat that I placed in here before I left the house and hand them to Deanna. She wraps one around her while putting the other where she’ll sit. It’s a bit chilly, so I turn the truck on to warm her up. “What’s your prize, darlin’?” “I want an orgasm before we leave.” “No.” The quick response comes out harsh and louder than I intended. There are cars upon cars around us. Anyone could walk by at any time! “Yes,” she replies evenly. “Deanna, if someone sees, or if we get caught, do you know how much trouble I’d be in?” “We won’t get caught. It’ll look as if we’re just sitting here. I don’t want to completely put you at risk, Brayden.” It irritates and bothers me that she sounds hurt with that last bit. “Any risk is too much in this case.” I don’t even know how she’d like to receive her prize. Deanna scoots over; the action causes me to stiffen, and not in a good way. One of her hands rests on my thigh while she grips my hand in her own, interlocking our fingers. “I won,” she reminds me. “And what you’re asking for is irresponsible.” Tempting, but not a good idea at all. “What if those people on either side of us come to their cars?”

She grabs the towel she was sitting on and throws it over our laps. “Hand jobs ending in orgasms. That’s all I’m asking for here.” I snort. Oh, is that all? I glance around us, flicking my gaze to the mirrors. “We’d sit just like this. We wouldn’t look suspicious,” she says, as if she knows I’m considering it. And fuck, why the hell am I considering it? There was no room for negotiations or changing my mind when I told her no only a minute ago. My blood already thrums with excitement. Deanna takes our joined hands and places them between her legs as she says, “I promise it’ll be worth our while.” I was royally screwed the moment I met Deanna. I don’t know why I keep thinking I can say no, stop things between us, or fight anything going on. It’s been a losing battle since I bumped into her. There’s a sigh fighting its way out with my defeat as I nod my head, wordlessly agreeing to her crazy prize. Her grin is quick and bright. She grabs my face and kisses me hard. Both wanting to eagerly get started and get this over with, I manage to stick my hand underneath her annoyingly wet clothes. She’s slick and wet. Deanna enjoys these stunts entirely too much, but I’ll be damned if I can lie and say that a small part of me doesn’t like them, too.

The kiss ends, her forehead dropping to my shoulder, and her hands fall to push down my waistbands. The moans she makes are soft, but seem to fill the entire cab of my truck. She wiggles a bit, readjusting how she’s sitting, and groans at the adjusted angle. It’s all I can do to focus on getting her off quickly while her hands are wrapped around me. She seems to think time is of the essence as well. Her strokes are near the point of aggressive. Stretching my legs out a bit, my right foot accidentally presses the gas just as a family walks in front of my truck. For a moment, I freeze. Where did they come from? Fuck. I forgot to pay attention. Reality pops into place like the snap a rubber band and my truck is suddenly full of giggles as I mouth a sorry at the startled family with an angrylooking father. “Oh god.” Deanna’s hands cradle her stomach. She keeps trying to speak, but can’t for her laughter. I’m not sure if I’m irritated with her or amused as well. My hand is still between her legs, so I get back to work with renewed vigor. The giggles stop immediately. She gets her orgasm shortly after. Once I tuck myself back into my shorts, I pull out of my parking space. The giggles return once Deanna is in her seat

and buckled. “That had to be the best thing that’s ever happened. Did you see their faces when they heard the engine rev?” “Yeah.” “Oh, come on, Brayden. You have to admit that it was hilarious.” I glare at her. She tries to tame her giggles, but it’s like once she has a handle on it, they start back up again. “For fuck’s sake, Deanna,” I snap. “I’m sorry,” she laughs. “But as soon as I think about it, I start laughing again.” Her laughter is infectious, damn it. I don’t laugh. I do have some self-control. However, a small smile tugs at my lips. Deanna catches it too. She grabs my hand and leans over to kiss my cheek. Seriousness taking over her features for a brief moment. “Thank you. For the smile,” she adds. And then, she’s back to giggling. I can only shake my head and smile a little wider.

Considering yesterday was a fairly easy day, aside from being with Deanna and doing the 5K, I shouldn’t be tired today. I am, though. I don’t like starting a game off tired. You’re supposed to have energy. A pep in your step. Eyes should be wide

open. But I’ll be damned if I’m not tired as fuck. I got at least ten hours of sleep. Not all in a row, however; I stayed at Deanna’s house last night. Collin comes up next to me as we’re skating around the ice for warmups. “You all right, Captain Hook?” he asks. His question surprises me. Also makes me wonder if I look tired. “I’m fine; why?” He shrugs. “Seem off today.” “We all have our days, Thing One.” He smiles at his nickname, nods, and leaves me be. Things seem normal as the game starts. Getting into the swing of things rids the tiredness from my bones. We play like we ought to. We even get a boost when the other team earns a penalty, setting us up on a power play. Unfortunately, we get caught in their zone. Time dwindles when I get the puck on my stick and take off, right down center ice. It doesn’t matter to me that our power play is over. There’s still an opportunity to capitalize on this. Until the player comes out of the sin bin and flies across the neutral zone. I never see him coming because my eyes are focused elsewhere. Thing One comes up on the other side of me and I want to make a pass. The puck leaves my stick and is on its way to him. The hit blindsides me, feeling like a semi ran

into my back with enough force to snap my neck back while pushing me forward and slamming my body onto the ice. Do my hands even reach out to stop me? I’m not sure. I blink, the ice cold against my cheek, and idly watch the puck reach Collin. Get up, Brayden. You never stay down if you can get up. Is the arena quiet or suddenly thunderous with the roar of thousands? I want to wince at the sound of it and the whistle blowing. I push myself up onto my hands and knees, deciding to quickly make a go at standing, but the ice moves underneath me and I’m back on my hands and knees. Fuck. “How about you wait here for a second?” I glance up to see Collin and nod. Bruiser beats the hell out of some guy over in the corner. What for? What happened? Collin tries to help me stand and that’s when I realize the...fuck, what are they called? I shake my head and try to focus on what the trainer who walked from the bench says as I’m escorted off the ice to see a doctor. Not that it matters. Dread fills me quickly, overwhelming me before I can stop it. This is not good.

Brayden: Thanksgiving is canceled. Me: What? Why? Me: Hello? Brayden? What happened? Me: Answer me! Me: I’m coming over. An uneasy feeling worries me as I drive to Brayden’s house. It morphs into dread when I pull into his driveway and find his truck door open. What in the hell happened? I walk to the truck with Otis trailing after me on his leash, spot his cell phone in the middle seat, and grab it. Why would he leave his cell phone in the truck? Gently closing

the door, I head for the house. My worry quadruples. His keys dangle from the deadbolt. That’s not very helpful if you want to keep intruders out. After I remove the keys, I push the door open. “Brayden?” I call out. No answer. Otis seems calm, which relaxes me just a little. That means no one who shouldn’t be here is in the house, right? Otis leaves me for the couch the moment I unhook his leash, so I hope so. He can’t bite someone in my defense if he’s napping on the couch. I jog upstairs to Brayden’s bedroom, calling out his name once more. There’s still no response. Where is he? I find him lying in bed, but something isn’t quite right. He has a pillow over his head as well as his comforter over that pillow. Carefully crawling onto the bed, I pull the comforter back and then remove the pillow. He’s sound asleep. Do I wake him? Is he... I tug the sheets down a little further. He’s still in his suit from the game. What in the world? I shake his shoulder. “Brayden.” He groans, but I soon see those green eyes. He frowns and blinks a few times. “What are you doing here?” “Because I’m extremely worried. First, you text me that Thanksgiving is canceled and you don’t respond to my texts. Then, I get here and your truck door is open, your phone is inside, your keys

are still in the front door, and you’re sleeping in your suit.” He glances down at himself and a brief flicker of surprise appears on his face when he sees that I’m not lying. “What happened?” I ask as he throws the sheets completely aside to get out of bed. “I got hit during the first period,” he mutters. I’m confused. What does that have to do with Thanksgiving? Or anything else that happened? I watch him change his clothes. “I sat out for the rest of the game and by the time it was over, they diagnosed me with a concussion. I’m not going on the trip to Canada, so you and Mom aren’t going either. Can you look to see if she’s texted me back?” Once I’ve unlocked his phone, there are not only texts from his mom, but also about a dozen missed calls. His text to her was similar to mine, except he asked her to deal with his travel agent in canceling everything. He sighs when I report my findings. “I don’t want to talk to her.” “Want me to?” He shrugs as he climbs back into bed. “Don’t go to sleep yet,” I blurt out. “Why?” “Because I want you to come to my house.” Brayden frowns. “What the fuck for?”

“I want to keep an eye on you, and I don’t want to leave, pack, and come back.” “Too fucking bad. I’m not leaving my house when this is the only place I want to be. If you want to stay, I won’t stop you, but I’ll be damned if I’m leaving, Deanna. So, either leave to pack your shit and come back, or just fucking leave and don’t come back. Right now, I don’t care.” I stare at him for a moment. Is it me, or was he a little mean to me? Harsh at the very least. Or maybe it seems like it because he has me so worried. I nod and wordlessly leave his bedroom. Once I have Otis on his leash, we’re out the door. I’m coming back, of course. “Deanna!” Otis suddenly yanks away from me, nearly ripping my shoulder out of its socket in the process. His leash leaves a rope-burning sensation behind. Turning, I face Brayden. He rubs Otis’s head while also walking toward me. “I’m sorry. I’ll ride with you, okay?” “If you want.” When we’re on the road, I glance over at him. His head rests against the window, his eyes closed. “Have you ever had a concussion before?” “No, and I’m not too happy to have one.” He sighs as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Guess I better talk to her before she worries too much.” He answers and I listen to his side of the conversation.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I napped a little bit ago. Deanna stopped by and now, we’re on the way to her house because she wants to stay with me. I told her I’d ride with. I said I’m fine.” His voice turns harsh for a moment. “I’d like to skip Thanksgiving this year.” He pauses and holds the phone away from his ear a little. Even I can faintly hear her raised voice. “Fine. Get it set up and come whenever you want. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” When I get home, he stays in the car to finish talking to her while I go inside. Is it bad that I was momentarily relieved about Thanksgiving being canceled? I didn’t realized how anxious I was about meeting his mom until I read his text and saw it wouldn’t be happening just yet. Sounds like Thanksgiving is back on now. Should I pack enough clothes to stay until his mother arrives? Or just for tonight? I throw plenty of clothes to last until Thursday, then I’m safe for whenever his mother comes. Next, I have to pack for Otis and that takes longer than it should. I eventually make my way back to the car. Brayden is off the phone and Otis stares at me through the window. “What’s the new plan?” I ask. “She’s flying out Tuesday.” We don’t talk the rest of the way back to his house. My stomach growls and grumbles. Brayden

takes my bags straight to his bedroom before I have the chance to ask him if he’s hungry. Oh, well. If he is, he’ll eat. If not, more for me. After a few minutes of rummaging through the fridge, I find chicken and some fresh veggies. He also has some potatoes. I’ll drizzle those with olive oil and put some seasoning on them before popping them into the oven to roast. The sounds coming from my stomach seem to grow louder while I wait for the food to cook, so I attempt to reach the cabinet above his fridge where his stash of chips is hidden. Salt and vinegar aren’t my favorite, but they’ll do in a pinch. My arm stretches out, but I’m about four inches too short. Damn it. If the fridge wasn’t in the way, I’d be able to grab the knob. He lives alone; for goodness sake, why does he need to hide them? Just as I’m about to hoist myself onto the counter, Brayden scares the hell out of me. His body is behind me, his arm reaches around me, and he easily opens the cabinet. “Which one?” “The kettle one. How long have you been in here?” I ask as he hands me the bag. “Since you started cutting the potatoes.” I purposely place a frown on my face as I turn to look at him. “You’ve been watching me like a creeper?” He shrugs. “No one but my mom has ever cooked in here. It’s weird.” He reaches into the bag

for a chip. “Why are you eating these if you’re cooking?” “Because I’m starving and the food is taking too long. How are you feeling?” Another shrug. “A little bit of a headache and I’m tired.” Hopefully, he’ll recover quickly. In the meantime, I’ll be here with him. I’m thankful he doesn’t seem to mind having me here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Aside from him being a little cranky, things have gone smoothly with Brayden. He sleeps fine and rests as planned. He doesn’t complain of headaches, but I think they bother him. He hasn’t quite been himself. I mean, he doesn’t smile that often, but that’s not too abnormal. He’s usually grimacing. He rubs his forehead, too. “Thanks for doing this,” Brayden mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “No problem.” We just arrived at the airport to pick up his mom. He asked me yesterday in an effort to give me enough notice to switch things around at work, saying he didn’t want to drive. Someone’s car alarm goes off, the horn blaring repeatedly, and Brayden

winces. The alarm turns off as he takes my hand. He breathes a sigh of relief. It’s been tough watching him deal with this. He doesn’t talk about it any more than he has to. But to see something obviously knock him down like this has? To see him struggle? It’s hard. My heart is constantly torn with wanting to hug him and not wanting him to see that I feel bad for him. Not sure he’d want to see that. He hasn’t minded the hugs I’ve given him so far, though. We’re a little early, but we find a place near baggage claim to wait for her. Brayden fiddles with my sunglasses, which he’s wearing because he doesn’t own a pair and the first five minutes outside, he complained about the sun being too bright. “How ridiculous do I look?” He glances down at me. My heart swells with his faint smile. “You don’t. These aren’t chick sunglasses.” I roll my eyes, hoping I can get a chuckle out of him, and grin when I do. “I know that.” He pinches my ass where his hand always seems to find its resting place. My sunglasses are a pair of aviators. He’d probably wear them, even if they were girly. “I mean because we’re inside. I still don’t understand why people wear them inside or at night. Maybe they’re all suffering from concussions too?” I laugh, self-conscious enough to make sure it’s

a soft one, and say, “Probably not.” Brayden pulls me closer and rests his chin on top of my head. “Still nervous?” “Yes.” “Want to change your mind?” “Can I?” It’s tempting. “If you want, but it might be too late.” His hands are suddenly on my hips to turn me. “Hey, Mom. This is Deanna. Darlin’, this is my mom, Maryann.” Just as my hand moves for a handshake, she steps forward to hug me. “It’s so nice to meet you, Deanna. I wish I could say more, but my son hasn’t told me much about you yet.” She glares at Brayden with that last bit and moves to hug him. “How are you doing?” “Fine. What’s your bag look like?” “It’s black.” Her response is so blunt and simple that I giggle, laughing harder when she winks at me and Brayden is surely glaring at us both. “So helpful.” “There are Carolina Rebels ribbons tied to the handles. Just for you. Are you sure you want to pick it up?” “I can lift your suitcase, Mom,” he mutters as he walks to the carousel. The bags begin to appear and make their rounds. “Is he really doing okay?” she asks me. “I’ll get

to you in a minute, by the way, but he’s my son, so he’s always my first concern.” “He’s been resting mostly. I’ve stayed at the house, so I try not to let him do much of anything. He’s slightly irritable and has sensitivities to lights and sounds. Plus, there’s the headaches. That’s it. If there’s more, I don’t know about it. I gathered that much from observation.” She frowns and I know instantly that Brayden’s frown came from his momma. Looks exactly the same. “Thanks for taking care of him.” “Of course.” “So, how old are you?” She manages to learn my age, occupation, and that I met Brayden in a bar before he walks over with her bag. I’m grateful, too. I don’t mind that she wants to get to know me, but it feels a little too interrogation-like for me. Plus, I’m too busy answering that I forget to worry about impressing her. What does she think about the fact that we met in the bar? Will she make assumptions because I was hanging in a bar? Surely not, since those same assumptions would have to apply to Brayden, right? Unless because he’s her son there’s a double standard? Shit, I’ve never met a parent before! Well, I’ve met parents of friends before, but never fuck buddies or boyfriends when I had them. At this point, I don’t know what the hell we are.

On the ride back, I panic over this just a bit. Maryann catches Brayden up on things back home in Michigan and her meal plan for Thanksgiving dinner. Maryann oohs over Otis, who doesn’t jump on her with his finally-trained self, while Brayden takes her bag to the guest room. I stop by Brayden’s room to grab my bag, which I packed this morning. “What are you doing?” Brayden leans against the doorframe, looking confused. “Going to work.” “That’s where you’re about to go. I asked what you’re doing. Why are you packed?” He isn’t seriously asking me that, is he? I stare at him for a moment. “I’m not staying while your mom is here.” “Why not?” “Because!” There’s a reason, I know there is, but my mind can’t come up with one right now. It just seemed like the most obvious and logical thing to do. “Are you taking Otis too?” “He’s my dog. Of course I’m taking him.” Brayden folds his arms over his chest and stands upright. He looks huge and towering. I suddenly know how Raelynn felt that day when she saw him. He can definitely look intimidating. “What if I want you both to stay?” “I don’t know, Brayden. Her room is right

there!” I point behind his shoulder. He laughs. “It’s not like we’ve been fucking lately, darlin’.” Ugh. That’s true. No sex since his concussion. “She’s here to see you,” I try. “And to meet you.” “She did. She’ll see me again Thursday.” His eyes narrow. “Leave if you want, but I’ll be pissed if you do.” He turns and walks out of the room. Well, what the hell do I do now? Leaving seems like the right thing to do. His mom is primarily here to see him, not me. I don’t want to be in the way or take from their time together. It’s weird to stay here in Brayden’s room with her in the house. That seems like it requires a certain level of commitment or seriousness and I don’t know where we are on either of those things. I’m not sure Brayden is thinking about it like this either. He just wants me here. Maybe he wants a buffer or something. I don’t know. I sit on the bed. I need to decide before I leave for work and I still have some time before I told Rose I’d be there. Rose! I grab my phone and text her, asking for advice. It takes about a minute before a response comes in. Rose: DO NOT RUIN THIS, DEANNA! STAY! He asked. He wants you there. STAY. If you don’t,

I’ll kick your ass. Don’t be an idiot again. “Deanna?” I glance up at the sound of Maryann’s voice and quickly stand, as if I shouldn’t be sitting on her son’s bed in her presence. “Hey.” “It seems you’re considering leaving?” “Just to go back to my home. I don’t want to intrude or anything and I don’t live here, so...” She gives me an easy smile, which relaxes me just a bit. “For Brayden’s sake, you might want to stay.” “What do you mean?” I ask with confusion. “He’s down there grumbling under his breath and telling Otis that if you leave, he’s kidnapping him while you’re at work.” She shrugs. “He wants you here. Might as well stay.” “Otis can stay,” I start, but she interrupts me. “Deanna, dear, you’re not intruding.” “Okay. I’ll stay then.” I have no choice, it seems. At least she’s okay with it. We walk downstairs and find Brayden lying on the couch with Otis. Maryann sits in one of the chairs. “I have two classes tonight, so don’t wait on me for supper,” I tell Brayden. He grins. “I’ll save you a plate.” He grabs my wrist to pull me down for a kiss. His stupid grin widens as I feel my cheeks burning. “See you later,” I mumble before making

my escape. Can his mom leave already? I am not comfortable this. Not at all.

“Are things serious between the two of you?” Mom asks the moment the door closes behind Deanna. “Serious enough,” I reply, rubbing Otis behind the ears. “What does that mean?” She already sounds exasperated with me. Mom doesn’t like any games either. “You’re meeting her, aren’t you?” “Would I be meeting her had her mom not died recently? Because initially, you wanted me to spend Thanksgiving with her so she wouldn’t be alone.” I sigh, the pressure in my head increasing. “Look, Mom, I like her, we’re dating, and you do

get to meet her. What more do you need to know?” “Nothing, I guess.” I don’t have to look at her to know she’s not satisfied with that answer. “You rest. I’m going to ransack your kitchen so I can make a grocery list.” “Do you like her?” I ask before she can get too far away. “I don’t know yet.” Well, that isn’t an acceptable answer. Mom needs to like her. Well, she doesn’t have to, but I’d really like her to. The last thing Deanna needs is another mother figure to dislike her. I don’t need to worry about Mom treating her badly or making snide comments or anything like that, but it would be bad enough for me if Mom didn’t like her. They haven’t spent that much time together yet, so I just need to make sure they do and that it goes well. I’ve never been cooped up in the house this long before. Not involuntarily at least. I feel more antsy today since I know the team is in Canada on their road trip. I haven’t left the house except two or three times. I doze off, but when I wake up, I discover my mom has left for the grocery store. When I walk Otis, I see that she took my second vehicle, which doesn’t get driven as much as my truck. This seems like the best opportunity to leave. I scribble a note saying I’ll be back soon and head out. It’s not until I’m almost there that I realize I’m driving to EJ’s house. Maybe Bree

won’t be fussy today. Maybe Raelynn won’t be freaked out that I’m showing up unannounced. I knock on the door and almost a minute passes before she opens the door with Bree on her hip. Her eyes widen. “Brayden, right?” “Yeah. Sorry to drop by like this, but I needed to get out of the house. Can I hang here for a while?” “Um.” She glances over her shoulder at something. “Sure.” “You can say no, you know. I just wanted to see Bree, but if you’re not comfortable or whatever...” I let my voice trail off, remembering that she said I could be intimidating, even though that was when I had a busted lip and a quickly blackening eye. “No, that’s okay. Come in.” She steps aside and I walk over the threshold. That’s when I see that she was glancing over her shoulder at the little boy peering over the couch. I forgot she had a son. “Hey, Jackson.” His eyes widen in surprise that I know his name. I’m surprised myself that I remembered it. “This is Mr. Brayden, Jackson. He’s friends with Mr. EJ.” Jackson turns around and resumes watching the cartoons on TV. “Sorry,” Raelynn apologizes. “He’s shy around new people. Did you want to hold her?” “Yes, please.” I take Bree from her and move to sit in the living room.

“Do you mind if I catch up on some chores?” “No, go ahead. I’ll find you if we need anything.” “Thanks.” To Jackson, she says, “I’ll be in the kitchen, baby. Mr. Brayden plays hockey with Mr. EJ, so you’ll be fine.” That seems like such an odd thing to say to the kid, or maybe it’s not, because Jackson turns toward me at that. He eyes me as Bree claps her hands to get my attention. I lay her on her back on my legs and play with her hands while her legs kick me in the stomach. She’s a giggling mess. I’m not even making funny noises like I normally do. “Why are you not with Mr. EJ on his trip?” Jackson asks, his voice quiet. I glance over at him. “I hurt my head in the last game.” He gasps. “You’re Hayes! Number thirteen. You have a C on your jersey. Momma said she thought that means you’re the captain.” “Yeah, that’s right. You like hockey?” He shrugs. “How old are you?” He holds up his hand, all five fingers up. Back and forth we talk as I ask him if he’s in school and if he likes it. If he likes staying here, if he likes Bree, but Jackson brings it back to hockey. He mocks the movements of an official, wanting to know what it means. It’s like he’s obsessed and

needs to know. The longer we talk as Bree falls asleep in my arms, the greater my headache becomes. It’s like the TV is three times louder than it actually is. “How is it going in here?” Raelynn walks in, a kitchen towel over her shoulder. “Is there a place I can lie down for a minute?” Her eyes widen, but she nods. I follow her upstairs to the nursery to lay Bree down. “You can lie in here if you want.” She points at a twin bed. “But if you’d rather have a bigger bed, you can have your pick of Elias’s or Jackson’s, I guess.” Elias? It throws me off so much that for a moment I have no clue she’s talking about EJ. “I’ll lie in here.” I don’t really feel comfortable taking EJ’s or Jackson’s bed. “I’ll be out of here soon.” Hopefully. “Let me know if you need anything.” I nod and she leaves the room, pulling the door until it’s almost closed. The bed is not nearly long enough, so my feet veer to hang off the side. There’s too much light in here, so I take the pillow and lay it over my head. Leaving the house was a stupid idea. I was basically relaxing. The only thing different here than at home is the TV was on and I was consistently talking to someone. I wasn’t lying down either. This whole concussion thing is such bullshit and I’m ready for it to be over with already. “Brayden?” A hand is shaking my shoulder.

