Love Is Everything (Love Is #3) - Abby Brooks

LOVE IS EVERYTHING

ABBY BROOKS

LITTLE BIRD PUBLISHING, LLC

CONTENTS Copyright Dedication Connect with Abby Brooks Also by Abby Brooks Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 26. Epilogue Also by Abby Brooks

Copyright © 2016 by Abby Brook All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum

For my Bill. My crazy, beautiful, everything.

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ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic) What Happened in Vegas (Dakota & Dominic’s Wedding) Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max) Blissed Out (Chelsea & Max’s Wedding) Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)

CHAPTER ONE

I MIGHT BE A LITTLE DRUNK. Okay, wait. There’s a pretty good chance I’m more than a little drunk. Scratch that. I am most definitely drunk. I stare at my sister Chelsea over the rim of my massive margarita glass as I take a long drink. She, of course, looks stunning. Her shoulder-length blonde hair gleams in the flashing lights careening around the dance floor here at Aura—the hottest nightclub in Cincinnati, just ask anyone. She runs a hand over her pregnant belly and bobs her head to the throbbing music. “You having fun?” she asks, leaning in, elbows on the table, yelling to be heard. “I mean how can you not have fun at Aura, right?” “Sure,” I say while I try to blend the two Chelsea’s dancing in front of me into one Chelsea. Damn tequila. “As long as you’re not getting accosted in the bathroom.” Which actually happened to her last year. Like, full on sexual assault with press releases and police officers and everything. Needless to say, it shocked me when she agreed to come here with me tonight. And speaking of shocking things, I can’t believe I even suggested this place when she asked me if I wanted to go out. I’m not a ‘hang out at the club’ kind of girl. My sister frowns at me. “Maya…” She finishes my name with a sigh and tilts her head to the side, her eyes filled with sadness and judgement. “There it is,” I say, lifting my eyebrows. “The ‘totally disapproving big sister’ look.” I waggle my finger at her and try to look equally disapproving. I fail, of

course. Miserably. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. “We came here to cheer you up.” Chelsea glances at our younger sister, Dakota, and then points down to her own little baby bump. “This isn’t exactly high on my list of places to spend a Friday night what with the not being allowed to drink alcohol and being exhausted all the time and all the wonderful things that come with being pregnant.” I swirl my straw in the glass, staring across the table at Chelsea. “Well. Then. Maybe it’s you who needs a little cheering up.” And there it is again. The ‘totally even more disapproving older sister’ look. Dakota slaps the table and flashes me her thousand-watt smile. “Come on. Lighten up. I think it’s time to have some fun.” “You know what?” I take a drink and blink furiously as the world swims a little more out of focus. “Fuck my life.” “Maya…” Chelsea glances at Dakota. “No. For real. I hate everything about it.” I put down my margarita and lean in. “I hate my tiny little apartment and my sensible car. I hate that I’m drowning in student loans but still feel obligated to maintain a perfect credit score. I hate that I can’t quite bring myself to hate my job because sometimes I’m the only thing standing between a child and … you know …” I wave my hands in the air, trying to catch the right word. “Death.” “Maya…” Both my sisters speak in unison. I hold up a finger. “No. Hear me out. Do you have a single clue how hard it is to come out of surgery and tell parents who have put their hope and faith in me saving their kid … the tiny little person they made out of their love for each other…” I pause and scour my poor tequila-flooded brain for the right words. “The one single thing they love most in this world…” I shake my head, getting sad just thinking about it. “Do you know what it’s like to come out of surgery only to have to tell someone their child isn’t going to live anymore?” Chelsea’s hands go to her belly, instinctively protecting her unborn child from the drunken surgeon drooping over her margarita across the table. “Yeah,” she says. “But how many times have you been the only reason those parents are going to get to see their child again? You’ve only ever lost one, right? And that was years ago.” I shake my head. “You only need to lose one to know that you never want to do that again.” And there’s the thing. I’m not even out of my residency. The chances are high that at some point in my career, I will lose another patient. I want to love surgery. I really do. But, even though I’m good at what I do, the honest truth is that I only went into medicine to please my parents. In an attempt to make some mark on my life that felt like my own, I specialized in pediatric surgery because I wanted to make a difference. No one prepared me for the times when the difference I made wasn’t a good one. Chelsea looks at me sadly. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”

I wait for her to give me all the reasons I should be happy. Knowing Chelsea, she probably has it all printed out in a list—alphabetized and filled with bullet points— and is just waiting for a chance to whip it out of her purse. It’s probably a bad sign that she’s just sitting there, swiping at the condensation on her glass, looking at me with what might be pity. “That’s bad, isn’t it?” I ask Dakota. Dakota polishes off her whiskey and stares sadly into the bottom of her glass. “What? That the whiskey is gone and I have to fight my way through the crowd to get to the bar?” She makes an exaggerated sad face. “Yeah. That’s bad.” “No, jerk face,” I say. “I’m talking about the fact that Chelsea hasn’t started into her list of a hundred reasons why my life is fine and I shouldn’t feel so bad about things.” Dakota looks from me to Chelsea and then back again. “Yeah. That’s probably a bad sign.” And then she’s off, navigating her way through the crowd towards the bar in search of more whiskey. Dakota is this tiny little thing with one hell of a massive personality. Instead of having to zig and zag her way through the crowd, a path just magically appears in front of her. Anyone else would have to turn sideways to get past people and apologize and reroute. Not Dakota. She’s always made her own way. I know I’m being a total downer tonight. Maybe it’s time for me to try and be a little more fun, especially since Chelsea and Dakota came out specifically to help me feel better. But that’s the thing. How can they make me feel better when there isn’t one specific thing that’s gone wrong in my life? I’ve just been in a funk ever since Chelsea’s wedding for no discernible reason. Well, no. That’s not completely true. I’ve been seriously questioning every life choice I’ve made for the better part of the last decade and discovering that almost all of them have been bad. I guess that’s a pretty discernible reason to be in a funk. Chelsea puts a hand on my arm. “What do you want, Maya?” That’s one hell of weird question all out of the blue like that. And she looks so very serious. Like, so serious that something tells me this is a conversation I’m going to want to avoid. “Right now what I want is another margarita.” I swirl my straw around in my glass and slurp down the last of it. “I probably should have gone with Dakota.” Chelsea shakes her head and the look on her face tells me that we’re about to have a Very Serious Conversation whether I want to or not. “That’s not what I mean,” she says. “What do you want? What would make you happy?” Hell, no. We’re not getting into that. Not here. Not tonight. Not ever. Because I’m so far away from happy that I couldn’t even begin to tell her what I want. The answer is simple: I don’t know what I want. “Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s a question that definitely requires more alcohol.” Without waiting for her to reply, I stand and run away, trying to follow the path Dakota made. Instead of having the crowd part before me like they did for

her, I end up having to push past people, turning sideways to slip behind them and apologizing when I inevitably bump into someone. When I get to the bar, I don’t find Dakota. Instead, I find this Adonis of a man, his blonde hair long and falling into his face, partly obscuring his chiseled features but doing absolutely nothing to hide one sexy set of dimples. Not only is his smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial—with his perfectly white and perfectly straight teeth—but he’s got dimples. Oh hell, I am such a sucker for dimples. His white button down shirt exposes just enough of a massive chest to make you want to run your hands up it, grab a handful, and squeeze. He’s got the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up, showing off the tattoos that snake up his arms—his strong, powerful, ridiculously muscled arms. We’re talking thick, corded forearms that I can’t tear my eyes away from and damn if he’s not wearing a watch. I have a thing for men with dimples wearing watches. He’s like a super hero dressed like a movie star wrapped up in a full on dose of hot and sexy. Everything about him screams off limits for me. He’s fun and dangerous and looks like he just doesn’t give a shit about what anyone says or thinks about him. His smile comes quickly and easily and he uses it like a weapon, tossing it at the women around him and watching them melt. Of course, when I say women I actually mean the supermodels hanging on his every word. Tall blonde things who know how to toss their hair and lean in all flirtatiously, giggling and batting their eyelashes. He looks up and our eyes lock. It’s like, I don’t know, this charge of electricity surges through my body. I forget to breathe. I think my heart forgets to beat. There’s just this moment of him and me looking at each other and then he raises his glass, smiles—damn, those dimples!—and tosses back a drink. I return the smile, try to toss my hair the way the supermodels next to him have been doing, and manage to knock myself off balance. Thank goodness the bartender shows up with my drink so I don’t have to watch the sex god at the end of the bar laugh at the chunky brunette as she stumbles in her heels. And by chunky brunette, I mean me. I pay for my margarita and try not to glance at the man who is so out of my league it’s funny, failing miserably of course. How could I not look at him? He’s everything. One of his blonde models has her hand on his arm and he’s leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She looks equal parts shocked and excited by what he said. I sigh and push off the bar just in time to see his eyes flicker my way. A tingle of wonderfulness shoots through my body as I wander back towards my sisters, imagining his eyes on my ass the whole way. Not that it’s a particularly nice ass. And not that I’m exactly walking in the straightest of lines. But whatever. He looked and I saw it and I liked it, so there. Chelsea and Dakota are laughing when I get back to the table, both of them looking so ridiculously happy I could just about puke with jealousy. They each found the man of their dreams last year. I’m talking fairy tale ending kind of stuff with perfect happily ever afters. Like winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning

or something equally as impossible. The kind of thing that would happen to Chelsea and Dakota, but never to me. Maya, the invisible London sister. Sandwiched between perfect Chelsea and spunky Dakota. “You know what I want?” I ask, interrupting their conversation. “I wanna do something irresponsible. I’m so over worrying about what I should do and what I’m supposed to do. I wanna just let go, you know?” Chelsea’s pretty face erupts into a smile. “Yes.” She leans in. “Start listening to your heart instead of your head.” Dakota slaps my arm. “I live my whole life like that. I wholly recommend it.” “I’m tired of worrying about being good and I’m tired of worrying about consequences.” I frown as I realize just how hard it is to say that word. Con-sequen-ces. Who the fuck can even say that? “I just want to let go and live,” I say and take a long drink of my margarita and think of the sex god at the bar. The tattoos and the long hair would normally be enough to completely turn me off from him because, clearly, he is not a man who operates inside the rules. But you know what? Fuck the rules. “Exactly,” says Dakota. She raises her glass and I do the same. We look to Chelsea who doesn’t look quite as enthusiastic as she raises her water to clink against our adult beverages of choice. Maybe she can see what’s in my mind. Maybe she can see that man with his muscles and dimples and maybe she knows exactly how badly I want to run my hands all over that body and then lick him from head to toe. “You know what I need?” I ask after we each take a drink. “Something sexy. Something unscripted. I need something I’ve never done before.” I swear, I couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if I tried. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the song that had been blaring over the speakers at Aura ends and in that moment of silence, the crowds part just enough to show a direct line of sight to the man at the bar. It’s as if the universe itself is agreeing with me. Saying: ‘Yes, Maya. You do need something sexy. And here he is. Do him.’ He doesn’t see me. He’s still talking to those supermodels who are basically climbing onto his dick right here and now. You’d think that his choice in company would be another huge turn off, but it only goes to prove exactly how perfect he is. I’m not looking for anything permanent and clearly, neither is he. I just want something superficial and from what I can tell, he’s more than fine with that. This Greek god with his muscles and tattoos and bad boy hair is absolutely the worst possible choice for me and that makes him one hundred percent perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

FUCK ME. I AM SO BORED. THESE CHICKS WITH ME TONIGHT ARE HOT ENOUGH BUT, DAMN. I DON’T CARE how gourmet your chef is. If he made the same meal every day you’d get fucking tired of it eventually. I know I could have any of these women the very minute I make my mind up over which one I want. Shit. Let’s get real. I don’t even have to decide. It wouldn’t take more than another drink or two and I could have all three of them at the same time. And of course, what’s better than one piece of ass? Three pieces of ass. So what if I can’t really stand listening to them talk? Once I get them riding my dick, I’ll forget about how much they drive me crazy because I’ll be too busy driving them crazy. I only have to pretend to care about what they’re saying long enough to get them to want to leave the club with me. And let’s be real. They’re already there. I just have to say the word. And then, out of the blue, I find myself staring across the bar at the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a long time. Long cappuccino-colored hair I can’t wait to run my hands through. Soulful brown eyes. Bright red lipstick I’d love to see staining my cock. There’s something so real about her. The blondes beside me are hot, but I bet it takes them hours to get there. This brunette? She just is what she is. And she’s captivating. “Hudson,” whines blonde number one. I think her name is Tara. Or Tina. “You weren’t even listening to me, were you?” I tear my eyes away from the woman at the bar. “Nope,” I say and shoot Tara/Tina my best grin. There isn’t a woman on earth who can resist my dimples.

Sure enough, I watch her frustration melt away and she puts a hand on my arm. “I said…” I zone out again as she blathers on because I really could care less about what she has to say. They all pretend to care about me, but I know the truth. They don’t see who I am any more than I see who they are. What they see is a professional football player with a million-dollar paycheck and a body that makes them squirm. And what I see is a hot piece of ass to stick my dick in for the night. Except when I look at the brunette. She’s so different from the kind of woman I would normally go after, but I’m seriously considering ditching Tara/Tina and the other two and going off to find her. She might not have anything better to say than these other women, but at least she’s managed to capture my attention. And that’s saying something. Blonde number two runs her hand up my inner thigh, coming dangerously close to my dick. “What are you thinking about, baby?” she purrs. I sit back and study her from head to toe, smiling as I do it. I may be a player, but I’m no jerk. I like the women I’m with to feel special while we’re together. “Things that would make you blush.” “I doubt that,” she says while the other two giggle. “I don’t blush all that easily.” I have a feeling that’s more true than I’d like to believe. Something tells me this chick has had her fair share of mornings where she woke up alone and confused in a stranger’s bed. I study the crowd over her shoulder, looking for that brunette without even realizing it. Fuck, those red lips. The things I’d do to a mouth like that. And that body. So full and curvy, her waist tucking in over the swell of her hips and a pair of tits that are begging for my touch. I have officially lost all interest in Tara/Tina and her desperate little friends. These women are easy prey. A guaranteed lay. I mean, shit, I bet I could talk one of them into climbing onto my dick right here at the bar. Anything for a little slice of my fame, right? Tonight, I’m in the mood for someone a little harder to get. Someone more worthy of what I have to offer. Someone who’s going to make me work for what they have to offer. If I liked things just handed to me on a silver platter, I don’t think I’d be where I am today. I’ve had to work my ass off to get to where I am. I pushed hard through high school to maintain my grades and be the best I could possibly be on the field and earn myself a college scholarship since my parents sure as hell couldn’t afford it. And then pushed again through college so I could earn myself a first round draft pick. And now, I’ll keep on pushing until I get a contract with a team that’s a Super Bowl contender. All I ask of myself is that I’m better today than I was yesterday. That might sound easy, but some days it means that I’ve had to push really fucking hard. And it’s that kind of attitude that got me that first round draft pick. Sure, it was to the Bengals. Not necessarily my dream team, but that only means I have room to grow. And sure, my first season wasn’t exactly stellar since I ruptured my Achilles

tendon in the pre-season and had to work my ass off to get it rehabbed in time to even get on the field at all. I pushed too hard. Landed myself back in physical therapy because I went back too soon, but fuckin’-A, it was worth it. I stand, surprising the blondes. “Well ladies,” I say, flashing them a smile and making sure they get a good look at the dimples. “It’s been nice, but I’m gonna head out.” They pout in unison and close in on me like a bunch of hyenas. “But we were having such a good time.” “The night’s still young.” “We could always go find some place more private.” They all speak at the same time, and I don’t know—or care—who said what. I kiss them each on the cheek and squeeze at least one of their asses and then I take off through the crowd. I can feel their eyes on me. Can feel the confusion and disappointment. I’m sure they thought they were in for one hell of a good time tonight. What can I say? They had it in the bag until that brunette showed up. Now she’s all I want. I head towards the dance floor because I’ll have the best chance of finding my mystery woman there. Of course, the whispers of that’s Hudson Knox follow me. People smile my way, hoping I’ll stop and talk. I flash them a grin and keep moving. Last year I would have stopped and enjoyed their attention because there’s no feeling in the world like being recognized. But you only need to run into a handful of crazy people to figure out it’s better to just keep right on walking. The brunette’s nowhere to be found. She’s not on the dance floor. She’s not at the bar. She’s not at any of the tables. Shit. Maybe I should have stayed with the blondes because, easy or not, at least I’d be going home with someone. Well, several someones. Did I really just step away from a threesome in the hopes that I’d get to fuck this mystery brunette? This mystery brunette I can’t even find? I turn back towards Tara/Tina and the blondes, my dick jumping to life at the thought of having all three of them naked in my bed. And then I see her. The brunette with the red lipstick. All thoughts of anyone else go flying from my mind. She’s sitting with two other women and I can’t even take my eyes off her long enough to see who they are. My cock reminds me that I could still have my threesome tonight, but I’m not listening. Threesome or not, I want her.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT?” I ASK, FINALLY CIRCLING BACK TO ANSWER CHELSEA’S QUESTION FROM earlier. Dakota turns her head to one side, considering. “A hot man in a loin cloth that feeds you grapes while you lay by the pool?” I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. “Will he also be fanning me with palm fronds?” “Of course not. His hands will be full of grapes, silly. That’s what the other guys will be for.” Dakota leans into Chelsea who shakes her head and sips her water. “Yes,” I say. “I very much want that. Without a doubt. But that’s not what I was thinking about right now.” Chelsea perks up. “That’s what I’m thinking about right now, thank you very much. Damn preggo hormones keep me pretty much constantly turned on.” I ball up one of the little cocktail napkins and roll it between my hands. “I don’t know if you need to be pregnant to find hot men in loin cloths appealing.” Dakota sips her whiskey and studies my face like she’ll find the secret of what I’m thinking hiding somewhere in my eyes. “Um … okay. I’ve got it. You’re thinking about a hot prince who will whisk you away to his castle and make you do really, really dirty things to him.” I think for a second. “Like Christian Grey in Fifty Shades or Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones?” Chelsea laughs and watches while Dakota purses her lips and squints her eyes. “Imagine a combination of the two.” “Dang,” says Chelsea and fans herself. “Now I’ve got that up there sharing

headspace with pool boys in loin cloths. You guys are killing me!” I look at my sisters incredulously. “Geez guys. And here I thought you were happily married.” “Oh, I am,” says Dakota. “And I’ve got my own special Christian Grey/Khal Drogo combo waiting for me tonight.” Her eyes get all dreamy and I try not to gag. Dakota’s husband is great; I just don’t believe that kind of love is in the cards for me. Chelsea nods. “Me too. But…” She flares her hands over her swollen belly. “You know, the whole pregnancy thing kind of gets in the way.” Dakota looks shocked. “You can totally have sex when you’re pregnant!” “Oh, I know. I just constantly feel disgusting even though Max swears I’m more beautiful than ever.” She grimaces. “It’s such a curse. I’m turned on all day long and too self-conscious about being naked to do anything about it.” I take a drink of my margarita. “It’s been so long since I’ve had someone touch me that I forget what it feels like to be turned on. Or self-conscious about being naked.” My sisters grimace in unison, this horrific look of pity and compassion all rolled into one. “You know what?” I say and take another drink. “I’ve decided something.” I’m as surprised by my statement as they are because I didn’t even know I’d decided on anything until I said something about it. “Okay.” Dakota sets her drink down and leans in. “This sounds serious. Hit us with it.” I also set my drink down and lean in, going for as much dramatic effect as I possibly can. “I’m going to have a one-night stand.” I brace myself for the inevitable objections. Nothing. Not one exclamation. Not one gasp in surprise. Neither of my sisters even bother to tell me it’s a bad idea. “Wow, guys.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. “Thanks so much for worrying about my well-being.” Chelsea glances at Dakota who shrugs her tiny little shoulders. “We are worried about your well-being.” “So then why aren’t you making a bigger deal out of this? Trying to talk me out of it?” Dakota swipes her glass off the table and leans back in her chair. “Maybe you need to let go a little. Stop living by everyone else’s rules and go a little crazy.” I wait for Chelsea to contradict Dakota but she just shakes her head. “It’d be good for you.” “A one-night stand would be good for me?” I’m shocked. I don’t even know if I want to have a one-night stand. I just wanted to get a rise out of them. Get the thought out of my head so I could stop feeling so

darn sorry for myself. I didn’t for one moment think that they were going to think this was a good idea. “Sure,” says Dakota. “If you do it right.” “And pray tell, just how do you do it right?” I wanted to sound skeptical and condescending, but I’m kind of curious so that totally ruined the effect I was going for. “I was under the impression that the only right answer to a one-night stand was to feel ashamed in the morning and promise never to do it again.” Dakota shakes her head. “You’re on the pill, right?” I nod. “Of course.” Dakota studies her fingernails. “Well, you pick a guy that you’re sure you’ll never see again. One who totally turns you on but you’re sure you’re not going to want for more than one night, then you make a big deal about going down on him with the lights on so you can see if he’s got anything gross going on down there…” She scrunches up her face and waggles her fingers while Chelsea laughs. “And then you make sure he wears a condom in case he’s got something you can’t see.” “You sound way too comfortable with this technique,” Chelsea says through her laughter. “I may have had some intense conversations with some of the other female bartenders when I worked at the Bad Apple.” “Sure,” says Chelsea. “And you never tried out this technique for yourself. Not once. Not ever.” The sarcasm is strong in my sister. Dakota lifts her eyebrows and shrugs. “Well, I couldn’t recommend it for my darling sister if I wasn’t sure it worked…” “Dakota!” Chelsea looks shocked and Dakota slaps her on the arm. “Why did you hit me?” “For getting all judgmental older sister on me.” “I did no such thing.” Dakota turns to me. “She totally got judgmental on me. You saw it.” I just stare at them, shaking my head. “Guys,” I say. “I think we’re missing the point here. You know, the point where you two were busy telling me it’s okay that I want to pick some totally random hot guy and talk him into having meaningless sex with me.” My sisters’ jaws drop in unison and for just a second I think it’s because they’re finally feeling shocked by me wanting a one-night stand. But then I realize they’re not actually staring at me. They’re looking over my shoulder, at something just behind me. Chelsea is the first to recover. “Hey, Hudson. Crazy seeing you here.” I spin in my seat and wouldn’t you fucking know it. Standing right behind me is the Greek god with the long hair, tattoos, and the dimples that would make any woman melt. My jaw drops as he glances at me, this look of utter hilarity dancing in his eyes. Kill me. Kill me, now. “Hey Chelsea,” says the vision of sexiness behind me. “I didn’t think I’d see you

