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“Maybe he’ll realize he’s in love with you, too,” Tally says. Bless her sweet, innocent, observant heart.
“Shit. How did that even happen? How did I fall in love with an emotionally unavailable asshole?” Because I did. I’m such an idiot. The elevator dings, and the group hug comes to an abrupt end.
We file out as my brother strides through the lobby. His brow furrows when he sees us. “Rix? What’s going on?”
I fire the bird at him. “I’m moving out, genius. You can go back to tag-teaming the bunnies like the good old days. Sorry for cramping your style.”
His gaze shifts to Tally for a second and he flinches, like my words have physically hurt him. Or maybe he realizes she’s the coach’s daughter and I’m over here calling him out about screwing bunnies with his best friend, who just robbed me of orgasm satisfaction because he’s mad that I’m taking my vagina away from him. It’s admittedly on brand for Tristan. At least he’s consistent.
“Rix, come on.”
“You suck, dude,” Hammer says.
“Come on, let’s get you out of this nightmare.” Hemi throws a glare my brother’s way.
Tally just looks at him like he’s a huge disappointment as we trudge through the lobby and out the door.
We lift my bins into the bed of Hammer’s truck and climb into the cab. Tally takes the passenger seat, and Hemi and I sit in the back. There’s enough room for three full-sized hockey players, even with the front seat slid all the way back. No one will recline their seat and make it impossible for me to breathe.
Even that thought makes my eyes prick with tears.
“How did this happen?” I throw my hands in the air and let them land in my lap. “How did I manage to fall for my brother’s asshole of a best friend?” I lean my head against the seat and bang it twice. “Ugh. What a cliché, stupid thing to do.”
“Eh, don’t beat yourself up over it. He’s hot. And we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. Yeah, there’s a lot of lust, but that guy has it bad. It’s not your fault he can’t tell you how he feels,” Hemi says.
“If Tristan doesn’t usually talk about feelings, or show them outside of safe ones, like lust and happiness and anger, then there’s a chance he’s not even aware of the depth of his feelings for you,” Hammer says.
Tally twists so she can give me an empathetic smile. “And Flip is his best friend. So that makes it even harder, because now two important people in his life are at risk.”
“These are all valid points,” I agree. But they don’t make me feel better about how things went down. As we drive toward my new apartment, I consider how blindsiding Tristan might not have been the best plan. Maybe him inviting me to his bed was his way of trying to smooth things over. Maybe sex is the only way he knows how to express himself. That’s its own problem and not something I can fix for him.
“We’re making a pit stop,” Hammer announces.
We stop at the LCBO and pick up all manner of tequila-based drinks and an unreasonable amount of wine while Tally waits in the truck. Then we make another stop at Hammer’s favorite Mexican restaurant, where we pick up an absurd number of tacos. She skips the refried beans, though, because she knows I already feel bad enough.
Twenty minutes later, we troop up to the new apartment with my bins and our Mexican fiesta. It’s a great apartment, and I have a bedroom with a door. And my own bathroom.
I try not to give in and eat too many tacos, but I’m weak, and they’re delicious. Besides, I don’t need to worry about any gastro distress coming my way later since I have a private bathroom.
It’s bittersweet. My heart hurts, but it’s better to get out now and let it heal than stay and have it smashed into smithereens.
CHAPTER 22
TRISTAN
Everything sucks. Especially me. On the ice, I’m a mess. I keep missing easy shots, fucking things up during practice. Three times Coach Vander Zee has pulled me aside to ask if I’m okay. The answer is no. I’m not okay. I’m miserable.
I miss Bea. There’s a physical ache in my chest that won’t go away, and it makes me edgy. It reminds me of how I felt when my family fell apart.
And everything is worse because Flip still isn’t talking to me. Bea has been gone for five days, and it’s been nearly two weeks since he found out. I’ve been sleeping on the couch in Roman’s room during away games because I can’t deal with the tension. When we’re home, I hide in my room.
We’re scrimmaging today. Tomorrow, we play Philly for the first time this season. I’m not on starting line. That’s not a surprise, considering the way I’m playing. And the tension between me and Flip is bleeding onto the ice.