“Brayden?” I lift the pillow from my face and wince because the light is now on in the room. What the fuck? “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s getting kind of late and I thought you might want to wake up.” It’s getting late? How late? I came over around four. “What time is it?” “Eight-thirty.” Fuck. Mom and Deanna both are probably worried. “I’m sorry.” I rub my head. Just the thought of driving makes my head hurt more. I stand with a sigh, but a rush of dizziness overwhelms me. I reach out to grab the wall and steady myself. Yeah, fuck this. “Are you okay?” Raelynn asks. “Yeah.” I pat my pockets until I find the one with my phone. There are a bunch of missed calls, but I wasn’t alerted to any of them because I’ve been keeping my phone on silent. Even having it on vibrate irks me. “I’m going to make a phone call.” Raelynn steps out to give me some privacy, taking a now awake Bree with her. I stare at the screen for a moment, rubbing my forehead. I need to call Deanna. It takes me a second too long to find the appropriate buttons and then to find Deanna’s name. “Where the hell are you? Are you okay?” “I’m fine. Can you come pick me up? I don’t feel like driving home.”

“Where are you? Your mom was about to start calling hospitals because she was so worried.” I roll my eyes. “I’m fucking fine. I’m at EJ’s house. You and Mom come get me, so you can drive my truck home.” “Don’t get ill with me, Brayden,” she snaps, more irritated than I’ve ever heard her. “We’re on our way.” She hangs up before I can mumble a thanks. I leave the room and go downstairs. Raelynn, Bree, and Jackson are watching the Rebels game on TV. Well, Bree is playing and pulling on Raelynn’s hair. “Someone’s coming to pick me up,” I tell her and she nods. I sit in the chair, leaning my head back and wishing they’d mute the TV. I keep an eye out for headlights. When I see them flash on the living room blinds, I stand. “Thanks, Raelynn. See you guys later.” “Bye.” The only thing I can tell about Deanna, thanks to the glaring headlights behind her, is that her arms are folded over her chest while she stands next to the driver’s door of my truck. I squint at her as I get closer and see her glare. Okay, so she’s not happy with me. She’ll get over it. I hold out my keys, almost wanting to smile when she snatches them from my fingers. I think I like her mad at me. Mom backs out and then Deanna does, so Mom can follow us back. Deanna mutters under her

breath. “I don’t like driving trucks, yet here I am, driving one for my idiot of a whatever-you-are.” “These things are too big for my comfort level and it’s your damn fault I’m driving one.” “You couldn’t just tell someone where you were going.” “You couldn’t ask your mom to drop you off.” “You couldn’t change your phone to vibrate.” “Your mom’s first impression of me needs to be me obviously concerned over her idiot of a son. Never cursed so much in my life.” Finally, I can’t help but chuckle. “Will you stop it?” “No. I didn’t want to be left alone with your mother, I don’t want to be driving this stupid-ass truck, and I didn’t want to come home and immediately be consumed with worry about you. The best thing you can do is leave me alone.” What the fuck? Fine, I’ll leave her alone, though I don’t understand what the big deal is. When we get home, she walks Otis and then says she’s taking a shower. Mom pulls me into the kitchen to feed me the dinner she cooked. “What’s wrong with her?” I ask. Mom cuts her eyes over at me. She’s sitting at the table with me while I eat. “I didn’t raise a dummy, did I?” “No, but what does that have to do with

Deanna?” Mom rests her hand over one of mine. “Son, she was more concerned about you than I was.” That’s interesting because Deanna made it sound like Mom was more worried with the whole ‘she’s about to call hospitals’ comment. “I thought the poor girl was going to have a panic attack when she came home and I told her you had left without a word as to where and hadn’t come home yet.” “Yeah, but I was fine.” Mom rolls her eyes. “Brayden, she was worried. Truly worried, and that seemed to scare her as much as being worried about you. She reminds me of you in a way.” “What are you talking about?” “Being scared of a relationship and to care for someone for whatever reason. She realized she cares for you a lot and doesn’t know what to do with that. You’re the idiot who hasn’t realized how much you care about her yet.” I frown. “I know I care about Deanna.” “Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound like she believes me. “Does she know it? You really worried her, Brayden, even though you didn’t mean to. I don’t know what her story is, but I bet you do. You might want to apologize and be sweet to her.” I tuck that information away. “Does this mean you like her?” “So far, yes, and I’m guessing by the fact that

you’ve asked me twice today that she may just be the one to stick around long-term in your life.” She stands and pats my shoulder. “Don’t screw it up, Brayden.” She kisses the top of my head and heads upstairs for bed. She didn’t have to say so because anytime I get a kiss on the head, that means she’s about to turn in for the night. I leave my dirty plate on the table because it’s not like it can’t wait until morning to be washed and head upstairs. I’m still tired. Otis lies curled up at the end of the bed when I walk into my room. Deanna sits on the edge, facing away from me, and brushes her hair. First, I get myself ready for bed. She’s underneath the covers when I return and climb in. “Want to watch a movie?” I ask. “No.” “Plain old TV then?” “No.” “We can if you want.” I don’t even know why I’m trying at this point. “It’s only going to bother you, so no; it’s fine.” Oh. That’s why she doesn’t want to watch something? “Well, come here, darlin’.” She sighs, but she scoots over until I can wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry for causing you to worry. I wanted to get out of the house, so I decided to go see Bree. After a while, I got a bad headache, so I laid down and fell asleep. Raelynn woke me up

because it was so late. I didn’t think I would fall asleep or I would’ve turned my phone on vibrate.” “I guess I forgive you,” she mumbles, her lips brushing against my collarbone. I pinch her ass. “You guess?” Her lips move into a smile. “Yep.” She lifts her head. “Are you really okay?” “Yeah. I’ll take it extra easy tomorrow.” “You better.” Deanna leans forward to kiss me softly just once. “I like your momma.” I laugh. “You can’t kiss me and then talk about my mom, Deanna. Why do you like her?” “She’s nice. She was really calm, even though we were both concerned over where you might be. She trusts you a lot more than I do, I guess. While we were waiting for you to call us, she made me eat and tell her more about myself. I just hope I didn’t say too much. Like, I told her about my parents and she asked how I came to own the shop, so I told her about that. She probably thinks you should dump me because I’m this wild child. Anytime a guy came into conversation, I always said he was a boyfriend even if he wasn’t. It was like she dosed dinner with truth serum or something and it was all I could do to tell her nearly everything.” She tucks her head under my chin. “I’m sure she’s not impressed.” “Actually, she told me that she liked you, which is really good. I would’ve kicked her out if she said

she didn’t.” Deanna laughs. “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re not the type of man to choose a woman over your momma, not when she raised you on her own and was a good momma.” “You’re right. But I would’ve been really disappointed in her if she didn’t like you. I don’t see how that’s possible anyway.” She doesn’t say anything. In fact, she’s gotten quite still next to me. “Can I get something off my chest for a second?” “Go ahead.” I don’t hesitate at all. Partly because I don’t want to and partly because I don’t want Deanna to second-guess herself. “This thing between us? It scares the hell out of me. I feel so much. Even in the beginning when it was only sex, it seemed like there was just more. I don’t know what to do with all of this mess. Half the time I don’t know what we’re doing, if it’s more of the same, or if we’ve morphed into dating, or what. But it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. And all I can think about is how I can do nothing but make bad decisions and you don’t know if you could even commit to a relationship. What in the hell are we doing here, Brayden?”

His hand moves up to my neck, his thumb resting where he can surely feel my out-of-control pulse. He kisses my forehead. That surprises me because it’s so sweet of a gesture. Is he going to say something or hold me in suspense for the rest of my life? “We’re making this work, that’s what we’re doing here. You haven’t made any bad decisions and I’ve been able to commit to you so far. We’re doing all the right things.” I think he’s done, but then he says, “And we’re dating, to be clear.” He frowns. “Do you feel like you’re settling, Deanna? Are you not happy being with just me?”

“What? No!” Where would he get that from? “I’m only trying to figure out what we’re doing. I’m meeting your mom, Brayden. That’s huge.” “So, why are you needing me to explain this in words when clearly my actions speak for me?” He looks utterly confused at this. “Because I’m a woman and I need to hear things, too.” He laughs. “Okay. Have you heard enough or do I need to keep talking?” “I think I’ve heard enough.” I’m tired of talking about it at least. “Good.” He kisses me so slowly and thoroughly, my head goes dizzy. It’s like I’m drunk in the best of ways when he kisses me. Or maybe I’m high. I’m certainly addicted and I never want to be sober. Brayden distracts me so much with his kiss, makes me feel so good with the soft bite of his teeth, that it takes me until his hand has grasped my breast to even realize his hand moved underneath my shirt. “What are you doing?” I breathe. “Reacquainting myself with you.” I grab his wrist through my shirt. “Are you even allowed?” He only chuckles and moves that talented mouth to my neck. “Your mom is across the hall.” His sigh is heavy. “Thanks for the reminder.” “Maryann, Maryann, Maryann, Maryann,” I

repeat, causing him to laugh. “You’re mean. Fine, not tonight.” Not at all while she’s here. This room isn’t soundproof. Even if it was, it’s a mood killer to know she’s right there! No hanky panky this goround. Brayden puts his hand in its normal place on my ass, sighs contentedly, and a minute later, he’s sound asleep. I snuggle closer, praying I don’t screw something up while his mom is here. In the morning, I wake up with my head on Brayden’s chest and a leg thrown over him. When I lift my head, I see that he’s already awake with a slight smile on his face. That has to be a good sign. “How—” His hand suddenly covers my mouth. “Do not finish that sentence, darlin’. Every morning you ask me that and I haven’t gotten any better. The days were less than stellar. Don’t jinx me today when, you know.” His smile widens, which I’m taking to mean he feels pretty good. “You’re superstitious?” “All hockey players are. I’m starting to get superstitious about the question that cannot be asked.” I giggle. “Hey, what is your dad doing for Thanksgiving?” “I asked him yesterday and he said he was going to his brother’s house.” I shrug. He didn’t ask what I was doing for Thanksgiving or if I wanted to

come with him. He’s been in his own little world since Mom died. I feel bad for feeling a bit grateful, especially considering how I felt after Mom died. “Okay, good. If he didn’t have plans, then I was going to say he could come here. Are you working today?” “Yes. How else are you supposed to spend time with your mom without me around?” “When are you spending time with her?” he asks. “Thursday.” “Do you have some Black Friday thing?” I shake my head. “We close for the entirety of Thanksgiving Day. My grandma would kill me if we were open on that day for the sake of a sale. She used to say, ‘It’s called Black Friday because it happens on fucking Friday.’ That was a sore subject for her. She had quite the potty mouth, too.” “I wish I could’ve met her.” I smile. “Yeah, me too.” With a sigh, I move away from him, toss the sheets away, and get out of bed. “I need to get ready. You stay in bed today and rest.” “That’s the plan.” I almost want to roll my eyes when as I’m leaving for the day, I pass Maryann, who is on her way to our bedroom to bring Brayden breakfast. He won’t have to get out of bed unless he needs to go to the bathroom. I better text him and make sure

he’s the one who walks Otis. I’m sure Maryann is capable and that Otis will be the most well-behaved dog on the planet, but on the off chance that he isn’t, I’d rather he yank Brayden around than his mother. My workday goes smoothly. I’m tempted to text Brayden every few hours, but that seems like a bit much. That feels like hovering. Besides, his mother is there taking care of him and making sure he’s resting. I’m sure Brayden is making sure he’s resting. He wants to get back into the game; he won’t do anything to prolong his time away. As I pull into the driveway, I notice a car pulling in behind me. I step out and see Sylvia stepping out of her car. “I hope I’m not intruding,” she calls out as she walks toward me. “I thought I’d pop in and check on Brayden since the guys are out of town. I’ve been trying to get here all day and it just hasn’t happened.” “Well, come on in.” “How has he been?” she asks while we walk to the front door. “Okay. Better today, I hope. His mom is here for Thanksgiving, so she’s been keeping him company while I’m at work. Do you always check on guys when they are injured?” Sylvia shakes her head. “No, but...” Her voice trails off. “Brayden seems like the guy you would

want to check on. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I know he won’t want to be checked on?” At that I laugh. Otis is right at the door waiting for us. I rub his head, keeping an eye on him to make sure he behaves. The last thing I need him to do is jump on a pregnant lady. He only wags his entire body and nudges her hand when she doesn’t pet him immediately after I’ve loved on him. I guess it’s time to trust him a little more. He behaves. He listens. He’s a good boy. “Brayden? Maryann?” I call out when I don’t see anyone in the living room or in the kitchen. “Up here, darlin’!” We walk upstairs and find them in the bedroom. Brayden lies much in the same place where I left him, only it’s clear he’s changed his clothes. Maryann sits where I normally sleep and it looks as if she’s crocheting something. The TV is on, but it’s muted. Brayden quickly sits up when he sees Sylvia. “Hey. What are you doing here?” he asks. “I wanted to check in. Make sure someone was looking after you, but obviously you’re doing fine.” “Yeah, I am. Oh, Mom, this is Sylvia Boyd. Sylvia, this is my mom, Maryann.” They wave, but Maryann shocks us all. “Your husband is adorable, by the way.” She winks at Sylvia. “Mom!” Brayden looks disgusted and

perplexed all at once. “What? I watch your games sometimes. Scott Boyd is a looker.” Sylvia and I both crack up. “I like her,” Sylvia says. Maryann smiles. “Thank you. Do you have family you can spend Thanksgiving with?” “Oh, yes, ma’am. I’ll have a house-full tomorrow. Y’all are welcome to come, if you’d like.” “Oh, no. We can’t possibly intrude last minute. Plus, I’ve already bought food and it’s probably best for Brayden to rest.” She reaches over to pat his hand. “Thanks for the invite, Sylvia,” Brayden tells her. “And for checking on me. I think these two have me covered.” He pauses for a second. “There isn’t anything you need, is there? With Scott being gone?” She waves her hand at him. “No. I’m fine. I have practically an army at my hands waiting to help Lizzy and me, if needed. I’m glad you’re doing okay. I just wanted to check on you.” He thanks her again and then I walk her out. When I return to the bedroom, it’s only Brayden and he’s texting. “Where’s your mom?” “She went to put her things away and to start dinner, I think.”

“How was your day?” I ask as I sit on the edge of his bed by his knees. “Fine. Thought I was going to make it symptom-free, but didn’t quite get there. Better than yesterday, though.” His attention is on his phone, this thumbs moving every few seconds, and that bugs the hell out of me. He’s always given me his full attention; what gives? “Who are you texting?” “Raelynn.” “Excuse me?” I’m so caught off guard by that answer, that’s all I can manage to say. He glances up at me. “Mom asking Sylvia made me think of her. EJ just said her only family is Jackson, so I’m texting her to see if she wants to come over tomorrow.” “Jackson?” “Her son.” “Are you sure? You want two kids over here? You can’t even have the volume up on the TV.” Brayden frowns at me. “She has the option to say no, but I’m at least asking. It’ll be fine.” I sure hope so. I’m not sure it’s the best idea, but he seems determined. “I’m going to help your mom.” She’s down in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She points me to a pot. “How was he today?” I ask, even though I’ve already asked Brayden. “Better than yesterday.” I smile because that’s exactly what he said.

“Do you want to get married one day? Have kids?” Just like that, my smile disappears. This conversation went from nice to serious in two seconds flat. “What does Brayden want?” I ask instead. She chuckles, as if knowing I’m avoiding her questions. “He has what he wants. I want to know what you want.” “Wait. What do you mean?” “He’s wanted a woman he could commit to; that’s you. He sees something in you that makes him take the time to be with you and stop thinking about hockey all day every day. The fact that he’s hurt and wants you here? That proves that to me. In his last long relationship, he was injured. I came to visit him. He kicked her out of the house, Deanna. No matter what I said, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t budge. “All he would say is she interfered with his recovery. It’s still the craziest thing my son has ever done or said. Now, I don’t know what happened before I got here, but he was convinced if he stayed with her, she would ruin his career. Didn’t matter that he supposedly loved her. Didn’t matter that she lived here. He kicked her out. Paid for her to stay in a hotel until she found a place to live. Once he decided she was bad for him, he was done and refused to allow her anywhere near him.”

“He sounds like a jerk,” I interrupt. Maryann nods, completely agreeing with me. “All he saw was his career and apparently his girlfriend being in the way somehow. I don’t know how. He would never talk about it with me. So, anyway, Brayden currently has what he wants: a woman and a dog. He’s always wanted a dog, but I’d never let him get one when he was younger.” “Why didn’t he get one when he moved out?” “He didn’t like the idea of having to rely on a dogsitter so much during the season. Now.” She turns toward me. “What do you want?” I shrug. I’m not sure that I want to tell her I want someone who doesn’t make me feel as if I’m settling. It seems a bit silly to say such a thing to Maryann. “Someone like Brayden,” I finally say. “Marriage?” “I wouldn’t be opposed one day way down the line.” “Kids?” This seems like a trick question. Aren’t most people supposed to say yes? I mean, I like kids. They’re cute. But my experience so far has been to hold them for a bit and then return them. That’s all I’ve wanted to do. I don’t know if I want more responsibility than that. Surely she’s hoping for an eventual grandchild, so what am I supposed to say? “Well?” she pushes. “Do you want kids?” “Mom, what the fuck are you doing?”

My spine stiffens, even though I’m not the one he’s angry with. Maryann turns toward him, but I focus on my pot. “Don’t curse at me. I’m only asking her questions about a future. I’m sure you haven’t asked.” “No, because I haven’t thought of a future.” He still sounds angry, angry enough that I wonder if he realizes what he just said. He hasn’t thought about a future with me at all? Maryann waves him off. “She isn’t bothered by it, are you, Deanna?” “I don’t care if she isn’t. I am. Stop it. I came down here to tell you that we’ll have guests tomorrow, a teammates’ nanny, her five-year-old son, and his nine-month-old baby. Behave, Mom.” Brayden’s footsteps are heavy as he walks away without giving her a chance to reply. Maryann pats my shoulder. “Give him thirty minutes and he’ll realize the mistake in what he said.” I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that she realized what he said, or the fact that Brayden never does. Now there are two things on my mind. How Brayden doesn’t think of a future with me, which I should be okay with. I haven’t done it either. Why should I be upset that he hasn’t? Maybe because I feel like there is a future for us, whatever that may be, and Brayden’s statement

almost made it sound like he thinks the opposite. And then, I can’t stop thinking about how he suddenly dumped that girl. That’s not what Brayden told me. He said he couldn’t find the balance. Do I need to be worried about getting dumped if he decides I’m too much of a distraction?

Hearing my mom ask Deanna about kids makes me want to vomit. I don’t have a problem with kids. Obviously, considering Bree and Jackson will be here today, but they are not anywhere near my line of thought. They aren’t on the foreseeable timeline either. Career first. That’s my gut reaction. After a quick thought, I realize things have changed. Whether I intended to or not, it’s now Deanna first. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have risked seeing her after the Zane incident. I would have called it off right then and there because of the potential interference. Unless there’s something major happening, more major than the possible tension

between teammates, I don’t see myself picking my career over Deanna. I can be fully committed to both. I’m sure of it. Deanna has been a bit quiet ever since. I’m not sure if my mom said something to her or if she’s worried I’ll want kids in the next few years. There hasn’t been an opportunity for me to discuss it with her yet. There won’t be one for a while based on the knock on my door. I just walked down the steps, Otis on my heels, intending to check on Mom and Deanna who are in the kitchen. I’ve been lying down for most of the morning. Raelynn stands on the other side, Jackson standing slightly behind her, and Bree is in her carseat. “Hey. Sorry, we’re late.” “It’s okay. Come on in. Hey, Jackson.” He waves, but his eyes are on Otis. “This is Otis.” Otis is super excited at the moment since we have three new guests. “Otis, sit,” I instruct and he does. “Want to pet him, Jackson?” He nods. Jackson steps forward and mimics me, rubbing Otis behind his ears and telling him “Good boy.” We pet Otis for a minute or so before we head into the kitchen for introductions. “Mom, Deanna, this is Raelynn, Jackson, and little Bree. Raelynn, you remember Deanna, and that’s my mom, Maryann.” “Thanks for inviting us,” Raelynn adds after saying hello.

“Of course,” Mom says, even though it was my idea. “We’re about to set the table, so you guys wash up and have a seat.” I tell Raelynn where the bathroom is and she leaves Bree with me while she and Jackson wash their hands. Bree naps for the moment. I offer to help Mom and Deanna, but they say they don’t need it. So far today, I haven’t had any symptoms, but I’ve been staying in my room, resting, just to be safe. As everyone sits down at the table with Otis at Deanna’s feet, I chuckle as Jackson, who is sitting next to Raelynn anyway, slides his chair so that it is touching Raelynn’s. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Brayden,” she says once our plates are loaded with food. “For what?” “For telling Elias about me and basically helping me get the job.” “You don’t have to thank me for that.” It’s still seriously weird to hear her call him that. Does he know she calls him by his first name? I need to ask. “Do you like it?” Deanna asks. “Yes. Bree’s a sweet baby, and it reminds me of taking care of Jackson when he was that little. Elias has been great, too. I’m very thankful he’s given me a chance.” Mom talks to her for a few minutes, but my eyes keep straying to Jackson, who is eyeing Mom

and Deanna like he doesn’t trust them. Deanna tries talking to him, but he pretends not to hear her until Raelynn chides him for being rude. I’m glad they’re here because otherwise, I wouldn’t know what to talk to either of them about. Well, with Jackson, it would be easier. He seems to like hockey, so there’s always that. I never would’ve invited Raelynn over if it was just Mom and me. Lunch goes well. Bree wakes up and Deanna takes the opportunity to hold her. I let the women and Jackson excuse themselves into the living room while I pack up the food. We won’t have to cook for days, even with me setting aside some for Raelynn to take home. When I walk into the living room, it’s to find Jackson sitting in the same chair as Deanna. Otis has his big head resting on Deanna’s lap and they are petting him. “Hey, what are you doing, Jackson? She’s my girlfriend.” He smiles, which is a good sign because for a moment, I was worried that it would go over his head. “She said I was cool.” “Cooler than me?” I ask Deanna. “Yep,” she answers easily, causing Jackson to giggle. “Promise not to steal her away?” I say to Jackson. He looks to Deanna, who whispers something in his ear. He turns back to me with a grin and says,

“No promises.” I laugh. They only stay for a little bit longer before Raelynn says it’s time to go. We see them off and then Mom heads upstairs to pack for her early flight tomorrow. That leaves only Deanna and me in the living room. I move to the couch to lie down and wiggle my fingers for her to come lie with me. She hesitates, but she does it. “I’m tired,” she mumbles. “I bet. You cooked all day and then entertained a five-year-old.” “It was a good day, though. Do you want me to drive your mom tomorrow?” “No, I will, but you can come if you want.” This seems like the perfect time to ask why she’s been quiet. “Did she say something to you yesterday? You seem a little off.” Her no comes quickly. “Everything is fine. I’m running to my place tonight. I want to check on things. Plus, if you want me to stay until you’re back in the game, then I need more clothes.” And here comes my issue. The past two days I’ve felt decent enough that once Mom leaves, Deanna can go home, too. It’s not like in the beginning when they were both so worried and wanted someone around to hover. However, saying so means she leaves. By no means do I want her to move in with me just yet, but my problem is I like

having her and Otis here too much. There’s no sense in sending her home to get more clothes only to go home the next day, or when there’s no reason for her to stay at all. “Are you out of clothes now?” I ask. “Yeah. I have nothing to wear tomorrow.” “You don’t have to stay until I’m playing again; I’m better already. You can go on home tonight; I’ll be fine to take Mom tomorrow.” I hate saying the words, but they needed to be said. She props herself up with a smile. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” “No, I’m giving you permission to rid yourself of me.” Her smile fades a bit. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, darlin’.” Unfortunately so. She nods. “Okay. I’ll head home in a little bit then.” I squeeze her ass. “You’ll come back tomorrow or Saturday?” “I’ll visit you, sure,” she says with a laugh. Something about her response doesn’t seem right and it nags me as she gets up to pack, later says goodbye to Mom, and as I walk her and Otis out to her car. She’ll visit? I was talking about spending the night. I’ll need more of her time than just a few hours worth of a visit. That bugs me. “Brayden? In order to leave, you have to let go of me.” She tugs on the hand I’m holding.