here after what happened last year.” “It’s not Aura’s fault that your friend is a sleaze-bag,” she says as she gets up to give the man a hug. How is it that my sister even knows this guy? “That’s true.” He pulls Chelsea into a delicate hug, careful of her belly. “You sure this is the best place for you, given your condition?” “I’m pregnant, Knox. Not dying.” He flares his hands and shakes his head. “Can’t help it if I’m protective of the people that matter to me.” Chelsea sits back down and offers Hudson the seat next to me. “I didn’t know I mattered that much to you.” He pulls the chair back and sits. He’s close enough that I can smell just a hint of his cologne. The blush that settled into my cheeks when I discovered him behind me deepens, rushing down my throat and onto my chest. “My career is in your hands, London. Of course you matter to me.” Hudson flashes a grin at me and I look away. I can’t handle someone this hot being this close to me, especially not after he snuck up on me talking about meaningless sex with a stranger. And by stranger, I mean him. Because let’s be real here. I haven’t gotten him out of my mind since I saw him. “Oh, I see,” says Chelsea to Hudson. “Of course you don’t care about me for me. It’s all about what I can do for you.” They laugh like old friends while I gape at my sister. Part of me is furious that she hasn’t introduced us and another part of me is grateful that I’m getting a chance to get myself under control before she brings his focus back to me. Dakota catches my eye and arches an eyebrow, biting her lip. That’s sister code for hey! I just found a hot guy for you to have meaningless sex with! I widen my eyes and shake my head, sister code for don’t you dare say anything to embarrass me in front of this hot guy I want to have meaningless sex with! “So, are you going to introduce me to these gorgeous ladies or are we just going to keep on ignoring them and being rude as all hell?” Hudson looks from me to Dakota and I don’t know if I like it better with his attention on me or my sister. Chelsea shakes her head. “These are my sisters, Dakota and Maya.” She points to each of us in turn. “Girls, this is Hudson Knox, most irritating patient I have ever had to suffer through.” Chelsea is a physical therapist and works with a lot of the professional athletes in the area. That would explain this guy’s size. He’s probably a football player. Dakota extends a hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she says almost formally, very out of character for my disco ball of a sister. Hudson turns to me as soon as he lets go of Dakota’s hand, throwing an arm up on the back of his chair. “Maya, huh? Now that’s a beautiful name.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Dakota signaling frantically to Chelsea and Chelsea shaking her head just as frantically. For all my talk and bravado earlier, I’m frozen now that this beautiful man is in front of me. It’s all well and good to

fantasize about having a one-night stand with someone, but the actual part where I go through with it is a different story altogether. Especially considering I’m sitting at a table with my sisters as an audience. “Thank you,” I mumble and give my focus to my glass. I’ll just let my sisters and their bigger personalities take over while I fade into the background like I usually do. Except Hudson doesn’t seem the least bit interested in that. “Are you the pediatric surgeon sister or the travel blog sister?” he asks, leaning in close so I get another whiff of his cologne. He smiles when I look at him and damn that dimple! And damn, I wish I hadn’t had quite so many margaritas so I could think clearly. “Pediatric surgeon,” I reply, barely lifting my gaze to his, trying desperately to think of something else interesting to say. But that face, with his sparkling eyes and his perfectly white smile and just the general knowledge that he is the sexiest male creature I have ever seen obliterates each and every thought in my head. Dakota looks at me with her eyes wide, not at all the subtle signal she hopes it is. “So, let me guess,” she says to Hudson. “You play for the Bengals.” He flares his fingers and leans forward. “Guilty as charged. How could you tell?” He gives her a grin that says he knows just exactly how she could tell but wants to hear it anyway. “You’re too big to be a baseball player, so the Reds are out, and I don’t think the Cincinnati Ballet would be cool with the tats.” “Damn, and here I thought you’d recognized me.” He grins at her again and then turns right back to me. “So, a surgeon. Wow. Who would have thought such a beautiful young woman could have such a serious job?” I so don’t want to talk about my job right now, but I totally do want to talk to Hudson. What’s the appropriate response? Gee, thanks? Instead, I don’t say anything. I just blush and look at my hands while I wish I could be the kind of girl who knows what to say in these situations. Hudson chuckles and it’s this deep throaty sound that sends chills out across my body. “Oh, so the mystery woman wants to remain a mystery.” He leans in, widening his eyes. “How very appropriate.” I turn to him. “Mystery woman?” Hudson nods. “You stole my attention at the bar and then disappeared. Notice, anything different about me? Like, maybe I’m missing three very interested blondes?” He lifts an eyebrow like he’s paying me a compliment. “They meant nothing to me the moment I saw you.” While I’m utterly flattered and couldn’t have better proof that this is the perfect guy for the hot meaningless sex I’m craving, Chelsea is not impressed. “Hudson. That’s my sister you’re talking to there. Show some respect.” Hudson grins. “What? I am showing respect. Your sister is sexy as all hell.” I try to catch Chelsea’s eyes without Hudson seeing because I need her to back the fuck off. I can hear that she’s gotten her protective big sister thing engaged and

she’s totally going to cock block me. “Damn right she is. Smart and sexy and way out of your league.” “You hear that Maya?” he asks, turning to me with those dimples calling my name. I really do just want to lick him from head to toe. “Chelsea says you’re out of my league. What do you think?” Oh, God. I just want to throw myself at this man and tell him to have his way with me. I want to run my hands over that hard body, wrap my fingers around his dick, and then let him ravage me until I beg him for more. That’s what I think. But how do you say that to a man you just met while sharing a table with your sisters? The answer is, you don’t. So, after taking a second to gather my thoughts, I look Hudson straight in the eye, lick my lips and say exactly what’s on my mind. “Do you want to get out of here?

CHAPTER FOUR

I HAVEN’T RUN ACROSS A GIRL WHO SCREAMS DESPERATE QUITE AS LOUDLY AS MAYA LONDON IS RIGHT now. Normally this is a huge turn off for me. I like them willing, not needy. The needy ones get clingy and the last thing I want is a creeper who doesn’t know when to back off. I don’t care how hot Maya is, she’s going to have to understand that this is a one night only kind of deal. But, when she asks me if I want to get out of here, I surprise myself by wanting to say yes. “You cool if we go?” I ask Chelsea, just a little curtesy to my physical therapist. “I’m not her keeper.” It’s clear she’s trying to keep it cool, even though she really wants to tell me no. I scoot my chair back and stand before offering Maya my hand. “You ready?” Her sexy brown eyes go wide with either excitement or fear, I’m not sure. Whatever it is, she looks hot as hell with those wide eyes and my dick springs to life, agreeing with me. I help her into her coat and it’s a damn shame to cover up that body with this thick and shapeless wool thing. She’s more than a little wobbly in her heels— how many of those massive margaritas did she have?—so I put a hand on her lower back as I guide her through the bar. She half explodes out of the club, stumbling a little as she steps through the front door. “Woah,” I say as I instinctively grab her arm to steady her. Which, of course, only knocks her more off balance. Her free arm windmills as she falls backwards and I wrap my arms around her to keep her from going down and getting a face full of pavement. Little titters of self-satisfied amusement come from the people still waiting in line to get into Aura and I see more than a few phones pointed our way.

I should be worried about how many of those pics and vids are going to end up on the internet by tomorrow, but I can’t think about anything but the woman in my arms. Her hair smells sweet, like coconut oil on the beach. And her body, hot damn, even through her coat I can feel the soft swell of her curves, the warmth of her tits as they press against my chest. I swallow hard as I help her to her feet, making sure she’s got her balance before I let her go. “Thanks,” she says, except it comes out more like ‘shanx’ and I hear even more giggling from the people in line. I like my reputation the way it is, thank you very much. The people know me as a player, capable of seducing even the coldest of women. Someone who doesn’t need to get them drunk and disorderly to have my way with them. I’m sexy, not creepy, damn it, and the last thing I want is for this little excursion with Maya to ruin that. At this point, I’d have been better off stepping out of the club with my threesome of hot blondes. There’s a coffee shop across the street from Aura, conveniently open twentyfour hours on the weekend. The last thing this crowd needs is to watch me spill Maya into a cab when she’s this wasted. Not if I want to keep my image of playboy from morphing into date rapist. “Come on, doll,” I say, jerking my head towards the coffee shop. “Let’s get some caffeine in you.” The crowd rewards with me a few aww’s and Maya stares blearily up at me. “I thought we were gonna have a one-night stand,” she manages to say, scrunching up her face in confusion. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her down the sidewalk. “Let’s just see how the rest of the night goes.” She manages the walk without too much trouble, the sharp staccato of her heels finding a somewhat even rhythm as we head into the crosswalk. Our breath frosts in front of our faces, the cool air almost shocking after the heat of the club. She clutches my arm and for some reason that makes me smile as I look down at her, the streetlights shining in her hair. I hold the door to the coffee shop open for her and she giggles as she steps through. “Thanks,” she says again, this time managing not to mangle the word. “You go have a seat,” I say, pointing her to a table near the window. “I’ll get us some coffee.” I start to head towards the counter and then pause, realizing that I have no idea how she takes her coffee. Someone that small and sweet, that soft and feminine surely likes her caffeine more like one of those awful blended concoctions that’s more milkshake than coffee. “Cream and sugar?” I call out across the café. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Black, please.” She slides into the booth near the window and stares out at the people in line for Aura, running her hand through her hair and closing her eyes. She’s stunning. Typically, I go for women who are overtly sexual, because let’s face it, I’m overtly sexual. I like them bleached and tanned. Long, lean legs that takes hours in the gym to get them sculpted just right. Hell, let’s face it, I like them more like a Barbie

doll than a person. Cheap and plastic and not even a little real. Maya isn’t that. She’s so real I can’t stop staring at her from across this coffee shop. Fuck, the things I’d do to that body. I tear my eyes away from her and place an order for two black coffees and a croissant. Maybe the starch will help to sop up some of the alcohol in her system. She looks up as I slide in across from her. “Thanks.” And then she giggles, shaking her head. “This is the weirdest onenight stand in the whole wide world.” “What? Coffee and croissants weren’t part of the meaningless sex with a stranger you intended to have tonight?” I grin and wink at her as a blush flares up her cheeks. “You heard that did you?” Maya pulls her mug towards her and wraps her hands around it, hunching over so the steam hits her in the face. “Heard what?” I put on my most innocent face before letting it dissolve into something way more wicked. She just shakes her head. “As you can tell, meaningless sex isn’t my forte.” “Don’t worry about that. I’ve mastered the art of meaningless sex. If we get to that portion of the evening, you’re in good hands.” I mean it to be funny, but even I hear how shallow and empty it sounds. I take a sip of my coffee. Since when do I care about shit like that? “Do you live downtown?” I ask, trying to move the conversation into safer territory while I get myself under control. Maya shakes her head and picks at the croissant. “I couldn’t afford to live down here. At least not in a neighborhood that makes me feel comfortable. I live out in Townsbury. It’s a small cluster of streets they call a town about half an hour or so from here.” “Couldn’t afford to live down here?” I sit back in the seat and throw an arm over the back. “You’re a surgeon, right? Aren’t you swimming in money?” “Maybe someday. Right now I’m swimming in debt. Medical school ain’t cheap.” She pops a bite into her mouth and chews slowly, staring at the croissant with way too much regret. “Ahh, the glory of living someone else’s dream.” “What do you mean?” “My parents are doctors. I went to med school for them. Now I’m in debt for them. Have no life for them. This is the first time I haven’t been at the hospital or in bed, for…” She looks up like she’s thinking. “About a hundred years, I think.” She takes a long drink of her coffee. “Damn, that sucks.” I resist the urge to check my watch. I feel bad for this girl, I really do. And that means there’s no way I’m taking her home now. I refuse to take advantage of someone this down in the dumps. I prefer to be an amazing story about the one that got away rather than one more bad decision in a string of bad decisions. Maya’s eyes go wide and her ruby red lips part. “Wow,” she says, slowly enunciating the word. “I’m really good at this easygoing sex with a stranger stuff. Bet you can’t wait to get me in bed now.” She grins a little and it’s adorable. “Oh yeah.” I lean forward and wrap my hands around my coffee, mirroring her

posture. “I’m totally turned on right now.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be.” “So, how about you?” she asks and her eyes look more and more focused by the minute. “Do you live around here?” I nod. “Yep. Got me an apartment overlooking the river. It’s my version of the whole ‘dress for the job you want’ thing.” “How so?” “Cincinnati isn’t exactly my dream city. It’s a nice stop along the way, but I have no intention of finishing out my career here.” “More of a Super Bowl kind of guy?” I nod. “Exactly.” I pick a bite off her croissant and quirk a grin at her shocked face. “So, since we’re being deep and philosophical here as we lead up to our hot meaningless sex with a stranger… You don’t look like the kind of girl who’s had a lot of experience with one-night stands. Why now?” Maya widens her eyes. “Wow. Intense foreplay here, Knox. You really know how to turn a woman on.” “Like I said. I’m the master.” I sit back again and flare my hands. There’s absolutely no chance I’m fucking this woman tonight. Not now that she’s sobering up and we’re busy talking about stupid stuff like where we live and why she wants to make a bad decision with me. But, I’m not really interested in heading back into Aura, even though I’m sure the threesome would still be interested if I found them. Maya’s got my attention now. “Honestly? I spent too much time doing the right thing and not enough time having fun.” She shrugs and drops her eyes, her eyelashes fanning out away from her cheekbones. “I guess I just want to have a little fun.” “Life should be all about the fun, doll face.” She chokes on a laugh and looks up. “Not if you’re Maya London, I guess. Then it’s all about work really hard for a bunch of stuff you don’t even think you want.” She finishes her croissant and takes a long drink of her coffee. “What do you want?” I ask. She bites her bottom lip and crinkles her brows. She looks so damn hot my pants get tight. I’ll be jacking off to her for the next week and a half. “Is it bad if I don’t know?” I widen my eyes. “Probably. How can you not know?” She shakes her head and shrugs. “It’s the price I pay for living life for everyone but me, I guess.” Silence falls between us. She finishes her coffee and stares out the window while I watch the way she licks her lips, the way she runs her hands into her thick hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She’s intoxicating. And I like her. “Well,” I say when she finally catches me staring. “You ready to get out of here?” I doubt she drove here. I’ll pay for a cab to get her home. Maybe even ask for her number so I can collect on the meaningless sex before the end of the weekend.

Get her out of my system because I so don’t need to be worrying about a woman. A slow smile stretches across her face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS sweet of Hudson to help sober me up, although I doubt he did it for me. Something tells me he was more worried about his image than my dignity. That’s okay. It ended up being sweet anyway. And for whatever reason, I kind of like the guy. Which, while it’ll make the sex part of the evening much better, it might get in the way of the whole meaningless deal. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going through with it. Not even a little. Everyone keeps telling me to live a little, to go crazy, to have some fun. I get the very distinct feeling that a night with Hudson Knox will be all of those things wrapped up into one delicious package. And the fact that he has no intention of being a permanent fixture here in the area? All the better. He guides me out of the coffee shop and out into the cold October night. He has no intention of taking me home tonight. I saw that idea fly out of his head the moment he took me across the street for coffee instead of helping me into a cab. But, judging by the way I kept catching him staring at me in there, I don’t think it’ll be too hard to talk him back into it. I turn to him as soon as the door swings shut behind us. Step into his personal space and look up at him, my eyes sweet and innocent. “I need you to fuck the hell out of me tonight,” I say as I run my hands up his chest. I don’t know who this version of Maya is. I don’t know where I got the courage to say something like that, but damn, it feels good. His eyes go wide for a fraction of an instant and I see him get ready to shoot me

down. I press my chest forward, letting my breasts press into him and part my lips. “Please?” I slide my hands down his stomach—hot damn I can feel how firm it is through the thin fabric of his shirt—and down over the waistline of his pants. I bite my lip because you can be damn sure I saw how much he liked it when I did that in the coffee shop and am rewarded by the huge bulge I find at his crotch. I give it a squeeze and watch any and all objections fly out of his head. The next thing I know, I’m in the middle of the sexiest cab ride of my life. He’s got me pressed against the window, his body covering mine, pressing down on me so I can feel the sheer weight of him. He’s so much bigger than me. So much more powerful. He thrusts his hips forward and I groan. His mouth devours mine and I run my hands up and down the length of his shaft, so thick I can feel it through his pants. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me, I’m practically on fire. I don’t even know how long it takes to get to his apartment. We’re just suddenly there and he’s throwing money at the cab driver and dragging me up the sidewalk and in through the front door. We stand side by side as we wait for the elevator, chests heaving. As soon as the doors slide closed in front of us, sealing us off from the rest of the world, Hudson is on me again. He gathers my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head while his other hand slides up under my dress. His thumb grazes my clit and I moan, letting my head drop back while his mouth travels over my lips and jaw, his teeth grazing the soft flesh at my neck. I have no doubts, only desire. I will fuck this man and disappear. I will use his body and wake up in the morning at my house, satisfied and alive for the first time in a long time. I’m a player’s dream. Equally ready to be used and discarded as I am to use and discard. His apartment is massive and I get the sense that he’s taken time with the decorating as he flicks on the lights, but that’s all I notice because the moment the door is closed behind us, I pull him towards me, unbuttoning his shirt while I lead him into his living room. “Jesus, Maya. Slow down.” “I need to see you,” I say. “I need to see that body.” I’ve never been so forthright. Never felt so powerful. Never felt so sensual. I think I like it. Hudson steps back, lets his eyes rake over my body as he takes over the job of unbuttoning his shirt. First, undoing the buttons at his wrists as he stares me down. Gone is the playful man with the dimples and in his place is a warrior. He finishes with the cuffs and undoes the rest of the shirt, sliding it off his powerful shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.” I step forward and run my hands up over his arms, enjoying the thick, corded muscles bulging under my palms. His chest is hard and smooth and his abs are tight. I’ve never been with a man that looks this masculine before. He smiles down at me as I study him, giving me the time I need to appreciate his

body. I trace the tattoos swirling up his arms and across his chest and then lower myself to my knees in front of him, kissing and licking his hot skin as I do. It doesn’t take me long to unbutton his pants and slide his boxer briefs down past his straining cock. My pussy clenches at the sight of him. So thick and hard I almost forget Dakota’s advice before I take him in my mouth. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s clean as he kicks off his shoes and pants. I’ve never seen a dick this beautiful before. I lick his shaft and swirl my tongue around his tip, cupping his balls in my hand. Hudson glares down at me, his eyes hooded with lust and desire while I stare up at him, his cock in my mouth. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing against the back of my throat and I realize that there’s no way I can take him all with my mouth. I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft and pull back for air. “Stand up, baby doll,” he says. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” I think he missed the whole point of the evening. The part where I’m done doing things other people tell me to do. Tonight is about me taking control back and doing what I want. And right now? I like having this man’s dick in my mouth. I flick my tongue around his crown while working my hand along his shaft. His eyes roll back in his head and a surge of power and excitement rolls through me. To know a man this big and powerful is naked in front of me, and I’m in control of his pleasure? I like the way that feels, that’s for sure. Hudson rocks his hips into me a few more times before pulling back. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while he pulls me to my feet. He is so damn strong. I pretty much don’t have to help at all. He just lifts me up on his own. His hands are on my body, squeezing my breasts and running up my thighs. I’ve pushed him too far and lust has obliterated his control. He’s consuming me. Claiming me. Taking me. I fucking love it. My dress is a discarded mess on the floor and my bra and panties join it without a moment’s hesitation. Hudson lowers his mouth to my breast, sucking my taut nipple between his teeth and biting down gently. I moan and wrap my hand around his cock. He’s so big, I don’t know how I’m going to take all of him, but holy shit am I ever excited to try. He sweeps me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. His strong hands grip my ass and I feel weightless as he strides back towards his bedroom while we kiss, our tongues dancing and dueling. He lowers me to his bed—a massive thing in a massive room for a massive man—and spreads my thighs, trailing kisses down my stomach. He doesn’t hesitate. He sucks my clit into his mouth and I cry out, the sudden sensation so much more than my poor attention starved body can handle. He thrusts a finger inside me, then a second, hooking them so they hit a spot so deep and so intense that I cry out again. Writhe beneath him. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Oh shit, Hudson,” I breathe as he licks me. “More.” He takes me at my word, sliding a third finger inside me, sucking on my clit so hard that I scream his name and lift my hips up to meet him. An orgasm claims me, my pussy clenching around his fingers while he continues to lick and suck at my clit. Just as I think it’s too much, he stops. Pulls his fingers out of me and now it’s not enough. He climbs back up the bed and sticks his fingers in my mouth. I suck, tasting myself while I reach between us and start stroking his cock. “I want you inside me now,” I say and smile as his dick twitches in my hand. “So demanding.” Hudson smiles, those damn dimples looking fucking delectable, and reaches into a bedside table for a condom. I watch as he tears open the foil packet and rolls it on, smiling at how much I like seeing his hands on his dick. “You’re so big.” I want to sound coy, but I think a little bit of the worry I feel about trying to take all of him inside me seeps through. Hudson stretches out on the bed beside me, inviting me to climb on top. “Go as slow as you need, baby doll.” I straddle him, pushing his crown against my pussy and slide down. My breath catches in my chest. A gasp strangled by the intensity of what I’m feeling. I pull up before I’ve taken him all and then slide down again, immediately wanting more. His hands go to my waist and I stare down at this Greek god of a man beneath me, my eyes wild, my lips pulling up in a smile as I slowly, so fucking slowly, take all of him inside me. I sit. Unable to move. The sensation of being stretched and filled more than anything I’ve ever experienced in all my life. And then, I roll my hips. My clit grazes his shaft and I moan. “That’s it,” says Hudson, sliding his hands down to squeeze my ass. “Take your time.” I moan and throw my head back, my hair brushing against my waist and sending goosebumps rippling out across my skin. There’s so much sensation. Hudson inside me, so fucking big and hot, his tattoos standing out against his pale sheets. His hands on me, so rough against my skin. The mere fact that I’m fucking a stranger, taking this intimate moment as nothing more than pure pleasure. I speed up, losing myself to the moment. I could live every day like this. An orgasm explodes through me out of nowhere and I ride him, writhing and moaning and threading my hands up into my hair. He kneads my breasts and I cry out, breathless and lost. Hudson grasps my waist and pulls me off him. Throws me onto my back and climbs on top of me. Thrusts himself into me harder and faster and harder and faster. He hits a place so deep inside me it almost hurts. My orgasm changes shape, becomes a freight train bearing down on me and I lose myself to it. My eyes roll back and I clamp my hand to my mouth to keep from screaming. Hudson pulls it away. “Make all the noise you want.”

