Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“Maybe things could change with Flip,” Fee says. “Maybe you’re opening his eyes, too.”
CHAPTER 8
FLIP
“What the hell happened to your eye?” Dallas asks as we’re suiting up for practice.
“I missed a step coming down from my loft,” I lie.
He nods, like this totally makes sense. “Oh man, that’s a real design flaw.”
“Yeah,” I agree. The number of times I’ve almost fallen down that retractable ladder is unreal. I should consider replacing it with a spiral staircase.
Tristan glances at me, but he keeps his mouth shut and continues lacing his skates.
Not even for one second did I consider driving Tally back to her apartment last night. And that’s a huge fucking problem.
So was letting her sit in my lap. The fact that she felt right there is problem number three. Problem four is how fucking territorial I got over her when Quinn offered to drive her home. He’s a great guy. And Tally is right, he should have a girlfriend. But no way was I handing her over to him on a silver platter made of my rejection and her emotional turmoil.
Problem five is the churning worry that won’t allow my gut to settle. Tally is under a lot of stress; final exams, her parents getting a divorce, and her guilt over hurting my feelings. I’m a big boy, and it’s clear she didn’t mean it the way I took it, so the least I can do is make things less awkward when we’re with the group. She needs her Terror crew now more than ever.
Once we’re on the ice warming up our glutes and quads, Tristan digs in. “Want to tell me what really happened?”
“Not particularly.” Because then I have to take a closer look at my actions. Tally’s roommate, Fee, is responsible enough to have handled the situation. But Tally was a mess, emotionally and physically. I didn’t trust anyone else to make sure she was safe. And I wanted to be the one to take care of her.
Tristan raises a brow.
I ignore it and switch to an inner thigh stretch.
“You going to fill me in on the Tally situation?” he presses.
“I drove her home. End of story.” That lie is sharp and stupid.
“Dude.” He gives me his unimpressed Kermit face. “Your sister is my wife, and her best friend is the older sister of Tally’s best friend, and Fee is our coach’s sister. It’s six fucking degrees of separation everywhere you turn, so I already know you drove her home this morning.”
“Nothing happened,” I snap.
“Of course nothing happened. You would never. Maybe old Flip if she’d been sober, but that is not you now.”
I meet his gaze and guilt cuts through me, swift and painful. We’ve known each other forever, but I almost imploded our friendship when he first came to Toronto. He’s right. Every partner has been sober and willing, or so I believed. But I put Tristan in a position that left little room for his own feelings a couple of times, and I will forever regret that.
I don’t want to overshare. “I didn’t think she’d make it back to her apartment without hurling.”
“So you set her up in the spare room.”
“Where else would I put her?”
I shouldn’t be this defensive. I haven’t done anything wrong. I held her hair while she threw up, put her to bed, then checked on her every fifteen minutes until I gave up and dragged the yoga mat into her room.
But for a moment, I longed to let her cuddle right up next to me so I could hold her while she slept.
Tristan arches a brow. Like he can see inside my fucking head.
I sigh. “I slept on the floor because I was worried. She didn’t know I was there and tripped over me on the way to the bathroom. Her foot caused this.” I motion to my eye.
“You slept on the floor?” He doesn’t sound skeptical, which I appreciate.
“On a yoga mat.” It was seriously uncomfortable, and my back is still annoyed, but it was worth it to make sure Tally was okay.
I don’t say anything about her face-planting into my dick. Or that I saw her entire ass, thanks to a wardrobe malfunction. I can never unsee it, and I’m pretty sure my future dreams about it will land me a front-row seat in hell.
Tristan rolls his head on his shoulders. “She was pretty flirty with you.”
“She was hammered.”
“She sat in your lap.”
“Again, she was hammered.”
“And you let her.” He side-eyes me.
I brush it off. Evade. “She had a lot going on.”
“You can’t lead her on, though, man,” he says gently. “Unless there’s more to this?”
“That’s not…there’s not.” I shake my head.
“Then you might need to set some boundaries.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I get it, though, she was messed up.”
I haven’t said anything to anyone other than Dred about her proposition, and I don’t plan to. Not even Tristan. He’s one of my closest friends, but he could accidentally say something to Rix, and it could get back to Tally. She’s already embarrassed enough. The speech she gave this morning has been rolling around in my head. I don’t know how much of it was fueled by her hangover, but it hit a soft spot. She knows me, and she knows what it’s like to be wanted for the wrong reasons, maybe better than I realized.