“What if I miss you?” “I’m sure you will,” she quips with a smile. “But you’ll probably also be happy to have the house to yourself, be able to recover without someone nagging you every so often, and having the entire bed to yourself.” “But you were a good nurse, even if you didn’t wear a hot uniform.” Deanna rolls her eyes as if she doesn’t believe me. “Give me a kiss so I can go home. If you stay out here much longer, Maryann might think you don’t want to be left alone with her.” “I kinda don’t.” She bursts out laughing and I add, “Because that means you aren’t here.” She smiles. “You’re sweet.” Lifting onto her toes, I get a kiss that makes me want to drag her back inside. Every kiss with her has the passion of a newlywed couple, the wild abandon of a couple of in-love, carefree teenagers, and the natural greed of two people who simply want more of each other. Every single fucking kiss. Blows my mind every time. “I’ll see you later,” she whispers, pulling away and finally getting into her car.

Mom leaves. I kidnap Otis because why should he have to sit at home alone while Deanna works? He

gives me something to do anyway. With Otis here, I have an excuse to go outside and do something other than watch TV or clean the house. There’s probably a list of stuff I could catch up on, but I’m in no mood. Otis and I visit the new fixer-upper house, so I can make a list of where I want to start, what I’ll need to get started, and what needs immediate attention. I rest there while I jot down my ideas for renovations. Friday is my second symptom-free day. I get evaluated by one of the team’s doctors again after exerting myself for the first time since I’ve been out. If this keeps ups, I’ll be primed and ready for the game after the team returns from their road trip Sunday. The next game would be Tuesday. The itch to be back with the guys, to be back on the ice, already annoys the hell out of me. It was a quiet annoyance before and my symptoms overwhelmed it. I forgot what it was like to be antsy to play. My phone rings just as I get home. “Did you steal my dog?” Deanna asks, barely concealed anger in her voice. “Didn’t you get my text?” “No! I panicked, thinking he somehow escaped before I realized my door was locked and there was no way he could’ve gotten out. Leave a note next time! And thanks for letting me know that my hiding place for my spare key is too obvious!”

“Hey, I did my part. I’m sorry you freaked. Can he stay here until I go back to work?” Deanna huffs and stays quiet for way too long for what should be a simple question. “You don’t have his stuff.” “I actually bought food and other things for him to have at my house. That way, you only have to bring him and nothing else when you stay over.” “Fine, keep him,” she snaps. “What’s the matter?” Something is off. She’s mad at me for taking Otis, even though I did try to tell her. It seems she’s mad that I bought things for him to have when she’s here, to prevent her from having to pack for him as well. She’s also curt. Have I done something? Did something else happen and if it did, why isn’t she telling me right away? Why am I having to ask? “Deanna?” I push when she doesn’t say anything. “Rose quit today. With no notice and no reason, she walked in, quit, and walked out, leaving me short-handed. I thought we were fine, but apparently not! I’m stressed and my dog isn’t here because you dognapped him. I want to relax, so I’m going to do that, okay?” “Okay,” I respond with a bit of hesitancy. She hangs up without another word and I’m left staring at my phone in wonder. What the hell just happened? Should I go over there? Part of me says no. On the other hand, this feels like an

opportunity. For what exactly, I’m not sure. I decide today can be a cheat day, my second since meeting Deanna, and stop by Bagels and Butts. When I get to Deanna’s, I don’t knock. I push open the door. She isn’t in the living room. The first thing I see are those damn diaries. They’re back? Great. Those are sure to improve her mood. She’s not in the kitchen either, but Otis trots to a room that I don’t think I even noticed before. Her back is to me and she sits at a table. Otis nudges his nose against her leg, causing her to jump and shout, “Damn it!” She lifts her thumb to her mouth and talks around it. “What are you doing? You couldn’t have told me you were coming? You just made me prick my finger.” “What is with the attitude, darlin’?” I’m annoyed with her now, and I don’t want to be, but it turns out my tolerance for this kind of thing is low. “I’ve had a bad day and it keeps getting worse.” She turns back to what looks to be a quilt. “I brought food.” “Not hungry,” she mumbles. I sigh, loudly, hoping it annoys her. She ignores me. I walk closer, standing behind her. “What are you working on?” Her shoulders fall. “This is the last quilt my grandma was working on. I never want to finish it, so I try not to work on it but on rare occasions. She

always did them by hand; that helps in me taking my time with it.” Deanna sighs and leans her head back, which causes it to rest against my stomach since her table and chair are taller than normal. Her eyes open. “What’d you bring?” “Sandwiches from Bagels and Butts. I can leave if you want. I wanted to bring food and drop off Otis at the least.” “I won’t kick you out just yet.” Her smile wobbles. She stands and we head into the kitchen to eat. Her eyes widen when she sees there’s a sandwich for me. “I can’t believe my eyes.” “I didn’t have time to cook. My body will probably hate me tomorrow.” “But it’ll love you today. How did you do, by the way?” She points to her head. “Perfect day.” I get a real smile out of her. “That’s great news. Thanks for dinner.” “Does this mean you’re done being mean to me?” I faintly smile so she knows I’m mostly kidding. “For now.” At least she’s still smiling. “Besides, you can handle it.” I don’t want to handle it is the thing, which is probably shitty of me, I realize. “Why are the diaries back?” Her smile disappears. “Dad said he couldn’t stand the negativity coming from them. I guess this

gives me the opportunity to finish reading them.” “You want to?” Why would she want to do that? She knows there’s nothing good to be found within the pages of those notebooks. Deanna nods. “I feel like there’s a reason they’re back with me. Maybe she’ll surprise me.” “Darlin’, your dad couldn’t even stand them. I doubt she’ll surprise you.” She glares, not saying anything else. Probably because she knows I’m right. We don’t talk anymore, but her eyes keep sliding over to those notebooks in the living room. She’ll be at my house, crying, within hours of reading them. I’d bet money on it. When we finish eating, I stand, walk over to her, and kiss the top of her head since she decides not to look up at me. I don’t know what the fuck I did to her. “Want my advice?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Focus on work. When things go to shit, you can always count on your job. Call me if you need me.” I’m halfway to the door when she asks, “Is that what you do? What you will do?” “What?” I turn to face her. I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking. “If we start having problems, are you going to dismiss us and focus on work instead?” My mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “That’s not what I meant.” “Yes, it is. Focus on work means ignoring

what’s wrong and paying attention to only your job. So I’m prepared, is that what you’re going to do? Because that doesn’t fix anything. The problems will still be there at the end of the day.” I cross the room, take her hand, and tug her to stand. Deanna avoids my eyes, deciding to stare at my chest instead. She’s all over the fucking place today. The last thing she needs to worry about is us. Grabbing her chin, I force her to look at me. “If we have issues, we’ll handle them. I won’t pick my job over you, Deanna.” She nods, yet she doesn’t look like she believes me. Where is this sudden mistrust coming from? Or has she always mistrusted me and this is the first time she’s showing it? “I mean it, and I need you to believe it.” “I hear you, Brayden.” And I hear what she doesn’t say. Deanna kisses me before gently pushing me away. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for dinner and for bringing Otis back.” There’s no point in replying. I simply leave and hope she gets out of this mood. My mind starts thinking of ways I can prove I’m committed because I’ve obviously done a bad job in showing it.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Captain Hook has returned!” Marco shouts the moment I step into the room. “There aren’t any ladies in here, dumbass,” I say over the slaps on my shoulder and the “Good to have you back” comments. Marco shrugs with a smile. “Thanks, guys.” This is my first day back with everyone, and I’m more than ready to get things going. Once the commotion calms down, I find EJ. I thought about finding Collin and Cal to see how things went on the road trip with Collin and his anxiety, but I doubt they want me checking in. “Hey, man,” EJ says. “Feeling good?” “Of course. What’s up with Raelynn calling you Elias?” He shrugs. “That’s what she prefers. I told her as long as it wasn’t Elias James, which is what my mom calls me, I don’t care. Why?” “It’s kinda freaky is all.” He laughs, thinking I’m crazy, I’m sure. I’m shocked when the twins make a point to come over and give me a shoulder slap. “Glad to have you back, Hook,” they say simultaneously, which is fucking creepy, to be honest. I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, thanks. I’m sure I was sorely missed,” I joke. “Trust us, you were,” they say together again. “Okay, cut that shit out. You’re freaking me

out.” They laugh and wander back to their lockers. I glance at EJ. “When did they start doing that?” “When we were in Ottawa. They enjoy giving everyone the fucking heebie jeebies. It’s even creepier that they can do it on the fly like that.” He isn’t joking. Game day skate feels so good. I’ve progressed into my routine without any problems, but knowing there’s a game tonight sends my adrenaline running high. Aside from wanting to get back to work, I need the distraction. Things still aren’t quite right with Deanna. I haven’t seen her since I went over there Saturday. She keeps saying she’s too busy with work. That bullshit ends tonight because I’m going over there after the game. If she doesn’t show up, that is. I invited her, but she gave a noncommittal response. What in the hell am I doing? We’re walking out of the tunnel for the game. Deanna should not be on my mind. The crowd roars when they see us, and I allow myself one last thought of her. Is Deanna one of the thousands cheering for us?

Brayden wins the first face-off of the night. Watching it on TV while I shovel ice cream in my mouth makes me wish I had actually gone to the game. For two hours, I had decided to go. And then, I changed my mind. What changed? I finally talked to Rose. “Working together was ruining our friendship,” she said. Somehow, her quitting on me with no notice helped keep our friendship together. I think she’s lying. When I asked if she had another job already, she said yes. Which makes me wonder if she started her plan to leave after our chat, after I

thought things were better, and obviously they weren’t. Friendship-wise, she acts like we’re all fine and good. She wanted to chit-chat about Brayden. She told me how she broke up with her boyfriend. When she asked if I’d set her up with Zane, since he seemed like a good guy, I told her no. That pissed her off and she hung up. If Zane deserves better than me, then he also deserves better than Rose. No way would I ever consider setting him up with one of my friends. That’d be weird, I think. With a sigh, I drag my attention back to the screen. I still don’t understand this game. Right now, the Rebels are on a power play, it seems. The other team has their four players in a loose square formation in front of their goalie, while our players are on the outer edges, passing the puck to one another. I can’t see all the names and numbers, so I’m not sure if Brayden is out there or not. I’ll have to wait to see if one of the announcers says his name. One Rebel passes the puck to another one. This guy is the farthest from the net, yet he rears his stick back and sends the puck past all of those players and their goalie. None of whom are able to stop it or defer it. It sails through the air until it hits the back of the net. The thunderous cheers of the spectators are

almost louder than the goal horn. Who knew North Carolina housed so many hockey fans? There are only a few gaps of three or four rows of empty seats throughout what I can see of the arena. I wonder if it’s like that all the time. I didn’t pay attention before. Cameras zoom in on the celebrating Rebels. Yep. Brayden is on the ice. He’s the only one not smiling. Well, he does have that faint, corners-arebarely-tipped-up kind of smile. I jab my spoon into my butter pecan ice cream and dig out a big spoonful. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what Maryann said about his past relationship. Why I’m worrying about it, I don’t know. It has nothing to do with us. On the surface, at least. Brayden says he’s committed; I should be happy! Yet I worry that we’re both fooling ourselves here. I was firmly against relationships, but here I am because I feel like Brayden could be a guy who doesn’t make me settle. Shouldn’t it be easier than this? Why do I have doubts? My eyes flick to Mom’s notebooks. Reading them has only reminded me of every last bad decision I’ve ever made. I haven’t even gotten to the most recent ones yet. How do I know Brayden is a good decision? How do I know I’m capable of such a thing? I just want some space to clear my head without Brayden clouding my judgment. I reach for the remote to

change the channel when the announcers start talking about a breakaway. What stops me is they mention Brayden’s name. He skates down the ice, releases his shot, and scores. My stupid heart warms with excitement for him. Maybe I can watch a little more. The regret over not going causes me to eat more ice cream. What if he goes up to the box? He’ll turn stiff because it’ll be an uncomfortable situation since I’m not there. Why am I worrying about Brayden? He can handle himself. Otis jumps off the couch and walks to the door. That’s my cue to walk him. While we’re outside, exciting stuff happened with the game. Someone on the enemy team scored, but so did a Rebel. I don’t know which came first or who scored the Rebels goal. That brings the score to three-one in favor of the Rebels. There are two guys on the ice now with the last name Kessy. One jersey has “Co. Kessy” and the other has “Ca. Kessy.” It’s kind of weird to see people you’ve met or know on TV. The twins are difficult for me to keep up with. I barely saw their jerseys long enough to see their names. Plus, they keep weaving in and out of any traffic that’s around them. How does anyone keep up with them? They regularly make passes without looking at each other. I get invested in the game, but not for Brayden. I’m fascinated by the Kessy twins.

Sometimes, I wouldn’t think that one knows where the other is, yet they make a flawless pass, one of which leads to a goal in the third period. I can’t tell if they’re actually faster than some of the other guys on the ice, or if that’s just me since I can barely keep up with what’s happening anyway. Man, if I were the Rebels, I’d be showing off those twins and gathering all the attention they could get. Then again, maybe they already are and I don’t know it because I’m not a serious follower. When the game ends, I put away my nearly empty carton of ice cream. I shower, taking my time as if I have all of it in the world. I slip on a pair of panties and search for a tank top. It’s honestly a bit too cold to wear one, but even in the colder months, I can wake up sweating. Let me wake up with a slight chill and not wanting to get out of bed because it’s even colder outside of my blankets instead. That’s my motto. I don’t want to wake up hot at this point, and it’s basically December. There’s a banging on my door. Otis runs out of the room, nearly knocking me into my dresser. I grab my robe from my bed where I tossed it, slip into it as I walk to the door where Otis viciously barks at whomever is on the other side. “Calm down, Otis. Quiet. Sit,” I order. His barks turn into a low growl while I peer through the peephole. Brayden.

I open the door and step aside for Otis to charge forward. He attacks Brayden by licking his hand. “Hey, boy,” he says, rubbing his head while he wiggles his body from excitement. Does Otis ever wiggle that much when he sees me? Maybe he loves Brayden more. He should. He’s in a suit again and I almost want to shake my head at how ridiculously hot he looks. “What are you doing here?” I ask, one hand on the door, the other propped on my hip. Brayden lifts his head to look at me. His eyes scour my appearance, which reminds me that I’m wearing my robe and panties. I pull it closed to shield myself from his ravenous eyes as he steps into my house and closes the door without answering my question. “Take the robe off.” I frown. He thinks he can come over without notice after I ditched his game, not tell me why he’s here, and then order me to undress? No. I’m not interested in that tonight. He reaches out to rub strands of my wet hair between two of his fingers. “It’ll be worth it.” Of course it will. When is it not? Brayden doesn’t wait for an answer. He steps forward until he’s so completely invading my space that he eliminates it. He is my space now. My breathing hitches, those damn lungs are always traitors, and

my hands move to rest on his stomach. I need something to hold onto, something to steady me. He’s all I have right now. Brayden’s eyes fall to the long line of skin, three inches wide, now exposed. He grips each side of the robe, his hands just underneath my breasts. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait to see what he’ll do. Slowly, his eyes hit mine. It’s like a punch to the gut that steals my breath for a moment. “I need to get something out of the way before we go to your bedroom.” I nod; it’s about the only thing I can do. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I don’t like it.” The world stills at his words. Is he fed up with me once and for all? Is he fucking me one last time and then leaving for good? “Whatever you need to do to get your shit together, do it. I really want to have patience, and I’m trying here, but this is driving me crazy. Either you’ll talk to me, or you get your shit together sooner rather than later. Understood?” “Sure.” “I don’t want a sure, darlin’. I want a definite yes.” His hands move underneath the robe to grab my waist. “Yes, Brayden.” He picks me up, my legs and arms wrap around him, and he kisses me immediately. I wanted to resist this? I’m an idiot. His kiss dominates my

thoughts. My senses hone in on Brayden. The heat coming from his body, how hard his hands grip my waist, every move of his mouth and his tongue, and every nip and bite he does. Landing on the bed is like ramming into a door because I was so distracted by his mouth that I didn’t pay attention to anything else. Brayden quickly removes my panties. He kisses me again, his hands roam all over my body for a moment before I only feel the brief touch of his knuckles as he undoes his tie. I try to help with undressing him, but he slaps my hands away. My heart nearly catapults out of my chest when his tie slides off, tickles my skin, and then, without even looking, he ties my wrists together over my head. I can’t budge them at all. This isn’t the first time he’s done this to someone. I don’t know if that thrills me or terrifies me a little. He pulls away for a moment to pull something out of his pocket. A blindfold. An actual blindfold! He owns a blindfold! I can’t even acknowledge how he obviously came prepared. My breathing shallows as he covers my eyes. I’ve never been with anyone who actually tied me up and blindfolded me. One guy talked about it, but he never did it. The heat of Brayden’s body disappears, but I can hear the sounds of fabric sliding against fabric as he undresses. Then, I hear footsteps, but they’re

going away, not coming closer. “Brayden?” “Still here,” he says from across the room, though I don’t know what he’s doing over there. What is he doing? “I haven’t ever done this before,” I find myself saying, my nerves getting the best of me. There’s mostly excitement, and there’s a lot of trust because it’s Brayden, but I can’t exactly get rid of all the nerves. His footsteps come closer and then his hands are on my body. He lifts me further up the bed, which dips as he then climbs on. I think he’s hovering over me. A soft kiss graces the spot between my breasts. “Want me to remove them?” “No.” “Do you trust me?” “Yes.” Another kiss. “That’s the point I want you to remember.” As his lips find mine and his hands grab my breasts, I have a feeling he isn’t talking about my trust in him in the bedroom.

I wake in the morning with a smile on my face, stretching as if that could clear away all of the soreness in my body. During my stretch, my feet

bump into Otis, who makes a noise like he’s annoyed, and then I bump into Brayden. “That’s one hell of a smile to wake up with,” he grumbles. I lean over and kiss him. “Thanks to you.” He grins. “You seem normal again. If I’d known that was all you needed, I would’ve done it sooner.” I laugh, but don’t say anything. We’ll see how I feel once the high of sex wears off. I almost feel brave enough to ask him if he actually sees some kind of future for us or not. Almost. “I watched your game last night.” His smile stays in place. “You did?” “You don’t believe me? I did! You scored. So did some other people.” At this, he laughs. “Those twins are something else, too. That pass and that goal in the third?” I shake my head in amazement, which leads to Brayden laughing harder. “I can’t believe you watched.” “Why? You wanted me to come to do the same thing.” “It just sounds like you got invested.” “I did. Those twins did it for me.” His smile leaves. “That is not a sentence I need to hear you say.” This time it’s me laughing. “Just being honest with you. Is it me or are they really good? You’re

the only one who knows hockey between the two of us.” “They’re good. They’re also little assholes. They’ve started talking at the same time; freaks me out.” I laugh harder until Brayden kisses my neck. “I leave later today for a road trip.” “How long will you be gone?” “Come back late Saturday night. There’s a game Sunday, so might not see you until Monday, but I’ll try.” “Okay.” This is perfect timing. He’ll be gone for a few days, I’ll get some much-needed space, and I’ll have my shit together by the time he gets back as requested. This feeling of optimism stays with me as he kisses me goodbye and I get ready for work. I can do this. I can almost hear Rose in my mind, telling me not to fuck this up. Life has other plans for me. Brayden comes into the shop around eleven with a container of food. “I cooked you lunch.” “Really? Thanks.” “I need payment.” He folds his arms on the counter and leans forward with a grin. “Is that the only reason why you came?” I tease. He nods seriously, causing me to laugh, but I lean over to give him the goodbye kiss he’s looking forward to. He takes more than I bargained for and I’m almost embarrassed that he’s kissing me like

this in front of customers when he pulls away. “I’ll see you Sunday once I get back,” he promises. A dreamy sigh escapes me as I watch him leave. A snort snaps me out of it. I glance around the store and see a woman whose eyes keep flicking back and forth between me and the elderly lady she’s with. “Can I help you, ma’am?” I finally ask in my friendliest voice. Her mouth parts, but she hesitates. “Are you dating Brayden?” She knows Brayden? Maybe it’s because she follows the team. “Are you a fan?” I ask. She snorts. “God, no. I’m an ex-girlfriend. I’m sorry for the snorts. I hope for your sake that he’s a lot better now than when I was with him.” Without another word, she turns toward the elderly lady and seems to help her pick fabric. I’m left stunned, though. She has to have a lot of hurt or a big grudge or both to say something like that to me, right? She basically said he was terrible with her. A sinking feeling slams into my gut as I cut fabric for the lady with her, who by eavesdropping, I discover is her grandmother. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? I have enough doubts as it is without her unknowingly fueling the fire. I’m tempted to text Brayden and say I ran into one of his ex-girlfriends. Where exactly would that

conversation go? He’s already told me a different version than what Maryann said. Who’s to say he won’t continue with that? These thoughts plague me all day. It may be Wednesday, but it sounds like Barday to me. I head straight to the closest bar after work. Things only worsen there. My first drink is in my hand for all of two seconds when a guy comes up to me, so close his chest touches my entire side. One glance at him is all it takes for my body to stiffen, not that he notices. “Steven, what do you want?” Hello, bad decision, number I-lost-count. “That’s no way to greet an old friend.” His grin makes me shiver from the creeps. Just because I liked him once, or at least liked him enough to fuck him, doesn’t mean he can’t gross me out now. “Go away.” His hand moves to rest on my mid-thigh and I immediately shove it off, which makes him laugh. He leans in even closer, his lips touching my ear and making me wish I could cut it off. “I’ve heard a rumor about you.” “There are rumors about me?” “Of course there are rumors about one of the city’s whores.” He says it so casually as if it’s so obvious and as if I should already know this. Steven was one of those guys who liked to call me names. Unfortunately, I let him get away with it far too

many times. Between that and him knowing that I can’t stand it when he does call me a whore, he would say it even more. “What’s the rumor, Steven?” I ask. The sooner I can get to the bottom of whatever he wants, the sooner he’ll go away. “That my old whore has settled down. That you’ve turned into a one-man woman. That Brayden Hayes was the man to turn you.” Steven props an elbow on the bar and rests his chin in his hand. I want to smack his head right off. “Tell me, does Brayden know about your past?” “What do you want if you already know the rumor is true?” He grins. “To annoy the hell out of you.” With his free hand, he runs a finger down my jaw. “I have missed doing that.” I shove his hand away. “Too bad.” There’s only so much I can take from Steven these days and I’ve reached my limit. Standing, I leave my half-empty glass of alcohol behind and head home. How did I ever get involved with a guy like that? He has asshole stamped on his forehead. And that’s without opening his mouth. My forehead probably says worst decision maker, despite what Steven would say. He’d have whore plastered over my entire face. Sure, I’ve made some questionable decisions, including deciding to sleep around, but at the same time, I don’t regret that. I regret who I

chose to sleep with more than the act of sleeping around. I regret letting them get close. Duping me into thinking we were friends on a most basic level, or something more in some cases. I regret not paying attention to the subtle signs when I was being wronged. I regret my actions when it comes to guys like Zane. “Hey, big fella,” I coo at Otis when I open the door to the house. He’s about the only boy I can count on these days. After our walk, I refill his food and water bowls and then head to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. To further torture myself, I settle in on the couch to continue reading my mom’s diaries. Half of the time, she’s complaining about how I slept around. The other half, she wished I’d get pregnant, only to turn around and say she would end up raising the kid because I’m clearly irresponsible. Thinking of my past choices, I shudder at the thought of having a baby with any of them. Only a handful would likely be good dads. She talks the most about the quilt shop. How she thinks I’m mismanaging it, how I’m surely running it into the ground, and how pissed she is that Grandma left it to me and not her. Mom was never in the shop that I can remember. It’s always confused me why she wanted it so badly once Grandma died. Why the sudden interest in it?

