All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(43)

“That’s good to hear,” he says, still watching me, obviously waiting for details.

Too bad I’m not going to give him any. “Your advice helped too. Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” He tosses a towel at me. “Now go take a shower. You fucking stink.” As we walk into the locker room, he flicks the back of my head.

And there’s the Teddy I know and love.

“How was the art installation thingy last night?” I ask Justin as we head to the showers together. All the shower stalls are separated by half walls, so that’s not as awkward as it sounds.

“Elise loved it, so I guess it went well,” he says, shaking his head.

It’s crazy to see how much my best friend has changed since he started dating my younger sister. Yeah, it’s still not something I like to think about often. But he treats her right and she’s happy, so I really can’t complain.

Still, things have definitely changed. Gone are the days of us going out to bars and enjoying the buffet of females who were willing to go home with us simply because we’re pro hockey players. But it’s all good because I still have Teddy and Asher, and even the rookie Morgan is a pretty good ladies’ magnet.

Although lately, I’ve got to admit, the bar scene hasn’t held much appeal for me. I’ve been spending most of my free time off the ice more concerned with Becca. And to be honest, I don’t miss the casual hookups at all.

I’m only supposed to be helping her—coaching her, so to speak, between the sheets—lately it’s felt like things have changed between us. First, she’s far surpassed any expectation I had, and second, I’ve found myself uninterested in any woman but her. And I’m really not sure what to make of that.

I assumed my interest in her was only because the crackling sexual tension between us was brand new and therefore exciting. Except now I have an inkling it’s more than that. She’s so much more than just a shiny new object to play with.

Honestly, I have no idea how I’ll walk away when this is done, how I’d ever be okay with handing her off to another man. The idea of it kind of sickens me, to be honest.

It’s been the thing nagging at me since Becca left this morning. I’m not sure how I’ll handle when she says she’ll be ready to move on from my lessons and get with someone else. I mean, I’ve tried to tell myself that I’ll be fine. I’m freaking Owen Parrish . . . it’s not like there won’t be a line of women ready to keep my bed warm once she walks away.

Realizing Justin is still talking about his evening with Elise, I try to focus on our conversation.

“Did you go out?” he asks.

I shake my head and reach for my towel, shutting off the water. “No, I had someone over.”

His brows raise. “That someone a girl?”

Reluctantly, I nod. I can’t lie to my best friend, even if I don’t want to make a big deal out of this.

“Yeah?” He grins. “Something I should know about?”

I’m sure he suspects it’s Becca based on our conversation that night in New York.

“It’s new,” I say. And it might be ending soon.

Last night with Becca, it was like my whole world finally made sense. But today, as amazing as it was, I’m starting to realize that what we have has an expiration date.

She’s going to want a lot more than I can ever offer her, and soon. She deserves the best. And I have no idea what I’m going to do about that. On no planet am I good boyfriend material, and I’m sure she knows that better than anyone.

“Everything all right?” Justin asks, knotting a towel around his hips.

I nod. I just need to figure out what to do about Becca, and I’ll be golden.





16




* * *





Pizza and Hidden Pasts





Becca



Every month, when my pesky Aunt Flo makes her five-day visit, I’m always guaranteed to be found in the exact same place—on the couch with a bottle of ibuprofen and a bag of peanut M&Ms nestled in my lap. And this month is no different. My cramps have been extra bad this cycle, but there’s not a whole lot that chocolate and painkillers can’t solve, as far as I’m concerned.

As I flip through my options as to which show I’ll be spending the evening binge watching, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. It’s Owen. And although I can’t read his text from this distance, I’m almost positive that he’s asking about my plans this evening. The guys won their game tonight, which no doubt means they’ll be out celebrating. But one look at me, and anyone could see that I’m not exactly up for a night on the town.

I shift the heating pad off of my lower stomach and reach for my phone.

Yup. I was right. Owen just invited me out for a victory celebration at the bar. As much as I’d love to see him, there’s no chance I’m getting off this couch tonight. So I type out a quick response, thanking him for the invite but letting him know I’m out of commission.

Naturally, he responds right away, pressing for details.

Out of commission??? R U ok?

I roll my eyes and shamelessly inform him I’m on my period.

Are guys really that oblivious? I thought “out of commission” was universally understood to mean it’s that time of the month. And even if I was feeling up for going out, I wouldn’t be drinking. I don’t want to cramp his style. Literally.