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But with Stormy? It didn’t even cross my mind to leave.
Not because I’m getting ideas. The opposite.
This thing with us has an end date, even if I don’t know exactly when it is.
All it’s going to take is one of these last fraying threads holding us together to snap— for Noel and Misty to burn out, Stormy to move, our divorce to finalize —and that’s it. No more reasons or excuses or justifications for our paths crossing.
We both know it.
We’recountingon it.
So instead of getting up and gathering my shit to go, I’m burrowing deeper into her hair, wrapping my arm tighter around her, and drifting back into—
Ping.
My brows knit.
Bzz.
Bzz.
Shit. My phone.
I don’t want to wake Stormy, but—
Ping. Bzz. Bzz. Ping. Bzz.
Her breathing changes, and my jaw sets.
“Two phones.” Stormy’s muscles, lax the moment before, go tense.
The pings and buzzing turn to dual rings, and we jerk upright in the bed.
She slips out the right side, managing to take the sheet with her, while I climb out the left, too used to being naked to care about covering up.
We get to our phones at the same time, eyes meeting across the expanse of the unmade bed as we answer.
Noel’s voice booms through my phone as Stormy’s mouth drops open in a shocked gasp.
“Dude, she said yes! You’re going to be my best man!”
* * *
“It’s going to be fine,”I say as she sits on the couch beside me, my oversized shirt from last night doing little to keep my mind off the panties beneath. Panties so scant that even in the midst of this chaos, I’m getting hard thinking about them.
Not the time, asshole.
“It was supposed to burn out, Liam. We were only supposed to have a few weeks together. Just a run-in here and there, some fun, and maybe a single night of indulgence or so, and then they were going to break up and there wouldn’t be any more home games or parties I’d be showing up to becausethey’d have broken up.” Her eyes are wide, her usually pink cheeks pale as she turns to me. “But they’re gettingmarried. Forreal.Forever.”
“That’s what he said.” Along with so many other things that told me how fucking off base I was with my assumptions about what this guy was like and where their relationship was heading, I want to kick my own ass for being so completely blind to who he really is.
Just like I am with the rest of my teammates.
She bites her lip, nerves bringing her hands together at her chest. “We’re getting divorced. It’s not supposed to be the start of some beautiful friendship. Right?”
“We’re still getting divorced. And hell, we’re already friends.” Friends who spent the night trading a half-dozen truly spectacular orgasms. Despite the unorthodox nature of our relationship or maybe because of it, I do count her as a friend. One of the few. “So, we’re going to be seeing more of each other. Is that really so bad?”
Because it doesn’t sound that way to me.