And I do. I release everything that’s been pent up inside me. Succumb to the moment. I writhe and scream while he pounds into me until finally, he comes in one shuddering gasp. His hands on my hips as he stares down at me, teeth clenched, eyes predatory, chest heaving. This moment is for me and for him and for no one else in the world. It’s everything I’ve been missing in my life and I know without a doubt that I’m going to want more.

CHAPTER SIX

I’VE NEVER BEEN WITH A WOMAN LIKE MAYA BEFORE. I’VE NEVER BEEN SO OUT OF CONTROL OF A SITUATION as I was that night with her. When I bring a woman home, she’s usually so eager to be everything I want that she’s pliable. Anxious for direction and glad to have me tell her what to do. To take her the way I want her. Not Maya. She was in control from the moment we stepped out of the coffee shop. Hell, as far as I know, maybe she was in control from the moment we left Aura, pretending to be drunk to take me off my guard. The sex was wild, untamed. Just her taking what she needed and me taking what I needed. And when we were done? She cleaned herself off, kissed me on the cheek and said her goodbyes. She didn’t beg me to call her. She didn’t look like she was fighting tears. She didn’t act like she regretted one moment of our night together. Hell, she didn’t even give me her phone number. They always give me their phone number. Even the ones who think they’re just in it for the sex end up wanting more. I’ve never met a chick who didn’t end up hoping we had some sort of emotional connection when it was all said and done. Of course, I never do, and they always end up looking a little desperate as I rush them out the door. Maya? She thanked me, kissed me, ran her hands up my chest and licked her lips before sliding out my front door without a word. And wouldn’t you know? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for the last week and a half. I made it through my last physical therapy appointment with her sister without either one of us mentioning her.

I’m almost ashamed by how hard it was not to ask Chelsea about Maya. The number of times I had to clamp my mouth shut on her name is too high for me to admit. I just wanted to know if she’d mentioned me. If she’d enjoyed herself as much as I’d enjoyed myself. If there was even the smallest possibility that she would want more in the same way I want more. We could be fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. I am all about more meaningless sex with Maya London. But somehow, it feels a little weird bringing that up to Chelsea, her pregnant big sister who seems way more about building roots and being perfect than setting her little sister up with a guy who only wants her body. Plus, I’m Hudson fucking Knox. I don’t chase women. Women chase me. But considering the number of times I’ve gotten hard thinking about that perfect body riding my dick, I think I’m going to have to swallow my shame a little and ask at some point during my physical therapy appointment today. I’m hurting a little after Sunday’s game. Last year, I ruptured my Achilles tendon and rushed myself through the healing process, ignoring all the warning signs that things weren’t right. By the end of the season, I could barely walk without flinching, let alone play. Chelsea lit into me even more than my coach did and I swore to her I’d be honest about how things are feeling from that point forward. I limped too much and now, not only does my ankle still hurt, but my knees and hip do, too. I can still play. Fuck, nothing’s going to keep me from playing. Not this early in my career. Not while I still have decades’ worth of goals left to accomplish. Chelsea promised me that she’d spend the whole season repairing whatever damage I caused and working on putting me back together again as long as I was honest about what I was feeling. I wonder if she knew that meant I was going to ask her about getting another chance to fuck her sister. I mean, how much more honest could I get? I’m laughing at myself as I head out of the locker room into the big open space that is the therapy room at Cincinnati Orthopedics. Chelsea waits for me, her hands folded politely over her belly. “I swear, Knox. If you’re laughing at how fat I am, you can just turn right around and head home.” Her tone is serious and I stop in my tracks, holding up my hands. “How could I laugh at something so beautiful?” I flash her the grin I save for the photo ops, big and cheesy and so ‘boy next door’ that no woman could think anything bad about me. Or at least that’s what my publicist tells me. Chelsea purses her lips. “I’m not buying it. Flattery will get you nowhere with me.” I’m not flattering her. I actually find the swell of her belly and flush in her cheeks beautiful. There’s something so wonderful about it. The promise of new life. The beginning of a family. It’s a fucking miracle, what she’s doing. It’s a shame she’s too busy feeling fat and disgusting to realize it.

I don’t say any of that to her. She wouldn’t believe me, not in the mood she’s in. “So, the ankle hurt a lot on Sunday,” I say as she stabs the buttons on the treadmill. Chelsea isn’t one to bring her bad mood to work, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. “I thought I saw you favoring it a little.” I’m actually shocked. “You watched the game?” She smiles a little, looking more like herself for the first time since I walked in. “I always watch the game when I’ve got patients playing injured.” She shrugs. “That’s one of the reasons I’m always so prepared when you walk in. I know what you’re feeling before you do. Now. What else hurts?” “Today? Both knees and my left hip.” She bobs her head, studying my legs. “I’m not surprised. The way you were running on Sunday put a lot of stress on those other joints.” Chelsea knows her shit. There’s no way around that. She puts me through my paces, pushing me through a whole new set of exercises and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t relieved when our session was finally over. It’s not hard in the same way a game is hard, or a good workout is hard. I’m not sweating or out of breath. She just finds these tiny little muscles that need strengthening and then hounds me like a drill sergeant while I figure out how to use them. And then, at the end of every session, she stretches me out on a massage table and digs into those poor fatigued muscles with these freakishly strong hands. I know. A massage after a workout sounds wonderful. I thought so, too. Right up until the first time she got her hands on me. There’s nothing relaxing about the way Chelsea finds the pain points in my body. I hurt the whole rest of the day and part of the next. But, after that, I feel better than I have in a long time. Well, until I get my happy ass back on the field and set us back again. I should be happy that I’m even playing. An Achilles rupture can be a career killer. “Hey,” she says as she digs her thumbs into my calf. “Sorry I was grumpy earlier.” “What? Grumpy? I didn’t even notice.” I widen my eyes and look as innocent as I possibly can. She rewards me by finding a knot in my muscle and pressing into it with all her might. “Don’t bullshit me, Knox. You noticed.” “Okay, okay! I noticed!” I flinch and sit up, twisting to look her in the face. “You can stop trying to amputate my foot now.” She laughs and eases off. “It was unprofessional of me.” “No worries. We all have those days.” “I’ve just been having my fair share of them. This pregnancy hasn’t been easy. I can’t stop throwing up. The doctors say it’s normal for some women, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The days I feel bad far outweigh the days I feel good. It gets hard to smile through it sometimes.” “You know you don’t have to with me, right? You realize that after over a year of seeing each other at least once a week that you can just tell me you feel like shit

when I walk in. I might even have a hug for you. And I can at least make sure you sit your butt down while I’m working instead of running around like a crazy lady.” Tears glimmer in Chelsea’s eyes and she swallows hard, blinking to make them go away before I see them. “I might take you up on that offer.” “You damn well better. I promised you I’d tell you when I hurt even though I’d rather fake my way through it. You owe me the same courtesy, London.” She sniffs and I turn back around so she can wipe her eyes and go on believing that I never noticed she was fighting tears. “Thanks, Hudson.” “Don’t think twice about it.” I let her finish torturing my lower body and try to hide my sigh of relief when she starts digging around for the ice packs. “So, Maya’s pretty great.” I try to pull of nonchalant and fail miserably. Chelsea grins up at me. “Preaching to the choir, my friend.” “I know she was all about the meaningless sex. Trying to shed her perfect ‘good girl’ skin and all that. But she left without leaving me her number and I’d really like to call her.” I flare my hands and flash my dimples. “Any chance I can get it from you?” Chelsea grimaces as she finishes draping the icepacks around my ankle and knees. “Maya’s really private. She barely likes me having her phone number. She’d kill me if I gave it out without her permission.” “Oh, come on. You’re going to tell me that in all your years as a big sister, you never did anything for your her without getting her permission first? Something you knew would be good for her?” “Who says I even remotely believe that you’ll be good for her?” I raise my eyebrows in mock surprise. “Look at me. Of course I’ll be good for her. A body like this? If she’s looking for more spontaneity and fun in her life … this is the body to give it to her.” Chelsea backs away, showing me her palms. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.” “Pretend all you want. You know it’s the truth.” She shrugs and looks away, gathering her papers to start filling them out on the table next to me. “See? You’re not even denying it.” “I can’t give you her number, Hudson. Not without her permission.” Fuck, I don’t want to wait around for Chelsea to ask Maya permission. How desperate is that? Besides, I lose the upper hand that way and I want the next time I’m with Maya to be all about my pace, my speed. I’ll be in control. Not her. “What if you tell me where she works? That’s not exactly private information.” Chelsea frowns. “Nope. Can’t do that either. But here’s what I will do. Her name is on the hospital website. A quick Google search should bring you all the info you need.” She pats me on the shoulder on her way to her desk and widens her eyes sarcastically. “Welcome to the age of the internet, Hudson.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I’VE BEEN HOME. I’VE BEEN AT THE HOSPITAL FOR WHAT FEELS like three weeks straight, sleeping on couches in the break room and drowning my fatigue with coffee. It seems like every time I’m about to head home, another emergency comes wheeling through the door and adrenaline blasts through my body. Another child to save. Another reason to stay. But today I hit the brick wall of exhaustion. I wouldn’t trust myself with a scalpel in my hands and I don’t think anyone else would either. There’s an ambulance pulling up as I head out the door and I feel that pull to stay. What if they need my help? “Go home, Dr. London,” says a nurse whose name I should know. “You’ll be worth more if you get some rest.” “I know. Or at least I think I know. I just can’t help but think I could be of use.” The nurse puts a hand on my arm. “That’s why you’re so good at what you do. Now, go home and take a shower and sleep for about a week before you lose that reputation.” If I get really quiet and honest with myself, I have to wonder if part of the reason I don’t want to go home had anything to do with Hudson. Sure, I want to be of help here at the hospital. And yes, my help has been needed. But I’ve been so busy, I never had an opportunity to think about anything other than work. And even then, Hudson still managed to slip in through the cracks. His body. Those eyes. That smile. His voice. I crave everything about him. I have never in all my twenty-eight years felt the kind of things I felt with him that night. I’ve never been so wild, so untamed, so selfish. I never chased my own orgasm.

Hell, I rarely had an orgasm. And the ones I did have were nothing like what I experienced with Hudson. I know I’m going to end up wanting more if I let myself think about him. And that is so not the point of a one-night stand. I’m pretty sure, by definition, those are kind of a one and done deal. Coming back for more is out of the question. Which is why I left without giving him my number. Which is why I haven’t asked Chelsea about him. Which is why I’ve sequestered myself here at work and forced myself to focus on saving lives. No time to worry about ruining mine if I’m busy fixing other people’s. And that’s really it, right there. If I go off chasing fun and pleasure instead of focusing on my career, I’ll just end up ruining everything I’ve worked so hard for. Sure, things might be hard now, but that only means they’ll be easier later, right? Like that fable about the ants and the grasshopper where the ants worked hard all summer while the grasshopper played his fiddle. What happened in winter? The ants had food, and the grasshopper went hungry. I’m the ants. Great. So now I’m consoling myself by imagining that I’m an army of insects. Just what every girl wants. The truth of it is that I’m confused. I keep telling myself that there will be time to play later, once I’ve made enough money to pay back all my loans. But won’t I be too old to play by then? And like my mom is so quick to point out, I’m not getting any younger. What kind of man is going to want to play with me once the bloom is off the rose as she so maddeningly puts it? Surely not a man like Hudson Knox. See? This is why I’ve been afraid to go home. I stop working for one minute and BOOM. All I can think about is that damn football player. I push all Hudson oriented thoughts out of my head and slip on my coat. There is a long soak in the tub, a bottle of wine, and a bed full of comfortable pillows with my name on it. That is all I need to worry about for the next several hours. “Dr. London?” Judy, the receptionist, stands up as I walk past her desk. “A delivery came for you. I was just going to page you but someone said you already left.” “Just on my way now. Moving a little slow.” I try to smile but I think it’s more of a grimace, showing way too many teeth with crazed exhaustion glimmering in my eyes. I’m way too tired to be interacting with actual people right now. The receptionist pulls a massive bouquet of red roses out from under the counter. “You’ve made quite the impression on someone,” she says as she slides it across to me. There’s a card and I consider opening it at home because I really don’t want Judy to know anything personal about me. It’s best if she just thinks of me as Dr. London and that’s it. But, I’m too tired and too curious to be strong. I tear open the envelope and pull out a card, jumping a little as two pieces of paper fall out and flutter to land by my feet.

I bend to pick them up off the floor as I read:

MayaI got you two tickets to Sunday’s game. Come alone, or bring a friend. Either way, I hope you’ll meet me at my apartment afterwards. Although, I totally expect you to be alone when you get here. And preferably without panties. Hudson

JUDY’S GRINNING at me and I realize that’s because I’m smiling like I just found out I’m actually the daughter of a billionaire who’s just died and left me his entire fortune. “Do you have an admirer?” she squawks, wobbling around the desk to get a peek at the card. I press the thing to my chest. “No. I mean, yes?” I shake my head. I have a guy who wants to have more meaningless sex with me is what I have. How do I tell her that? I don’t. That’s how. Ignoring Judy’s wounded expression, I gather up the flowers, struggling to get my arms around them. There’s got to be at least three dozen roses crammed into this vase. It’s hard to see around them as I walk through the parking lot and I actually buckle it into the front seat of my car so it doesn’t spill over. Will I go to the game? And more importantly, will I show up at his apartment afterwards? I have no idea. I’ve got an epic battle of what I think is the right answer pitted against what I think sounds like fun going on in my head and I’m way too fucking tired right now to referee. I finish the drive home in a car that smells like roses, a smile plastered on my face. When I get inside, I drop my purse on the floor, deposit the flowers on the table, and fall into bed, forsaking the wine and the bath and going straight for the sleep. I THINK the fact that I even tried to pretend I might not go see Hudson on Sunday shows just how exhausted I was yesterday. The moment I wake from my sixteenhour nap, I race into the living room to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and stop in my tracks, mouth open. Not only did I not make up the roses in some sort of overworked fever dream, but they bloomed while I slept and are abso-freakinglutely gorgeous. Rich and lush. Their satiny petals the deepest possible shade of

red. I reread the card and clutch it to my chest. There’s not one mention of one feeling in their anywhere. Hudson made it pretty clear that he wants me to meet him at his apartment for sex and that’s it. And you know what? Somehow, that’s everything I could ever want right now. I have no time for a relationship. No desire to deal with feelings and emotions. I can barely manage myself right now. What would happen if I tried to add another person to the mix? Fire and brimstone, that’s what. My whole world would crumble to pieces. There’s no doubt in my mind. But meaningless sex? Especially meaningless sex with Hudson Knox? Hellfucking-yes I’ll add that to my schedule. A no strings attached way to step out of my head and get into my body? I can’t see one thing wrong with that. The rest of the week passes in a blur of work and sleep and sleep and work. Having Hudson to look forward to makes it easier to both push myself and remember to take care of myself. I was pretty drunk at the coffee shop. I don’t remember much of what we talked about, only that I got a sense that I liked the guy. But that’s the thing. I have zero desire to show up at his apartment and talk. I fully intend to show up, get fucked, and go home. Sunday arrives and wouldn’t you know, it’s one of those wonderful fall days where the sun is warm and the air is crisp and somehow everything looks like it’s had gold dust thrown on it. I couldn’t think of a better day to spend hours sitting in the stands only to go meet a professional athlete for some professional grade sex. I’ve never been to a football game before, so I have zero idea about what to expect. Even though Hudson gave me a spare ticket and gave me the all clear on inviting a friend, I never even entertained the thought of bringing someone else. For one, I’m kind of a loner. For two, the person I’d invite is Chelsea. And for three, no thank you. The last thing I need is to have her questioning what’s going on between Hudson and me. If she asks, I’ll end up answering and she’s not going to like what she hears. Sure, she was all for the meaningless sex when it was a onetime deal. I can’t imagine that she’d be okay with it if she found out I’m planning on being a repeat customer. By the time I arrive at Paul Brown Stadium, I’m pretty excited. I never thought I’d be excited to see a football game. Ever. But I actually am. I wander through the crowds of people decked out in their orange and black and smile. It feels more like a party than a sporting event and it’s way more fun than being at the hospital. I buy myself a beer and settle in to watch the game. My seat is fantastic. I’m so close to the field I can see everything. It doesn’t take me long to find Hudson. If I thought he was sexy in a white button-up and a pair of slacks, he’s sex on fire in his uniform. He struts around the field, eyeing his opponents. He’s a gladiator. A warrior. He’s strong and aggressive and he cuts down every player in his way. I can’t take my eyes off him and I definitely can’t wait to get back to his apartment and get my hands on him. Or rather, get his hands on me.

