Pucked Off (Pucked #6)(104)

“And the night before you left for the away series, I knew you were lying about talking to a telemarketer, but I didn’t say anything then, either.”

“I didn’t want you to worry while I was away.”

“But I did.”

She’s still looking at the floor, where her toes are curled under against the pale ceramic.

“I’m sorry I did that to you.” All I want is to touch her. “Why don’t we sit down?” I gesture to the white couch. If we’re finally going to hash out the Tash business, I think I need to be sitting down.

She expels a breath. “Okay.”

“Can I get you something else to drink?”

“A glass of wine might be nice.”

“Should I be worried that you need alcohol for this conversation?” I ask, hoping to alleviate some of the tension.

She smiles a little. “You should only be worried if I ask for shots.”

I retrieve two wine glasses—they’re relatively unused because I’m generally a scotch or beer drinker, or straight from the bottle if I can’t manage my shit. But I’ve been a lot better about that lately. Miller and Randy have been keeping me in line so I don’t go off the edge like I sometimes do.

Poppy sits tucked up in the corner of the white couch when I return with our drinks. One of the throw pillows the interior designer said I needed as an accent is clutched in her lap. She’s so fucking beautiful. I want to keep her in my life, and I get that in order to do that I need to let her in, even if it means she sees all the broken parts of me.

I pass her the glass, and she cups the bowl to take a sip. She doesn’t put it down after that, just twirls the stem between her fingers.

I sit down in the middle of the couch. I want to get closer, but we’re not there yet. “Where do you want me to start?”

Poppy looks down at the glass and sighs. “I just want the truth, Lance. So why don’t you start with that?”

“The truth about Tash?”

“Tash. The rumors. Any of it. All of it.”

Fuck. This is the stuff I don’t want to deal with. But I have to, one way or another. I hope that what I tell her makes things better, not worse.

“You mean the rumors about how I fuck?”

She cringes, probably because I’ve chosen to word that in the worst way possible.

My knees are bouncing so hard her wine swishes in her glass. I set mine on the table.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I really don’t like to be touched. Like at all. Especially by women. After my brother died, I could only ever associate hands on me with my mum’s anger. So dealing with girls was really fucked up. I knew there was something wrong with my head, ’cause I didn’t enjoy sex the way all the other guys on my team seemed to.”

“But you must have found a way to get over that?” There’s a hardness to Poppy’s voice, tension that makes her words sharp and heavy.

“I thought maybe I could, but it didn’t really work. I had this party once…and there were these two girls.” I study my hands, unable to look at her. “They wanted me to—uh…anyway, that wasn’t any better. It was worse. There were so many fucking hands to manage. The fucking panic—I hated it.”

“Did Tash know this?”

“Aye.”

“But she brought other girls anyway? Even though she knew how you felt about it?”

“Aye.” The memories make my skin crawl. “And it just made the rumors worse, because then there was some actual truth to them.”

“She’s a horrible person.”

“She has a lot of issues. Anyway, that’s done now. And I have a new roommate when we travel. One of the guys with a girlfriend, so I don’t have to deal with the, uh…bunnies and that awkwardness.”

“That’s good.” Poppy raises the glass to her lips.

“And I’ve been staying away from the bar after games.”

“I don’t expect you to become a recluse.”

“I know. I just want to stay away from any problems.”

Poppy sets down her glass. “You have to give me a chance to trust you, and hiding in your room, not interacting with your teammates isn’t going to do that. All it’s going to do is make you resentful eventually.”

“Resentful of what?”

“Of me, for taking you away from your friends. I don’t want to confine you. If we’re going to try to make this work, it can’t be about you hiding from Tash, or the bunnies. And it can’t be you keeping me separate from the rest of your life.”

“I meant it when I said I’m not going to talk to her anymore. I’m done.”

“Has she contacted you since you saw her in LA?” Poppy bites her bottom lip.

“I got one call from an unknown number, but whoever it was didn’t leave a voicemail.”

“And if she comes to your next LA game? How will you handle that?”

“How do you want me to handle it?” My knee is bouncing. Even if we’re not involved, erasing Tash from my life isn’t exactly easy.

“I want you to be honest with me if you think you’re going to see her. I want to be able to trust that you’re not going to fall back into old patterns every time you cross paths.”