Her diaries don’t tell me much. I do uncover a horror. Did Dad read that she cheated on him? Did he make it this far? What am I supposed to do if he wants them back? Conveniently lose this one? Or maybe he knew and that explains his grouchiness. I don’t know. After a few hours of reading and another walk with Otis, I head to bed. Seeing my birth control pills, I grab the package. I think it’s almost time to refill. Wait. How is this possible? I could’ve sworn I was due for a refill soon, which would mean my period should be starting, but I just picked these up last week. Checking the date on my calendar, it was the same date as Brayden’s concussion. No wonder I forgot I picked them up. But more importantly, where in the fuck is my period? “Well?” she pushes. “Do you want kids?” “Mom, what the fuck are you doing?” I gulp. This is not happening. I don’t want kids. Mom never thought I could take care of one. I’m not ready for one. Brayden clearly doesn’t want one. No, no, no. Nope, I can’t deal with this. Brayden isn’t here. What am I going to do? Without hesitating, I find a suitcase and start packing.

Deanna isn’t answering my texts. She’s had a full twenty-four hours to do so, too. Why would she ignore me? Things were back on track when I left. We’re out to eat at some fancy restaurant someone insisted on going to, but I can’t focus. Zane is on one side of me and EJ is on the other. Feeling like a complete idiot, I decide to ask Zane a stupid question. “Hey, can I ask you something about Deanna?” “Like what?” “Did she ever ignore you?” The beginning of a grin makes me want to punch him. “Sure, but it was either because she

didn’t want to talk to me or because she was with someone else.” “You’re a dick.” He laughs. “You asked.” She wouldn’t be with someone else, so that isn’t why she’s ignoring me. I’m almost completely certain of that. Turning to EJ, I say, “Can Raelynn do something for me? I’ll pay her whatever you pay her in a week.” His eyebrows shoot up. “What do you want her to do?” “Go to Deanna’s work, talk to her, see what her mood is like.” “Spy on her for you?” “Yeah.” He shakes his head, but pulls his phone out to text her. A moment later, he confirms that she’s out running errands and she’ll swing by the quilt shop for me. No pay needed. I was willing to double her week’s pay if she had said no. I’m that desperate to figure out what’s going on with Deanna. Scotty sits across the table with Marco on one side and Serge on the other. Marco and Scotty seem to be quietly arguing over something. “What’s wrong with you two?” I ask. Anything is better than thinking about Deanna right now. “Nothing,” Scotty answers while Marco says, “We’re finally telling everyone the sex of the babies.”

Oh, that’s right. Their wives, Sylvia and Lizzy, are both pregnant. “Well? Which one of you is going first?” I direct the question at Scotty since he’s older. He glances at Marc. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.” They have the table’s full attention now. “Just get on with it,” Bruiser rushes them. “Scotty,” Marco quickly says. “It’s Sylvia’s first pregnancy, so Scotty can tell everyone first.” Wait, what? Doesn’t he have that backward? I glance around, but I’m the only one confused and surprised by this. EJ leans over and whispers, “I’ll fill you in later; they talked about it a little when they announced the pregnancy.” Got it. Scotty stands and takes a deep breath. “Come February, I will be the proud father of...” The guys rap their hands on the table, earning us glares from nearly everyone in the restaurant. “A little boy,” Scotty finishes with a proud grin. “My girls are all very excited, but so am I because I’ll be a little less outnumbered.” Scotty sits back down. “Now, for Marco,” Rams says as he nudges Marc’s shoulder. Marc stands and his grin is there before he even speaks. He waves his hand in the air and the drum roll comes once again. “It’s a boy and a girl! She’s having twins!” “Way to go, Marco!” Cal shouts.

That means there will be three more little rebels coming to the family in a few months. In the past year, it expanded by three with Bruiser’s two kids and EJ’s baby. As long as the next person isn’t me, I’ll be happy for everyone. “Hey.” EJ bumps his elbow against mine. “Raelynn said she stopped by the quilt shop. One of the employees said Deanna took a last-minute vacation and they don’t know when she’ll be back.” A vacation? Last minute? I can see her freaking out and ignoring me, but why would Deanna abandon her job? She cares more about that than anything else. Something isn’t right. Something must be wrong and it must be big. It both worries me and pisses me off that she’s choosing to ignore me as a way of dealing with whatever it is. To get my mind off of it, I ask EJ to tell me how this is Sylvia’s first pregnancy. Apparently, they adopted their girls from Lizzy after her husband died and she’s had fertility issues for a long time. Interesting and a bit confusing, but whatever. It’s not really any of my business. The table buzzes with happy energy over the news about the babies, but something seems off with Scotty. He’s happy, but he seems worried about something too. When he decides to leave a bit early, I follow suit and catch up with him on the way out. “Oh, hey, Brayden,” he says when I step in

next to him. “Hey. Congrats on the boy.” “Thanks,” he smiles. “Is everything okay?” He shrugs. “They put Sylvia on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy. She’s freaked out now.” Scotty sighs. “We never thought we’d have a kid of our own, you know? I keep telling her that since she’s pregnant, things will be fine. That we’re not worrying about what ifs. But now, they’ve put her on bedrest and every time she calls me between now and when that baby boy comes, I’ll wonder if it’s a good call or a bad call.” “I get it,” I say, though I’m sure I don’t understand it on the same level he does. After all, he’s the one going through it; I’m not. “We’re here for you, you know.” He nods. “And I’m sure the women won’t mind popping in and checking on her throughout the day.” “Yeah, that’s a good idea. She might want to see someone other than our moms.” I hope everything goes well for him. He’s a good guy and he definitely deserves it.

“Hayes!” Coach Mike shouts. “What the fuck are you doing out there? Your turnovers and penalties

led to three goals!” All of this happened in one period. I’m not sure I’ve ever been singled out like this. At least, not so clearly in recent years. “Get your shit together!” That’s what I said to Deanna, too. Maybe that’s what she’s doing. I hope so. Man, I wish I had my phone close by, so I could see if she’s checked in. Someone slaps me in the back of the head, sending my already hunched-over body forward. I glare over at EJ since he’s the only one making eye contact right now. “What the fuck?” “Focus. Be a fucking captain and not some lovesick puppy whose ass I wanna kick.” All his comment does is remind me of my uneasiness at the beginning of this thing. This is exactly why I didn’t want to care about Deanna in the first place. She’s fucking with my head and it’s messing with my game. That is unacceptable. Compartmentalization. People do it all the time. For fuck’s sake, I have to be able to do it too. I take all thoughts of Deanna, all my worries, and shove them into a tiny box, which I then throw into the darkest place of my mind. This is fucking stupid. I’m on the bench for the start of the second and EJ pats my helmet. He points to the ice. Right, focus like the captain and hockey player I am. I

glance up at the jumbotron and wince at the threeone score. I don’t even know who scored for us. My blood settles. I did not come this far in my career for a fucking woman to screw it up. It might be one game, but that’s one game too many in my books. Coach Mike sends my line onto the ice. We quickly gain possession and leave our zone. Scotty protects the puck from behind the net. Their goalie moves left to right, keeping an eye on him. In one swift moment, he passes it to where I am, right in front of the blue paint. A slight adjustment of my stick and it sails up in the air. The goalie is angled my way. He lifts his arm to block, but the puck deflects off his side and into the net. My arms fly up into the air as the home crowd silences. “Fuck yeah, Scotty!” I give him a hug as the rest of the guys come over to celebrate. It’s not until we’re skating over to the bench that I realize I just truly celebrated a goal. My cheeks and mouth even feel weird from smiling. I should get pissed off and think less more often, I guess. Before I can think too much about whether people will realize I celebrated, and thus pay more attention to me, I shut my mind off and focus on the action on the ice. We still need another goal to tie. That goal comes from EJ. But the tie is almost broken when a bad line change causes a Bruin to take off on a breakaway. Savage looks ready. The

guy tries to go five-hole, but Savage shuts down that attempt and holds the puck. Needless to say, the second period goes better than the first. The third even better. I score again and unthinkingly celebrate another goal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but who cares? My hockey is benefiting from it.

I’m in my hotel room and I’m staring at all the unanswered texts to Deanna. What’s one more? Me: You’re on vacation? She wouldn’t expect me to know that, so maybe it’ll startle her enough to make her respond. I give her five minutes and nothing happens, so I set my phone aside and go to sleep. We have one more game before we go home. I plan to play good hockey. If she responds, she responds. One thing is for certain at this point, I won’t be seeing her on Sunday, even if she’s returned from her vacation. She wants to do whatever it is she’s doing? Fine. She’ll either find me when she’s done or she won’t. My first priority will be hockey until I can’t stand it anymore and I give in and hunt her down. Thinking such a thing feels wrong, but I don’t know

what else to do. I’m not home. Deanna apparently took off. Waiting seems to be my only option. I don’t send any more texts, but Deanna finally responds Sunday morning, as if she was waiting for me to come home. Deanna: Only at my grandma’s house. What? She still has her grandma’s house or something? Why is she hiding out there? Me: Do you want to see me? I don’t have time for whatever shit you’re pulling. Maybe I shouldn’t have added that last part, but I’m pissed. All that anger I’ve been ignoring is suddenly back on the surface and raging hot. Deanna: That looks like a trick question, to ask and then say you don’t have time. Me: I’m tired. I have a game tonight. My time is limited today. My point is you need to quit fucking around with me. The next text is an address. Nothing more. I don’t waste time putting it into the GPS and driving over there. The house sits in the middle of nowhere, it seems. It’s the kind of house that needs a little work. Just looking at it makes me want to create a

list of the minor work that needs to be done. Deanna opens the door as I open my car door and Otis runs out to greet me. She doesn’t smile. For some reason, I expected as much. “Did you bring me out here to break up with me or something?” She shrugs. Shrugs! What the fuck does that even mean? It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. Deanna sits in one of the rocking chairs, the air not too terribly cold out here today. I sit in the one next to her, the wood groaning under my weight. My hand is still on Otis’s head, rubbing behind his ears. Safe to say he missed me at least. “Why did you tell your employees you’re on vacation if you’re hiding out in your grandma’s house?” “I needed a break and I come here sometimes when I need one. She left this to me, too.” She glances around at the yard and the porch. “A break from what?” “Everything.” Before I can ask her to elaborate, she says, “I met your ex-girlfriend.” I frown. “Which ex-girlfriend?” There aren’t that many. “I don’t know. She was in the store with her grandmother that day when you brought me lunch. She saw you, snorted when you promised to see me today, and said she hoped you were better now than

you were with her.” “Well, that’s not very helpful.” “Did you treat all your ex-girlfriends badly?” “No, but—” She looks up at me with no emotion in her eyes. “Then how hard can it be? Maybe it’s the girl you kicked out of your house the last time you were injured.” My muscles tense and my fingers freeze on Otis’s head. “How do you know about that?” Otis nudges my wrist, wanting me to keep rubbing. I get back to making him happy. “Maryann told me. Brayden, how exactly does that equate to not finding a balance, which is what you told me?” Her tone is full of accusations. You’d think I did her wrong and not some other girl. I sigh. “Because work was the priority. Why does that even matter? What does that have to do with us?” “Do you even see a future of any kind for us?” For fuck’s sake, why do women have to bounce around from one topic to another like a pinball? “Of course I do,” I answer. “Where is this coming from?” “That’s not what you said at Thanksgiving. You said you hadn’t thought of a future.” “I was talking about kids!” I interrupt. Deanna keeps talking, ignoring my interruption. “So, in my head, I have that comment, how your

mother said you broke up with your last girlfriend because you thought she got in the way of your career, and the fact that for the most part, I make poor decisions when it comes to life. On top of all of that, I run into one of those slime bags who doesn’t hesitate to remind me because he’s an asshole after all. And then, I thought I was pregnant.” “What?” The word is loud and full of shock in my head, but it leaves my mouth in a mere whisper. “I’m not, but I thought I was, which is why I ran here. My period was just late for some reason. Before it started, I couldn’t help but think about all those things my mother wrote, how I definitely don’t want to be a mom right now, and how you most certainly don’t want to be a dad. Afterward, I felt guilty and really couldn’t deal.” Her words take two minutes to sink in. “You don’t trust me.” She doesn’t say a word, and I give her ample time to speak. Finally, she does say, “I don’t trust myself either.” I stand and move to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing as I face her. “What the fuck, Deanna? Having doubts is one thing, but thinking you’re pregnant and fucking running? Ignoring me for days? And when I finally see you, you’re throwing my past against me when it has absolutely nothing to do with you?” She opens her

mouth to object. I lunge forward and grab the armrests of the rocking chair, my face an inch from hers. Otis stands between our knees, but I ignore him. “When have I put my job first with you? If you can name one fucking time, then you might have something to bitch about, but you don’t. Even then, what I did over five years ago with another woman has no relevance in our relationship.” I stand upright and put the space between us. “What you did before you met me? Has no meaning in our relationship either as far as I’m concerned. Stop worrying about the past and focus on how you’re fucking things up right now. You keep testing my patience, Deanna, and I’m running out of it. You either want to be with me and you work through it, or you don’t and you walk away. And if you’re sure you want to be with me, you don’t ever fucking run. “You commit. You go all in. It doesn’t matter how scared you are or how many doubts you have. You stay. It’s the only way to make it worth your while.” I walk over to the steps. “I have to go. You make up your mind once and for all. And for the record, I’m not the kind of asshole who dumps you because you’re pregnant, but it’s nice that you wondered if I would.” I walk down the steps and get into my car without glancing back at the porch. Pissed doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling

right now. I might not choose to give everything my full attention, or commit to it one hundred percent, but when I do, I don’t back down from any challenges that arise along the way. I’m all in all the time. And I don’t like others who aren’t. I didn’t figure Deanna to be one of those people who committed and then half-assed it. That’s essentially what she’s done by running. That is not how you handle things. Was she even thinking when she ran out? When she read each of my texts, was it easy for her to ignore them? I don’t understand what kind of person can simply walk away from a commitment without a word. I’ve been busting my ass to make sure Deanna comes first, that I don’t make the sames mistakes that I have in the past because I want to be with her so much, and she’s done nothing but wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop. She’s the one who threw it down onto the ground! I’ll admit my faith in myself flounders from time to time, but my faith in Deanna? It never wavered. Trusting someone else can be easier than trusting yourself. At least, I thought so. Deanna appears to trust neither herself nor me just as equally. Again, it pisses me the hell off. She’s sentencing our relationship based on my past crimes with someone else. Grabbing my phone, I call my mom. “Brayden,” she answers happily. “How are

you?” “What in the hell were you doing talking about Wendy with Deanna?” Mom’s voice hardens. “Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Brayden. Tell me what has you upset.” “Deanna has gone off the rails, in part because you told her more than I did about what happened with Wendy. She doesn’t trust my word anymore. Since when do you meddle and get involved when it’s none of your fucking business?” I pull into my driveway and head inside, knowing exactly what I want to do: run on the treadmill. “I know you’re pissed, but I’m not going to warn you again. I don’t care how old you are, I’m your mother and you’re being disrespectful using that language with me. All I did was ask her what she wanted and she instead asked me what you wanted. I told her you already had what you wanted because you had her and Otis. I may have said too much, and I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to her?” “No. I think you talking to Deanna has done more than enough. I gotta go. Love you.” I hang up without waiting for her to tell me goodbye.

Otis whines as Brayden’s truck turns around in the driveway to leave. He glances at me with big, sad eyes. He’s already leaning his big body against my legs and now, he rests his head in my lap. I scratch behind his ears and bend down to kiss him on the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Otis. It’s my fault he didn’t stay long. I’ll figure out how to fix things somehow.” He huffs, almost as if telling me I better figure it out. I glance toward the driveway, but Brayden’s truck is nowhere to be seen now. He was pissed and he seemed so very disappointed in me. He lectured me as if I should know better and startled me a bit

when he got in my face. It’s not as if I was actively choosing to mess things up. All I did was react to the situation presented before me. My knee-jerk reaction sucks, to say the least. The relief over not being pregnant is long gone. Guilt replaced the relief. I was so focused on myself and needing to get away that not once did I consider the ramifications of my actions on my relationship with Brayden. How selfish can I be? Pretty damn selfish, as it turns out. Coming here was supposed to help calm me down. Instead, I lost all faith in Brayden and in myself. My thoughts spiraled out of control until I became certain that he would never put me first. He even stopped trying to contact me while he was gone. What is wrong with me? I ignore him and then damn him when he gives up? I thought I felt guilt before from panicking over the various possible reactions Brayden might have if we were indeed having a kid? Guilt drowns me now, suffocating me and inducing a hell of a lot of panic. Despite all of this, I don’t want to lose Brayden; I never did. My head hasn’t caught up to my heart yet, and that’s what I keep tripping over. Sighing, I stand and we head inside. There’s a stupid quilt wall hanging that your eyes naturally land on when you enter my grandma’s house. It’s covered in hearts and in the middle, so big it’s impossible to ignore, it says,

“Follow your heart.” “Yeah, yeah, Grandma. Easier stitched than done.” How can I fix this? Maybe I should attend the game tonight. A taxi could drop me off, which would either force him into taking me home and spending some time with me, or he’d ignore me altogether and a taxi could take me straight to a bar. But should I bombard him at his work? It’ll show I’m willing to work this out, right? It can’t hurt, I don’t think. Oh, fuck it. I’ll go and hope for the best. On that line of thought, I clean up the house and pack my things to leave. I’ve been gone long enough anyway. The quilt shop is calling my name. On top of everything else, it always makes me uneasy to leave it in the hands of someone else. This almost feels ridiculous. Never before in my life have I had to grovel before. There’s a first time for everything, I guess. Later, I’m surrounded by Meredith Ramsey, Lizzy Polinski, Sydney Rhett, and Raelynn Woods. I texted Brayden earlier to let him know I was coming, but he probably won’t see it until after the game. Raelynn is here with Jackson and Bree, and it looks like Sydney has her kids here, too. Sylvia’s kids are here, though she isn’t. Maybe Lizzy brought them. Between them and others, the box is stuffed.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Raelynn leans over to whisper in my ear. “Elias said he doubted you’d be here. Jackson has been dying to come to a game, but I am so out of my comfort zone here.” I smile and glance to her son, who sits in my lap, leaning forward as he gazes down at the action on the ice. “I’m glad I decided to come, too. You have a friend in me anytime.” I’ll give her my number before the night is over with. She seems uneasy about letting the ladies fawn over Bree, but I’ve assured her they are cool, and she nodded, telling me that EJ told her they would likely do so. I’m not sure why she’s uneasy then. The babies, both Bree and Sydney’s little boy, Andrew, aren’t even the cutest attraction tonight. Not in my opinion, at least. Jackson has Stella practically stuck to his side. He glances at his mom and me for help, but the little girl isn’t doing anything but talking about the game. He sort of reminds me of Brayden. Except Brayden will stay in a situation, even if he’s uncomfortable. Jackson wants out. “She’s teaching you about the game, Jackson,” Raelynn eventually says. “You better listen. She knows way more than I do.” His shoulders slump and Stella smiles at him. He stops sending help me looks to his mom after that. Having them here keeps me from wondering what will happen after the game. How will Brayden

react when he sees me? Will he pretend to be happy to put on a show for the others? No, I can’t see him doing that. He’ll likely give me a sour look that will leave the gossip lovers dying to know more. I sigh. “Is everything okay?” Raelynn asks. “Yeah, just thinking. How do you like being a nanny?” “Honestly?” I shrug. “You can lie. I don’t mind.” She laughs. “It doesn’t seem real to have a job with a nice boss, good money, and to live without worrying if I can pay all my bills that month. It’s a huge relief.” “You’ve had a tough life, huh?” She nods, her eyes straying to Jackson. “It hasn’t been too bad.” “How old are you?” I ask. Raelynn’s shoulders seem to straighten. “Twenty-two. Jackson’s five.” She stares at me, obviously waiting for some sort of response. I exhale heavily. “Wow. Much respect.” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head and her jaw hits the floor. “What?” “I still can’t see myself with a kid and I’m older than you. The thought of juggling a baby and my business sounds insane and way more work than I’m prepared to deal with. For you to have him

young and him to be such a good kid? You’ve done something right, despite whatever struggles you’ve had to deal with.” Raelynn still seems stunned. “No one has ever said that to me. They are too focused on the fact that I had him young.” “People often miss the big picture, including me, so don’t let me fool you.” I smile, even though I’m thinking of my mistake with Brayden. One of my worst fears is spending life alone. Even friends with benefits prevents me from being completely alone. That’s not what I truly want, though. I want Brayden Hayes! I have to figure out how to get back on his good side. The goal horn blares, scaring the absolute shit out of Jackson, who immediately covers his ears. “Mommy, that’s louder than on TV,” he complains. “I’m sorry, baby. But look, Mr. Brayden scored.” We look up at the jumbotron just in time to see a replay of a sniper of a shot and then, the craziest thing of all. Brayden celebrates. What in the world? I thought he didn’t do that. He hasn’t the few times I’ve watched. I lean forward and over a little bit. “Hey,” I say in the general direction of the women. When they glance over at me, I ask, “When did he start celebrating?” “He did it once on the road trip and has ever since,” Meredith answers. “Weird, right? Maybe

it’s because he’s in love,” she teases with a grin. “Yeah, maybe,” I murmur. Hm. I doubt it. We weren’t talking and he’s currently pissed at me. Maybe it’s a rage-fueled distraction that’s causing him to relax enough to let loose? I don’t know. It’s nice to see his smile on the jumbotron, though. My eyes stay trained on Brayden throughout the rest of the game, where they seem to lose their speed and leave their net weak. Maybe I’ll catch other ways he’s changed, but he still looks pissy except for when he scored the lone Rebel goal. It’s not enough when the opposition scores two. So, here I am, waiting and waiting for him to show up. He has to show up, right? I pull up my message to him, making sure I included that I was stranded if he didn’t give me a ride home. Yes, I hoped I could guilt him into it. Sylvia’s husband, Scott, shows up. He doesn’t seem to be in too great of a mood, but he showers his daughters with a kiss each, thanks Lizzy for bringing them, and leaves in a hurry. Meredith and Lizzy’s husbands, Noah and Marc, show up. They take the hands of their wives, seemingly in no rush to leave, just yet. Where is Brayden? Then, EJ, Ian, and Zane show up. EJ and Zane look surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” Zane asks while EJ asks nearly the same question. “Waiting for Brayden.” Why else would I be at

a game? EJ steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “Brayden’s not coming up here, Deanna. He was just on his way out when we were on our way up. Did he know you were coming?” My shoulders slump. “Yeah, I texted him. Thanks, EJ. I should go. I need to catch a cab home.” Zane, who must’ve been eavesdropping, says, “I can take you, Deanna. I don’t mind.” “No, that’s okay.” That has bad idea written all over it. Zane is a good guy, I know, but there’s no need for him to take me home. I stand, say goodbye to the women, and head out. I sigh when Zane catches up to me. “Zane,” I start. “I can at least walk you out if you won’t let me give you a ride home. And you should let me. Why pay a cab when I can take you for free?” Good point, but not good enough. “So, how are things going?” he asks when I don’t respond. I glance over to see that he seems genuinely curious. “Work is fine, but otherwise? Not great. But you know me; I always find a way to screw something up.” “That’s not true,” he immediately says. “Oh, yeah? I was oblivious to how you felt, wasn’t I? I had no problem walking away and being blunt about it.”