I want him to look at me like that. I want him be that aggressive. I want to know what it’s like to be with a man who’s capable of taking down other men. I want to feel his strength and his power and know that I’m helpless against it. I’d be lying if I didn’t spend the whole game turned on as all hell. The game is a close one and I scream and shout with the rest of the crowd, cheering when things go well and booing when they don’t. I spend most of the game confused by what’s happening, but you don’t have to know anything about the rules to know that when our team stops the other team, that’s a good thing. And that when our team gets a touchdown, that’s a really good thing. And when our team wins? That’s a fan-fucking-tastic thing. I’m actually happy as I head to the car. Like, I feel good on the inside. The fact that this is kind of a strange feeling for me would be depressing if I wasn’t feeling this good. I might as well be impenetrable. Well. That’s not true at all. I’m totally penetrable. Just ask Hudson.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I WANT TO TAKE MY TIME GETTING TO HUDSON’S APARTMENT. I’M SURE HE’S GOT A TON OF THINGS TO DO in the locker room after a game. I assume there’s press and a big speech from the coach. Maybe a lot of snapping the other players on the ass with towels and manly grunting. A shower… I pause at that thought because there’s not much else in this world yummier than the image of Hudson all soaped up and wet, running his hands over that magnificent body. Tilting his head back to let the water hit his face… Damn. Now my mind-Hudson isn’t the only one who’s wet. On a whim, I stop at a deli and pick up some food. I mean, the guy just ran up and down a field for the last several hours, taking some big hits and delivering quite a few of his own. He’s got to be hungry. I don’t have one single clue what the guy likes to eat, so I choose some pretty standard turkey sandwiches on ciabatta rolls and grab a handful of condiments that he can add if he wants to. I also grab a couple apples, a few bags of chips, and a tub of coleslaw because I love coleslaw with a passion. If he likes it, great. If not? Oh well. It’s the thought that counts, right? Besides, everything else was generic enough he shouldn’t have much a problem finding something to eat. After giving Hudson more than enough time to get home, I pack myself up into the beat up Honda Civic I bought when I graduated high school. It was old then, and it’s even older now. I just need her to last through my residency. Maybe I’ll be able to think about a new car then. There’s a pep to my step as I walk up to Hudson’s building that even worrying

about my poor old car can’t obliterate. As I wait for the elevator, I remember the last time I was here. Hudson’s hands on my body. My fingers stroking his hard cock through his pants. My wrists pinned above my head while Hudson’s lips and teeth graze my neck and jaw. I bite my lip and squeeze my legs together. Maybe he won’t need to eat right away after all. He’s a strong guy. He can handle just a little more physical activity first. Right? I juggle the bags as the elevator door slides open and walk down the hallway to his door. I knock twice and wait. And then wait. And then wait a little bit more. Just as I’m thinking I got here too early, the door swings open, revealing Hudson in nothing but a pair of low slung athletic pants. My jaw drops at the sight of him. That broad chest. The strong arms. That tight tummy with the hot V at his hips drawing my eyes down to his dick. And yes, I can see the outline of it through the fabric of his pants. He’s even got bare feet. What is it about seeing a man’s naked feet? “Well, hello,” he says, smiling those dimples into existence. “Hey yourself.” I hold up the bags from the deli. “I brought food in case you’re hungry.” Hudson swings the door all the way open and pulls me inside, pressing a kiss to my lips. I stiffen for a second, surprised by the intimacy, then melt into him. My lips part and his tongue darts between them. I press my body to his, squashing the plastic bags between us. “That was very thoughtful,” he says when he finally lets me go. I blink up at him, still feeling heady from that kiss. “You’re the one who kissed me, silly.” “I’m talking about the food. Although the kiss was nice and we should definitely do it again before the night is over.” He gestures towards the kitchen where he’s got an array of Styrofoam containers open on the counter. “I ordered some food, too.” He shrugs and I get to watch the fabulousness that is Hudson Knox’s muscles twitching and jumping underneath his skin. “This is actually the first time I’ve gotten to see your apartment,” I say, aware that I’m still standing in the doorway and unsure of what to do with myself. “I was preoccupied with other things last time I was here.” “I get it. I’m pretty damn preoccupying.” Hudson takes the bags and peeks inside as he limps over to the kitchen. “Is this Joe’s Deli in Findlay Market?” He starts pulling containers out of the bag. “Tell me you got their coleslaw.” “How could I not get the coleslaw?” It’s so easy being with Hudson, I forget that we’re near strangers. That I don’t know anything about him other than the size of his dick. In my real life, this should be one hell of an awkward encounter. But here? With him? In this weird fantasy life where I’m cool having casual sex with a professional athlete? It’s actually a lot of fun.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” he says, pulling off the lid to the Joe’s coleslaw. “So I just got all the things I like and figured you were shit out of luck if you’re picky.” He grins at me. “That’s funny. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just got some generic sandwiches and a couple things I can’t imagine anyone not liking” “That’s the difference between you and me.” Hudson takes a bite and closes his eyes appreciatively. “I live my life for me and you live it for other people.” “There’s no way you can know that about me.” I examine the food he’s got out on the counter and find a wide array of choices from a wide array of restaurants. “And there’s no way you had time to pick all these things up after the game.” “I’ve got people who are more than willing to do these things for me, doll face. That’s the beauty of being me.” Hudson pulls down a plate for me and I pile a strange selection of what looks like General Tso’s, a section of the sandwich from Joe’s, and some breadsticks from an Italian restaurant I don’t recognize. I study his apartment as I eat, trying to get a feel for the man who is Hudson Knox through the stylish furniture and fully stocked book shelf. “You’re a reader?” “Don’t sound so surprised.” Hudson leans on the counter and fills his plate with mounds of food. I didn’t think he could get any sexier, but thinking of this gladiator of a man curled up on his couch with a book just about does me in. “Let me guess,” I say, squinting at the books, trying to read the titles. “Most of them are football books.” “Nope. I’ve got a little of everything up there. The complete works of Shakespeare. Some Stephen King. Lord of the Rings.” Hudson studies the array of food on the counter, fork poised to stab whatever catches his interest. “But as much as I love fiction, I really enjoy reading about psychology and ways to improve myself.” “So, like self-help.” I giggle, because it’s hella funny thinking about this man needing any kind of help whatsoever. “Laugh if you want, but while you get mired in destructive habits, I’m going to keep learning to harness the power of positivity and how to make powerful change in my life.” “I’m twenty-eight years old and am almost done with my residency in pediatric surgery. I wouldn’t exactly call that mired.” Hudson lifts his eyebrows and points his finger at me. “Ahh. But are you happy?” “I’m having a great day thank you very much and I am very happy.” “All I know is that the woman I spoke to at the coffee shop outside of Aura didn’t sound like she was very happy. In fact, I’m pretty sure she told me she became a surgeon to please her parents. Again, not exactly the path to bliss.” Hudson shoves a bite into his mouth and grins around his food as he chews. He looks positively adorable which helps me to squash the urge to hit him.

He thinks he’s just joking around, but he’s actually stepping really hard on some painful truths. I poke around my plate with my fork and try to think of a way to change the topic to something more meaningless. “Do you know that was my first football game ever?” I ask. “No way.” “Totally. I have no idea what happened other than you look damn sexy in your uniform and lots of people cheered and the Bengals won.” “It was a good game.” Hudson smiles and puts his plate down before reaching for mine. “You done?” I nod and hand it over, appreciating the strong lines of his tattoos as he puts the dishes in the sink. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room. “Are you limping?” I ask. Hudson drops onto his sofa with a sigh and pulls me down into his lap. He presses his lips to mine and runs his hands up into my hair, cradling my head. I’m overwhelmed by him. All that skin for my fingers to explore. So soft and warm, covering his sinewy muscles. His rough hands, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about football or dinner. I’m not thinking about how happy I am. I’m not wondering about books on bookshelves or what Hudson’s choice in sofas says about him. I’m thinking about the way his cock feels inside me, stretching me to my absolute limits. I’m thinking about screaming in ecstasy while I am nothing but feeling, grounded in this moment, in my body by the waves of pleasure brought on by this man as he thrusts inside me, our sweat and breath mingling. Planting my hands on his shoulders, I reposition myself so I’m straddling him without breaking our kiss. My hands go to the waistband of his pants, pulling it down so I can reach inside. I am a junky, desperate for the one thing that will make me feel better. “Maya,” he says against my lips. “Slow down. Let me enjoy you.” I shake my head and wrap my fingers around his dick. “I can’t. I need this.” He leans his head back on the cushion while I stroke his shaft. “I want this, too. I’ve been thinking about you since the last time you were here.” His eyes roll closed and he groans and I smile to know that I am the source of so much pleasure. “Oh yeah? Just what were you thinking about?” His cock jumps in my hand. It’s hard and just as big as I remembered. I grind my hips into him, so turned on I can’t sit still. Hudson opens his eyes and there he is. The gladiator I saw on the field. He’s fierce and ferocious and in charge. He grasps my wrists and pulls my hands back until he’s got my arms wrapped behind my back. “I was thinking that the last time was all about you being in control. It’s my turn, doll face.” He kisses me again, rough and possessive, while switching his grip on my wrists so he has them both in one hand. The other swoops up my rib cage and cups my breast, squeezing and massaging while he bites my bottom lip. I grind my hips into him, feeling the hard bulge of his dick press against my clit.

Even through my pants, the pressure sets off fireworks of pleasure. Hudson kisses along my jawline and down onto my neck. “Do you like being in control?” I ask. “Don’t you?” he replies. Hudson finally releases my wrists and I bring them to his chest. It was agony not being able to touch him. I knead the hard muscle under his skin, rocking my hips forward. He grabs my waist and lifts me up as if I were a child. Puts me down so I’m standing in front of him. “Pants and shirt off.” He leans back in his seat, opening his legs and reaching for his dick. He strokes himself while I strip, my eyes transfixed. I lick my lips. I’m so not in the mood for all this preamble. I just want him inside me, obliterating everything but this moment. “You have the most perfect tits,” he says as I drop my bra to the floor. “They are the things dreams are made of.” I run my hands up my body, eyes burning into his. He thinks he’s in control? He’s got a lot to learn about Maya London. I cup my breasts and squeeze. Pinch my taut nipples between my fingers and twist. “They’re lonely,” I say. Hudson clicks his tongue at me. “I’m not that easy, Maya. It’s going to take more than that to get me to lose control with you again. We’re going slow tonight, doll face, whether you like it or not.” His words are gasoline on the fire of my lust. “But I want you.” I make a pouty face and drop a hand between my legs. “I’m so wet for you, Hudson. Don’t you want to feel how wet I am?” His eyes go dark and he launches himself at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and lowering me down onto the couch. He dips a finger inside me, first one, then two, hooking them so he grazes that spot that makes me feel like I’m just going to explode. I moan, triumphant in my success. And then he pulls his hand away and my eyes shoot open in time to see those dimples appear as he grins at me. His fingers are at my lips and I open my mouth. “Suck,” he says and I do, tasting myself. He drags his fingers out of my mouth, pressing on my bottom lip before he lowers his mouth to my breasts, licking and sucking and biting while his hand makes its way back between my legs. His touch is sublime. His finger on my clit edging me closer to oblivion while the little flickers of pain from his teeth at my nipple keep me grounded in my body. I can’t think. I can only feel. I can only want. And what I feel is him. What I want is him. And like that, I fall. My orgasm crashing around me, carrying me out of the life where I am Maya the surgeon and into the life where I am Maya the woman. I cry out, moan as my muscles clench and flutter. “That feels so good.” “Oh, doll face,” says Hudson, pulling his hand away from my pussy and licking it clean. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.”

CHAPTER NINE

MAYA AND I FALL INTO THE MOST PERFECT PATTERN OF FUCKING ON THE WEEKENDS SHE’S NOT AT THE hospital. Or it would be perfect if she wasn’t the only thing on my mind all day, every day. Even that’s not exactly a bad thing, except for the fact that she’s completely and utterly inaccessible unless she’s actually in my bed. And when she’s in my bed? Well, she’s sure as hell accessible then. I haven’t found one thing that she wasn’t willing to try, one moment when I felt like she wasn’t completely and utterly there with me. I just wish she was here with me more often. I like her. She makes me laugh. She takes my shit and hands it right back to me. And for as much as I feel like I’m getting to know her, I feel like there are all these parts of her that are still buried. Like there’s something big and bruised inside of her that she’s trying to ignore. Or worse, trying to soothe with lots and lots of mind-blowing sex with me. Not that there’s anything wrong with the sex. It’s just that at this point I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind getting a little more from her. But I don’t push her. I’ll be here when she’s ready. And in the meantime, I’ll be satisfied giving her toe-curling orgasms when she needs them and knowing that she’s more than fine with me coming on those perfect tits. There’s a knock at the door—Maya—and I jump over the back of the couch and skid to a halt before throwing open the door and inviting her in. “I brought wine,” she says, brandishing a bottle and a smile. “Red or white?” “Red of course.” She fishes through my drawers looking for a corkscrew. “I won’t drink that shit,” I say, pretending to be disgusted.

“Oh come off it, Knox.” Maya shakes her head and pulls open another drawer. “You told me just last week that you loved a good Shiraz.” “Yeah, but that was last week. I’ve changed since then.” Maya rolls her eyes. “Ohhh. I guess that means I’m just behind the times, like always.” She shuts the drawer and surveys the kitchen, hands on her hips. “Obviously.” “Don’t tell me you don’t have a corkscrew.” She’s so adorable standing there like that, dark hair piled on her head, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. “I don’t have a corkscrew,” I say just because she told me not to. I can’t help myself. “You’re so full of shit.” She laughs and spins in place, looking for another drawer to dig through. I love how comfortable she is in my apartment. “Did you look in the place where I keep the corkscrew?” She bursts out laughing, those quick eyes flashing. “Do you see a corkscrew in my hand? If I’d looked in the corkscrew place, I’d have found the corkscrew and the damn thing would be busy opening this bottle.” She brandishes the wine again and I get a look at the label. She just happened to pick my favorite. Either she saw that bottle on one of the many nights she’s been here, or it’s yet another instance where we seem to love the same things for the same reason. I take the bottle out of her hand and put it on the counter before pulling her into my arms and dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her coconut shampoo. “Go have a seat in the living room,” I tell her. “I’ll pour us some wine.” She smiles up at me while her hands slide down over my abs and past my belt. She squeezes my dick and bites her lip. “Don’t make me wait too long. The week’s been long enough already.” Fuckin’ hell. That girl is so hot. I pull the corkscrew out of the first drawer she pulled open and pour two very healthy glasses of wine. I fully intend to get her too drunk to drive home tonight. I will not let her get a cab. She will stay here so I can have her in my bed for a whole night and then have my way with her again in the morning. I saunter into the living room with a grin and find her perched on the edge of the couch with her phone in her hands. “I have to go,” she says, this awful dark cloud coming down over her face. “There’s an emergency at the hospital. They need me in surgery, like, five minutes ago.” Her eyes, usually so smooth and flashing with intelligence, go tight and hard. She reminds me of a wounded animal trapped in a cage. She stands. Plucks her coat off the back of the sofa and struggles with it while tapping out a frantic message on her phone. I put the glasses down on the coffee table and help her into her coat. “No worries,” I say even though I’m more than a little disappointed. “Go. Be a superhero. Save a life.”

Maya blinks up at me, tension twisting her pretty features. “God, I hope I’m not too late.” And with that, she’s out the door.

CHAPTER TEN

DESPAIR. IT CLINGS TO ME AND HOLDS ME IN PLACE. THE CHEAP LEATHER OF THE COUCH IN THE BREAK room bending and groaning beneath my weight. Crinkling as I shift in my seat. I stare at my hands and time passes. I forget how long I’ve been here. Not long enough for the tears to stop burning my eyes. Not long enough for the guilt to stop twisting in my stomach. Not long enough for the sounds of trauma and grief to stop echoing in my ears. The screech of the machines, blaring their alarms as the boy’s heart fails. The shriek of the boy’s mother as she collapses in front me. Her husband too shocked to catch her before she hits the floor. Why?! Her face distorted by agony. Why didn’t you save my boy?! And so I sit here—hours that could be minutes or days pass me by—and ask the same question. Why couldn’t I save him? Logic answers. He was dead before he got here. His injuries too severe for anyone to save him. His little body crushed by the car that hit him, no longer a decent home for his spirit. But still, the mother’s cries stab me in the heart and twist knives in my belly and I can’t be here anymore. Not here with the hospital smells and the hospital sounds and the doctors and nurses who stop by to drop a comforting hand on my shoulder. Who tell me I did everything I could do. That I should go home and take a bath. Get some food in my belly and fall asleep. How can I sleep knowing that there’s a mother and father lying awake in an agony I will never understand? Their hearts an open wound. Their souls bleeding

and sore. All because I failed them today. That despite me doing everything I knew to do, I wasn’t good enough to save their son. I just can’t be here. And I can’t be home. I can’t be anywhere because the guilt will follow me wherever I go. I grab my coat and race out of the hospital without even stopping to slip it on. My hands fumble with my car keys as I fight them into the ignition, either too numbed by grief or cold to work properly, I can’t be sure. I don’t know where I’m going until I get there and then I realize I’d known all along. I pull into the now familiar parking lot and shuffle into the building. Wait for the elevator. A ghost. A zombie. My body moving but my heart and soul are still with the little boy on the operating table. He had blonde hair. And I don’t even know his name. But he will live with me until I die. Firmly lodged in whatever it is that makes me who I am. It’s not until I knock on Hudson’s door for the third time do I realize that I have no idea what time it is. I’m fishing for my phone in my purse when I hear him fumbling with the lock on the other side of the door. “Maya?” His hair stands up on end, ruffled by sleep, and wrinkled indentations from his pillow are pressed into his cheek. “Shit,” I say. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first time I’ve used my voice in hours and I’m stunned by how foreign it sounds. Heavy. Hard. And then I step into him, pressing my forehead to his sleep warmed chest and I cry. He wraps his arms around me while I sob in his doorway. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move. He rubs his hands over my arms and back while I dissolve into him, each of my tears an apology to a little boy who will never get to grow into a man. “Where’s your coat, Maya?” asks Hudson, his voice pinched with worry as he rubs my chilled body. It’s only then that I realize I never put the thing on. He pulls me into his apartment, locks the door behind us, and leads me to the couch where he lets me curl up into him. “What happened, doll face?” I shake my head, burrowing deeper into him. Using his strength to hide from the world. “Please. Just tell me something. Are you okay?” His voice is sharp. Tight. The edge of rising panic darkening his typical warmth. I sit up and look at him, swiping at my tear stained face. “No. I mean yes. I’m not hurt. But I messed up so badly.” My face starts to crumble as another bout of tears wages a war with the small measure of peace I’d found by being near him. Hudson pulls me back into him and runs a hand through my hair, shushing me while I cry until there’s nothing more to give. Slowly, I tell him about a little boy who was hit by a car that swerved off the road and into his front yard. A little boy who needed me. A little boy I failed. I tell him

about a mother on her knees and a father too devastated to care. “And it’s all my fault.” The words are strangled. Grief a heavy weight on my chest. “No. It’s not.” Hudson searches my eyes. “I was the one with the skills to save him.” “And I’m sure you did everything you could. Sometimes everything isn’t enough. Maya…” He takes my face in his hands. “If you couldn’t save him, no one could.” I shake my head. Out of words. He kisses my forehead. The tip of my nose. Slides my shoes off my feet and covers me with a blanket while he disappears into the kitchen to make me some tea. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I wander into the bathroom to wash my face and hate what I see in the mirror. I hate my red rimmed eyes. I hate my blotchy cheeks. I hate my swollen lips. I hate the thoughts in my head and the cold in my heart. I hate my churning stomach and my shaking hands. I need out. I need release. I need a reason to stop thinking and feeling so I can just exist. I need out of my head, out of my heart, out of my soul so that I can just be here, in my body. A respite from the pain. The grief. The blame. I need Hudson. I need his cock inside me, shattering me, obliterating everything but the way he feels. I wash my face and blow my nose. Rake my fingers through my hair and head back out to the living room with purpose. He’s waiting for me, tea in hand, a smile on his face. Kindness in his eyes. Worry tightening his brow. I see compassion. I see concern. I see a man who wants to make a woman feel better. I can’t see those things right now. More emotion and confusion piled on an already over-brimming heart. So I look at his body. The tattoos I once found dangerous and tantalizing. The hard muscles that feel so foreign under my hands. The broad shoulders. The powerful thighs hiding under those pants, flexing and straining as he thrusts his cock into my waiting pussy. His mouth, so full. Trailing biting kisses over my body. Sucking and licking my clit while I writhe under him. These are the things I need right now. Not his heart. Not his compassion. I need his body to remind me that I’m human. I take the tea from him and set it on the table. My eyes never leave him and I can feel the lust burning there. My breath quickens, speeding through my parted lips. I need pleasure and pain, sensation stacked on sensation. He sees the way I look at him and his eyes darken. My lust igniting his. He seizes me, crushing his lips to mine. I rake my fingernails down his back, digging them in hard, hurting on purpose.

“I need you to fuck me, Hudson. I need it hard. And I need it now.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MAYA IS FRENZIED. Ripping clothes off. Clawing at my skin. Her eyes are dark and filled with pain and need and my cock is raging hard. She pulls my shirt off and digs her nails into my back. It fucking hurts. I grab her chin in my fingers. “Stop that.” She sets her jaw. “Make me.” She sounds angry, but her eyes beg me for the release she needs. Beg me to be hard on her so she can stop doing it herself. I pull down her pants, yanking her underwear down around her knees. Spin her around and bend her over the couch. I slap her ass. Hard. “When I say stop, you do it. Understand?” She looks over her shoulder, defiance flashing in her eyes. I slap her other ass cheek. “Answer me, Maya.” Her nostrils flare and she thrusts her hips back into my hand. Stays silent. I grab her hair and pull her upright, spin her so she’s facing me, so close she has to look straight up. “Answer me.” “I understand.” I yank back on her hair and she gasps, but her eyes soften. This is what she needs and I’m the one to give it to her. “What do you understand?” “I’ll stop when you tell me to.” “Why?”

