Hostile(45)

“Thanks, Bree. But this has to stay between us, okay? Please?”

“Of course.” She sits up and stares directly at me. “I won’t tell anyone. You know that.”

I smile because I do. I trust her. “I might tell Fletch but no one else until it’s a nonissue. Even Rhys and Blair don’t really need to know either. It’s no big deal.”

“What do you mean? You being in a relationship is a big deal.”

“It’s not a relationship. He’s leaving in September.”

She’s looking confused and annoyed now. “You’re going to let the one person you’ve felt a connection to just walk away?”

“It’s not serious.” I know it’s a lie, and so does she, but thankfully she only calls me an idiot again and lets it go.

I know it’s going to hurt like hell when he leaves, but I also know there’s no way he can stay.





THIRTY





“Lancaster, you coming or what?” I roll my eyes at Josh, who’s already showered and dressed after practice. I fucked up and dove during practice, taking a nasty slide into home plate and scraping the hell out of my knee. So I had to listen to coach lecture me for a good ten minutes about proper sliding techniques.

As if I give a damn about this last season of baseball. I should, I know. But I don’t. I’m just riding it out until the summer.

“You don’t need me to walk you out to the parking lot, do you, Potter? I think you’re big enough now. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll show you big.” He cups his junk in total meathead fashion before flipping me off with a laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod with a grunt as he exits the locker room and wave at coach as he leaves, too, with another quick lecture. I strip off my t-shirt and move to my pants when I hear someone enter and turn around, shocked to see Rhett, looking totally out of place.

“Jesus, fuck. It stinks in here.”

I laugh. “What? You don’t like the smell of twenty sweaty guys?”

He shakes his head, his nose scrunching up in a way that’s too cute for his normal scowly face. “You finished with practice?”

I nod. “Yeah, but I need a shower.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Wanna help me with that?”

He looks around, his eyes darting through the locker room with guarded caution. “Probably not a good idea.”

I push my sweats down, leaving me only in my black jock, and turn away from him to push my pants off completely and, of course, shamelessly give him a great look at my ass.

I hear him clear his throat, not unaffected. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“No teasing here.” I walk over to him and grab him by the hips. “No one’s here.”

He looks down, admiring the jock and dragging his finger through the light trail of hair on my lower abdomen. “Can’t.”

We haven’t had sex since we left the cabin ten days ago, and I’m dying here. We’ve had a couple of mutual jerk-off sessions, but he hasn’t been inside me again. He’s been busy with work and volunteering, and I’ve had practice and homework out the ass.

“I miss you.” I lean into him, breathing him in, and soak up the beautiful smile he offers.

“I miss you too. I’m here because I thought you might want to come back to my place.”

“Yeah.” I nod my head far too eagerly, but I don’t care. I press a quick kiss to his lips and nod toward the shower and then down at my scraped-up leg. “Gotta wash this off really quick.”

His eyes move down to where I’m looking, and then they snap back up to my face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The concern makes me feel warm inside, but I play it off, like always. “Of course. I’m an athlete. This is nothing.”

“Big tough guy,” he teases.

“You know it.” I push the jock off and walk to the shower, unabashed about my nakedness. He’s seen it all before, and I plan for him to see it again and again.

He takes a seat on the bench to wait as I quickly wash up, hissing when the soap stings my wound, but shaking it off quickly. I grab a towel and dry off, dressing and fighting everything inside me that wants to grab him and kiss the shit out of him here in the locker room.

I know he’s right. It’s too risky, but it sucks. I have Rhett—at least for the moment—and I want to brag about it. I want to scream it loud and proud, but I have to be smart. Careful. Like I’ve been for most of my life.

We walk out to the parking lot, and he leans against the hood of my car, looking around at the mostly empty lot now. “I told Bree.”

“What?”

“About us.” He looks shy about it, and I can’t help but smile.

“I told you that’s fine.”

“I know. I just wanted you to know. She isn’t going to tell anyone.”

But I want her to. I mean, not really, but I want her to be able to. I want to tell everyone, and the reality of it sours my gut. “I trust you.” The moment is too heavy with neither of us saying anything else. I put a smile on my face and lean on my car next to him, nudging his shoulder. “So, you coming to my game Friday? It’s at home.”

He scoffs, “Hell no.”