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As if it’s completely healed now,a little voice in the back of my head taunts me just as another jab of pain goes through my leg as I shift my weight. Grinding my teeth, I push it back.
“It was good to have you back, though.”
“Aww…” I force out a grin. “Did you miss me, Cole?”
A sweaty shirt hits me in the head. “In your dreams, you idiot.” I pull the shirt off and toss it back at him, but he manages to catch it. “I’m off to shower.”
“Need me to come and hold your hand?”
Nixon shakes his head. “Forget I ever said anything.”
Laughing, I turn my attention to my duffle bag and start pulling out my stuff. As I’m tugging out my shirt, my palm wraps around a plastic bottle. I look down, my fingers tightening around it as I realize what I’m holding—my pain meds. They probably got lost in all the other bullshit I’ve been carrying in this bag from the time when I was going to my PT. I totally forgot I had them.
I suck in a breath, my heart racing faster as I just stare at the bottle as if I’m transfixed. The pain I’ve been in just after the surgery flashes in my mind, and then there was the sweet oblivion after I gave in and took the pill.
Almost on autopilot, I pop open the lid, staring at the last few remaining pills inside, and the promise of that sweet, sweet oblivion grows stronger than ever.
I could take one. Hell, even just half of the pill would make this pain go away. Just…
“Dude, why didn’t you go and shower?” the sudden question snaps me back to reality, all the noises filling the locker room coming back to me.
I quickly snap the lid back in place and drop the bottle into my bag before turning to face Nixon.
“I was just checking my phone,” I lie, grabbing my towel and gel as Nixon pulls his own phone out of the bag. “You wanna go and grab something to eat after we’re done?”
“Actually… How about you join me?”
I narrow my eyes at him. He was all easy smiles, but there was something about his tone that made me suspicious. “Whatever for?”
If he wanted me to come to his place to watch him and his new wife fawn over each other, he didn’t know me for shit. Nobody in their right mind would force themselves to endure that torture, although Yasmin was a pretty good cook.
“I just need your help with something. So, you coming or what?”
He’s evading, and that can never be good.
“Am I going to regret this?”
Nixon thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “Most likely. So, you in or what?”
That was what I was afraid of.
“Fine.” I rub my hand over my face. “I’m in. But you owe me.”
“Yeah, yeah. How about you wash off the stink and meet me at Emmett’s in half an hour?”
Emmett’s, but that’s…
“Nixon…” I turn around, but my best friend’s already walking out of the locker room.
* * *
Closing the door of my mustang, I look up at Emmett’s building. Well, technically, it’s my building complex, too, since earlier this summer, I moved here with one of my hockey buddies, Spencer.
I still have no idea what we’re doing here since Emmett graduated last spring, but it better be good, or I might strangle Nixon.
I’m just about to call him to see what the hell’s going on when I see a nice ass peeking from the back of the trunk in one of the tiniest pairs of shorts I’ve seen. I give it an appreciative look—it’s a fine ass, sue me—and my gaze drops down those toned legs before slowly making my way up just as the girl steps back from the car, her face coming into view.
Fucking hell.