Her lips part and she stares into my eyes. I reach a hand between her legs and find her so fucking wet I can’t stand it. I jam two fingers inside her, intentionally raking my palm against her clit. She gasps. “Why? Answer me.” My cock throbs between us, straining towards her. “Because you’re in control,” she whispers. “Of what?” “Of me. I need you, Hudson. Like I’ve never needed anything.” There’s this moment of silence. My heart skids and stutters in my chest, her words a lightning bolt inside me. I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her back around, bend her over and thrust my cock inside her, fully sheathing myself in her warmth. She cries out and I slam into her again and again, my skin slapping against her perfect ass. “Fuck me!” she cries. “Harder!” I wrap my fist in that gorgeous hair and pull back while I pound my dick into her pussy. She clenches around me and it feels so good. Better than anything. Anyone. Ever. She comes, crying out while I fuck her over the back of the couch. As her screams fall into whimpers, I slow my pace. Rolling my hips as I stroke in and out of her. I release my grip on her hair and run my hands gently down her back as she lays her cheek against the marble countertop, gasping for breath. “Thank you,” she whispers, her anger spent. She looks so small. So fragile. So raw and in need. I pull out of her and pick her up, cradling her in my arms as I carry her to my bedroom. Her eyes are soft and wide when I lay her on my bed. She stares into mine and for the first time ever, I know that I’m seeing all the way through to who she is. That in this moment she is truly naked before me. Her broken heart and bruised soul open to me and only me. Never once breaking eye contact, I slide into her, slowly. Almost reverently. “You are so beautiful,” I say as I roll my hips. My hands on either side of her head. My forehead nearly touching hers. “So kind. So smart. So funny. So talented.” I tell her all the things I’ve been thinking for the last few weeks, accentuating each one with a thrust of my hips, pushing myself deeper and deeper inside her, watching her watch me. “You are so much,” I say, finishing the thought in my head. You are so much to me. Her lips part. “I am nothing,” she whispers, so much pain in her eyes. I shake my head. Kiss her lips. Slide my dick in and out of her as her hands squeeze my ass. “Oh no, Maya. You are everything.” Her eyes roll closed. Her breath catches and her muscles clench around me. She comes and it’s beautiful, ecstasy softening her face. I am undone. I come inside her in two long spurts, shuddering and never once

looking away from her tear-stained face. This is more than sex. This is more than two people seeking pleasure in each other’s body. This is something I have never felt before. Connection. A need that isn’t physical, but that’s locked somewhere in my heart and soul. This is me looking at Maya, knowing that I want more of her. Her time. Her laughter. Her tears. Her joy and her pain. I want them all. I want her. I collapse beside her, pull her in close, wrap my arms around her, and we fall asleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I WAKE UP, CONFUSED. I DON’T RECOGNIZE THE ROOM OR THE BED. I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THERE’S someone beside me or why I’m naked. I turn my head and recognize the sharp contours of Hudson’s face. His strong nose, the gentle sweep of his eyelashes. The hard line of his jaw. I smile. The night comes back to me. The pain of the loss of the boy. The fury of my need in the kitchen. The softness in Hudson’s eyes as he told me I was everything. I want more of that. The connection we had. I’ve never felt so cared for, so safe, so secure as I did last night. I was in need and Hudson gave himself to me. And I gave myself to him in a way that I never intended. I’m tempted to run my fingers over his chest, to trace the sweeping lines of his tattoos, but I don’t want to wake him. Besides, I’m raw and vulnerable and if he looked at me with even a fraction of the intensity he had in his eyes last night, I don’t know what might happen. I might just fall over an edge and what was once fun and meaningless might become real and powerful. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I can handle that. It’s already bad enough that I came here last night. Instead of going home and dealing with my grief myself. Instead of being strong and locking all the sadness away under the guise of professionalism. Instead of calling Chelsea and going to her, I came to him. When I hurt, when I was in need, he was the first person I thought of. The only person I thought of. And he gave me what I needed. He fucked me until I collapsed and then, instead of driving into me until he came, he swooped me up and made love to me. He told

me I was beautiful, his words touching a hidden spot in my heart while his body moved with mine, pushing me towards the most soul-touching orgasm I’ve ever had. Last night was body and soul combined and I’m not ready for that. I can’t open myself up for him. Not when last night proved just how utterly weak I actually am. The joy I felt upon seeing him just moments ago fades into fear. I stare at the ceiling, tears burning my eyes. I can’t do this. He says I am everything and I can’t be that for him. I’ve been too many things for too many people and I’m so tired of not being anything for myself. Careful not to wake him, I slide out from under the covers and stand. My heart begs me to turn and look at him, so peaceful in his sleep. The last time I’ll see him. I don’t. I can’t look at him because if I do, there’s a chance I’ll never leave. And I have to leave. I creep forward on silent feet and freeze as he groans, stretching, his body hissing across the sheets. “You better not be sneaking out,” he says, his voice husky with sleep. My chin drops to my chest and my eyes close and I can’t move. I can’t turn to look at him and I can’t leave. I’m trapped here, standing naked and raw in his bedroom. “Maya.” My name is a prayer on his lips. “Come back to bed.” I shake my head. Still silent. Go, says my fear. Go now. Leave before you can’t anymore. And still, I stand frozen. “I can’t,” I manage, my voice scraping past the hole in my heart. And with that, I find my strength and walk out of his bedroom, never once looking back. The rustle of his body against the sheets chases me down the hallway. “Damn it, Maya!” I gather my clothes, my hands shaking. “I have to go.” I pull on my bra and panties, making eye contact with the floor. Hudson steps in, invades my space, puts his finger to my chin and lifts my face to his. He kisses me and I’m undone. My resolve dissipates. I can’t leave. I don’t know if I ever could. “Come back to bed,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. His hands cupping my face. “Don’t leave me.” “Don’t ask me to stay.” He slides his hands up into my hair and waits for me to look him in the eye. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.” I pull out of his grasp. “Who gave you the right to tell me what to do?” I step into my pants and search for my shirt. Hudson grabs my wrist, pulling me back into him. “You did.” He smiles down at me, sadness twisting his brows. “Last night.” I suck in my lips. “I’m so tired of doing things for other people.”

Hudson lets me go. Steps back and holds out his hands. “Then stay because you want to. Stay because this is good. Stay for you, Maya.” I look at him. This awful silence descends on the apartment. Every ounce of my being wants me to stay. Wants me to run into his arms and give myself to him once and for all. I take a breath. “I can’t.” His face goes hard and he watches me find my shirt and pull it on, grab my purse, and leave. I’m down the hall, stabbing the button for the elevator when the tears come. I lean on the wall for support, my body sagging and my heart breaking. I want to turn around and I know I can’t. If I go back to him, I’ll give myself to him and then he’s just one more person who means more to me than I do to myself. He’s just one more person who will need things from me. Take things from me. Expect me to do things for him without stopping to ask what I want or need. Leaving is the right answer. Leaving is the only way I’ll be whole. Leaving is the only way I’ll be true to myself. But if that’s the case, why does it hurt so much? Why do I want to spin on my heel and run back into his arms? Why does it feel like I’m shattering into a million pieces? Behind me, his door swings open. I whirl as Hudson strides towards me, a pair of athletic pants hanging from his hips. “Don’t,” I say as he closes the distance between us. “Maya.” His voice is hard and thick, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Don’t do this.” “I have to.” I break eye contact. I can’t see him like this. “Look at me.” I shake my head. “Look at me,” he pleads, his voice softening. And damn it, I do. “This isn’t what I signed up for.” The elevator door slides open and I step inside. “This isn’t meaningless anymore.” “You’re right. It’s not.” Hudson swallows hard and sets his jaw. “Now get out of the damn elevator and come talk to me.” He smiles, his eyes pleading. “Please.” He extends a hand and I take it, letting him lead me back into his apartment. I perch on the armrest of his couch, clutching my purse to my chest, so totally confused that I don’t know what to say or think or do. Hudson crouches at my feet. His hands on my knees. His eyes on mine. “Why would you run from this?” “Because I don’t want to lose myself.” “Who said you would?” “That’s just what I do. I give control of my life to people with bigger personalities. People who love me and want what they think is best for me, but don’t take into consideration what is actually good for me. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Then don’t do it anymore.” Hudson stands and pulls me to my feet. “But it’s just what I do. It happens before I know it. I’ll lose myself to you.” “I won’t let that happen.” “You already tried to make it happen. Just now, when you told me to stay.” I hate this. I hate every moment of it. It’s all I can do to stay where I am. I just want to run away. “But, staying is the right answer.” Hudson looks confused. “For you. It’s right for you.” “No, Maya. It’s right for us.” He paces into the kitchen. “That’s just it. You decided what was right for me and then told me what was right for me without even bothering to ask what I thought was right for me.” He closes the distance between us again. Takes my hands in his. “Maya? What’s right for you? What do you want?” I stare up at him, a battle waging inside me. I want him. I want to stay here and laugh with him. I want to talk with him, be consumed by him. I want to fuck him each night and wake up beside him each morning only to fuck him again. I want to share my heart with him and I want to grow closer to him. That’s what I want. But who the fuck knows if that’s what’s right. And that’s where I get stuck. Hudson brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “Talk to me. Please.” “I want you, Hudson. And that scares the hell out of me.” He smiles, his dimples lighting up his face. “I want you, too. All of you. All the time. You stopped being meaningless to me weeks ago.” His words hit me hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I didn’t want to push you towards anything you weren’t ready for.” He folds his arms across his chest. “You came into this looking for something simple and fun. I didn’t want to become another obligation. I told myself I’d be simple and fun until you wanted more.” “What if I never wanted more?” “Then I wouldn’t have asked.” I crinkle my brow. Take a deep breath. “You would have sacrificed what you wanted for what you thought I needed?” The words catch in my throat. It’s taking everything not to throw myself into his arms. Because when it all comes down to it, he’s what I want. And the more I realize that he wanted me but wasn’t willing to take me until I was ready, well, it makes me realize just how good he could be for me. “Yes.” He shrugs. “Or I would have tried. Because here you are, trying to leave, telling me you’re not ready. And I’m too selfish to let you go.” I suck in my lips and step towards him. “And what if I told you I’m glad you didn’t let me leave? What if I told you that I want more?” “Then I’d pull you back to bed and keep you with me until you begged to leave.” “Would there be sex?” I smile up at him. “You can bet your sexy ass there’d be so much sex, you wouldn’t walk straight

for a month.” My heart flip-lops and my stomach flutters. Is this what it feels like to have butterflies in my stomach? Is this what it means to fall in love? Why would anyone ever want to feel this way? It’s terrible. My foundation is shaking. Nothing feels stable or real. Everything is different and every time I look at Hudson, my whole body sighs and time stops and everything is better and worse all at the same time. “Hudson?” My heart stops. My blood roars in my ears. My breath catches. “Don’t let me leave.” He sweeps me up into his arms. Kisses me, something tender and sweet and so addicting I know I’m done for, and then he carries me back to his room and stretches me out on his bed. Undresses me, bares me to him, only to cover my body with his own.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MAYA. MY WHOLE LIFE IS MAYA. IF I’M NOT WAKING UP TO HER PERFECT TITS AND HER PERFECT SMILE, then I’m looking forward to the moment she shows up at my door. I teach her about football and she avoids talking about work and all in all things are really good. “What are you thinking about?” she asks as she reaches up into a cabinet for the garlic salt. “Nothing.” “That’s bullshit and you know it. You only smile like that when you’re thinking about something.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the counter. “Fine. I was thinking about making you suck my dick before you finish dinner.” “We finish dinner. I have no idea what I’m doing, remember?” “Neither do I, doll face. This was your grand idea.” Nevertheless, I push off the counter and lean over the spaghetti sauce, looking into the pot and stirring like that’s going to make a difference. “Anyway,” says Maya, sprinkling garlic salt into the sauce as I stir. “That was a bullshit answer, too. You have a totally different smile when you’re thinking about sex.” “I hate to break it to you, doll face, but when I’m with you I’m always thinking about sex.” There’s no way I’m going to tell her that I’m thinking about how good we are together. She’s skittish about that kind of stuff. Besides, I wasn’t lying. When I’m with her, I really am always thinking about sex. She grins up at me. “Quit lying. You and I both know you’re always thinking

about football.” “Well, I do think about football a lot.” I look up at the ceiling and stroke my chin. “But I think if you took the time to graph it out, sex with you would win out. By a margin.” Maya shakes her head and points at me with the spoon from the sauce. “Real nice, Knox. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” “If I don’t make you feel special every day of your life, then I’m doing it wrong.” I grab her and I kiss her. I love that she tastes so sweet and looks so innocent while I know that deep down, she’s as dirty as I want her to be. Her lips part, inviting me in and her hips press into mine. Without looking, she puts the spoon down on the stove and begins fiddling with my pants, eager to deliver the blowjob she thinks I want. I don’t stop her. I’m more than willing to come in her mouth before dinner. TURNS out I didn’t come in her mouth after all. I wanted her too much and couldn’t stop myself from fucking her against the counter—one of my new favorite ways to make her scream my name. It also turns out that we’re not having homemade spaghetti sauce tonight because sex with Maya always becomes an event. We took our time, enjoying each other, finding new ways to make the other moan, and lo and behold, the sauce burned itself to the bottom of the pan. So, now we’re eating pizza and drinking wine. “I think this turned out pretty well,” I say before cramming the last bite of pizza in my mouth. “What a fantastic meal.” “Sure.” Maya rolls her eyes. “Because I didn’t have anything to do with it.” “That’s not true at all. The meal was fantastic because of the company.” She smiles at me and takes a long drink of her wine before shrugging. “The company is okay, I guess. The sex was fantastic but that was all me.” “That was us, doll face.” We sit quietly and I stare into the face of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't believe how lucky I am to have her with me. I can't believe we've come so far in such a short time. How long ago was it that we ran into each other at Aura? Three months? She’s such an intricate part of my life now that I can’t imagine my days without her. “So, how's work going?” I ask when she catches me watching her. “We haven't really talked about it since that night.” I don’t need to go into any more detail. She knows exactly what night I’m talking about. Maya swallows and looks down at her hands. Swirls the tip of her finger around the edge of her wine glass and then takes a long drink, never quite meeting my eyes. “Fine,” she says. I make a face and grab my wine glass. “Don't give me that canned answer,” I say after a drink. “I don't believe it. Not for one minute.”

She studies me, silent for a long time. And then she puts her wine glass down on the table and runs both hands up into her hair. “It's awful. My confidence is shaken. Each kid that comes into the hospital just makes me so sad I can barely stand to be there. I thought I'd be making a difference.” She swallows and shakes her head, staring at the pizza box. “You are.” “I mean, maybe. But if I am, it's at the expense of myself.” She meets my gaze and I hate seeing the pain tightening her features. I watch her. Her uneasy eyes roam the topography of my table. I've known she wasn't happy at her job since before I really even got to know her. Since that night at the coffee shop when she told me what she did for a living. When she told me that she did it for her parents and not for herself. I lean in and take her hands in mine. I run my fingertip across her knuckles, amazed at her skin, so soft like rose petals. “What would you be if you had the choice? What would you do if you weren't trying to live up to your parents’ expectations?” She draws her eyebrows together and bites her bottom lip, thinking before answering. “I don't really know. I guess I've never given it much thought.” “Well, think about it. You've mentioned wanting to make a difference so many times that even someone as thick as I am knows how important it is to you. What else are you passionate about? What excites you?” Maya smiles wickedly. “You.” “Obviously. That’s a no-brainer.” I grin and wink at her because I know it drives her crazy. “What else gets you all hot and bothered?” “I guess that’s the thing about living my whole life for other people. I don't know.” “It’s not too late to figure out what you want. Where do your dreams start, and your parents’ dreams end?” Maya pulls her hands from mine and runs one over her mouth. “But it is too late. I have too much debt. I can't go back to school because of that alone. But there’s also the fact that I can't imagine starting over after getting so close to the end of my residency.” I stand and start gathering the dishes. I understand what she’s saying. I understand why she feels trapped doing what she’s doing. I hate it for her, and I would do anything to make it go away, anything to make her smile a permanent feature on her face. “Do you even like being a surgeon?” I know better than to meet her eyes when I ask such a personal question. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I pick up our wine glasses and bring them into the kitchen so I can refill them. I don't expect her to answer truthfully. So when she does, I stop what I’m doing and listen. Maya spins in her seat to look at me. “Not at all. It's hard and it's ugly and people's lives hang in the balance of my successes and failures. It's too much. I want to make a difference, but I don't want to lose myself in the process. Do you

know how hard it's been to juggle my career and this relationship?” She stands and closes the distance between us, running her hands up and down my arms, looking deeply into my eyes. “It's been worth it. Don't doubt that for a second. But it's definitely been hard. There are some days I just want to sleep because I don't remember the last time I did. I don't think that's the way life is supposed to be.” “No Maya, it's not supposed to be that way. I don't know what the right answer is, but I do know the way you're doing it right now isn't working. That your career is killing you. Something’s going to have to give, doll face.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HUDSON'S RIGHT. I NEED TO START LIVING FOR MYSELF. IT'S JUST THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW in the world I'm going to do that. What do I want? How do I go back to square one after I've spent so much time working to get to this point? All I know is that something has to change. That if I keep going on living this life, in this way, then I’m not going to make it very far. I can't survive like this. “You do realize you were supposed to be a bad decision, right?” I grab Hudson's hands and wrap his arms around me. “That sleeping with you was supposed to be my own little rebellion? You weren't supposed to end up being good for me.” Hudson leans down to kiss the top of my head, holding me tighter and swaying us back and forth. “Do you think I'm good for you?” His voice rumbles in my ear and I realize it’s become one of my favorite sounds. “I know you're good for me.” I’ve known it for weeks now, ever since that night that the little boy died on my table. Hudson pulls away. “Then grab that wine glass and join me in the living room. We're going to sit and we're going to cuddle and we're going to figure out what it is in this life that excites you.” “We already went over that,” I say as we curl up on the couch. “It's you.” “And I’ve already said that’s obvious. But you can't spend your days locked up in this apartment as my sex slave. A woman like you needs more than that. You’ll get bored. Fast.” “I don't know, anyone who can get bored when there is Hudson Knox and sex slave in the same sentence has to have something wrong with them.” We sit and we drink and we talk about anything and everything that comes to

our minds. Hudson’s hands roam my body as we talk, but that doesn’t bother me. I know how much he loves touching me, that his hand on my breast isn’t just a strange attempt at foreplay. It’s also his way of saying how much I mean to him. Besides, I love how sexual our relationship is. I love that we’re talking about changing the landscape of my whole life at the same time that he’s pinching my nipple through the fabric of my sweater. He was right when he said he knows how much I want to make a difference in the world, in people's lives. I want to be a force of positive change, bringing happiness to people who might not get it otherwise. But I just don't know what skills I have other than surgery that would allow me to do that without losing little slices of my soul each and every day. “I love kids,” I say, downing the remainder of my wine. “That's what led me into pediatric surgery. And I’ve always liked being in charge. When I was little, I used to love playing school with my sisters. We'd sit in my room and I would hand out papers and give them tests and then pretend to grade them. I always gave Chelsea a C because I loved to see her lose her mind over not being perfect, and I always gave Dakota an A because she never got them anywhere else.” “Is that what you want to do? Teach?” Hudson looks incredulous. I shake my head. “No, I think the reality of life as a teacher is way different than the fantasies I had as a child. But I think if I could find a way to guide people in making positive changes in their lives, a way to help mold and shape the way they see the world, a way to help them become the best version of themselves, I think I could be really happy then.” As the night goes on and Hudson continues to ask more and more in-depth questions about what makes me happy, I get more and more uncomfortable because I realize that I have very little clue what makes me happy other than being with him. Every time I shrug or gives a non-answer, he smiles that supermodel smile of his, and starts asking more questions. And with each new question, my stomach twists a little harder and before I know it, I’m a mess. Hudson’s being amazing to me and I completely and utterly hate it. That’s strange. A little sick. I shouldn't react like this. But the fact that he knows me so well, the fact that he's so willing to spend this much time trying to help me get to the bottom of who I actually am, that makes me feel like he's more invested in me than is safe for either of us. I don't want to hurt him. And I don't want him to hurt me. It's a scary thing, being this vulnerable. Knowing that his opinion matters to me. Knowing that my decisions matter to him. Before Hudson, life wasn't great. It wasn’t amazing. I didn’t wake up each morning thankful for the things I had on my schedule that day. But who really lives that way? My life was fine. I went to work. I was successful. And I had a promising future as a respected surgeon. And it's not like any of those things have changed. It's just that now I'm questioning whether or not I'm interested in that future. Questioning whether or not I can continue to trudge through a life where there is no passion. No

excitement. Just day after day of working and totally dedicating myself to the hospital and trying to save people when I myself am the one who needs saving. And the fact that I resent Hudson for bringing happiness into my life, it just makes me hate myself all the more. I'm not worthy of a man like this. The Greek god with the body of an Adonis and tattoos and dimples and money and fame and an amazing brain. I'm not worthy of him devoting all this time to try to make my life better when I'm not able to make it better myself. It makes me want to run away. And that makes me sad. Because what is so broken in me that allows me to see any of this as bad? Am I that lazy? Here Hudson is, showing me the path to happiness, and I'd rather keep on dredging through the hard parts then try to create any kind of real change. The worst part about it is I know I'm going to let him down. I know he's going to invest himself in my happiness. Try to guide me toward something that's fulfilling. Something that I choose for myself rather than something that others choose for me. And when it's all said and done? What are the chances that I will actually be brave enough to make a change? To actually go against my parents’ wishes? To stand up for myself and say this is not the way I want to live. Let's be honest, they're not good. And so I smile through our evening, and I drink too much wine. I laugh when he jokes and I kiss him when he kisses me but I know that the time is drawing near when I have to say goodbye. I will not ruin him. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SOMETHING’S WRONG WITH MAYA. SHE KEEPS SMILING AND NODDING AS WE TALK, BUT SHE’S DISTANT. It’s like she’s not even here with me right now. More like the old Maya than the one who makes me feel like the only person in the damn world who knows her. It takes her a little longer to respond to my questions each time I ask one. She just finished her third glass of wine and doesn’t look like she’s anywhere near stopping. “You’re quiet tonight,” I say. Maya looks at me, blinking slowly as her eyes swim into focus. “Just thinking,” she slurs and a Cheshire cat smile stretches across her face, all teeth and scared eyes, too wide to be real. Whatever she’s thinking, it can’t be good. It’s bound to be poisonous. Some wicked little thought that basically means she’s afraid and is going to try to run away from me again. I won’t let that happen. I’ve worked too hard to get her to be comfortable and if I wasn’t the kind of guy who chases after the things that matter to me, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I’m a pit bull when it comes to getting what I want. I grab hold and don’t let go. “What are you thinking about?” I put my wine glass on the coffee table and pull Maya in close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and letting my hand fall onto her tit. I give it a little squeeze because who could resist something as perfect as Maya’s breast? She buries herself into me and sighs. “It’s not a big deal.” “You’re too quiet for it not to be a big deal.” Maya stiffens. “I’m just lost in my thoughts, that’s all.” “Exactly. And you haven’t been like this in a long time. You never filter yourself