He frowns, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You may have a point.” “Gee, thanks.” He laughs. “I’m sure things will work out. Brayden doesn’t give up easily.” “Yet I’m taking a cab home.” Granted, I’m the one who fucked up, but still. “Oh, come on.” Zane throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “Look at the bright side.” “What bright side?” I interrupt incredulously before he can say so. How is there possibly a bright side to this? I look down at my phone, hoping for a text from Brayden. At this point, I’ll even take a big fat fuck you. Just some kind of acknowledgment. “The bad stuff only makes you stronger in the end,” he says, pushing open the door for us to step outside. I roll my eyes and put my hand on his side to push him away, intending to tell him that’s a crock of shit. Before I can do so, Zane’s arm drops and he stops walking. I glance up to see Brayden fifteen feet ahead of us, looking as pissed off as ever. “Well, there’s your ride,” Zane says. He turns and leaves me there, which irritates me. “What the fuck are you doing with him?” Brayden demands once I get within two feet of him.

“He was walking me out since you decided not to give me a ride home. That was very nice of you, by the way.” He sneers almost. “I just saw your text, Deanna. That’s why I’m coming back into the building. Why isn’t Zane giving you a ride home?” “Because I told him I’d rather take a cab.” He snorts like he doesn’t believe me. “Well, looks like I’m stuck with you now, so let’s go.” Oh, hell no. “Do you want to take me home?” “You didn’t give me much of a choice. Let’s go.” He turns and walks away without giving me a chance to respond or to see if I’ll follow along. Fine, he can walk away by himself. He’s pissed. He has a right to be. But if he doesn’t want to deal with me, I won’t make him. Forcing myself on him wasn’t my best idea; it’s probably made things worse. I turn and stalk off toward the front of the arena, where I know there will be a line of taxis waiting to take people home, and if there’s not one waiting, they’ll pick me up there. I double-checked that particular fact before I decided to come without a car. I’m halfway through one of the lots, only one more to go, when I hear running footsteps. My body tenses. When I glance over my shoulder, I nearly collapse in relief to find Brayden and not some crazed man. Although, to see the look on his face, he may be a crazed man.

“What are you doing now?” he demands to know. “You didn’t want to take me home, so I’m going with my backup plan. You know, there’s these things called taxis. What are you doing?” “You’re trying my patience, Deanna.” A hard exhale comes out of his nose, his lips pressed flat together. “Well, you’re wearin’ on mine!” I argue back. He grabs my hand and pulls me back to his truck. I let him because I don’t see the point in fighting with him anymore. It’s apparent five minutes into the ride that he’s not going to say a word to me. “Why are you pissed that Zane walked me out?” He throws me a look that I can’t quite distinguish in the darkness of the truck. “Are you kidding me?” “No. He was only being nice. I mean, I told him I could walk out myself and he came anyway, but it was still a nice gesture.” Brayden scoffs. “Nice. Z’s always nice to you. I don’t trust that fucker farther than I could throw him. Feelings don’t magically go away and I’m almost certain if you gave him a chance, he’d be with you in a heartbeat. He’s probably happy about the fact we’re having issues.” “Why would you say that?” Surely, he wouldn’t

be. Zane didn’t seem that way with me. “Because aside from him having his arm around you for no reason just a few minutes ago—” “You don’t know why his arm was there,” I interrupt and receive the coldest glare in history. “There is no reason for him to ever touch you unless you’re dying or he’s shaking your hand,” he quickly informs me. “When we were on the trip, I decided to ask him if you ever ignored him. He grinned and was sure to tell me you did and that it was because you didn’t want to talk to him or because you were with someone else.” Ouch. Way to hit low, Zane. I try to gather my thoughts and figure out how to respond. “So, what? Now, you’re pissed at me because I didn’t immediately push him away?” “No, you were just oblivious as usual.” How much shit do I take from him because I hurt him before I’m allowed to get pissed at him taking it out on me? There should be some sort of balance. What he’s saying isn’t helping and it’s not making me like him any more right now. I take a deep breath to soothe the irritations. “I came tonight because I want to fix things with you, not to make things worse. I most certainly didn’t come for Zane to be all we talked about.” Brayden doesn’t respond. I don’t know if he plans to, if he’s thinking about things, or if he’s ignoring me. A sigh escapes me when he pulls into

my driveway. I yank on the door handle, but Brayden’s hand flies over to grab my knee before I can slide out. “I don’t want to deal with this tonight.” “Okay.” Feeling his fingers glide over my jeans as I move away and hop out of the truck is almost too much. It’s almost as if he was touching bare skin. A sense of hopelessness begins to fill my soul. Getting back into Brayden’s good graces will be harder than I thought. I glance over my shoulder once I push open my door just a few inches and he starts to back up. Hard or not, I’m not giving up.

About halfway to Deanna’s house, a headache started building with tremendous pressure. My mood soured immediately as I panicked. Was I having concussion symptoms again? Did I get another one? Or was it a simple headache? How often did I get headaches before? I couldn’t remember. Hell, I barely remember the ride to Deanna’s because I kept getting distracted by my headache. Waking up first thing this morning to find it gone causes me to breathe a huge sigh of relief. My phone beeps. It’s too early for texts. I haven’t even rolled out of bed yet. I reach over to grab it.

Deanna: Do you want join Otis and me for our morning run? We can meet at your house. Her message surprises me. We didn’t exactly end things on a high note, or even on neutral grounds, last night. I feel bad for taking my anger at seeing her with Zane out on her. I was more pissed at him than her. The fact that he dropped his arm like she was poisonous the moment he saw me was proof enough that he knew he shouldn’t be so damn cozy with her. I was slightly irritated with her because she misses what I think should be obvious signs, but it’s not like she’ll change overnight and suddenly start seeing them. Me: Sure. I can meet you at your house. Be there in a little bit. I get out of bed, get ready within minutes, and head out the door. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see her, to be honest. But I pushed her off last night, I won’t push her off again. I want this to work. There’s no way for it to work if I don’t give her a chance to fix things. If I don’t give myself a chance to get over it. I’ve been trying to dissect what pisses me off and bothers me the most. Is it the part where she ran and ignored me for a few days? Is it the part

where she thought she was pregnant, bailed, and thought I’d dump her because I would make my career a priority? Or is it the part where she clearly doesn’t trust me to keep my word? All of the above. What she’s failing to realize is what I chose to ignore for so long: my career won’t last forever. I used to think that meant I definitely needed to give it my everything with no distractions to give it my all while I had it. Since meeting Deanna, something else has clicked for me. My career will be part of the best years of my life. Do I really want to spend that time alone? When I could spend it with someone like Deanna? Do I want to wait until I’m retired and finding something to do with my spare time to find the love of my life? No, on all accounts. The hard part remains making Deanna see that instead of my history. She must’ve been waiting for me because she walks out her front door as I pull the key from the ignition of my truck. Otis is on his leash, tugging her forward, but Deanna’s mouth is moving, most likely talking to him and trying to keep him under control. Her smile wobbles, conveying her unease and nerves while I get out of the truck. “Hey,” she says. “Hey.” I lean down to pet Otis. “I’m glad you came.” “Gotta start somewhere.” I stand upright,

leaving Otis alone, even though he paws at my foot for more attention. “Right. Well, let’s go then. Come, Otis,” she adds, as she starts a slow jog down the driveway, even though he jogs next to her immediately. I take up on her other side, trying to match her slow stride. Are we talking or simply running? If the former, is she expecting me to talk first? “I had a pregnancy scare once in high school,” Deanna starts, answering my questions for me. “Back then, I was two weeks late. I was sleeping with a guy on the baseball team and a guy on the football team.” A car drives by, interrupting the sounds of our footfalls on the sidewalk. Deanna pauses to steady her breathing. “I was freaking the hell out and scared. I was only seventeen. I had the same view on kids back then as I do now. They’re cute, but not for me for a long, long time. I went to my mother.” Oh, fuck. This is not going to turn out well. I glance over at Deanna to catch her swallowing hard. She increases her speed, so I run a little faster to stay next to her. I want to take her hand, but she’s pumping her arms. “She was furious. Told me if I was, she was scheduling an appointment for an abortion.” I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, trying to imagine a seventeen-year-old Deanna going to her mother for help in a moment when she was

terrified. A sharp inhale comes from Deanna. “She called me all sorts of names.” Her free hand waves the imaginary words away, as if they don’t still bother her. “Told me I may have caused this, but she’d be damned if she’d be responsible for my actions because she knew there was no way in hell I could ever take care of someone else. That I wouldn’t be any good at it.” “Deanna,” I start once she runs a little bit faster once again, but she ignores me. “When I told her,” inhale, exhale, “she slapped me.” Inhale, exhale. “While we waited for the test results,” inhale, exhale, “she reminded me of the,” inhale, exhale, “ways I had failed and would fail.” Big inhale, exhale. “She asked who the dad might be,” ragged inhale and exhale, “and I had to tell her I didn’t know.” Deanna stops running, her hands on her hips, her chest labors with every breath, but she refuses to look at me. Instead, she stares straight ahead. “That was when my relationship with my mother changed to the way it is now. To the way it was,” she corrects. “She slapped me twice that day. The only other time she ever hit me was when she found out my grandmother left the shop to me and I told her I deserved it more than she did.” Deanna shakes her head. “My point is that when I realized I was late, it was like I was seventeen again. I could hear my mother in my head, and I could hear you.”

“Deanna,” I start again. “I knew kids weren’t any more on your radar than they were on mine and I panicked without thinking. I reacted terribly and I’m sorry. You deserve more credit than I gave you, but there was too much shit going on in my head for me to find it. I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’ve never been so insecure about something in my entire life; I don’t know how to deal with it well, obviously.” “Are you done?” I ask. I don’t want to be interrupted for a third time, even though I guess I was technically interrupting her. She cuts her eyes over to peek at me. “Depends. Are you still mad?” I grab her shoulders and pull her against me for a hug, my arms holding her tight around her shoulders. She presses her cheek against my chest. Her sigh releases the tension in her body as her arms loop around my waist. “Do you know what I’ve realized?” I ask, feeling Otis’s leash around my legs. He’s getting antsy. He leans against our legs, wanting attention that isn’t being spared to him. “What?” she asks softly. “I need someone who’s worth my while. Who’s worth it to me to make them a priority in my life. I need someone who doesn’t make me want to wait until I’ve retired to find someone to be with. I want someone to spend the best years of my career with, especially since I’m up there in age in the sports

world. And I’ve come to this realization since knowing you, so thanks.” “Well, you’re welcome, I guess,” she says, sounding like she’s confused. “Deanna, darlin’, look at me.” She lifts her head, her chin resting on my chest. I tug on her ponytail. “How many times do I have to explicitly or covertly say that you’re that person before you get it?” “But why am I that person?” I frown. “That’s what keeps tripping you up?” “Part of it. How am I better than anyone else you’ve dated where it failed?” “Deanna, what kind of question is that?” “The kind I keep thinking about.” I sigh, realizing I need to think of an answer for her. “It’s not that you’re better; we’re just better together than me and any of those other girls were together. I’m not the same person I was back then, either. I’m older, so naturally, I’m smarter.” “Naturally?” She smirks. “Don’t start with me.” “Are we good?” Her eyes are back to being worried. “We’re better,” I amend. We’ll be good when she can prove she trusts me. “Let’s race back?” Her grin is full of arrogance, not that I mind in this particular instance. “Unless you’re worried you’ll lose to a girl again?” She

presses her hips into mine. “Loser goes down on the winner.” As if I needed any more motivation to be the loser than that. I’m competitive, but I lost our last race because I was distracted by watching her run while she was in front of me. I’ll lose again today. I’d rather get her off first anyway. “Good luck,” I tell her sincerely, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth. Once we untangle Otis, I take his leash. I don’t want him to hinder her and cause her to be slower than normal. Plus, I can always say he slowed me down. Deanna counts us down and off we go. She takes off running, and I’m right behind her, my gaze glued to her entire backside. I stay only two paces behind her, despite wanting to whip around her when I hear her laughter. As it turns out, I do lose because of Otis. We’re nearly to her house when he comes to a full stop and hikes his leg on a tree. Deanna runs into her yard and twirls in a circle with her arms outstretched. “I win! AGAIN!” She laughs and then plops down on her porch steps, breathing heavily as I walk into the yard, but not quite reaching her as Otis once again holds me up. “Quit your gloating.” I’m not serious, though my voice makes me sound like I am. “You’re a professional athlete and I just kicked your ass again!” She laughs, thoroughly enjoying

this. “Otis held me up. You didn’t actually win.” She rolls her eyes. “Lame excuse. I’m going up to get my shower started. You’re welcome to join me once Otis is done,” she lifts her hands for air quotes, “holding you up.” She stands and walks inside, giggling. Once Otis is ready to go inside, we head in, I free him of his leash and harness, and then walk straight to the bathroom, undressing as I go. Deanna jumps when I pull the shower curtain back to step in. “Oh, it’s you.” I frown. “Who else would it be?” I ask as I step into the tub. She rinses her hair and then switches places with me to shave her legs. I keep my frown as I realize I will be using her girly-smelling soap and shampoo. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “I’ll smell like you.” Deanna laughs. “You’ll be okay.” I watch her lather her leg with shaving cream and then carefully glide the razor over her skin. Every so often, I move to the side for her to rinse the blade off. Who knew that watching her do something so simple could be so mesmerizing. Eventually, my eyes lift to her face, which is when I realize she’s struggling with something. Her mouth

opens and closes, like she can’t decide if she should say something or not. “Something wrong, darlin’?” I ask. We just got back on steady ground. Yes, there’s still work to be done, but I’d like a few moments of peace with her first. She glances up. “Well, yes and no.” “Do you want to elaborate?” “Not really.” She takes a deep breath. “I think you’re right about Zane.” “Of course I’m right.” What she says suddenly hits me. “Wait, why do you believe me now? What did he do?” I’ve paused my actions, my hands frozen in my hair mid-shampoo. Meanwhile, she’s still shaving her legs. “He texted me last night. Late last night.” My blood begins to boil. “There was nothing wrong with the text itself. He asked if everything turned out okay, but him checking in on me when he really has no reason to and the time he sent it made me realize that maybe you’re right. I didn’t know if I should text him back or not.” “Not,” I interrupt. “It’s none of his fucking business what happens with us. Or you, for that matter.” She glares at me. “Let me finish. I remembered what he told you about how I ignored him if I didn’t want to talk to him or if I was with someone. So, I didn’t respond. He’ll either assume I don’t

want to talk to him, or that I was with you. So, see? No reason for you to be angry.” “There’s plenty to be angry about when he’s texting you.” “I doubt he’ll do it again after being ignored and once he figures out I’m in your good graces again. I don’t think he’ll overstep that much. Finish washing your hair and move so I can rinse.” “I don’t like this.” I rinse my hair and move out of her way. “It’s an uncomfortable situation, sure, but it’s no problem. I would still like to think he was only being nice and checking in, but I couldn’t get what you said out of my head, so I wanted to tell you what he did.” Deanna turns off the water and pulls the curtain away. Otis lies on the floor in front of the tub. She laughs at seeing him. A few drops of water land on him as she reaches out to grab a few towels, and that’s all it takes for him to leave the room. “Let’s dry off; you owe me my prize, and then I have to be quick and go to work.” Just the mention of her prize is all it takes for my mind to clear except for the one task set before me. “Are you sure you deserve it?” I ask. She flashes me a quick smile as she drops her towel and walks backward out of the bathroom. “Maybe, maybe not. You can find a way to punish me during if you think I don’t.” This girl was made for me. I’m certain of it. I

stalk after her, eliciting a squeal when I pick her up and laughter when I drop her onto the bed. Laughter which quickly turns into a moan as my mouth touches her body. One hand dives into my hair, grabs a fistful, and yanks as I slip two fingers inside of her. The fingertips of the other bites into my shoulder. The heels of her feet dig into my back. My fingers move fast, her back arches, and I nip her sensitive skin. “Oh, fuck, Brayden,” she curses as she begins to reach the height of pleasure. Her body continues to tighten until I watch her finally fall apart with a long moan. She’s splayed out on her bed, her body loose and relaxed, and her eyes are closed. I kiss each of her inner thighs before glancing at her clock on the nightstand. It’s half-past seven. She’ll likely be late. “I have to go.” “What?” Deanna lifts her head. “Why?” She sits up, causing me to stand upright. “You have to get ready for work. You’ll be late.” A quick glance to her clock confirms I’m right. She frowns and cups me through my towel. “But I want more.” She loosens my towel. “I can do without drying my hair and I’ll put my makeup on once I get there. I can look terrible every now and then. Hell, I’ll hole up in my office if I look really bad.” “There’s no way you’ll ever look bad enough to

need to hole up in your office all day.” She smiles. “Thank you. Now, reach over there, grab a condom, and get on this bed with me.” The mention of a condom reminds me of her recently wondering if she was pregnant. Fuck. Her pregnant with my kid? I still can’t wrap my mind around such a thing. “Brayden?” Deanna’s voice along with the fact that her hand wraps around my cock snaps me out of my thoughts. I reach over to grab the condom, letting her hand and the thought of sex force the rest of my thoughts out of my mind. Thinking about it during a time like this just cements the fact that while we’re definitely still together, we have a lot to work through.

He came over this morning, we talked, and we had sex. Things are slowly returning to normal for us. It gives me peace of mind and allows me to go into work with a clear head, which I very much need. I’m interviewing a few people for my newly vacated position. I glance down at myself. I really should’ve taken the time to do myself up better. Putting sex with Brayden ahead of looking decent as an employer might not have been my best idea. Oh, well. Just before the first person is set to arrive, there’s a knock on my office door. “Come in,” I call out. The last person I expect to walk into my

office is Rose. “What are you doing here?” “Well, hello to you too.” “Hello. Now, what are you doing here? I don’t have time. I have interviews.” I glare at her since she’s the reason I have interviews in the first place. One of the worst parts of this job is interviews. I hate conducting them. I’d rather fire someone. Seriously. “Oh, I didn’t know. I was hoping we could do lunch.” “Maybe tomorrow unless you want to go around three?” “Yeah, that sounds good.” She leaves and my first interviewee is escorted in. I have an uneasy feeling about meeting with her, but I’m not sure why. I’ll find out soon enough. My first two people are duds, but the third? She might be a winner. I finish with her just in time to leave and meet Rose at a restaurant across the street by three. She’s already at a table and waiting, looking anxious. Not a good sign. “What’s up?” I ask as I take my seat. “How are things going?” “Good. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” “Okay.” “I feel like I owe you a true explanation of what happened.”

Oh, god. I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear this. The waitress interrupts us to take our orders, and we order our usual; we would come here often when we didn’t want to travel far. The moment she walks away, Rose takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to say this in the right way, so forgive me if I don’t. I felt like I had a bit of a mid-life crisis early. With your mom dying and you being so wishy washy with those guys like usual, but then seemingly moving on. It, in a weird way, made me realize I have nothing going for me. Not like you do, with or without a man. You own a business, Deanna. I worked in a dead-end job.” I wince. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with working with you. I did enjoy it, and I still think it’s better for our friendship that we don’t work together, but there’s no way I could improve there. I couldn’t ever move up the ladder and I would never make as much money, or more than you do. That’s my point. I had to leave. I do wish I didn’t leave you in a bind like I did, and I’m sorry for doing so. I have no excuse for that. So, I found another job and I’m figuring out what I want to do, so I can go back to school next fall.” “That’s great.” I can’t seem to think of anything else to say other than that. Rose has no problem keeping the conversation going for me. I eventually gather my wits about me

and tell her that I’m happy for her and I hope everything works out. Then, I get back to work. I keep looking at my employees, wondering if they think they’re working in dead-end jobs as well. In a way, I guess they are. But there will eventually come a time when someone will be manager level, someone other than me. I haven’t felt comfortable doing that yet, so I’ve always done it. At some point, I’ll need someone I can trust to take care of things in case I want to take a vacation. I’ll need someone to teach the classes in case I’m not here again or if I can’t for some reason. Maybe I should start looking into doing that now? Maybe this is a case where sooner is better than later. I don’t know. I leave two girls in the front and disappear into my office to get some paperwork done before my class tonight. Paperwork is so easy to get lost in. I can work for hours and hours without realizing I’ve been working for so long. As is the case today. “Knock, knock.” My head snaps up at the sound of Brayden’s voice as he pushes my office door open. I stand and move around my desk to kiss him. “Hey, what are you doing here?” “You have a class tonight, right?” “Yeah.” Where is he going with this? “I would like to observe if that’s okay.”

