I’m thinking about it too.
His eyes drop to my mouth. Stay there. My fingers curl against the dryer at my sides wondering if he’s going to kiss me with his daughter and brother just outside the doors.
His jaw clenches hard. A muscle ticks. I watch him fight it, and for a moment I think he's going to lose. I wouldn’t stop him if he did.
"Fuck."
The word comes out like something tearing. He pushes off the dryer and steps back, and the cold air that rushes in where he was feels offensive. He yanks his hat off, drags a hand throughhis hair then shoves it back on and turns away from me. All I can see is the rigid line of his back, the tension in his shoulders that hasn't gone anywhere, the way his hands stay fisted at his sides like he doesn't trust them not to touch me.
When he speaks, it's entirely to the wall. "It's hard to be around you, Bri."
Then he's gone. Door swinging softly shut behind him, like he didn't just detonate something in a six-by-eight laundry room and walk away from the wreckage.
I stand there with the dryer humming against my spine and my heart completely outpacing my ability to think. When I finally get my breathing under control, I decide not to tell Levi, Seth or Sawyer goodbye. Thankfully, they’re in the kitchen and don’t notice me.
I race out of Seth’s home and down the street to Natasha’s house without another word.
Chapter 14 – Seth
When I’m certain Bri’s left my house, and isn’t listening into our conversation, I turn to my oldest brother in the kitchen. “So why are you really here?”
I feel bad she left before she even got to eat the pizza she ordered, but there’s also a quiet relief I don’t want to admit to. My brother has a way of putting me on edge without even trying, and if Brianna didn’t already think I’m a class-A asshole for avoiding her all week, watching me deal with Levi would probably seal the deal.
Growing up, it was always the same pattern. Levi was the easy one. The funny one. The one people gravitated toward. And I was the grump. That didn’t really change as we got older, either. Life just gave me more reasons to lean into it.
I don’t look at him now. I just move to the pizza box on the counter and tear off a slice, more out of habit than actual hunger. I should be eating something cleaner, something packed withprotein before tomorrow’s game, but I don’t have the energy for any of that. No prepped meals. No reheating. Grease and carbs will do while I try not to think about how close I was to kissing her in my laundry room.
Yesterday, Brianna slow-cooked a roast for us—smoked veggies, perfectly seasoned, and an angel food cake that was so damn good I haven’t stopped thinking about it once. Bri slipped out quietly before dinner, she’s never stayed for the meals she makes, but even Sawyer ate every bite which is a win. I want to pull out the leftovers from the fridge, heat the roast up, and enjoy something that won’t make me feel like shit for my game tomorrow. But I don’t. Because if Levi sees that spread, he’ll start asking more questions about Bri and the less he knows about our past, the better.
Or worse—he’ll eat the whole meal and cake himself.
It’s been like that for the last few days now that Bri’s been helping me with Sawyer. She cooks, cleans, helps Sawyer with her homework, then leaves before I can ask her to stay for dinner. Not that I’ve put any effort into asking. Because being around Bri is difficult. And it’s getting harder to resist how badly I want to touch her.
I shove a slice of greasy pizza in my mouth and chew, ignoring the ache in my stomach. I’ll pay for it on the ice tomorrow night, but at least I won’t have to explain why Brianna’s cooking gourmet meals in my kitchen and making my favorite dessert in the world. Maybe if I keep my mouth full, I won’t have to think about the fact that I’m a raging, conflicted asshole whenever I’m around her.
I can’t stop looking at her. And thinking bad, bad things. Like how the hell she ended up in nothing but a sports bra and spandex shorts in my house.Jesus, I need to come home withblinders on. I’m not trying to objectify her. It’s just that every time I see her, all I can picture is that goddamn Halloween night and how good it felt to be inside her.
Her, in thatDaddy’s Little Monstershirt.
Her, with that fiery red hair she had at the time that I miss.
Her, doing a split—spreading her pussy open while I drove my cock so deep inside her I felt like I could get lost there with her.
Yeah. I have a problem. The problem is I can keep trying to avoid her at work, but she’s inside my home. She’s inside my head. She’s working her way into something I haven’t let anyone near in years.
“I got suspended,” Levi says, finally answering my question like it’s no big deal that he’s once again suspended from his team.
“I know. You shouldn’t have hit that guy. It was excessive.”
I barely glance at him as he moves to the pizza box, grabbing a slice and practically inhaling it, snorting as he chews.
“Yeah. It was. But it was fun as hell when it was happening.”
I let out a scoff. “Keep it up and you’ll be asked to retire.”
Boone may have retired from the league as a forward a few months ago, but defensemen typically have longer careers, and Levi’s proof of that. Thirty-seven years old, still hanging on in Boston, playing for a team that hasn’t won shit in years. Maybe that’s why they haven’t traded him yet. Because his name,our name,still draws paying crowds.
“So… I’m here because I didn’t want to wallow in self-pity in Boston.”