around me anymore.” “I’m not filtering myself now.” She’s still leaning into me but she’s gone so tense I might as well be cuddling a mannequin. I look down, lean over a little to try to make eye contact, but she keeps staring at my jeans like she thinks she’ll find a hidden treasure in them. Which she will. Later. “Hey,” I say. “Come on, doll face. Give me a little credit. I know you. Something’s wrong.” She sighs and struggles into a sitting position. Woah. She looks way more than three glasses in. Did I miscount how much she’s had to drink or is she really struggling with something important? “You’re not supposed to be good for me,” she says, pointing at me. “You’re supposed to be a bad decision. Meaningless sex and that’s it.” She doesn’t need to say anything else for me to understand what’s going on in that head of hers. “No way,” I say. “You’re not going to ruin this because you’re scared of what we have.” “I’m not scared. I just think you deserve better.” “Because you’re scared.” “No. Because I’m going to let you down. You think I can just choose to stop being a surgeon and disappoint my family simply because it’ll make me happier and I can’t do that. I can’t. And you’re going to put all this time and effort into trying to help me and I’m going to disappoint you and then you’ll leave. And I don’t want you to leave.” I smile, bringing out the dimples so they can help with some of the heavy lifting here. She needs me to lighten the mood big time. “So. What I hear is that you’re scared.” “Fine. I’m scared.” Maya picks up the empty wine bottle and shakes her head angrily as she realizes she can’t escape this conversation by pouring more wine into her glass. “If I let myself believe in the life you’re talking about, I’m gonna get hurt.” She puts the bottle down on the coffee table with a thunk. “Why?” “Because that kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life.” “I’m pretty sure my life is real and I’m basically describing the way things worked out for me.” “Yeah, but you’re you. An anomaly. We can’t all be born with big muscles and sexy dimples.” “Maya.” I take her hands and kiss each of her fingers. “I didn’t come into the world this big. I was a scrawny little kid who got told he’d break if he ever played football. I worked every day to build this body. I still work every day to build this body.” I shrug and wink at her. “The dimples? That’s a different story.” I get a glimpse of the smile I was hoping for before a frown devours it. “Well, then, I don’t get why you keep trying to talk me into finding a different job if it all

just comes down to having to work really hard to get ahead.” “Right. But there’s a difference. I love what I do and so the work brings me joy. It doesn’t feel like work.” Maya shakes her head. “Here’s what will happen. I’ll find my passion and give up on being a surgeon after a decade of education. My job of the heart or whatever won’t work out and then I’ll be broke. After that, you’ll leave me. I’ll be worse off than I am now financially. But even more than that, I won’t have you. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.” The mere fact that my balls don’t crawl up into my belly hearing her say that makes a powerful case as to how much I care for this woman. The implications of forever should be a little too rich for my blood. And they are. Kind of. As much as I don’t want to think about committing to something as grandiose as forever, I’m not all that in love with a life that doesn’t have Maya in it, either. “I’m here now.” I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. I might not be ready to tell her just how much she means to me with my voice, but maybe she can get a sense of it through my kiss. The urgency of it. The depth. Maybe I don’t need to tell her because maybe she already knows. “I know. And I love it,” she says when I finally release her lips. She burrows into me and it’s not long before I feel her body go heavy and limp against mine. Her breath deepens. She always falls asleep first. Her work at the hospital keeps her permanently exhausted. Add in a glass of wine or three and she’s pretty much done for. I make sure she’s comfortable and watch a couple YouTube videos of Greg Olsen —the tight end for the Carolina Panthers—in the 2016 Super Bowl. That’s where I want to be. Playing with the best of the best against the best of the best. I’m thankful for my start with the Bengals, but I just don’t see them taking me where I want to go. When I start to feel tired, I scoop Maya up into my arms. She nuzzles into me as I carry her down the long hallway towards what’s starting to feel like our bedroom. Not my bedroom. Ours She’s a tiny thing even though she swears she’s not. I can almost hold her one handed while I pull back the covers to put her down on her side of the bed. She moans as I lower her down, a worried sound. “Hush now, doll face.” I swipe a lock of hair away from her eyes and kiss her, careful not to wake her up but totally unable to keep my lips off of hers. “I love you, Hudson.” Her words are barely more than a murmur. A whispered confession to her pillow. But they strike deep into my heart, fear and joy twisting together so tightly that I have no idea what I’m actually feeling.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MY EYES ARE OPEN BEFORE I KNOW I’M AWAKE. LIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE LARGE WINDOWS IN Hudson’s bedroom and pierce straight through to the headache raging in my head. How much wine did I have last night? Three glasses? That’s a lot, but combine it with the fact that I haven’t slept more than a few hours over the last couple days and that suddenly becomes a whole lot more. Juggling Hudson and the hospital is killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, but I don’t see me giving up either one any time soon so I guess I’ll keep going until I can’t anymore. I push into a sitting position and check the time. Shit, it’s late. I don’t know what time I passed out last night, but I’ve probably been asleep for a good fifteen hours. Just as I start to wonder what Hudson’s been doing all this time, he pushes through the door, balancing a tray loaded with food and coffee and a small vase with a single red rose inside. “Good morning, doll face.” He sets the tray down across my lap. “I figured my girl could use some pancakes, sausage, and caffeine.” The combined scents of my favorite foods hit my nose and I close my eyes while my stomach churns hungrily. “I didn’t know you knew how to make pancakes,” I say, smiling at Hudson and picking up the fork. He winks at me and grins. “I don’t. I ran out while you were asleep. Hence the rose,” he says gesturing towards the thing with his chin. My eyes go wide. “You’ve been up long enough to go out for breakfast and come back without me even knowing?” “And get a work out in.” Hudson plucks a piece of sausage off my plate and takes a bite. “You sleep like the dead, hot stuff.”

He watches me eat for a bit, pleased with himself for pulling off the breakfast in bed. I’m pretty pleased with him, too. Not only did I need the sleep, but I’ve apparently been starving because this breakfast is hitting the spot. A stack of pancakes this size should overwhelm me, but I think I’m going to make my way through it without a problem. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he takes another bite of sausage. “Do you have a headache? You were pretty out of it last night.” His gaze darts from mine and he swallows hard. That look means one thing and one thing only, there’s something on his mind that he’s reluctant to bring up. I shrug, watching him like a hawk in case I see anything else that makes me think he’s trying to hide something from me. “Nope, not much in the way of a headache. I think I was more tired than I was drunk. It’s been a long few days at the hospital.” “You barely woke up when I carried you to bed.” “You carried me to bed? I wondered how I got here.” And then, just like that, I remember. I remember the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body. I remember the gentle brush of his finger across my forehead and the welcome touch of his lips to mine. And then, after that, my words to him. I love you. Truth, sure, but a truth that wasn’t ready to be heard yet. I can feel the color draining from my face, the panic in my eyes. My mouth works, opening and closing as I try to find something to say. Should I take it back? Should I try to play it off as me being way more drunk than I thought I was? Should I pretend like I don’t remember? I think the I don’t remember boat has already set sail off into the sunset because my face has made it pretty damn clear that I most definitely remember. “I’m sorry,” I say before I even know what I’m going to apologize for. I just need to say something to fill the silence. Hudson closes his eyes and lets out a long breath while my heart just about explodes and the pancakes and sausage do a nauseating dance down in my stomach. It’s about fourteen years before he finally looks at me again, but when he does, the look in his eyes sets my body on fire. “Don’t apologize,” he says as he pulls the tray off my legs and sets it on the bed beside me. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me.” He smiles and caresses my cheek. “I wanted to be the first to say it. I love you, Maya.” The words hit me like an adrenaline shot to the heart. Like warm honey and fireworks and sun on your skin. It’s everything. Those words are everything to me. “I love you, too.” And I’m smiling and he’s smiling and he kisses me and tears threaten but they’re beautiful, not painful and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this good in my whole entire life. “And for the record, I can’t imagine a life without you in it, either. That should scare me to death, but it doesn’t.” I shake my head. “Ditto.” I’m pretty much silenced by the roar of emotion in my head and heart. I’m overwhelmed and full to the brim and I just want more, more,

more. So I kiss him and shiver as he runs his hands up my body, squeezing my breast and pushing me down onto my back. He pulls off my shirt almost reverently and then slides my panties down my legs before pushing my thighs apart and drawing his tongue across my clit. “I love the way you taste,” he says before his mouth drives me crazy. I am a writhing mess in his bed, moaning and groaning and filled with him. His fingers inside me. His tongue teasing me. His love warming my heart and soul. I come and it’s everything until his cock presses against my opening. His eyes claim mine, hooded and feral and filled with emotion, as he sheathes himself inside me. “I love the way you feel,” he says, rolling his hips. He leans down and kisses me, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, his dick so deep inside me I can’t imagine ever being empty again. We move together, two bodies joined, a union of pleasure and yearning, an admission of love. The next orgasm overtakes me without warning. I cry out and he leans down to whisper in my ear. “I love you, Maya.” “Oh, Hudson!” I clench around him, my heart pressing against my chest, my love for him filling the room. “I love you, too!” I barely manage the words, my breath stolen by emotion and feeling and physical pleasure so intense I can’t believe I have the ability to speak at all. Hudson comes inside me and it’s a pleasure I can’t even begin to explain. Intimate. Personal. I love it more than I ever thought I would. He collapses at my side. “I hereby request that is now our official way to start the day.” “Done,” I say and press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “And gladly.” Beside me, my phone buzzes on the bedside table. A phone call. I never get calls. Confusion creasing my brow, I pluck it up and find my mom’s face smiling at me on the caller ID. “Maya?” she asks when I answer the phone. She’s keyed up, anxious. Her voice clipped and tight. “Yeah. What’s wrong?” There’s no question in my mind that something is wrong. “We’re at the hospital. Chelsea’s in labor. Can you get here?” “Yeah. Of course.” I’m already sitting up and climbing out of bed. “Where?” Mom gives me the name of the hospital and I hang up, staring at Hudson. “What’s wrong?” he asks, sliding his feet off the edge of the bed to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Chelsea’s in labor.” Hudson’s eyes go wide. “Already? Isn’t it early?” “By over a month.” I nod and search for my clothes. Chelsea has had so many good things happen to her lately, so many reasons to be happy and this baby is supposed to be the icing on the cake. Oh shit, I really hope she hasn’t used up all her good Karma. Hudson is up with me, helping me find my clothes. After I’m dressed, he pulls

me into his arms and I melt into his strength. I don’t want to leave him. Not at all. “Would you come with me?” I ask, barely even stopping to think about what I’m asking. “To the hospital?” I nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to be without you.” “Won’t your family think it’s weird that I’m there?” He has a point there. My parents don’t even know I’m seeing anyone, let alone someone who’s important enough to me to bring to something that constitutes a family emergency. I shrug. “Probably. But this isn’t about them. I need you.” Hudson smiles. “Well in that case, I’d be honored.” He hugs me and presses a kiss into the top of my head before going to get dressed. My parents are going to lose their minds when they see him, and maybe it’s selfish of me to bring him. Maybe it’s selfish of me to introduce him to my family at a time like this. But the fact of the matter is that I’m tired of doing things for my parents. I need Hudson and that’s what matters. They’re just going to have to get used to him being around. We take Hudson’s car to the hospital and find my parents in the waiting room. Their eyes go wide when they see him, but they don’t say anything, thank God. They exchange introductions and Hudson flashes them the dimples while my parents size him up. “Is Chelsea okay?” I ask. Mom nods and then shrugs as she shakes her head. “I think so, considering.” And then, as if summoned by my arrival with Hudson, Chelsea's husband Max joins us in the waiting room. My parents rush to him. My mom looks up into his face, her fear and worry for her daughter painted across her tight features. “Is she okay?” Max beams. “She's fine. You should be so proud of your daughter.” Looking at his face, there's no doubt that’s he's proud of his wife. “And the baby?” asks Mom. Max actually laughs, a huge ‘proud father’ look stretching across his face. “Beautiful,” he says. “That's the only word for it.” “When can I see her?” asks mom. “We,” says Dad giving Mom a pointed look. “When can we see her?” “They're ready for you now,” says Max. He looks at me, glancing to Hudson and then back to me with an approving look. “You guys ready?” Max leads us to Chelsea’s room. My parents burst in while Hudson lingers near the door. “Come on,” I say, gesturing into the room, eager to meet my new niece or nephew. “Don’t you think it’s kind of personal? And I shouldn’t be in there?” I shake my head. “You’re important to me and that means you should be with

me. Besides, you know Chelsea.” “For you, doll face. I’ll go in for you.” I grin and take his hand, lead him into the room and stop beside my shocked parents. Chelsea beams at us from her hospital bed, looking exhausted, but happier than ever, holding this tiny little bundle in her arms. Beside her, Max is smiling just as wide as she is, also holding a tiny little bundle. “Twins?” asks mom, tears gleaming in her eyes. “You had twins?” Chelsea nods. “We wanted to keep it a surprise.” Her gaze lands on Hudson and she lifts her eyebrows. “Well, hello,” she says to him. He waves his fingers at her while shoving his other hand into his pants pocket. “Meet Kayla and Lucas,” says Max. “Twins.” Mom looks at Dad, overwhelmed with happiness. “Can I hold one?” She rushes to Chelsea’s side and claims baby Kayla without waiting for an answer. Max hands Lucas to me and I smile down at the tiny little face, all crinkled up and tired. “He looks like an angry gnome,” I say to Hudson before looking back at my nephew. He’s so beautiful, his eyebrows dark like his dad’s . He yawns and opens his eyes and they are the same color as my sister’s. A rush of emotion sweeps through me, followed by the worst possible thought I could ever have. I want a baby.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I’M EVEN BUSIER THAN USUAL, AS I’VE ADDED A STOP AT CHELSEA’S EVERY DAY TO CHECK IN AND MAKE sure she’s had time to sleep. I pretend it’s for my sister, and really, it is. But only partly. It’s also very much because I can’t help but cuddle little Lucas and Kayla. I crave their smell. The way they feel in my arms. If Kayla and Lucas are sleeping, I spend some time with Chelsea’s adopted son Charlie if he’s home from school. I never spent much time one on one with him before and he’s actually a really cool kid. We talk about his friends and how school’s going and gradually, as I spend time with my sister’s children, this realization settles over me. My passion is kids. That’s why I wanted to work in pediatric surgery. I wanted to be around the children. I wanted a chance to help them grow into healthy adults. I can’t believe that it’s taken me this long to see it. Today, I’m spending my lunch break at Chelsea’s, changing diapers and cuddling crying babies, and I have never in my life been more fulfilled. Between my evenings with Hudson and my afternoons with the twins, I’m almost constantly smiling. There’s a pep to my step and a smile on my face. Max walks in, cradling Lucas, while I’m changing Kayla’s diaper, singing a little song to her as I do. “Motherhood suits you,” he says. “Well, I get to skip the part where I’m exhausted and never get any time to myself and go straight to the parts that everyone loves.” Max crinkles his nose. “I think only a very special person would love changing a diaper.” He puts Lucas in his crib before scooping up Kayla and staring down into her face adoringly.

“How’s Chelsea?” I ask, fighting a surge of jealousy I don’t understand. “Sleeping. It was a long night. If one was sleeping, the other was awake and as soon as one went down, the other woke up.” He shakes his head. “I think we’d be losing our minds if it wasn’t for you and your mom. You guys have been so much help.” “It’s been my pleasure, really.” I kiss both the babies on the head and ask Max to give Chelsea and Charlie a squeeze for me before I head back to the hospital. The desire to have a baby of my own is so strong, so all encompassing, it lifts my spirits and crushes them all in the same instant. The idea of having a little person who looks like me and the man I love, a little person who is the combination of both of us, a physical manifestation of our commitment to each other, it’s just so beautiful. I could mold this person, guide her, help her to become the best version of herself and the more I think about it, the more I know that this is my purpose in life. Sure, it’s simple and it’s not the most popular thing for a woman to admit in this day and age. We’re supposed to want careers and money. We’re supposed to want to be strong and push forward to succeed while leaving motherhood as almost an afterthought. But I’m beginning to realize that what I really want is to stay at home and take care of my family. And that’s where I end up crushed. Because I don’t have a family. I’m nowhere near having a family. I’m falling farther and farther in love with Hudson with every day that passes, but I’m not sure marriage is in his future. And babies? I’d be a fool to even think about bringing that up when our relationship is still so new. The one thing I know about men is that they are quite afraid of words like commitment and forever. And what better way to bring up both commitment and forever than by admitting I want to have a baby? And since I can’t seem to think about anything other than wanting a baby, I find it hard to initiate conversation with Hudson at all. I know he’s noticed it, but I keep playing it off like I’m distracted by work. As much as I want to tell him that I’ve discovered what I really want to do with my life, I know I can’t do it without chasing him away. So I wait for him to bring up topics and reply with as much enthusiasm as I can, but I never start a conversation because I’m afraid the moment I open my mouth, the word baby will fall out. My shift at the hospital passes without any major trauma until I go to the bathroom. My period should have started yesterday. I started the placebo pills in my birth control pack three days ago. This weird jolt of excitement and anxiety races through me. Two thoughts hit me at the same time: Holy shit I’m pregnant! And: Hudson’s going to be so completely pissed! At this point, my rational mind is trying to point out just how dumb it is to be worrying about a pregnancy at this point. It’s totally possible that I’m just late. The

pills aren’t an exact science. Lots of women skip periods completely. Never mind the fact that I’ve never been late. Never mind the fact that I always start the second day after starting the orange pills. Never mind the fact that my body is busy telling me that yes, I am indeed pregnant. I gather my things and leave the hospital in a daze. I’m meeting Hudson tonight and I don’t know if I can sit there, knowing what I think I know, and not say anything about it. But I also don’t think I can say anything and not completely ruin what we have. He’s a professional athlete for fuck’s sake and he’s made it more than clear that Cincinnati is just a pit stop for him. He’s got his sights set on bigger and better places. The last thing he wants to hear is that I think I’m pregnant. So, of course, the best thing for me to do is find out if I am or if I’m not. I stop at a drugstore on my way and then, rather than asking if I could use their bathroom and drawing attention to the fact that I’m desperate to know, I drive to a gas station and head to the women’s room there, the test crammed into my purse. I swear, the crinkling of the package is deafening in the tiny space. This is a first for me. I’ve never had a pregnancy scare in all of my twenty-eight years. I read the directions fully and even though the box says it can take as long as five minutes for results to show in the window I know in about a minute what I already knew to be true. I’m pregnant. I’ve been diligent about my pills. I am nothing if not methodical. I take them every day at lunch, come rain or shine. Sure, sometimes lunch is a moving target, but only ever by a few hours. That shouldn’t be enough to render the pills totally ineffective. I’ve never forgotten a dose. Not once, not ever. How in the hell did this happen? And why in God’s name am I so excited about it? I drive to Hudson’s in a total daze. Terror spins in my stomach, but I can’t stop smiling Who in their right mind gets excited about an accidental pregnancy when neither parent is ready to be a parent? Me. That’s who. I take the elevator up to Hudson’s apartment, fingernail tapping a steady rhythm on the metal handrail affixed to the wall. When I didn’t know if I was pregnant or not, I was totally against mentioning it to Hudson. But now that I know? It seems irresponsible not to tell him. He’s not going to like it. I’m not fooling myself into believing that this will be an easy conversation. But Hudson deserves to know. And he’s a rational person. I’m sure he’ll help me make sense of what to do next. Oh, shit. What will I do next? Even though he told me weeks ago that I didn’t have to knock anymore, I stop in front of his door with my fist raised. I pause. Place the palm of my hand against the

door and rest my forehead against the wall. Take a deep breath and consider leaving. Calling him from my car and telling him I don’t feel well. Which would only be halfway lying. My stomach is doing the jitterbug. But, I’ve spent too much time running from Hudson. He’s proven over and over again that he’s got me. That he loves me. That he’s here for me when I need him. Well, hell. Looks like I really need him now. I push through the door and close it behind me. “Hey, doll face!” Hudson stands up from his place on the sofa and heads my way. “I was getting worried about you.” I try to smile, but I’m sure it’s way more grimace than grin. I can feel the tension in my eyes. “Hey.” I sound anything but natural. Hudson freezes. “Oh no,” he says taking my hands in his. “Another bad day at work?” I shake my head. “No. Work was fine.” And yet, I’m obviously being weird and he can clearly see it so I’m going to have to get this out in the open now rather than later. Funny thing is, for as certain as I am that he needs to know, I can’t seem to get my mouth to work now that he’s standing in front of me. “What is it then?” Hudson drops my hands and touches my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I laugh and it’s tight and hollow and surely gives him all the more reason to worry. There’s no going back now. I either need to tell him or come up with a lie to hide why I’m acting so strange. I go through a number of possible things to tell him as I lead him to the dinner table. I could tell him something’s wrong with Chelsea or the twins. I could tell him I’m tired and not feeling well. I could say that work actually was awful and I just didn’t want to complain about it again when he asked. But when I sit him down and stare into his handsome face, his eyebrows pulled tight with worry, love and concern for me shining in his eyes, I know that he deserves better than a lie. Besides, this isn’t my fault. We did this together and we should find a way out of it together. I take a breath and hold it for a second. “Hudson?” My heart thunders away, roaring in my ears. “Yeah?” There’s fear in his voice and I hate it. I wipe a hand across my mouth, press it to my lips and close my eyes. The lies dance on my tongue, ready for me to give the go ahead. All I have to do is open my mouth and let one fall out. It would be that easy. I open my eyes and drop my hand to the table, flex my fingers against the hard surface. There’s a moment of silence and then I say it, the words shattering the tension between us. “I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HUDSON DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING FOR SEVERAL LONG MOMENTS. HIS NOSTRILS FLARE AND HIS JAW PULSES and he swallows several times, his mouth a hard line. His face doesn’t hold tension well and the silence makes me feel like I want to puke. I want to scream at him. Say something! I want to stand up and pace. I want to grab my things and race down the hallway and straight into the elevator. Run away and never come back. Because that’s always been my answer. Run away. But Hudson deserves better than that. He deserves a chance to digest the news. He deserves a rational conversation. Which means that I have to stay rational. The longer he sits there without saying anything, the harder it gets for me to stay rational. But I sit, and I wait, and I fight down all the voices that say I should have just lied and figured out what to do on my own. Hudson runs a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “I thought you were on the pill.” His voice sounds wrong. “I am.” “I thought I could trust you to be responsible with it.” My eyes go wide. “I am responsible with it.” Hudson purses his lips and draws his eyebrows together. It’s not a nice face. “Sure. Obviously you’ve been quite responsible.” Fury rises in my chest but I bat it down. As much as I hate being blamed for something I didn’t do, I can understand why he’s upset. “I take my pill every day at lunch. Every. Day.” He shakes his head. “What the fuck, Maya?”