My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Observe? Why?” A flush of anxiety also hits me. “You’ve seen me work; I want to see you work.” “You’ll be bored,” I blurt out, the anxiety getting the best of me. “How can I get bored watching you?” I roll my eyes, even though I totally just swooned. “If you want to stay, you can stay.” This feels like it’s going to end very badly. Brayden flashes me a grin. I check the time. “Come help me set up.” He follows me to the room in the very back of the shop where I hold my classes. Today’s is a general sewing class. Like a loyal little student who wants to suck up to the teacher, Brayden helps me set out the materials. They bring their own sewing machines; I provide fabric and a few other small things to do a mini project. We finish up when the first person walks in. She stops short when she sees Brayden. Her eyes widen, her mouth parts a little, and I wonder if I looked like that when I first saw him. Brayden clears his throat. “Where do you want me to be?” “Just grab a seat and sit somewhere.” I leave him to meet with my first student and help get her set up. As more students come filing in, more of them react the same way, especially when one of them is a Carolina Rebels fan and actually knows who he is. I have to suffer watching her fan girl, get

an autograph, and a photo before we can start class. It’s not that bad. I mostly feel bad because Brayden seemed uncomfortable. Once I make my introduction, I forget he’s in the room, I’m so focused on my job. Apparently, a few new “fans” appear within my students by the time the class is over. Of the twenty students, five more of them decide to get a picture with Brayden once class ends. I clean up the room while he manages to smile for the photos. “Are you still glad you came?” I ask once the last person finally leaves. “Mostly,” he says as he stands. “Not a fan of fans, are you?” I ask as he walks over to take my hand. Brayden frowns and begins to lead me out of the room. “It’s not that. Fans are great. The attention is what I don’t particularly care for, especially when they tell me I’m awesome or that they love me. I always feel the urge to tell them I’m a jackass off the ice.” “You are not.” I grab my purse from the office, release the employee who was in the front, and it’s just us as I go about the nightly routine of shutting the store down. “Overall, I mean,” I add, flashing him a teasing smile. “Anything I can help you with?” I wave him off. “I can get it done faster alone.” Brayden wanders around the store until it’s

time to go. He walks me to my car, but instead of opening the door for me, he presses me against the door. His hands are cold when they slide underneath my shirt, causing me to shiver. Brayden rests his forehead against mine. “Stay with me tonight?” “You stay with me. Your bed is too fucking small, darlin’.” My body warms at hearing him call me that. It’s one of the ways I know we’re fine. “Can we talk when we get to your place?” Brayden tenses. Those green eyes stare at me hard. “Yeah.” His voice is gruffer than usual and his unease is clearly conveyed. I guess it’s never good when someone says they want to talk. I slide my hands up to grab his neck. “I just want to clear the air some more.” “Okay. Let’s go; I’m starving.” His hand reaches out to open the door, but his eyes remain locked on mine. Lifting up, I kiss him softly. “Thank you,” I whisper as I pull away. “For what?” “Everything.” Brayden seems at a loss for words, so he opens my door and closes me in once I slide inside. I run by the house to get Otis and pack a bag. The only way to trust Brayden is to do what I did on our run earlier today: tell him more about my past. He

knows the brief recaps, but if I tell him more, I have to trust him more and he’ll also understand why I’m an idiot sometimes. Right? Maybe he’ll open up more, too. My end game is us working. That’s it. All I want is to be with him. The trick will be doing what it takes to make it work. Hopefully, I’m on the right track. At this point, I can’t imagine being with anyone but Brayden. Those few days at my grandma’s house were torture while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on in my head and how I would move forward. Since I walked Otis at my house, I head straight inside once I get to Brayden’s. He’s lying on the couch, the TV on, but muted. Otis is next to him in seconds. I take my bag up to his room before coming back downstairs to find Otis lying on Brayden. I roll my eyes. “He’s in my spot.” Brayden grins. “He loves me; can you blame him?” “No, but he’s still in my spot. Otis, down.” Otis huffs as he moves to the foot of the couch instead and I take his place. He huffs again, making Brayden laugh, but I ignore them both. Brayden slides his hands up and down my back once before resting them on my the lowest part of my back so his fingers are on my ass. “You know,” Brayden says, “I never met my

father.” I’m so shocked by him speaking first and by what he says, that my brain freezes. “Mom says he left town a few days after she told him she was pregnant. She never saw or heard from him again.” “Do you know his name?” “Yeah. I’ve never been inclined to find him, though. Between my mom and my coaches growing up, I know he’s not the kind of man I ever want to meet. Besides, he knows how to find my mom if he wanted to meet me and he’s never done it.” “Does it bother you?” I ask. “No. I never thought I was missing something from my life. Mom did too good of a job raising me.” We fall into silence and I soon realize that’s all he has to share for the moment. Everything I planned to tell him left my mind like they crept out the back door while he was talking so I wouldn’t notice. “I want to be with you.” “I know.” “Obviously, I have some issues. I want to get over them.” I lift my head to look at him. “Can we?” “It’s a tough pill to swallow that you walked because you thought you were pregnant.” “It’s more complicated than that.” His eyes harden. “I don’t care about the specifics or any elaborations, Deanna. It boils down to that, doesn’t it?”

I refuse to answer his question. The specifics and elaborations matter to me. It adds to the big picture instead of narrowing it down. “It’s not like I was closing you out for good, no matter how the situation would’ve turned out. I just needed a few days to clear my head.” “Without telling me that,” he points out. I sigh and plant my face into his chest. His hands move up to my hair, and they dive in, massaging in soothing motions. “I’m all in,” I mumble into his chest, causing his hands to freeze. “As stupid as it sounds, I ran for a few days because I’m in this with you completely. That’s scary as fuck, especially when I don’t always know if I can trust my decisions or when your mom tells me more about something than you did. I was scared out of my mind and you weren’t here. It was the second best place I could run to until you got back, even though I had my doubts.” Brayden’s heart beats steadily, but loudly under my forehead. “So, if I was here...” He lets the question trail off. “I would have come here to you, though I would’ve been more terrified than I would like to admit.” His hands leave my hair and his arms wrap around my body. “Have I ever let you down before?” He continues on before I can say no. “If I ever do—”

“It’ll be okay,” I interrupt. “I won’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve already let you down, so if you do, then we’ll be even.” Brayden chuckles. “Fair enough.” He mostly looks as if he wants to be done talking. He leans forward to kiss me. “Happy with your conversation?” he asks as his lips move over mine. “Yes. I feel better.” “Good.” His lips move over mine again, but a loud beeping noise goes off. “Dinner,” he groans. “Just as I was about to eat.” I laugh and move off his body. My stomach growls as if suddenly realizing how hungry I am. “I’ll get it; you stay.” The rest of our night is spent eating, lounging on the couch, and then heading up to bed. We’re there, lying together, utterly spent but satisfied, when I realize sleep is not coming so easily for me tonight. Brayden’s breathing is slow and even; I close my eyes and try to let it lull me to sleep. My eyes, however, have another plan. They keep opening. “Darlin’.” Brayden’s hand comes up and covers my eyes. “Stop blinking. Sleep. I got you off enough times that you shouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open; I can’t.” True. Yet, here I am. “I can’t sleep.” “Deanna,” he starts. “If you bring up your damn patience, I’ll hurt

you.” He laughs. “I wasn’t. I was going to ask what’s the problem.” I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know.” He sighs and tugs me closer. “Sleep, Deanna.” He demands it as if my body has no choice but to listen to him. His fingers trail up and down my back and my arm. Between that and listening to his breathing and heartbeat, I eventually fall asleep.

“Pick any one you want.” Jackson’s eyes widen. “I can have one of these?” His fingers rub the material of the kid’s jersey. “Momma said I can?” “It’s a gift from me. I’m sure she’ll be okay with it. Do you want a blank jersey or one with someone’s name on it?” “Mr. EJ’s,” he quickly says. “Okay then.” I release his hand to flip through the jerseys and he grabs my shirt. The store is busy and it makes me relax to know that he’s holding on anyway. When Raelynn texted me and said Jackson wanted to see the game up close and EJ wrangled glass seat tickets, but Bree was being extra fussy so she didn’t want to go, I didn’t think twice about taking him. In fact, I felt really fucking proud.

Raelynn trusted me with her kid. That’s huge in my book, especially so early on in our friendship. With his jersey in hand, I double check that he can wear it and then go find my own Hayes jersey. We check out, step outside the store and off to the side, and then I help Jackson put his jersey on before slipping mine over my head as well. He thanks me at least five times. Ready to go, we walk hand-in-hand to our seats. The guys are just coming onto the ice for warmups. I pick Jackson up, so he can see better. He bangs his hand on the glass. “Mr. EJ!” he shouts as EJ skates behind the net. EJ’s eyes widen as he sees the jersey. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, so I’m assuming Raelynn talked to him early enough to let him know she wasn’t coming and I was. “Hey, J-man,” he says. I turn us a little, so EJ can see that Jackson is wearing his jersey. “He picked it out.” “Thanks, Jackson. I think it’ll give me good luck.” He bumps his fist against the glass and skates off. Jackson’s eyes follow him as he goes. “Do you think I’ll give him good luck?” “We’ll have to wait and see.” EJ taps Brayden on the leg with his stick and motions over to us. The expression on Brayden’s mostly blank face barely changes. I flash my arm,

so he can see his number, and smile, though he doesn’t smile back. He shakes his head as he lowers to the ice to stretch and I swear, he’s hiding a smile. A little while later, Brayden skates over while the guys prepare to shoot some pucks. He doesn’t say anything, but he tosses a puck over the glass. I catch it and hand it to Jackson, whose eyes are wide as saucers. “I can keep it?” “I guess so.” “Wow,” he whispers. He clutches the puck and holds it close to his chest. “Everything looks so much bigger,” Jackson mumbles, his face pressed against the glass. He suddenly frowns and looks at me. “Will the goal noise be louder down here?” “That sounds the same everywhere.” At least, it should. The guys shoot pucks and one of them hits the glass a few feet away, causing Jackson to jump and cover his ears from the loud thwack! “I don’t like the loud noises,” he whispers to me. Glass seats may not have been the best idea then. “Does it scare you?” I ask him. He shakes his head, dropping his hands. “I just don’t like it.” “There may be some loud noises here, but it’ll be okay. They won’t last long. Will that be okay?” Jackson frowns, but eyes the guys on the ice as

they begin to leave. “Yes.” Whew. Good. Hopefully, that’s true. I don’t know kids or Jackson well enough to know how to react if he started freaking out or something, other than to leave. We sit and wait as the minutes count down for the game to start. Jackson sits on the very edge of his seat, the excitement spilling from his every pore. He can’t stop smiling either. The anthem is sung and then the puck drops. The first chant of the night starts and I look down at Jackson. “Let’s Go Rebels!” I shout and then clap my hands in time to the rest of the crowd. Jackson’s laughter causes me to smile widely. The kid is too cute. He shouts with me and the rest of the people in the arena on the next two chants. He startles when two players crash into the boards in front of us, but after shrinking away, he moves forward, more captivated than ever. Thank goodness. He asks me what’s happening a few times, but I let the poor kid down because I have no idea what’s happening. There isn’t a broadcaster here telling me, giving me terms to use that I don’t quite understand. Jackson gets really, really, really hungry and thirsty, so we leave mid-period for food and drinks. We’re just settling in our seats, not paying a lick of attention to the on-ice action, or at least I’m not, when the goal horn blares. Jackson apparently was.

He jumps up, knocking his hot dog, which was in his lap, onto the floor and cheers, jumping up and down. The guys are doing their hug-celebration thing right in front of us. Jackson screams and shouts. “I think Mr. EJ scored!” he says to me. “That’s great.” Jackson sits back down. His gaze falls to his hot dog and his eyes widen in horror as he slowly turns his head to look at me. “Ms. Deanna, I’m so sorry!” “It’s okay. Here, eat mine.” Thank god we both got plain hot dogs. “Focus on eating, okay?” He nods and I lean down to pick up his mess and wrap it in napkins to throw away later. We also got popcorn, so I munch on that. Turns out, Jackson was right. They announce the scorer as EJ. Jackson grins around a mouthful of hot dog. Once he swallows, he says, “I told you.” “Looks like you are good luck for him.” If possible, he grins wider. The rest of the game goes more smoothly for us. The zing of the puck hitting the goal posts doesn’t bother Jackson. In fact, he thinks that’s the coolest sound ever. He’s not too fond of hearing the puck or a stick or bodies hit the boards or the glass, and he still isn’t a fan of the goal horn, but I think he loves glass seats. I keep having to pull him away. He wants to have his face against the glass or an inch or so away. I feel like that’s a safety hazard.

“I wish I could play,” Jackson says once the game ends with a Rebels win. “Maybe you can one day.” We’re sitting in our seats, waiting for EJ. He’s taking Jackson home and he wanted us to wait here for him instead of outside. The usher asked us to leave twice before finally leaving us alone. I don’t think she believed me when I told her EJ’s meeting us. But she didn’t come back after that second time, so I don’t care. Jackson has a wistful look on his face as he gazes out at the ice. They need to get this kid in skates. “Hey, J-man!” Jackson whirls to see EJ coming from the left. “Mr. EJ! I gave you good luck! And look!” He holds up the puck. “Mr. Brayden gave me a puck.” Speaking of whom, Brayden appears a few feet behind him. EJ picks Jackson up. “That’s awesome. Did you have fun?” “Yes. And look!” He tugs on his jersey. “Ms. Deanna bought it for me.” “She did? Did you thank her?” Jackson nods and yawns. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure your momma is waiting to hear all about your night.” Looking at me, he says, “Thanks, Deanna.” “No problem; thanks for the sweet seats. And

tell Raelynn I want to do lunch this week.” He nods and walks back the way he came. Brayden eyes me for a moment, his hands in his pockets, and then he holds out a hand, which I take. “You didn’t say you were coming.” “Surprise,” I say with a smile. “Are you tired too?” he teases. “Nope.” “Some of the guys are going somewhere for food and drinks. Do you want to go?” “Sure. This is kinda creepy,” I say, referring to the underbelly of the arena. Brayden rolls his eyes and with his free hand pulls on the Rebels logo in the jersey. “Did you have to think about whose jersey you should buy?” “Jackson tried to convince me to buy EJ’s, and he almost succeeded,” I lie. “I also thought about buying one of the Kessy jerseys.” Brayden frowns at that. “You’re a terrible girlfriend, you know?” My grin is cheeky and cheesy. “What?” “That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend, aside from when you said it to Jackson, which I’m totally not counting.” Brayden shakes his head like I’m crazy. We’re outside now and he opens the door to my car as soon as I unlock it. “Follow me there, okay?”

“You got it.” I give him a quick kiss. A little while later, we’re at a restaurant and pub. Brayden heads to the table while I walk to the restroom. When I return, I spot Zane at the table, too. Nerves wash over me. After it finally hit me that he likes me, I’m not too thrilled to join the table, even with Brayden there. I decide to stall by stopping by the bar to grab a drink first. That turns out to be a bad idea. “Hey, Deanna.” I turn to Zane. “Hey.” Then, I find the bartender and stare him down. Hurry up with my drink! The last thing I want is for Brayden to find me talking to Zane. “I texted you; I was trying to check in,” he says, leaning forward to cut off my view of the bartender. “I was with Brayden, so I didn’t see it. Things are obviously fine. You don’t need to worry about me or my relationship with Brayden.” The corners of his mouth begin to dip into a frown. “But I do.” “But you do not need to,” I repeat. He opens his mouth, but I grab his wrist. “Brayden is my boyfriend.” Zane winces. “We’re together, and, and I love him, Zane.” His entire body is tense, but he nods and says, “That’s good. I’m happy for you.” I’m not so sure I believe him. At least, he’s not

happy for himself. I let go of his wrist. The bartender finally brings my drink. I turn to leave Zane at the bar and see Brayden standing a foot away. I keep walking, not wanting to alert Zane to his presence. I grab his hand and pull him toward the table. Brayden’s squeezes mine hard. Did he hear what I said? Did I actually say what I think I said? Or maybe he’s only pissed because he found me talking to Zane again? Brayden tugs on my hand to stop me from sitting down. He sits and pulls me into his lap. My body melts against his when he kisses my neck. That’s a good sign. “I ordered us food,” he murmurs as I take a sip of my drink. “Is it time to say I told you so?” “Not the place,” I reply. Zane returns to the table. Should I get my own seat? Wouldn’t that be the nice thing to do? When my hips shift, Brayden grabs them to keep me in place. “What happened to my jersey?” His hands slide over my arms. “This table is getting enough attention as it is.” I took it off and left it in my car, not wanting to sit with a group of hockey players wearing a jersey and have people think I’m some sort of groupie or something. “Hey, what are hockey groupies called?” “Puck bunnies,” Cal answers. He sits next to us. A slow grin forms on his lips. “They aren’t too bad on occasion.”

His brother rolls his eyes at that. “What about that one who wanted to know if we’d both fuck her at the same time? Is she included in the group of those who aren’t ‘too bad?’” “She was crazy,” he agrees. Three waitresses come with food and distract everyone. A huge plate is set before Brayden and me. I can’t believe Brayden ordered this. I glance over my shoulder at him. “You ordered this?” I motion to the biggest burger I’ve ever seen with onion rings and fried pickles as sides. “Just for you,” he says as I grab a fried pickle. “And that was before I heard that you love me.” I nearly choke on the fried pickle, which only makes Brayden laugh as he pats my back and I get curious looks from his teammates. I grab my drink and take three gulps. Then, I elbow him in the gut. That is so not cool. Here I was thinking he didn’t hear me after all and he drops that bomb on me while I’m eating? He’s mean. “Sorry, darlin’. Bad timing.” Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.” He grins, leans forward, and I fall apart when his lips brush over my ear. “An asshole you love, Deanna.” “Unfortunately,” I mumble, but all it does is make him laugh.

I started to wonder what was taking Deanna so long when Zane left the table. But it was shortly after that when I started glancing around and saw the two of them at the bar, talking. Deanna had to let him down again. While there was a small satisfaction at being right, I didn’t like it. Then, I heard what she said. I teased her the entire night and then convinced her to come home with me again. If Deanna listened to me, she’s lying naked in my bed right now while I walk Otis one last time for the night. I told her to start without me. My mind now runs rampant with images of her pleasuring herself and thinking of me, waiting for

me. “And, and I love him, Zane.” That one part repeats in my head. Not once has she told me this, but the way she said it, it was almost as if she just realized it herself. And she tells fucking Zane before me. That kid really pisses me off; I don’t know how much more I can take of him pining after my woman. But maybe now he’ll leave well enough alone. “Otis, hurry the fuck up,” I demand, but he pays me no mind. He wanders around the yard with me in tow like we have all the time in the world. At this rate, Deanna will be asleep by the time we get up there. “Finally!” I grumble. Otis trots toward the door. I hear a moan as I set the alarm for the night. What the fuck is she doing up there? She’s not supposed to be having that good of a time all by herself. I free Otis and jog up the stairs, hearing another moan. Upon entering my room, however, I stop short. Deanna lies there with her hands behind her head and her ankles crossed. My eyes roam over her body while I try to understand what I see. She laughs at my confused expression. “About time.” “Those were fake moans?” I stand at the foot of the bed and begin to shed my clothes. The view of her body short-circuits my brain, especially with her watching me with her eyelids low and her

breasts rising and falling with her every breath. “Sounded nice, didn’t they?” The grin on her face is ridiculously proud. I push my pants down, but pause. “Have you faked with me before?” Deanna props herself up on her elbows. Her face is completely serious now. “No. I don’t fake.” “Good.” Now naked, I grab her ankles and pull her forward. I lift each ankle and kiss them one at a time. “Darlin’.” She hums. “You said something tonight.” I kiss further up her legs, crawling onto the bed as I do so. She huffs. “Can we forget about it?” she asks, clearly expecting me to tease her some more. “No,” I state simply. She lifts her head, but it falls as I lie over her body, which tenses slightly beneath mine. “Tell me.” Her inhale is shaky. Her hands tremble as she grabs my face. She’s obviously nervous, but the fact that she’s going through with it anyway? Turns me the hell on and makes me proud as hell of her. “For some reason, I love you. Happy?” I nod and kiss her. Slowly. Thoroughly. Deeply. I kiss her until she releases one of those moans I heard earlier, only this time, it’s real. “I love you too, darlin’.” She gasps softly. Did she honestly not expect that? Her short bursts of air hit my face. She seems

frozen. So, I lean down and kiss her again. Her hips press into mine, a reminder that we’re skin to skin. I lean over to find a condom, groaning when I feel her hand wrap around my cock. Deanna pushes me to lie on my back and straddles my thighs. “Tell me,” she demands. “I love you.” The slow rise of her lips as she strokes me is the best damn sight I’ve ever had before me. I hope to see it often throughout the rest of my life.

“Hello.” Mom’s voice is stiff and formal. I haven’t talked to her since I hung up on her after calling when I was pissed off over her talking to Deanna. “Hey, Mom. How are you doing?” “Just fine.” “Good. I’m sorry for how things turned out in our last conversation and for talking to you like I did. I had just left Deanna’s. I know better than to call someone while I’m still pissed. Anyway, I’m sorry.” Mom is quiet for a full ten seconds, probably hoping I’m sweating over whether she’ll forgive me or not. “Apology accepted. I’m assuming you and Deanna worked things out since you called me to apologize.”

“Yeah, we did.” “Good. Christmas is coming up, you know.” “Yes. You’re coming, right?” “Well, I was wondering if you and Deanna would like to come here.” “I don’t know; I can ask.” Why does she want us to come there anyway? I normally fly her here. “Please do.” Mom and I talk for a few more minutes before we hang up. Something is off for her to want me to go back home. Or maybe I’m being crazy. I call Deanna. “I miss you,” she answers. “Bad day?” “Not really. Just miss you.” “I’ll be home in a few days. What are you doing?” I ask. “I’m out to lunch with Raelynn.” “Oh, well, I’ll be quick then. Mom wants us to fly out to see her for Christmas. I told her I would ask; I don’t know what you want to do about Otis.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to go?” “I guess.” “Okay. I’ll figure something out.” “Call me later.” I pause. “I love you.” She giggles. “Love you too.” I smile as the call disconnects. She either gets a goofy smile on her face or laughs when I tell her, as

if she still can’t quite believe it. It’s one reason why I tell her as often as possible. I want to soak up her reaction for as long as possible. I want to imprint it in my brain for the inevitable tough times. It’s the kind of memory I want to bring up when we’re old and forgetting what we had for breakfast, but can somehow remember these snippets from our younger days. Her reaction is something to savor and remember. “You smiling freaks me the fuck out.” I glance over at Liam Irving, our goalie, as he takes a seat next to me in the hotel’s restaurant. “If you smiled too much, it’d freak me out, too.” He smiles, and I laugh. “You seem more relaxed than usual,” he says. “How so?” “The smile is a dead giveaway.” I chuckle. “I don’t feel any more relaxed than usual. How’s your daughter doing?” The mention of his daughter brings a real smile to his face. “She’s fine. I’m ready for Christmas, so I can spend some time with her.” He talks about his daughter, Ainsley, for the next thirty minutes while we eat. These parents, I swear, all you have to do is mention their kids, and off they go. I’m not so sure Scotty is as bad as Bruiser, Savage, and EJ. Come February, Marco will be just like them, I’m sure. “Hey, would you want to dogsit over Christmas?” I ask him later when we’re walking to

the locker room. He shakes his head. “Ainsley is scared of dogs. Sorry.” “You need a dogsitter, Hook?” I turn around and see the Kessy twins. I have no idea which of them spoke since I didn’t see which one did it. Their voices are too similar in that regard. The only way I can tell them apart is because Cal is a tad taller and Collin keeps his face clean-shaven, whereas Cal rarely does. There are other ways to tell them apart, but those are the easiest for me. “Yeah. Over Christmas. I’m going back to Michigan, but Deanna has Otis. He’s a Rottweiler, so he’s a big dog, but he behaves. You two want to do it? You can watch him at my house if you’d rather.” The twins glance at one another for a moment, and I get that creepy feeling that they are communicating without talking again. Then, they both nod and say, “Sure, we’ll do it.” I shake my head. “I thought you stopped that.” The fuckers grin. “Not yet. Are we getting paid?” “Yeah, in food.” They nod, seemingly satisfied with that. After the game, I need to text Deanna that I found a solution for Otis and confirm with my mom we’re going. Tomorrow, I’ll email my travel agent to book

our flights. It’s all falling into place. If only I can figure out why Mom wants me home in the first place.