I don’t have a response for him, so I just sit quietly and wait for my Hudson to come back. I don’t know this version of the guy sitting across from me. His eyes darken. “This was all part of the plan, wasn’t it?” He stands, his chair darting out from beneath him and rocking back on two legs before clattering back onto the tile. “You’re a fucking master.” He’s pacing now, his hands balled into tight fists. “I don’t know what you mean.” I hate the way my voice sounds. Small. Desperate. Afraid. “You can drop the act.” Hudson turns to me, his eyes burning with rage. “You’ve got me now.” A series of cracks shatters across the surface of my heart. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s pacing again. “I didn’t expect it from you, of course. The surgeon with her shit together. So distant at first, pushing me away whenever I tried to get close. You might be a genius, you know?” “Hudson.” I wait for him to look at me and he never does. “What are you talking about?” I want to go to him. Put my hands on his arms and make him stand still so he can look me in the eye and see how much I love him. How much he’s not making sense. How much he’s scaring me right now. But I don’t. The man in front of me is big and scary. He’s six foot five inches of anger directed right at me. He stops pacing and slams a hand on the table. I jump. “I’m talking about your grand plan to get out of your job without having to worry about letting down your family or going bankrupt trying to pay off your school loans. Get the professional football player with the monster paycheck to get you pregnant then hit him with a law suit or you’ll go public. Or hell, child support alone should set you up nicely for the rest of your life.” He shakes his head, his lips curling in disgust. “You said you loved me.” “I do love you.” My voice quakes and quivers and I can barely see him through the tears standing in my eyes. “Bullshit.” He spits the word at me and I jump again. He’s off and pacing. “I’ll fight it, you know. I’m sure I’ve got better lawyers.” The revulsion in his voice is more than I can handle. Without a word, I stand and gather my things. Pull open the door and run down the hallway. Stab the button for the elevator and thank God that it opens immediately. While the doors close in front of me, Hudson slams his door shut. The sound hits the cracks in my heart and shatters the damn thing to pieces. My knees buckle and I slide down the wall. My ass hits the floor and I drop my forehead to my knees. The tears come, sorrow roaring through my open mouth in a low keening wail.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE LAST THING I EXPECTED FROM MAYA WAS SOMETHING LIKE THIS. I THOUGHT WHAT WE HAD WAS REAL. I thought she meant it when she told me she loved me. I sure meant it, for fuck’s sake. I am such a goddamn fool. They warn you about this kind of thing. The older players with all the experience. They tell you about the women who look at you and see dollar signs. Wear a condom, they say. Always. Tie the damn thing off and take it with you if you have to because the last thing you want is a pregnant woman coming after you with a lawyer. Well, fuck me because here I am. I thought Maya was different. I thought she was real. I stalk my apartment, punching pillows, then the sofa, and then eventually the damn wall because hitting soft stuff isn’t getting it done. The plaster splinters under the impact and the skin on my knuckles splits open. And I still feel like shit. I’m just so fucking mad. And hurt. And mad because I’m hurt. She played me and I fell for it hook line and sinker. The next week is awful. I don’t sleep. I get up angry. I work out angry. I get on the field angry. Coach notices and tries to talk to me about it but I only get angrier and straight up walk away in the middle of the conversation. I fumble the ball in the end zone and cost the team the game and fans actually boo me. Me! The golden boy with the dimples. I don’t remember a time I’ve been lower in all of my life. And to make matters worse, I miss her. I was going to give her a key to my apartment the night she sat me down and showed me her true colors. That’s how much she means to me. That’s how much I

trusted her. That’s how much I wanted her in my life. It was a royal punch to the balls to find out she was just another slut looking for an easy way out of a hard situation. I should have known this was coming when she kept talking about how much she hated her job. I should have known. It’s the worst at night, when I’m lying in bed, trying not to remember all the times she was right here beside me. Trying to ignore the fact that I wish she still was. And in those quiet moments right before I fall asleep, this tiny little voice pipes up somewhere deep in my mind. A voice that tells me Maya is for real. That she’s not after my money. That she does love me and somewhere, she’s hurting and scared and wanting me in the same way I want her. I don’t listen to that voice. I was a fool to let myself love her in the first place. I’ll be damned if I let her get under my skin again. After the shittiest week of my life, I blast into my apartment and drop my gym bag on the floor. Chalk today up to yet another shitty practice. I played fine. In fact, I was on my game today, channeling my rage into something useful. But I guess an angry Hudson Knox who lives with a glare on his face instead of a smile really puts people off. Players I’m not even close with were coming up to me asking me what’s wrong. I’ll be damned if I tell anyone. There’s no way in hell I’m admitting that I fell for this bullshit. This is mine to bear and mine alone. A lesson for me, wrapped up in a pretty little bow and hand delivered in the shape of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Well, consider this lesson learned. I will never, ever give my heart to someone again. Not while I’m playing ball and I’ll be playing ball until I’m too old and wrinkled for anyone to care about my fucking dimples. I stalk past the hole in the wall on my way to the bathroom. I should probably have reported it to management, but it’s going to stay there for a while because it’s a nice little reminder of how dumb I was to believe her. I see that before I head down the hallway to bed each and every night. I focus on it instead of thinking about how much I still wish she was in my bed beside me. The shower feels good. I let the warm water race down my body, stream through my hair and down my face. The powerful jets pulse into my shoulders, working on the tension that just lives there lately. I need a release. I need some fun. I need to stop focusing on Maya and figure out a way to get back to myself. I need out of this apartment. I need music and dancing and drinks. I need women hanging off my every word, making their stupid surprised face when they squeeze my bicep. I need to laugh. I need to flirt. I need to fuck. I wrap a towel around my waist and grab my phone. Send a text to Sloan Anderson, the one guy on the team who won’t ask too many questions. He’s a douche. A womanizer who almost lost his spot on the team last year because he decided to take his womanizing in the form of assault. He’s dialed it back a little since then, but he’s still the kind of guy who’ll fuck a chick in the bathroom only to

have another hanging on his arm before the first one’s even pulled up her panties. All of which means he’s exactly the kind of guy I need to hang out with right now.

CHAPTER TWENTY

EVERY TIME I THINK I’VE CRIED MY LAST TEAR, THAT I COULDN’T POSSIBLY HAVE ANY FLUID LEFT IN MY body, I surprise myself by crying some more. I’ve never hurt like this. I’ve never had my heart ache and cry out for someone hour after hour. I’ve never sat on my floor and cried until I couldn’t sleep from the headache. I’ve never gone days without eating. I’ve never spent days in bed, too broken to even wake up. Until now. I don’t even know how many days have gone by. How many texts I sent to Hudson before I finally gave up. I don’t know how I’m going to face the decisions that lay ahead of me. And I certainly don’t know how to face the rest of my life. There’s no way I can be a single mom and finish my residency and there’s no way I can have an abortion. That would devastate me in ways that my poor shattered heart isn’t prepared to handle. Every time I look down into one of the twins’ sweet faces and think of the baby growing inside me, every time I think about my realization that I want to have kids and raise a family, I grow ever more set against abortion as an option for me. I stopped going to Chelsea’s because it hurt too much to look at those sweet babies and know the choice I’m considering. And yet the question remains. How can I get through this alone? The answer is clear. I can’t. But I can’t tell my family because they’ll tell me to get a lawyer and go after Hudson and that’s the last thing I want to do. It will only solidify what he thinks he knows about me. I can’t handle the thought of him thinking I was after his money. He’s the first person I’ve ever let myself love. The first person I’ve ever let into my heart. I’m not ready to push him completely away. Not yet. Not when I still

wake up every morning hoping that he’ll come to his senses and reach out. The urge to run away is a constant companion, but I don’t have anywhere to go. I stare into my cereal this morning as it slowly turns to mush, poking it with my spoon from time to time before letting it clatter into the bowl. Pushing it away, I study the clock, trying to make sense of the time and what it means to me. Apparently, it isn’t even morning. Hell, it isn’t even afternoon. It’s edging closer and closer to full on evening. I run my hands up into my dirty hair and close my eyes. Maybe I should just go back to bed. Or, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to talk to someone. It’s been two weeks now and Hudson hasn’t returned even one text. Acknowledged even one phone call. But who? Dakota is somewhere in Australia right now and I feel like this is the kind of conversation that I need to have face to face. Mom and Dad are just out of the equation all together. I don’t really have anyone at work that I’m close to. Not enough for this conversation. That leaves Chelsea, but not only is she busy with her own life, she’s not exactly the most understanding person in the world. She sees one right way and that’s it. There’s no wiggle room for mistakes. I know what she’ll tell me to do and I don’t want to hear that right now. I don’t want to hear it ever. But I do need to talk. My shattered heart keeps cutting fresh wounds inside me and I’m afraid I’m going to emotionally bleed out if I don’t get it taken care of. I throw on a hat and drive straight to Chelsea’s before I have a chance to talk myself out of going. I won’t like what she has to say, but I need someone to hear me. I need to get these thoughts out of my head before I go insane. I get to her house on auto-pilot. It’s like I blink and I’m there. My mind occupied with the weight of missing Hudson and the gravity of the choices that lay in front of me. I ring her doorbell and wait, listening to the squall of the babies inside. This was a bad idea. She doesn’t have time for me. Her life is full to the brim as it as. I turn and head down the walk towards my car, tears forming in my eyes. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of myself. Being stuck between my sisters and their larger than life personalities meant I’ve always been somewhat invisible. I don’t know what made me think I needed someone to help me now. I’ve made it this far on my own. I can keep on keeping on. Except I can’t. The tears come fast and hard and I sag onto the hood of my car, unable to hold myself upright any longer. “Maya?” Chelsea’s worried voice comes from behind me followed by the cries of Kayla and Lucas. “I’m sorry,” I manage, wiping furiously at my face, forcing myself to stand up. “I shouldn’t have come.” Chelsea rushes down the walk to my side. “What’s wrong, Sweet May?” I dissolve into tears again, the comfort of my childhood nickname pulling open the tourniquet on my heart. “Everything,” I manage, the word mangled by my sobs. “Everything is wrong.”

Chelsea wraps her arm around me, pulls me towards the open door of her house, warm light spilling through onto the porch. I pull away, my desire to leave suddenly stronger than ever. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “You’ve got enough on your plate. I need to go.” My sister takes my hand. “Bullshit. Look at you. The only place you need to go is straight inside to pour yourself a drink.” She holds up her hands. “Better yet, let me pour you one. You need someone to take care of you.” I let her bring me into her house. Max appears, cradling an infant in each arm. He takes one look at me and calls for Charlie. “Keep me company while I drive these nuggets to sleep,” he says, when Charlie appears at the top of the stairs. Chelsea reaches for the wine as her family gets bundled up to give us some alone time and I hold up my hand. “None for me, please,” I say. My sister studies me, her delicate brow creasing. “It looks like it’d do you good,” she says. “Take the edge off.” “Really.” I look her straight in the eyes so she can see just how serious I am. “I don’t want any.” I stare at my hands while Max kisses Chelsea goodbye and promises to text before coming home. He drops a heavy hand on my shoulder and Charlie gives me a giant hug and then they’re out the door, lugging Kayla and Lucas in their carriers. “Okay,” says Chelsea as she pulls out a chair across from me. “Spill it.” “I really fucked up,” I say, still not able to look her in the eye. “And I need to tell you, but I also really need you not to get all judgmental on me. There’s an obvious right answer, but it’s not the right answer for me.” “Maya.” Chelsea’s tone is biting. “What’s wrong?” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly while I finally meet her gaze. “I’m pregnant.” Chelsea’s eyes light up. “Really?” I watch her initial excitement fades as processes what that means for me. Not trusting my voice, I just nod as my eyes fill with tears again. “What does Hudson think?” I drop my head into my hands. “He thinks I orchestrated the whole thing in some weird ploy to make money off him.” Chelsea’s jaw drops open. “What? Does he know how many men you’ve brought to meet Mom and Dad?” “You mean does he know that he’s the only one?” I shake my head. “No. But I don’t think it would help if he did.” “I assume you’ve called him…” “Of course I’ve called him. He doesn’t answer. Or return my texts. Or acknowledge that I even exist at all. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Chelsea scoots her chair over to sit directly next to mine and I lean my head on her shoulder. “That man loves you. I’ve known it for months now. We couldn’t get through a single therapy session without him going on and on about you.”

“And I love him.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “But he doesn’t want me now.” “We’ll come back to that. Because want you or not, he might not deserve you anymore.” Chelsea stands up and goes about making us some coffee. I’ve never seen her sit still through a problem. Ever. She’s always up and moving, pretending like she can solve everything if she just moves fast enough. “This hurts, Chels.” I drop my head onto the hard wood of her dining table and I really don’t care if I ever get up again. “I feel hollow and raw.” “Don’t even go there.” Her words rake over my tender heart, her tone harsher than I need right now. I pull my head off the table and find her scooping coffee into the filter at a frantic pace. “Now is not the time to wallow in emotion.” I sit back, stunned. “If now’s not the time, then when is?” Chelsea drops the lid on the coffee pot and leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest. “Judging by the way you look, I’d say you’ve spent at least the last week wallowing.” “You know what? Fuck you,” I say as I stand up. “I should have known better than to come to you with a problem.” “Maya.” Chelsea barks my name and I freeze on my way to the door. “Sit down.” “Since when do you get to tell me what to do?” “Since I was born first and you’re being ridiculous.” Chelsea unfolds her arms as she walks to me, steers me back to the table. “Let me help you.” “This is what you call help? Offending the hell out of me?” I try to sound indignant, but I just sound wounded as I sit right back down in the chair I just left. “We’ll come back to all the painful stuff. I promise. But right now, wouldn’t it feel good to find a path and move forward on it?” The coffee pot gurgles and hisses while I sigh. “There is no path. I’m stuck in the middle of quicksand.” “There’s always a path. Sometimes you have to get a little dirt under your nails to find it.” The bold smell of strong coffee fills the small kitchen. Chelsea always makes hers with an extra scoop or two. I like mine a little milder, but maybe I need a little of my sister’s oomph tonight. “I don’t know what to do.” “When it comes to the baby, you have three options. Keep it. Adoption. Or…” Chelsea trails off and shrugs, swallowing hard. “But I don’t. Because I don’t think I can choose the second option and I know I can’t choose the third.” “I understand. I would have called you a fool a year ago, but now? After the twins? I understand.” Chelsea swings open a cabinet door and pulls out two mugs. “But how can I even think about keeping it?” I ask as she pours our coffee. “Because you don’t have a choice. You’re pregnant. You will have a baby.” “But what about the hospital? How can I finish my residency while being a single mother?” I wrap my hands around the mug and lean over it, breathing in the familiar aroma.

“Because, if that’s the path you choose, you won’t have a choice.” “It’s impossible.” The mug warms my hands when I pick it up. “Nothing’s impossible. And you’re not alone. You’ve got me and Max. Mom and Dad.” I close my eyes. “But not Hudson.” Chelsea squints at me, studying me the way she watches her patients when they’re playing on TV. “Do you even want him after all this?” “Yes.” I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Sure he’s being a total dickweasel right now, but yes, I want him to be part of this. I want him to love me and love this baby and I want to raise our child together.” My eyes mist over with tears and I sip at my coffee to help chase them away. “Then call him. Right now. And don’t stop calling until he answers. And if he doesn’t answer, I’ll drive you to his house and you can bang on his door until he opens it up and lets you in. If you want this, fight for it.” I blink at my sister and then pull out my phone. My heart stammers as I pull up his contact information and a jolt of adrenaline joins forces with the coffee and races through my bloodstream. I place the call and hold Chelsea’s gaze as I listen to the phone ring, preparing myself to hear his voice again when it clicks over to voicemail. Imagine my surprise when I hear him pick up, sound and energy and music throbbing in the background. “Hello?” A female voice, high pitched and tipsy. “Hello?” I respond, confused. I pull the phone away from my ear and double check that I called Hudson. “You’ve reached Hudson Knox’s phone,” chirps the woman on the other end, giggling and slurring. “I need to talk to Hudson.” Bile rises in my throat. There’s a strong chance I might throw up. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hudson’s very much occupied at the moment.” More giggling. Anger clamps down on my heart and it finally shatters wholly and completely. “Tell him Maya called and said he can go straight to hell.” I hang up the phone with shaking hands and wait for the tears to start. They don’t. Rage is a much stronger companion than sorrow. This is something I can work with. This is something I can use to get on with my life and build something out of the wreckage. I look at my sister and laugh at the pinched look of worry on her face. “You know what? Fuck Hudson Knox. I don’t need him and I sure as hell don’t want him.” While Chelsea wrestles with what to say, I take my first full breath since I ran out of his apartment all those weeks ago.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?” I GRAB MY PHONE FROM THE GIGGLING BLONDE SITTING ON SLOAN’S LAP. The blonde laughs at me. There’s cruelty in her eyes. “Someone named Maya who said you could go straight to hell.” “What?” I pull up the caller ID and there’s her contact picture smiling out at me. Of all the times I chose to leave my phone on the table to get another drink. “What did you say to her?” Sloan squints at me. “Damn, Knox. Mad much?” He pulls the blonde in close, like he’s protecting her from me. “Why don’t you back off?” I make a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. “Done,” I say as I stand up and gather my things. “You two enjoy each other.” And then I’m gone. It was a mistake to come out with Sloan in the first place. I don’t want to flirt with a hundred nameless women anymore. Each time a new one came up to me, smiling and shoving her tits in my face, all I could think about was Maya. Curling up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a whole series to binge through on Netflix. Pulling her tight against me as we fall asleep all wrapped up in each other. The look on her face when I slide my dick inside her, like I was built just for her and she’s mine. That’s what I want. Not this bullshit sitting at a club getting off because of the sheer number of women throwing themselves at me. I want something real. I want Maya. Maya who’s pregnant with my child. Maya who thinks I don’t want her. Maya who thinks I’m out with another woman.

This situation is just fucked. But I’m partly to blame for that. Okay, I’m very much to blame. I burst through the front doors of the club without even bothering to put my coat on. My breath puffs in front of my face and snowflakes filter down through the streetlights. They sparkle and glitter and the first thought in my head is that I wish Maya was here to see it. She’d laugh, her face tilting up in that way of hers, and say something sarcastic about me being girly, but she’d be smiling the whole time. The urge to punch my car is almost overpowering when I walk up to it in the parking lot. I need to hit something. Or go for a run. Or … something. I can’t go on like this, living with her in each and every part of my day even when I’ve done everything I possibly can to get her out of my life. Damn it! If only I’d been there to answer my phone! Then what? What would change? She’d still be pregnant, still be everything I thought she wasn’t—a gold-digging whore after my fame and fortune instead of my heart and soul. Fucking hell. Who even says things like that? Since when did I care about my heart and soul? I need to get her out of my head. I need to stop thinking about Maya London. And I think that means I need to stop avoiding her. I need to sit down and talk to her. Find out what the hell is going on with the baby and then say goodbye. I drive to her apartment, hands gripping the steering wheel, jaw clenched, but there’s this tiny little flame of happiness igniting my heart at the thought of seeing her again. When I pull into the parking lot outside her building, her windows are dark and her car is nowhere to be seen. Well you know what? I’ll just sit here and wait. She wants to talk? Well here I am.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I ALMOST DON’T TURN INTO MY PARKING LOT BECAUSE I SEE HUDSON’S CAR SITTING THERE BESIDE THE SPOT I normally claim as mine. What the hell? All I want for weeks is to see him and he’s nowhere to be found but the instant I feel strong enough to do this without him he appears out of thin air? I don’t think so. He doesn’t get to ignore me while I unravel, fuck a bunch of women while I cry his name into my pillow. He doesn’t get to disappear on me only to show up at my doorstep the moment I’m finally angry enough not to care. Of course my first reaction is to run away, just keep driving right past my turn off and head straight back to Chelsea. I’m so over being a coward. I’m over being invisible. I’m over bending to everyone else’s whims and not worrying about the things I want. The things I need. So I don’t keep driving. I turn into the parking lot and pull right up next to Hudson’s car. I get out without looking at him. Ignore the lurch of nerves and nausea in my stomach and pull my coat tighter around my body. My heels strike the pavement—the right one says fuck and the left one says you —as I stride up to my front door. Behind me, his door thumps shut. “Maya.” His voice does funny things to my resolve. It sounds like home. Like laughter. Like acceptance. Like my soul rejoicing through the clouds as he calls my name, his hips thrusting against mine as he comes inside me. And that, my friends, is how we got into this situation in the first place. I set my jaw and refuse to turn around. Slide my keys into my lock and

compliment myself on the total lack of tears. Chelsea was right. Moving past the emotion feels amazing. He grabs my shoulder and I whirl. “Get your hands off me,” I hiss. Anger casts a shadow over his handsome face. He looks nothing like the Hudson I thought I loved. “No.” “Fine.” I open my door, step inside, and slam the door in his face. That should show him exactly what I think about him. That should prove just how over him I am. That should give him a taste of what it feels like to be ignored when you have something you really need to say. Feeling mostly proud of myself, I stride into my living room and wouldn’t you know? Hudson just walks right in and closes the door behind him. “You don’t get to walk away from me,” he says through a clenched jaw. “What?” My mouth falls open. “You don’t get to say that. Not to me. Not after disappearing on me when I needed you the most.” “You mean you needed my money.” Rage takes control of my body. I close the distance between us and stand directly in front of him. “No, asshole. I needed you.” I stab him in the chest with my pointer finger and he grabs my wrist. We stand like that, frozen in time. I’m stunned by his proximity. Stupefied by his touch. Terrified that I’m not going to be able to hold onto my anger and I’ll fall back into sorrow because, damn it, I still love this man. I pull out of his grasp and cross the room. Distance between us. That’s essential. “What do you want, Maya?” “You’re the one standing in my apartment in the middle of the night.” I scowl at the wall, unable to look at him. If I look at him, my strength will waver and I can’t let that happen. “You’re the one who called me. Again. For the hundredth time.” “And you’re the one who was out with another woman.” And just like that, a splinter shows up in the armor I built around my heart. I lean my head against the wall and I cry. So much for being strong. So much for showing him what it feels like not to be wanted. So much for not wanting him. “Maya,” says Hudson, his voice softening. “Don’t cry.” I shake my head and turn away from him. “Please leave,” I manage. Instead of leaving, Hudson crosses the room and runs a hand down my back. Puts the other hand on my shoulder. I want to push myself into his arms, wrap myself up in his strength. I want to cry and cry and cry and tell him I love him and I want everything to be okay. “No. We need to talk.” “You’re breaking my heart.” I spin to face him, leaning on the wall so he can’t touch me. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else. I didn’t want to let you have any meaning whatsoever because I knew I was going to end up here, shattered. Broken. I didn’t want to love you but you told me it would be fine.” Sobs swallow my voice.