The next couple of weeks sail by without a problem. Something I didn’t notice before was how constantly suspicious Deanna seemed to be over her life and how that affected her. Granted, I didn’t know she worried and wondered if she was making the right decisions as much as she did. But I can tell a difference in her. She seems more relaxed. She lets go of things. For example, I haven’t heard about her mother’s notebooks since our argument. I’ve been to her house, too, and I haven’t seen them lying around anywhere either. She checks in with her dad here and there, but his continued dismissal of her makes her shrug her shoulders in a what-can-I-do kind of way instead of making her worry. Best of all, I haven’t heard her mention how she makes bad decisions. Maybe she’s finally realized she once made terrible decisions, but slowly grew up over the years and the number of bad decisions diminished as she did. That’s what I believe, at least. Once, she listed a bunch of shit she did that wasn’t good, but

it was all either in high school or prior to or just after her grandmother dying, if I’m not mistaken. She has grown up; she just didn’t see that. Now, we’re in the air and on our way to Michigan. Deanna squeezes my hand, which is in her lap, and I glance over at her. “Do you think Otis will be okay with Collin and Cal?” I laugh. “Yeah, darlin’.” She’s like a mom leaving her newborn for the first time. She was giving the guys instructions on how to care for him, telling them about his favorite toys, and making sure they knew he could be on the furniture...while he was currently standing on the couch, making that pretty obvious. Thankfully, the guys nodded seriously at her every word. “What did you get me for Christmas?” I ask to distract her. She rolls her eyes. “Gifts are supposed to be a surprise. Unless you plan to tell me my gifts, then I’m not telling.” “Fair enough.” That was the answer I expected anyway. “Are you excited about coming home?” I sigh and lean my head back against the headrest. “I don’t know. I feel like something’s up, so in that regard, no. Otherwise, yeah. I always like coming home.” “What makes you think something is up?” Deanna rests her head on my shoulder as her free

hand starts drawing circles on the topside of my wrist. “Since I’ve been in the league? Haven’t been to Michigan for Christmas. Mom hasn’t asked me to come home, so I always fly her out to see me. Wouldn’t you think something is up?” “I see your point.” “At least if something goes wrong, you’ll be with me.” At that, she lifts her head to show me her smile. “And I’ll do my best to be helpful.” She quickly kisses me before resting her head on my shoulder again, content with sitting like that until we land. Turns out, my gut feeling was right. Confusion swamps me when we spot Mom waiting by baggage claim with a man, who looks a lot like my very first hockey coach, Perry Hall. “Who is that with Maryann?” Deanna asks. “Looks like an old coach. What the fuck is he doing here?” “Be happy for her,” Deanna says quietly right before we reach them. Her comment confuses me further. What is there to be happy for my mom about? Mom steps forward to hug me, but my eyes are on Coach Hall. What the fuck is he doing here? That’s the big looming question. “I’m so happy you’re here!” Mom gushes and she turns to Deanna to hug her. “You too! I’m glad

you came! Who is with Otis?” “The Kessy twins offered to take care of him.” “That’s good.” Mom steps back. “Deanna, this is Perry Hall. He coached Brayden a long, long time ago. Brayden, you remember him, don’t you?” “Yeah.” Deanna squeezes my hand as she shakes his hand and they exchange a few words. “Well, let’s go!” Mom says with a big smile on her face. She’s not going to explain his presence? What the hell? We follow them outside to a vehicle that most certainly is not my mother’s, which means it’s Coach Hall’s. As he pulls out of his space, Mom turns to angle in her seat and look at me in the backseat. “You’re probably wondering—” “Yeah,” I interrupt, wishing she’d get on with it and glaring at Deanna when she squeezes my hand in a death grip again. “She’s my girlfriend,” Coach Hall speaks before Mom can. I blink and stare at Mom, who watches me carefully. My brain explodes. Mom? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Coach Hall? What the fuck? I don’t understand. Has Mom dated since I was born? I don’t remember ever meeting a boyfriend before. Or her going on dates. I rub my forehead as pain bursts forth behind it. I don’t understand. I simply

don’t understand. “That’s awesome,” I hear Deanna say. “How long have you been dating?” “Three years,” Coach Hall answers. I squeeze my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose as more pain threatens to split my skull wide open. Three years? What the fuck, Mom? Why is she just now springing this on me? Deanna talks to them, but my ears refuse to listen. I grab Deanna’s purse, ignoring the looks, and search for pills. She must have some over-the-counter medication in here for headaches. Don’t all women carry that stuff around all the time? Mom always seemed to have some on hand when I was growing up. Ah-ha! I grab the bottle, shake it until two land in my hand, and dry swallow them before returning her bag. None of this makes sense. Am I still alive? Did the plane crash and this is some sort of afterlife experience? Maybe that’s why my head hurts. The forty-five-minute drive to Mom’s house is a long one. From the corner of my eye, I see Deanna and Mom glance over at me multiple times. Sorry, but my mind can’t seem to wrap around this. When we finally get to Mom’s house, my mind is blown once again. Mom’s house has been infused by a man. This is not the same house I remember. Damn, I need to come home more often. Coach Hall’s things lie

around everywhere. Coats hang by the door, boots sit on the floor, a pair of reading glasses lie on the table next to the recliner, and new blankets that I know my mother would never buy rest on the back of the couch. “I need to lie down. Maybe that will get rid of my headache,” I say. Mom frowns, but I kiss her on the cheek and pull Deanna to my old room. She slaps my arm the moment I close the door. “What is wrong with you?” she whispers harshly. “Me? My mom just sprung her boyfriend of three years on me! And I know him!” “That should make it better.” “It doesn’t!” I drop our bags by the door and move over to the bed, lying down and facing away from the door. “Brayden.” Deanna crawls over my body to lie in front of me. “Aside from keeping it from you for so long and it being your old coach, what’s so bad about your mom having a boyfriend?” I groan. “This doesn’t make sense.” “Why?” Deanna seems perplexed. “Mom has never had a boyfriend!” When Deanna stares at me like I’m crazy, I add, “Just leave me alone. I want a nap.” With that, I close my eyes. Deanna sighs. “Maybe you just never met them. Or maybe she spent all that time flirting with

Perry.” “Please stop.” “We’re stuck here for the next two days. You need to get used to the idea that she’s with him and be happy for her. She obviously had high hopes when she asked you to come.” “I’m just trying to figure out how this is possible. How did they get together? Is he living here now? Because it looks like it.” “Weren’t you listening on the way here?” Deanna interrupts. “No. As soon as he said she was his girlfriend, I got a headache and stopped listening. A headache I still have, by the way.” She rolls her eyes at me again, but adjusts her position so she can massage my temples and tell me what she learned of my mother’s new relationship. Apparently, they ran into each other all the damn time and eventually, Coach Hall asked her out. The rest is history. “This is a terrible Christmas already,” I mutter. Deanna laughs. “I never would’ve thought the idea of Maryann having a boyfriend would be what knocked you down.” “You’re mean. I just need time to recover.” We hear Mom giggle and I groan, leaning into Deanna. “What are they doing out there?” I groan again. “I don’t want to know.” Deanna laughs once more. “They are probably

talking. I doubt they are out there having sex in the living room.” I poke her in the stomach. “Do not mention my mom and sex in the same sentence.” I shudder saying it myself. “My mom is too old for that anyway.” Deanna barks out a laugh. “I’ll remember that when we’re in our fifties.” A reluctant smile appears. She thinks about us in our fifties? I try to imagine that myself. Granted, I’ll be closing in on sixty when she turns fifty with our age difference. Although unrealistic, I can see us together with Otis. I can see us having fun, laughing a lot, and yes, still having sex. Maybe I’ll be traveling less. Or maybe I’ll be traveling more as I take Deanna to places around the world. It doesn’t seem like a bad life. Mom might have some version of that with Coach Hall. I pull Deanna’s hands away from my temples. “Let’s give it fifteen more minutes and then go hang out with them.” The smile she gives me is wondrous. “You will make your mom very happy.” That’s the least I can do after all she’s done for me. I’ll figure out how to adjust. Mom and Coach Hall sit too close for comfort on the couch when we emerge from the bedroom. Coach’s expression doesn’t change, but Mom’s

face lights up when she sees us. “Is your headache gone?” she asks. “Yeah. Just needed to rest.” I sit in the loveseat and pull Deanna down next to me. “Sorry about earlier, Coach. It’s good to see you again.” “You can call me Perry. It’s good to see you again too. Looks like my coaching paid off with you.” I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.” I’m not sure I can call him Perry, boyfriend of my mom’s or not. He’s always been Coach Hall to me. I don’t know if that can change after three decades. “What’s it like down there in North Carolina?” “Warmer than it is up here. The weather’s great there.” Deanna squeezes my hand like I should say more, but I don’t know what else to say. This is fucking awkward. “Deanna’s lived there all her life.” I release a breath as the questions are now directed at her and Coach Hall learns about her instead of me. The main question swirling around now is why did Mom keep this from me? And why did she decide to finally tell me? “Brayden, do you want to help me with lunch?” “Yeah.” I want answers. Once we’re safely in the kitchen and away from Coach Hall and Deanna, I say, “What the hell, Mom?” She sighs. “You never did see me with men when you were growing up and I didn’t know how

to tell you. Perry wants to marry me; he was tired of waiting. It was past time to tell you. I figured you would react as you did or worse.” I glare at her. “I could’ve reacted properly if you had warned me that I was meeting your boyfriend. You didn’t even give me that much of a warning. You two were just standing there. I’m not that good of an actor to plaster a smile on my face for appearance purposes.” “I’m sorry. I knew the moment you interrupted me it was the wrong decision. You’re happy for me, though, aren’t you?” The worry in her eyes fills me with shame. “Mom, you raised me. What do you think?” She smiles and hugs me. “I’m very happy, I promise. And he’s a complete gentleman.” “That’s good, Mom. I’m glad you’re happy and with someone. You deserve it.” “So do you. What did you get Deanna for Christmas?” I shrug. “Some presents.” She’ll find out soon enough. “I will tell you this.” I take a deep breath. “I’m thinking of asking her to move in with me.” “Already?” “What do you mean ‘already’?” Mom hesitates to answer. “You and Deanna have had some issues.” “Your point,” I push her along. “You shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“How long before Perry moved in here?” I ask, his name sounding odd to my ears. A blush unlike any I’ve ever seen before burns my mom’s face. “That is none of your business.” She turns away from me, which in combination with her answer, only makes me want to know more. “Mom, tell me. I should know before I give you away at a wedding.” She glares at me. “Two weeks.” My eyes jump out of their sockets. “Two weeks! Are you kidding me? Mom—” “Oh, shut up, Brayden, and ask your own girlfriend to move in with you.” I laugh and decide to let it go. After all, here they are three years later, planning to get married. I’ve been with Deanna longer than they were together before they moved in with each other. Plus, I have no intention of letting Deanna get away. It’ll all work out in the end one way or another. The most important thing is to focus on getting used to my old coach being my mom’s boyfriend.

As the day goes on, Brayden behaves more and more like himself. All he needed was a little time to overcome the shock. His mother really should’ve warned him about why she wanted him to come home. Even I know you can’t spring anything on Brayden. Something minor, he doesn’t like. Obviously, he won’t react well to something huge. I can’t lie, though; his reaction amused me. Now, we’re lying in bed after a very long day. The room seems too quiet, even with the soft sound of our breathing and Brayden’s heartbeat. But then, we hear a noise. It’s possibly a squeaking and maybe a loud sigh or a moan.

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Cut my ears off, darlin’. Now, before it’s too late.” Giggles overtake me as Brayden covers his head with a pillow. “Why? Why while we’re here? Fucking why?” The pillow muffles his voice, but I manage to hear him still. “I’m sorry.” “I want to go home.” He sounds like a pouting child, which only makes me laugh harder. “Stop laughing, Deanna.” “It’s laugh or be like you.” That makes him pause. “I’m not gonna laugh over this. Laughing is impossible. You wouldn’t laugh at hearing your parents have sex.” I ignore his point. At least the sounds seem to have died down. “You can move the pillow now,” I tell him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to chance hearing it again.” I laugh. “We’ll fall asleep fast.” With reluctance, he places the pillow under his head again. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His body is tense, like he’s waiting to hear another unfortunate sound. I hoist a leg over his thighs, snuggle in closer, and hope he’ll relax soon enough to fall asleep. “So glad you’re here, darlin’,” he whispers just before I doze off.

When I awaken in the morning, I smile at the text message I see. Brayden told me it would be crazy to text Cal and ask for a picture of Otis, to check in. I lean over and hold up my phone for Brayden to see. “Look! Cal didn’t think it would be crazy for me to know how they’re doing. He texted me, without me even asking!” Brayden rolls his eyes. It’s tempting to stick my tongue out at him, but I don’t. We get ready for the day and join Maryann and Perry for breakfast. I’m not sure what we’re doing today, or if there are any specific plans. Apparently, Maryann doesn’t know either. “We have Christmas activities tomorrow, so today is free to do as we’d like. Was there anything you wanted to do, Brayden? We could go to the outdoor rink in town. Or did you want to spend the day with Deanna?” “We do not need to spend the day together,” I say before Brayden can answer. We see each other plenty; he does not see his mother that often. “We can do whatever you want, Mom,” Brayden adds. “Have you ever been skating at an outdoor rink?” Maryann asks me. “No. I’ve never skated at all.” With a slightly dismayed look, she glances at Brayden. “How does a hockey player not take his

girlfriend skating?” Brayden shrugs his shoulders. “Hadn’t thought about it.” I decide to poke fun at him. “He doesn’t take me out much. We’ve only been to a 5K as a date.” Maryann’s mouth drops in horror as Perry chuckles. “That’s it? We go out once a week.” “I’m a good boyfriend regardless.” Despite Brayden saying that, Maryann goes on to list all the things she and Perry do. Brayden interrupts her many times to remind her he’s busy, that we both are, and that they aren’t nearly as busy as we are. Maryann rolls her eyes at that. It’s fun to see him get picked on by his mother. After breakfast, I help Maryann clean up in the kitchen while Perry and Brayden move into the living room. “What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask, because surely, they’re talking. “They are probably catching up. I doubt Brayden would give him the third degree about us or anything of the sort. Actually, they probably aren’t even catching up. Most likely, they are talking about hockey.” That makes more sense. I think Brayden would want to focus on safe subjects and that’s the safest one. I smile when I hear some laughter from the other room; that’s a good sign. Maryann asks me about my shop, my relationship with Brayden, and

Otis. I still like her. She’s a person who seems so very genuine in everything. She seems to care and be interested in everything. She can be funny, as well. Once the kitchen is tidied up, we drive to the outdoor rink. We have to rent skates, but once Brayden puts mine on for me, we’re stopped multiple times because he gets recognized. Back home, people didn’t stop him. Brayden always said it was because he seems unapproachable. However, people think he’s approachable here. My arms are tight around Brayden’s waist once we’re on the ice. Learning is impossible when people keep interrupting our lesson. It’s a bit awkward, too. The people seem nice enough, but it’s uncomfortable for me to stand nearby while Brayden carries on a conversation with someone. After they skate away, though, Brayden glances down at me with an apologetic smile and says, “Sorry.” I just smile because it’s okay. Eventually, we’re left alone and Brayden helps me get the hang of the basic movement, so I can only clutch his hand instead of his waist. I wish I brought another coat because it’s freaking cold out here. “Having fun?” Brayden asks, though his eyes are on a laughing Maryann and Perry a few paces ahead of us. “Yes.”

“There’s something I want to ask you.” “Well, ask me.” I focus on my feet, but I want to look up at him. However, I’m scared my feet might go haywire if I look away. Brayden slows down and hooks a finger under my chin to make me look at him. “I might fall!” I protest. “You won’t.” He holds up our joined hands as if that alone will keep me from falling. “You’re over at my house a lot. I was thinking—” He stops, pauses, and starts again. “I’m hoping you’ll move in with me.” “What?” I breathe. “You want me to live with you?” “Yeah, darlin’. It seems wrong that Otis has some of his things there and you don’t.” He gives me a brief smile. He kisses my forehead and with his lips still against my skin says, “Think about it.” My eyes flutter to a close. Living with Brayden? Coming home to the same place as him? Permanently sharing the same bed? Cooking for one another and having him help me reach his stash of chips when I want a snack? It all sounds pretty nice. But I’ve never lived with anyone before. I’ve lived alone ever since I moved out of my parents’ house. I’m not so sure I’d be a good housemate. Opening my eyes, I find Brayden still has his eyes on me. He looks patient mostly, which makes me

chuckle. “What is it?” he asks. My mouth opens to ask him if he’s sure, but the moment I do, I realize that’s a stupid question. Brayden wouldn’t put the offer out there if he’s not prepared to both make it worth our while and go all in. He’s sure. “Can we compromise?” I ask. “How?” “Well, I haven’t lived with anyone since my parents, so I might be annoying or terrible or something. You have a short fuse as it is, and this seems like the perfect thing to set it off.” “You stay over all the time and you stayed with me for nearly a week when I was out with my concussion. You haven’t been that bad, darlin’,” Brayden interrupts the moment I take a small breath. “Living together is different, though. My things will be all in your space. What are we going to do with my sewing and quilting things? I have an entire room dedicated to it at my house. And—” Brayden cups my face, his thumbs pressing over my lips to shut me up. “You don’t think I haven’t considered all of that, Deanna? We’ll work it out. I’m prepared to work through anything that happens. If you move in, all you have to do is be prepared to do the same and we’ll be fine. But like I said, think on it. You don’t have to answer me right now or today.”

I shake my head because it feels as if I do. If I don’t answer him now, if I say no, what does that say about my commitment to our relationship? Especially since the idea of living with him excites me to no end? I would love to do it. Granted, I didn’t think it would happen now. And despite my concern, I can’t get this image of us together in his house with my things intermixed with his out of my head. “Yes,” I whisper, nodding to myself. “I’ll do it. I want to do it.” The most radiant smile bursts onto his face; he doesn’t try to hold back at all. He brings me close and kisses hard and carefree. The moment his tongue dives deeply into mine, I forget we’re in public with a ton of Brayden’s fans around. All that matters is this kiss that heats up my entire body and sends my heart racing. The kiss that causes my body to relax against his. All that matters is that I belong to the man behind the kiss and I couldn’t be happier about such a thing.

Warm, wet kisses along my spine that cause goosebumps to rise on my skin from the contrast to the chilly air wake me up on Christmas morning. Brayden’s hands are on my sides, pushing up my

shirt as he goes. “What are you doing?” I mumble without opening my eyes. “Holidays are special occasions, which means I wake you up in a special way.” I laugh as he moves up my back and his hands slide underneath my body to find my breasts. “What time is it?” “Early enough for you to get an early present before everyone else wakes up. Roll over.” His hands leave my breasts. He lifts himself up, and I roll over. My shirt is still hiked up from where he pushed it up, so his eyes don’t meet mine at first. I almost want to tell him no, considering we could hear his mom, but it is Christmas and I can be quiet. I want this too much anyway. Brayden dips his head to cover one of my breasts with his mouth. He jerks away when there’s a hard knock on the bedroom door. “Wakey, wakey, kids!” Perry shouts from the other side. “Big day!” Brayden groans and buries his face in my chest. “Let’s face it; sex is ruined for me.” I laugh. “We just need to go home and get away from them.” He sighs this time. “We don’t get home until nine, and then we have to get rid of the twins. I’m fucking you tonight, so please for the love of all that is good in this world, don’t be tired when we get home.” He lifts his head. There’s a tiny smile on

his face as he leans forward to give me a brief kiss before getting out of bed. He pulls on a shirt and pajama pants. He’s the only guy I’ve ever dated that doesn’t wear pajamas in the winter. I asked him about it last night; he said he gets too warm and he likes less anyway. Seems we’re alike in that manner. Dressed, Brayden holds out his hand. “Mom’s tradition growing up meant staying in pajamas all day, so let’s go.” “Let me put on a bra at least.” I’m not that comfortable around them yet to waltz around the house without a bra on. His mom is, though, because she didn’t bother with one. Perry starts a pot of coffee while the rest of us sit in the living room and I notice a few presents that weren’t there last night. “I’m so glad you came,” Maryann says, looking at Brayden. “And that you’re happy for me.” “Of course I am. You know I’ll do anything for you, Mom. Just make sure you give me a heads-up on the wedding.” Maryann laughs. “I will. I told him we didn’t need a wedding, but he changed my mind. He kept reminding me that since I’ve never been married before and I never would be again if he could help it, that I should do it.” “You should,” Brayden agrees. “I would like to pay for it.” “You can help,” Perry says as he walks back

into the room, handing a cup of coffee to Maryann before he sits next to her. “But I’m not sure if I can let you pay for it all.” Brayden nods. I half-expected him to argue, but I’m glad he doesn’t, if only to let them have their way. Maryann gets a giddy look on her face and announces it’s time for presents. She insists on being the one to pass them out. Once everyone has their gifts, she instructs Brayden to go first. I struggled over what to buy him. What do you get a man who doesn’t need anything and has everything he could want? His gifts suck, in my opinion, but I couldn’t think of anything good. I bought him ties—good ties. Every time I’ve seen him in one of his suits, he’s wearing a plain tie that’s either black, gray, or blue to coordinate with his suit. Now, he has ties with patterns and colors. When he opens this, he glances at me curiously, so I explain why I bought them. “I buy the ones I have for a reason, darlin’. I like them.” “It’s boring!” He shrugs. “I’ll wear these,” he says in such a way that I know it’s only because I bought them for him. I also registered us for a 5K this summer and added a note about how hopefully he won’t get beaten by a girl again. That makes him laugh.

Lastly, I had to tease him further by buying him a collection of karaoke CDs. He seems happy and satisfied with his gifts, so that’s good. Maryann tells me I’m next. She and Perry got me some fabric, a Michigan magnet, and this cute canvas about dogs. Brayden’s first gift to me is a key to his house with its own little keychain of a house. “You were pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” He laughs. “No. You weren’t getting that unless you said yes.” My next gift confuses me. It’s a list of destinations. “What is this?” I look at Brayden. “I want to take you on a trip in the summer. Some of those are cruises; some are simply places to go here in the States if we were to take a road trip. You’ll pick what you’d like to do and I’ll get it arranged. This is also motivation for you since you want to train a manager for the shop. This gives you a reason and a deadline.” “Thank you.” I lean over to kiss him on the cheek. Maryann is about to go next, but Perry jumps in first. I feel bad that we don’t have presents for him, but we didn’t exactly know we would be meeting him. It’s ridiculously sweet to see Maryann and him together, though. After he and Maryann have opened presents, I think it’s time for breakfast, but

Perry stands. “There’s one more gift.” He holds his hand out to Maryann. “Come with me.” We follow them outside after putting on our coats and shoes. Maryann squeals like a teenager and jumps into Perry’s arms, hugging and kissing him, while Brayden grabs my hand and nearly breaks it. Perry bought her a Corvette. It’s black with a giant red bow on it. Pretty, but Brayden doesn’t seem happy. Perry leads her over to the car, so she can get a closer look. “He can get her one, but I was forbidden?” Brayden mutters. “You can buy a car for me,” I tease, hoping he rolls his eyes or something. He doesn’t react at all. He’s too busy glaring at the car. “Just be happy for her.” “I am,” he insists as he finally looks down at me. “I’m just not happy she didn’t let me do it.” “Brayden, look!” Maryann shouts. She closes the door to the car and points at it as if it’s not an obvious addition to the driveway. “Yeah, Mom,” he says with a laugh. “I see it. It’s nice. Congrats.” She beams up a smile at Perry. We’re too far away to hear what she says, but that may be a good thing with the look on Perry’s face. They walk back to the house. I smile because Maryann keeps glancing back at the car. That is one happy woman.

The day is spent eating and watching Maryann and Perry together. They are so affectionate with one another. I’m not sure my parents were ever quite as affectionate as they are. At least, if they were, I never saw it. Maybe it depends on the couple. It’s around noon when my phone rings with a call from my father. I excuse myself to Brayden’s room to answer it. “Hey, Dad.” “Hey. I’m going to your uncle’s house today for dinner.” “Oh, that’s good, Dad.” I’ve been worried that he would spend it alone. Any time I have talked to him and casually mentioned Christmas, he ignored me. Like the thought of spending a Christmas without my mom was too hard to think about, so he wasn’t acknowledging any mention of it. “I would like for you to come with me.” My shoulders fall. He didn’t listen the last time I talked to him. I told him I was coming with Brayden to Michigan. “Dad,” I start with a soft voice. “I’m in Michigan, remember?” “Michigan? Why? What would you be doing there?” Does he not listen to me at all when I check in on him? “I’m here with Brayden, my boyfriend. You remember him, right? He asked me to come here to visit his mom, so I came. I told you this.” The line is awfully quiet for a long time before

he says, “I really wish you were here.” “I’m sorry, Dad. We’re coming home tonight; I can come see you tomorrow.” “No, it’s okay. I just miss your mother and would’ve liked to see you today. Enjoy your trip.” He hangs up without saying another word. I sit on the bed, hunch over, and cover my face with my hands. I should’ve checked in with him more, made sure he knew I was leaving, or I should’ve stayed home. Obviously, I should’ve stayed home. It’s the first Christmas without her. It’s the most difficult. Why did I think it would be okay to leave just because he would most likely go to my uncle’s? Why does he want me there anyway? He didn’t want to see me at Thanksgiving. I feel bad for feeling guilty and for wishing I didn’t feel guilty. “Deanna, what’s wrong?” I lift my head just in time to see Brayden kneel before me. “Dad didn’t listen, so he didn’t know I was here and he wanted me to go to my uncle’s with him.” He doesn’t say a word; he only wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me, which turns out to be exactly what I need. “Thank you. I’m fine now. It’s just, you know, anything with my parents is complicated and emotional. I tried to tell him I would see him tomorrow, but he acted as if he didn’t want me to

because I wasn’t there today.” I huff. “It’s not my fault he didn’t listen to me on the multiple occasions that I told him I was coming here. Right?” “Right, darlin’.” “Okay, I can’t tell if you’re saying that to please me or if you actually agree.” He gives me a small smile. “I agree with you. Why don’t you stop thinking about it altogether and come enjoy some more time with Mom and Coach? We don’t have long before they have to take us to the airport.” Brayden gives me a kiss. With it, I let go of everything in my head and forget all about Dad’s phone call.

“Otis! Where is my big fella?” Deanna laughs as he runs full speed at her. Before I can open my mouth to tell him to stop, he jumps up to put his paws on her chest. If I wasn’t standing behind her, he would’ve knocked her down because she did not brace herself at all. “Aw, hey! I missed you so much! Did they take good care of you?” She rubs behind his ears while he sniffs her incessantly as if he’s trying to determine by smell alone where she’s been and what she’s done. The twins appear. “We fed him and walked him and took good care of him,” they say simultaneously. “He’s a good dog.”

“When are you guys stopping that?” They grin. “When it stops being fun.” Cal looks at Deanna, who is still busy loving on Otis. “He didn’t eat much the first day and a half, but I think that’s because he missed you. Otherwise, everything went fine.” “Thank you so much,” Deanna says, placing his paws on the floor. “You two are the best dogsitters. How much do I owe you?” Otis finally turns his attention to me and whines for the same attention from me that Deanna just gave him. “Nothing,” they answer her. “It was enough to crash here and eat the food,” Collin adds. “And to throw a party while Hook was gone.” I glare at him, but stay silent. I highly doubt they were stupid enough to throw a party at my house. They go back and forth for a few minutes with Deanna insisting on paying them and the twins refusing any actual payment until she accepts their answer. The guys head out, Deanna walks Otis one last time for the night, and I carry our bags upstairs. It seems unbelievable to me that I’m not only in a relationship, but I’m fully committed and she’ll soon be living with me. Just because you know something is possible doesn’t mean you think it’ll actually happen or that it’ll happen anytime soon. Yet, here I am.

I’m lying in bed when Deanna comes in. My eyes follow her as she moves around the room and into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I point Otis to the spare bed I bought for him on the floor. He sulks over there like he’s in trouble. “Thank you for taking me with you. I had a lot of fun,” Deanna says as she grabs a pair of pajamas. “You don’t need those,” I tell her before she can change. She raises an eyebrow at me, but puts them back and begins to strip down. “You’re welcome, too. I’m glad you went.” “That’s only because your mom surprised you.” “No, it isn’t. I’m glad you went because I wouldn’t have wanted to spend those days off without you.” She smiles as she crawls into bed with me. Her smile widens as she realizes I’m already naked too. “Guess what?” Her nails dig into the skin of my chest, swirling in circles as she works her way down. “I’m not tired.” I grin and pull her body on top of mine. She brings her face close to mine, but doesn’t yet kiss me. “I love you,” I whisper. “A lot?” “More than a lot.” “Show me.” Her breathing shallows as my knuckles trail over her torso and I steal it completely when I lean up to capture her mouth.

I’ll show her over and over tonight just how much I love her until I’m certain she’ll never forget it.

“Start packing things up. Bring over your necessities. I’ll help you more as I can.” Deanna nods. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” She looks up from the breakfast I cooked. “I’m glad, but I can’t believe it.” “Me either. It’s one of the best kinds of surprises,” I say. She nods in agreement. “We’ll figure out how to get everything you want settled here, too. It may take some time to get it the way we like it, but we’ll rearrange whatever until you’re happy.” “I don’t want to change too much in your house,” she begins and I quickly interrupt. “You live here now, darlin’. Change whatever you’d like. As long as you tell me where to find my stuff, I won’t care.” She scoffs, obviously not believing me. “The only thing I refuse to budge on is my couch and my bed. Everything else is negotiable. I want you here more than I want my house to stay exactly the same.” That makes her smile. “How long are you gone for again?”

“We only have one game for this trip. I’ll be back Thursday.” Deanna nods. “Be sure to thank Cal and Collin for me again.” “I will.” How many times can she thank them? Which, it probably only slightly annoys me because I remember how she raved about them after watching a game once. We finish breakfast and then go our separate ways. She to work and me to my room to pack for my trip. Spending so much time with her lately makes me reluctant to leave. Which shows how deeply Deanna affects me. In the past, it didn’t bother me at all. How could it when my job easily came first, second, and third? This life with her is so much better, and I haven’t experienced living with her yet. That, I’m very excited about. To have a woman and a dog waiting for me late at night when I get home from games or after returning from trips? Best kind of life. It’s even better when it’s a woman like Deanna. I doubt life will ever be boring. “Hey.” I glance over as Collin takes the seat next to me on the plane. “Hey. What’s up? You doing okay?” He nods. “You don’t have to ask me that, you know. I feel like I should call you Dad or something for as much as you seem concerned.” I laugh. “Sorry.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I have a weird question for you. For Deanna, really.” That gets my attention. “What is it?” His leg bounces, which further puts me on alert. “I, ah, enjoyed keeping Otis.” What? “I ran with Otis in the mornings like she wanted.” When he doesn’t seem to add anything else, I say, “That’s good. What’s the question?” “Oh, right.” His voice lowers. “I felt better after running with him. I don’t want the responsibility of a dog right now, though. Would she mind if I, like, borrowed him sometimes?” “I’m sure she’ll be okay with that. She’s about to move in with me, so text me whenever you want to take him for a run.” “Thanks.” I’m all for whatever will help the kid. Apparently, he’s done with conversation now because he pulls out his phone and a pair of earbuds. I lean my head back and look out the window. My thoughts stray to Deanna and some of my teammates. Some of them were pretty quick in getting married. I don’t think Deanna and I will be. It’s an ultimate goal, but that is something I don’t want to rush at all. Moving in relatively quickly, I’m okay with. I’m confident with that happening right now. I plan to get married only once in my life. I’ve seen and heard too many horror stories about marriages

going sour and divorces turned worse than ugly. No, thanks. I want no part of that. Deanna and I will take our sweet time going down that road. Because once we start on it, I don’t want us turning back or dividing to go our separate ways. Aside from that, I think it’ll be a while before Deanna is ready for something like that. She was caught completely off guard by my wanting her to live with me. She’d likely faint if, within the next year or two, I asked her to marry me. Hell, she might run away. Okay, so I don’t think she’d actually run, but I think she’d say not yet at the very least. Once she moves in, it’ll be slow going for us. It’ll be the best kind of slow going, too. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be in a relationship as much as I do now. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want Deanna. And I want her as much as I’ve wanted my career all these years. It actually feels nice to have both. We soon land and get settled into the hotel. We don’t technically have anything on the agenda today, but a volleyball game is on the unofficial schedule. There’s a gym next door to the hotel, which includes a volleyball court. Scotty and I are captains of teams and we alternate choosing players for our teams. Despite my personal judgment, I pick Marco and Zane to be on my team. Better to have Marco

on my team to chirp the opponent than to be the one he’s annoying. I pick Zane because I figure with everything that’s happened, it’ll be good to keep working together. Things haven’t been smooth, and they need to be. The utter look of shock on his face confirms that he never thought I’d pick him, which just adds on to the fact that it was a decision I needed to make. The game starts with a serve by EJ, who is obviously on my team. As a friend and since I know he’s great at volleyball, the latter of which was most important, he was my first pick. The ball sails through the air, back and forth over the net, while guys from each side talk trash. God save us all when Marco spikes the ball, earns us a point, and celebrates for five minutes afterward. It probably wouldn’t have lasted so long had Noah not been the one to have the ball hit the ground in front of him. “Keep on, Marco,” Rams says, “and you’ll pull a muscle celebrating. You won’t be laughing then.” Marc rolls his eyes and tosses the ball to Zane, who is up to serve. We have a good game. We win, of course, but no one brags as much as Marc. It doesn’t matter. The point was to get the guys together for some fun, and we did that. We’ll be in a good mood for the game tomorrow. Once I make it back to my hotel room, I call Deanna.

“Tell me,” she demands when she answers. If it wasn’t for how often that command has been used between us since the first time I said it, I wouldn’t know what she’s talking about. But I do. “I love you.” “I love you too. Today has been hectic. The shop has been insanely busy for some reason and on top of that, someone clogged our toilet so bad, it flooded the bathroom. The plumber is here working on things now. I’m ready to go home. See what happens when you leave me, Brayden?” I laugh. “I’m sorry. If I was there, I’d take you into your office and finally make your fantasy come true.” She snorts. “Yeah, right. Mr. Tightwad, who doesn’t want to do anything unless we’re safe and sound at home, would not voluntarily have sex with me in my office.” “You could convince me; you always do.” I practically hear her smile and the pride in her voice as she says, “That’s true. Maybe next time you stop by then. How has your day been?” “Fine. We landed, played some volleyball, and are relaxing for a bit before the team goes to dinner.” Someone calls her name in the background. It takes her two seconds to say, “Brayden, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. Have fun tonight and we’ll talk later. Love you.”

“Love you too, darlin’.” She hangs up without another word to deal with her mess back home.

In the first period, Zane makes a hit on someone. It’s a hard hit that riles up the home crowd and pisses them off, especially since their player leaves the period early. He returns for the second and third to play. But that one hit seems to spur a higher energy not only in the crowd, but within the players of both teams. We have no choice but to react to their energy. We need to match it and keep playing our game to stay in it. It is a tight race. Momentum swings back and forth easily, but we win, thanks to a goal assisted by Z. The crowd is not happy. They are vocal tonight, particularly with Z. He is booed every time he does anything on the ice. So, afterward, when EJ and I find out he’s spending time at the bar across the street, EJ says, “We need to check on him.” He walks through the lobby without waiting to see if I follow along. “I have a bad feeling, Brayden,” he adds as we cross the street. That doesn’t make me feel good at all, considering how he is about listening to his gut. Turns out, he has reason to have a bad feeling.

We walk into the bar to find a fan of the other team, easily known thanks to his jersey, swaying on his feet and standing before Zane. He cusses and makes comments about how Zane’s hit was dirty. And Zane, the idiot, argues back with a beer in his hand. “You weren’t on the ice, so keep your fucking opinions to yourself. Or grab a stick and play.” That apparently pisses the fan off and he’s a step closer to Zane. Now, they both run their mouths at each other. I grab Z’s arm and yank him a few steps back from the guy. He glares when he sees it’s me. The fan continues to go on and on about the hit and how now we’re rescuing Zane. To EJ, I say, “Make sure his tab is paid. We’ll meet you at the hotel.” To Zane, I say only one word. “Disengage.” After putting his beer down on a random table, I drag him out of the bar. He yanks his arm away halfway out. “Don’t you know you don’t pull that shit?” I ask once we’re outside. “Why do you even care?” “Because he was clearly plastered. What if you pissed him off enough that he decided to hit you? You don’t argue with fans. You should know better than to egg him on.” He stares straight ahead as we cross the street. “That doesn’t answer my question.” “You’re my teammate; I’ll have your back no

matter what. That should be obvious. I don’t know why you would think otherwise.” He turns his head to look at me. “Yes, you do.” Deanna. Right. Of course. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have my back?” He hesitates in answering as we walk into the lobby. “On the ice, of course. Off it?” I can’t help but chuckle at his uncertainty. If the roles were reversed, I can’t say I’d be certain I would feel the same as I do now. “Your history with her or the fact that you’ve texted her since or talked to her at the bar,” his eyes widen since he apparently thought I didn’t know about the latter two things, “doesn’t change the fact that you’re my teammate and we have to work together.” Z shakes his head. “You’re better at pushing things aside than I am.” I laugh. “No, I just focus on what I can control, that kind of thing.” Two girls walk in, glance our way, and giggle to one another on their way to the check-in desk. “Maybe that’s what I need to focus on,” he comments. I don’t say anything. That’s not for me to decide or to encourage. EJ walks in and Zane nods at us both. “Thanks for saving my ass.” I shrug and EJ leaves him with a, “No big deal.” We head toward the elevators while Zane hangs out in the lobby. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s to talk to those girls.

“Hey, Dad.” Otis and I stand a few feet away from the door where Deanna stands in front of her dad. We’re at her house, packing, and all of a sudden, there’s a knock on the door. “Hey.” His gaze flicks to Otis and me. “Am I interrupting something?” “Not really. We’re packing because I’m moving in with Brayden. That’s him, by the way. Do you want to come in? We’re due for a break.” “I would like to speak to you for a moment if that’s okay.” “Yeah, sure.” She leads him into the kitchen, throwing a quizzical look my way. Otis gives up and wanders in there, but I stay put to eavesdrop. He hasn’t exactly been father of the year since her mother died. What’s so wrong with being on standby just in case he upsets her? “Sorry for popping in like this, Deanna, but I didn’t want to wait.” “That’s okay, Dad. What is it? Is everything okay?” “No. I’m sorry for treating you like I have since your mother’s death. We had been together so long and suddenly, she was gone. I didn’t know how to

react; I still feel like I don’t. Not having you there at Christmas hurt, but I realize I should’ve listened better, too. I also realize that we never quite had a good relationship and,” he pauses for a moment, “lord help me, but I blame your mother for that. I allowed her to rub off on me. Your mother dying and reading those diaries of hers made me realize, too, that I didn’t know her nor you as well as I thought I did. She’s gone now and there’s not much I can do but miss her. But with you?” He sounds choked up now. “I hope we can get to know one another better. And I can get to know that boyfriend of yours.” “Of course, Dad,” Deanna quickly agrees. “We’ll all have dinner sometime soon.” “Great. That’s great. Okay, well, I best be going. I don’t want to interfere with your day.” Footsteps quickly follow his words and he frowns when he sees me in the same spot as before, but I don’t care. Deanna says goodbye to him and then he’s gone. She turns to me with a smile on her face. “Can you believe that? I’m assuming you heard?” “I did. You look happy.” “I am. A little skeptical, but happy.” “Good. I’m happy for you.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s get back to work.” Not thirty minutes later does she stop packing.

“This will take forever,” Deanna complains with a groan as she plops onto her bed. “I don’t want to move anymore.” I laugh. “Too bad. We’re doing this.” All we’re doing so far is packing the things she’ll need to take to my house while also discussing what she wants to get rid off. “Hey, do you rent or own this place?” I can’t believe I hadn’t thought to ask before now. “Rent. I didn’t want to buy simply because I didn’t want to have to fix things that broke. If I rent, the landlord has to do it. I wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.” Makes sense. She lies on the bed for another five minutes, looking around the room and shaking her head, while I continue to pack her clothes. “This is a lot of work.” “Which I’m currently doing alone,” I point out. “How did I get all of this shit anyway? When I moved in, all I had was this bed and three boxes of clothes.” “Deanna.” She needs to get up and help. “This is a big deal, Brayden.” Her voice turns soft. She glances around the room as if she can’t believe what she’s doing. Tossing the clothes in my hand into the box, I walk over to sit next to her and take her hand. “Yes, it’s a big deal. You still want to do it, don’t you?” Deanna quickly snaps her gaze to mine. “Yes,

of course. I just...can’t believe I’m doing it. I can’t believe I’ve lived on my own for all of these years with no help from my family. That I struggled until I could make it work. That I’ve had so much fun. That I liked living alone more than I thought I would. I was scared at first, you know? What if I got lonely? What if I couldn’t make ends meet? That kind of thing worried me for a long time when I first moved here. “And now, I’m leaving this place to live with someone other than my parents for the first time. To live with a man for the first time. Now I have to figure out how all of that works without messing up too much or too badly.” She takes a big breath. “This is huge.” It’s like the enormity of what we’re doing has grown by three and suddenly hit her. I squeeze her hand and lift it to kiss her knuckles. “Huge and great. It won’t be perfect. Things haven’t been so far and they won’t be in the future.” She frowns at this. “But look at us, darlin’,” I insist quietly. “Still here, still together. Life doesn’t have to be mistake-free for us to last.” “I know. Thank you for reassuring me, but I promise I don’t actually need it. I’m just overwhelmed at the moment, especially with all that has to be done.” “We’re in no rush. How much time is left on your lease?” “Two months.”

“So, we have two long months to get everything settled. But we certainly aren’t getting anything accomplished by sitting here.” I smile when she rolls her eyes at me. “All right. Let’s do this. But under one condition.” She sets her phone onto a small stereo system. Music starts to play and she faces me. “You have to sing to me.” “Oh, come on.” “Do you want me to help?” “It’s your fucking shit.” She shrugs as if that doesn’t matter anyway. I grab the pillow and throw it at her, which earns me a growl from Otis. “Fine. Just remember that you’re not always getting your way in the future.” “Mhm,” she hums. She has gotten her way a lot, if not all, of the time. Yet I haven’t complained once. Why would I? It keeps her happy, and it for damn sure makes me happy. Deanna can have whatever she wants. She wiggled into my life, revived lifelong doubts, erased those doubts, helped me relax, and then had me fall in love with her. I’m thankful to have her in my life, especially during my concussion and finding out about Coach Hall. Deanna might drive me a little crazy at times, but she can also ground me. That’s important. And now, she’s moving in. I’m sure it’s going to

be a crazy, but fun experience. It is a huge step; she’s absolutely right about that. Neither of us should have any concerns, though. As long as we go all in, it’ll be worth our while, and I have no doubts that we’ll do just that.

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Acknowledgements Thank you, Kristalyn Thornock. I hope the day never comes where I work on a book without you! Thank you, Angie Wells, for being a beta reader for me! I very much appreciate your help. Thank you, Shannon Page, for editing my work. I enjoy working with you. Thank you, Robin from Wicked by Design, for a great cover and for being great to work with. Thank you, Julie from JT Formatting. You are the best! Thank you, reader, for taking the time to read this story. I'm able to do what I love because of you, your support, and your love of reading

Lindsay Paige is the author of multiple Young Adult, New Adult, and Sports romances. She also enjoys writing books with characters who deal with anxiety and depression, issues which are close to her heart. Lindsay is a North Carolinian who loves watching hockey, sharing puns, having conversations with her miniature Schnauzer, rewatching episodes of MASH, and living her dream of writing books for a living.

If you would like to hear news before anyone else, interact with Lindsay, and have a place to discuss her books with fellow fans, join Lindsay’s League on Facebook. Author Links: Website: lindsaypaige.com Twitter: twitter.com/lindsaypaige11 Facebook: facebook.com/authorlindsaypaige Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/lindsaysleague/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlindsaypaige/

Lindsay has written the following books/series: Bending Under Pressure Bold as Love series Bracing for Love series Carolina Rebels series Don’t Panic Sanity series Without a Doubt You Before Me She has cowritten the following series: The Penalty Kill Trilogy Oh Captain, My Captain series The Ninth Inning series

Coming Soon Stay tuned because the next Rebel to get a book will be EJ Bertuzzi! Lindsay Paige is also launching a new New Adult Romance series, which will start with a character you may already know. Logan, Sydney’s stepbrother from Us at First and It’s Our Time, will kick off her new series. The first book should release in early 2018.