“Maya…” Hudson reaches for me and I him push away again. “No!” I wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold in the rush of feelings that are desperate to tear me open. “It’s not fine! I’m not fine! I’m falling to pieces without you and I’m more scared than I’ve ever been so if you don’t have anything to say would you please get the fuck out of my apartment?” I point to the door with a shaking hand. Hudson lowers his head and takes a deep breath. Passes me on his way to the door without looking at me. My lower lip trembles. My breath is caught. If I move, I’ll break and I refuse to do that in front of him. And then, in a rush of movement and sound, Hudson changes his direction, moves to me and swoops me up in his arms. Presses his lips to mine and there’s this moment where I’m confused and my heart is surging with something that must be joy. I slide my hands up his chest, remembering how his skin feels when it’s pressed to mine, remembering the hard pressure of his cock against me, the answering call of lust in my body. This man is my world. How will I survive having a child that looks just like him, when I can never have him again? I press my hands against his chest and push him away. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “Let me go,” I say as I pull away. “I can’t.” Something in his voice makes me go still. “I can’t let you go, Maya. You’re everything to me.” He runs a hand up my cheek, into my hair. “You’ve got a fucked up way of showing it.” But I lean into his hand despite myself. Hudson doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t make an excuse. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. My breath hitches once and then I’m lost in him. So lost. Our bodies crash together as my hands grip his back and pull him into me. I can’t fight him anymore. I can’t ignore how much I want him. I pull at his shirt and he steps away from me long enough to whip it over his head and discard it on my floor. He fumbles with his zipper while I pull off my shirt and step out of my pants. I expose myself to him, bare myself to him once again. His eyes rake over my body and then he’s on me again. We kiss and our hands dance along familiar paths. I grab his dick and he gasps, swoops me up before I can kneel and take him in my mouth. I wrap my legs around his hips, grinding into his hard dick as he puts me down on my kitchen table. And then he’s inside me, moving with such force, his eyes claiming mine, my name on his lips. “I missed you, Maya.” “I need you, Hudson.” He groans and shoves himself into me. “I love you.” My breath hitches. “I love you, too.”

He rolls his hips and I lose the rest of the moment to sensation and emotion. I’m riding high, flying on feeling. He’s here, with me, loving me in this moment and whether or not we’ll last doesn’t matter because right now, I am complete. How can I worry when I have everything I ever wanted? Hudson. Here with me. That’s all I need for my happily ever after.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HUDSON KICKS INTO SOME KIND OF FRANTIC NESTING MODE AS MY BELLY SWELLS AND GROWS. I’VE NEVER seen anything like it. If there’s a product out there, we have it, and probably more than one. I’m starting to believe he’s trying to apologize for abandoning me and not believing me by making sure to solve for every possible need me or the baby might have. By the time the winter frost gives way to the green of spring, he’s talking about moving me in with him. I’m hesitant to agree. If his reaction to my pregnancy taught me one thing, it taught me that he could disappear from my life at any minute. That he is in no way a permanent fixture here. I can’t be that vulnerable to him again. I just can’t. Hudson clanks and thumps around the kitchen of his apartment, cooking dinner for us. “Maya!” he calls over the whirr of the food processor. “Where are you?” I wait for silence before answering. “In the living room.” “Why?” “Because the couch is in here.” “But I miss you.” He mutters a curse underneath the clatter of a bowl hitting the floor. “And I need your help.” Groaning, I pull myself off the couch and waddle into the kitchen. I’m not even that big yet, just barely starting to show, and I feel like an absolute cow. I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel later when I actually get big. “There’s my beautiful woman,” says Hudson as I turn the corner into the kitchen and see the disaster of cookware and flour he’s created. “What the hell happened in here?” He studies the mess. “Cooking is hard.”

“Why don’t we just go out?” Although, even as I say it I realize that I don’t really want to go anywhere. Staying in sounds so very nice. Hudson shakes his head and wipes his hand on a towel hanging from the oven door. “I told you. One of us needs to learn how to cook. We can’t raise a child on restaurant food. I’m more than happy to be the sacrificial lamb here.” “I’m not sure you’re the only one making a sacrifice, here. I have to eat whatever it is you’re concocting.” “You mean the fried chicken of awesomeness coupled with a mashed potato masterpiece?” Hudson brandishes a spoon and bits of something go flying off onto the floor. Turns out that the meal is pretty delicious, even if the gravy he made had its fair share of lumps. I offer to clean up the kitchen, but he makes me sit down, citing me as too pregnant to have to do anything else. “Besides,” he says while scrubbing the counter for the fifth time. “You work really hard all day. I like being able to take care of you at night.” I chalk that up to more of his guilt for abandoning me coming through but just smile and thank him. As far as I can tell, he’s not aware that I’ve lost some measure of trust in him, that I’m holding bits and pieces of myself back. And if he is? Well, he’s being awful damn patient about letting me come around on my own. “Have you thought any more about moving in?” Hudson grins those dimples into existence again. I tilt my head and pretend to consider. “Yeah, but then I’d lose all my mystery and you’d end up tired of me.” It’s the closest I’ve come to admitting that I don’t want to live with him because I’m afraid he’ll leave me again. Hudson stares at me and his smile fades. “Can we be serious for a second?” His tone is gentle, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from churning. I don’t want to have this conversation. “I was being serious.” “Really, though. Why won’t you move in with me? I love you and I know you love me. I couldn’t be more excited to meet our little bean. Why won’t you let me take care of you?” “Because you’re only going to end up hurting me again.” Hudson runs a hand up into his hair. “Shit, Maya. What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere?” “I don’t know. Trust doesn’t come easily to me.” He takes a long breath and looks up at the ceiling. “And you gave it to me once and I acted like a fool.” All this time and we’ve never really spoken about what happened. We just picked up where we left off, ignoring the big scratch across the veneer of our relationship. And I’ve been fine with that. Why rock the boat, you know? But if he’s rocking it, then why shouldn’t I get some of my questions answered, too? “Did you really think I got pregnant on purpose? That I faked the way I felt for

you?” I sit there with my heart out on the table between us and didn’t even realize how much that question weighed on me until it brushed past my lips. “At first, I wasn’t thinking. I was scared. My head was filled with the warnings from people I trusted, warnings from people who’ve been used like that.” “But after that?” What I’m really asking is whether or not he truly believed that my love for him was fake. Because if he did, even for a minute, then he’s not the man I thought he was. We don’t have the connection I thought we did. And maybe, just maybe, I can’t trust the way I think he feels about me, if I thought my love was so clear and it so clearly wasn’t. Hudson swallows and runs his hands over his jeans. “When I thought about it, it didn’t make any sense.” The fact that he’s avoiding a straight answer makes me nervous. “When did you realize that everything I said to you was true? When did you realize that I was, am, and have been, wickedly in love with you?” “The day I came to your apartment. The moment I saw you again.” That hurts. What does it mean, that he doubted me all the time we were apart? “And now?” I ask, looking at my hands. “And now I know that I love you more with each passing day and that you love me and I want to build a life for you and the baby.” He smiles, but there’s a sadness in his eyes, like he can see the hesitation in my heart. “But what does that mean?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. It sounds like I’m angling for an engagement ring which couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t even bring myself to move in with Hudson. Marriage is the last thing on my mind. “It means you and me and our little bean under the same roof living the same life. It means me taking care of you and you taking care of me and us taking care of our baby together.” I want that. I really do. When I think about the picture he paints, my heart surges with happiness but this jolt of fear rises up and swallows it whole. I took a chance on Hudson and it bit me in the ass. I’d be a damn fool to put myself in that situation again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I’M AN ALL OR NOTHING KIND OF GUY. A COUPLE WEEKS AGO, I BOUGHT MAYA AN ENGAGEMENT RING. IT’S been in my pocket every day since. All I need is for her to agree to move in with me and I’ll be down on my knee, telling her that I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with her, raising our little bean, making more little beans. But I need to know that she trusts me before I do it. I need all of her. I want to be patient, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait. She shows absolutely zero signs of budging. What else does she want from me? If she looks tired, I sit her down and wait on her hand and foot. If she looks hungry, I learn how to cook a meal and make it for her. If she mentions wanting something for the baby, I run out and buy at least two different versions. I don’t know how I can make things more evident that I’m here for her. That I’m not going anywhere. That no matter what else life throws our way, I’m going to stay by her side. Weather the storm. Through good times and bad and all the shenanigans that goes with that. I get it, when shit got hard, I ran away. I threw a whole lot of blame her way and ignored her when she needed me the most. That was super shitty of me. I’ve admitted it. I’ve owned it. I’ve apologized. How long before she forgives me? How long before I stop trying? That’s an easy one to answer. Never. I won’t stop trying. Quitting isn’t in the Hudson Knox vocabulary. Not even a little bit. That’s how I got to where I am and how I’ll get to where I’m going. But fuck, am I ever getting impatient.

I’m also feeling more than a little curious about what today will bring. Coach called me in for a meeting which is very weird. Training camp doesn’t start until July, so I can’t imagine what he wants to talk to me about. Nerves and excitement clench my hands into fists as I walk up to his office. I shove them into my pockets to keep them still. The last thing I want is anyone seeing me nervous. My hand settles on Maya’s ring. I slip it onto the tip of my pinky finger and smile at the thought of finally seeing it on her hand. When I arrive at Coach’s office, I tuck the ring safely into the bottom of my pocket and knock. “Come on in,” he says and I push through the door, closing it behind me before taking a seat. He smiles broadly and I know in a heartbeat that I’m not going to like what he has to say. Twenty minutes later, I leave. Stunned. Scared. Thrilled. Confused. In the space of one network television show, my entire life has changed. I should be over the moon excited right now, but I’m not. Not even a little. I’ve been traded to the Seattle Seahawks, along with two other guys, in exchange for a first round draft pick. The mother fucking Seahawks. They’re Super Bowl contenders for sure. They’re my dream team. And Coach said he picked me because he knew it would be good for me. Get me the exposure I need. But Seattle is all the way across the country. And Maya lives here in Ohio. I clutch the ring in my pocket, completely unsure as to how I’m going to bring this up to her. If she won’t move in with me here, how can I even begin to hope that she would move across the country with me? Leave her family. Leave her job. Leave everything she’s built here. All for a guy she can’t bring herself to trust again. I climb into my car and bring the engine to life, still too stunned to process what’s happened. Seattle. It’s the bigger city I’ve been dreaming about. The bigger team. The chance of a lifetime. I should be screaming into my phone right now, calling everyone I know to tell them what happened. Instead, I just sit here in my car in the parking lot. Last year, this trade would be everything I ever wanted. But now? With Maya and our little bean here in Ohio? I’m not sure what I want more. Which is it, Knox? Fame or family? I laugh and shake my head. It’s not like I have a choice. The trade is official. I’m going to Seattle, no doubt about it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HUDSON HAS BEEN ACTING WEIRD FOR THE LAST COUPLE DAYS. A LITTLE DETACHED. A LITTLE DISTRACTED. He hasn’t asked me to move in with him even once, and while I thought I was super ready for him to stop asking, now that he has, I’m nervous. Has he given up on me? I deserve it if he has. But I was just starting to think he was being honest when he said he wanted me forever. That I was wrong for mistrusting him. I was just starting to believe I could forgive him and let him into my heart and give in to the idea of him and me and our little bean becoming an honest to goodness family. I want to pretend that I’m not devastated by the change in him, but I am. Hope is a useless thing because life always ends up letting you down. I’ve lived long enough to know this. I know better than to let my wishes and dreams get in the way of cold hard reality. The truth of it is that people are in this for themselves. Love fades. Relationships are hard. Silly me, getting caught up in the fairy tale of a happily ever after. I’m meeting him for dinner tonight and his invitation was so stilted and formal, I’m totally prepared for him to break up with me. At least he’s not doing it over text. And he’s probably not going to accuse me of being a whore again, but it is going to open up a lot of uncomfortable questions. What about child support? Will he want to see the baby? What about all the stuff he bought? Will he want it back? And then most importantly: How will I survive without him? At first glance, the answer is easy. I’ll survive the way I always have. Just put my

head down and get through my days. Eat. Sleep. Breathe. That’s really all there is to it. Except not really. I love Hudson with all of my heart. Even the part I thought I kept separate from him since we got back together. I was fooling myself when I said I didn’t trust him completely. He is my everything. The reason I smile. The reason I laugh. He’s the reason I eat, sleep, and breathe. Sure, I can go on without him, but what kind of life will that be? Gray and colorless and lonely and cold. That’s what I have to look forward to. Of course, I could be wrong. I just don’t think I am. I trudge up the sidewalk to his apartment building. Leaves are budding on the trees and birds sing to each other, flitting from their nests in the branches down to the ground and back again. A warm breeze ruffles my hair and I draw my hands over my ever-growing belly. A tiny thump stops me in my tracks. I feel it on my hand and inside, just this itty bitty fluttering movement. My little bean. My mouth drops open and I stay still, hoping for another sign of the little one growing inside me. That was the strangest, coolest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I can’t wait to tell Hudson. Or not. His name just makes me want to cry. Hopefully, he’ll talk to me about whatever’s on his mind tonight so I can stop worrying. Or maybe I won’t wait for him to talk to me. Maybe I’ll grow a backbone and ask him what’s up. I spend the elevator ride still and silent, almost holding my breath in the hopes that I’ll get another chance to feel my bean. At least if Hudson leaves me, I’ll still have this little person to love. Maybe that’s the only kind of love that matters anyway. The love of a parent and child. Of course, even that kind of love gets tainted. Just look at the way I feel about my mom and dad. I love them, but that’s mostly because I have to. I’m not sure I like them very much. Needless to say, I’m feeling pretty dejected when the elevator door slides open. Steeling myself against the inevitable disappointment this night will bring me, I wander down the hallway, in no hurry to get to Hudson’s door. I pause and gather myself before sliding the key he gave me last month into the lock and letting myself in. I can do this. I don’t need anyone but myself. Everything’s going to be okay. And then I push through the door and freeze, momentarily confused. The warm glow of candlelight fills the apartment, flames flickering away on the wicks of what looks like over a hundred candles. Rose petals speckle the floor, the table, the couches and bowls of Swedish Fish and Jelly Bellies—my favorite candies —cover the dinner table. Hudson leans on the wall near the kitchen, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, doll face.”

I close the door behind me. “What’s going on?” Here I am preparing for him to break up with me and I walk in to find this. If this is how the man breaks up with people, he’s got things so ass backwards I don’t know what to do. “I had a meeting with Coach the other day.” He looks down at the floor. “Okay…” “They traded me to the Seahawks.” Hudson meets my eyes and I can’t read him. Not at all. “What’s that mean?” “The Seahawks are in Seattle. I’d have to go.” I wait for the smile to light up his face. Wait for the punchline. I mean, I was expecting a break up, but the roses and candles threw me. But now it seems like we’re heading right back to having to break up again because how can he live in Seattle and I live in Ohio and have any of this work out? I grab the edge of the table because the room has gotten a little wobbly. “When?” “Soon.” And with that, I have to sit down. I stumble towards the dinner table and plop into a chair, staring at the bowls of candy. “I’m going to turn it down.” Hudson’s eyes blaze into mine. “Can you do that?” “Not really. Not and keep my job. But I’m going to quit.” “Quit?” “I can’t live in Seattle while you and our bean are here in Ohio.” Hudson shakes his head. “I won’t. My place is with you.” “Hudson…” I want to tell him that he can’t sacrifice his career for me like that, that he can’t give up on his dream because of me, but he silences me by stepping forward and then getting down on one knee. He pulls his hand out of his pocket, a diamond ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger, glittering in the light. “I’ve had this with me every day for weeks now. It’s been in my pocket, just waiting for you to agree to move in with me. The moment you said yes, I’d be down on my knees just like this. But that wasn’t fair of me. You weren’t the one who needed to prove yourself. That was me. I’m the one who fucked up. So this is me proving myself. I want you more than anything. I will lay down my dreams for you, because it turns out you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t face a life without you in it. No matter how good that life is.” And wouldn’t you know it, right at that moment, Bean starts moving again. My eyes light up. “Hudson!” I grab his hand and put it on my stomach. “What is that?” Tears form in his eyes. “Is that our Bean? Is he moving?” I nod and he leans in. Kisses my stomach and whispers promises to our baby. My chin quivers and my eyes burn. There’s nothing more beautiful than this massive man with his tattoos winding their way up his muscled arms, crouching in front of

me, brought to tears by his unborn child. Hudson turns his gaze up to me. “Don’t leave me,” he says. “Marry me and let me see you and Bean every day. Be my wife, my everything. My dream come true.” I swipe at my tears and catch my breath. “I can’t.” And Hudson’s face crumbles. “I love you. So much. But I can’t let you give up your dream because of me. I just can’t. I love you too much to let you throw everything away.” And my heart breaks and tears fall and why is all of this so hard? “Then come with me.” Hudson takes my hands in his, the ring pressing against my skin. “You hate your job. You can find another one in Seattle. Or not. Just stay home with Bean and all the other little beans we make and come to all my games, welcome me home with a beer and back rub while I ruin dinner in the kitchen.” The word no races to the tip of my tongue. Give up my job? After a decade of working my ass off? And then, the double whammy of disappointing my parents and moving all the way across the country? How can I even begin to think that’s a good idea? Except I can’t make myself say no. Because every ounce of my soul is screaming yes. This is what I want. A life with him that is for us and us alone. A life where Hudson can live his dream and I can soften into motherhood. Hudson holds out the ring again. “Marry me, Maya?” I nod and Bean kicks again, adding his consent. “You will?” Hudson beams, dimples dancing. “Yes. You’re everything, Hudson Knox. I’d be a fool to turn down a chance to live the dream with you.” “Obviously,” he says as he slides the ring on my finger. “Who could turn down this body?” I shake my head. “So are you gonna kiss me or what?” Hudson stands and pulls me out of the chair into his arms. “Every day for the rest of my life, doll face. Every day.”

26

EPILOGUE

“LOOK, BEAN. DADDY’S ON TV.” I JUGGLE MY SQUIRMING BABY IN MY ARMS AND POINT TO HUDSON AS he makes one hell of a catch in the end zone. Payton—our little bean—babbles and gurgles and laughs, transfixed by the image of his father. We haven’t tried to make it to an actual game yet, not with the baby still being so young. But next year we’ll be there for every single one. Life in Seattle is everything. I didn’t know this kind of joy existed. My days are simple. I take care of Bean. I clean the house. I cook dinner. It’s exactly the life I was taught to dread. A feminist’s hell. But it works for me. I greet Hudson by the door and he swoops up our baby and me in a massive hug and we spend the rest of the night talking and laughing. Do I miss Ohio? Not at all. My job? Not even a little. My family? Yeah. I actually do. But I Skype with my sisters and that’s good. And I get frequent texts from my parents requesting pictures of Payton and that’s good, too. And they’ll be coming out for the wedding here in a few months and that’s freaking awesome. I can’t wait to show off the life Hudson and I have built here. Hell, I can’t wait to keep building it. He’s ready to start trying for another child because he wants an army of Knox’s to unleash on the sports world in another eighteen or so years. I’ve made him promise to wait until after the wedding because I don’t want to worry about fitting into my dress or whether or not my champagne is actually sparkling cider. On screen, the cameras zoom in on Hudson’s smiling face as the crowd chants his name. He kisses two fingers, one for me and one for our son, and holds them up in the air. A salute to our love. Our commitment. Our happiness. Hudson and Payton, they are my life. And I couldn’t ask for anything more. WANT to know as soon as Abby’s next book is released? Click here to join Abby’s Reader Group to get notified on release day.

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ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic) What Happened in Vegas (Dakota & Dominic’s Wedding) Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max) Blissed Out (Chelsea & Max’s Wedding) Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)