PRAISE FOR HELENA HUNTING’S

NOVELS
“Perfect for fans of Helen Hoang’s The Kiss Quotient. A fun and steamy
love story with high stakes and plenty of emotion.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Meet Cute

“Bestselling Hunting’s latest humorous and heartfelt love story . . . is

another smartly plotted and perfectly executed rom-com with a spot-on
sense of snarky wit and a generous helping of smoldering sexual
chemistry.”
—Booklist on Meet Cute

“Entertaining, funny, and emotional.”

—Harlequin Junkie on Meet Cute

“Hunting is quickly making her way as one of the top voices in romance!”
—RT Book Reviews

“Sexy. Funny. Emotional. Steamy and tender and so much more than just a
book. Hooking Up reminds me why I love reading romance.”
—USA Today bestselling author L. J. Shen

“Heartfelt, hilarious, hot, and so much sexiness!”

—New York Times bestselling author Tijan on Shacking Up

“Helena writes irresistible men. I loved this sexy, funny, and deliciously
naughty story!”
 —USA Today bestselling author Liv Morris on Shacking Up

“Fun, sexy, and full of heart . . . a laugh-out-loud love story with explosive
chemistry and lovable characters. Helena Hunting has done it again!”
—USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow on Shacking
Up

“With that perfect Helena Hunting flair, Shacking Up is the perfect

combination of sexy, sweet, and hilarious. A feel-good beach read you
won’t want to miss!”
—New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg

“A look into the world of tattoos and piercings, a dash of humor, and a
feel-good ending will delight fans and new readers alike.”
—Publishers Weekly on Inked Armor

“A unique, deliciously hot, endearingly sweet, laugh-out-loud,

fantastically good-time romance! . . . I loved every single page!!”
—New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase on Pucked

“Sigh-inducing swoony and fanning-myself sexy. All the stars!”

—USA Today bestselling author Daisy Prescott on the Pucked
series

“A hot roller coaster of a ride!”

—New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent
on Pucked Over

“Pucked Over is Helena Hunting’s funniest and sexiest book yet.

Scorching hot with pee-inducing laughs. All hail the Beaver Queen.”
—USA Today bestselling author T. M. Frazier
“Characters that will touch your heart and a romance that will leave you
breathless.”
—New York Times bestselling author Tara Sue Me

“Gut wrenching, sexy, twisted, dark, incredibly erotic, and a love story like
no other. On my all-time favorites list.”
—New York Times bestselling author of Wallbanger and the
Redhead series Alice Clayton on Clipped Wings
OTHER TITLES BY HELENA HUNTING

PUCKED SERIES
Pucked (Pucked #1)
Pucked Up (Pucked #2)
Pucked Over (Pucked #3)
Forever Pucked (Pucked #4)
Pucked Under (Pucked #5)
Pucked Off (Pucked #6)
Pucked Love (Pucked #7)
AREA 51: Deleted Scenes & Outtakes
Get Inked (A crossover novella)
Pucks & Penalties: Pucked Series Deleted Scenes & Outtakes

CLIPPED WINGS SERIES

Cupcakes and Ink
Clipped Wings
Between the Cracks
Inked Armor
Cracks in the Armor
Fractures in Ink

SHACKING UP SERIES
Shacking Up
Getting Down
Hooking Up
 I Flipping Love You
Making Up
Handle with Care

STAND-ALONE NOVELS
The Librarian Principle
The Good Luck Charm
Meet Cute
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2019 by Helena Hunting/Ink & Cupcakes Inc.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission
of the publisher.

Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of

Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781542015356
ISBN-10: 1542015359

Cover design by Eileen Carey

Cover photography by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com

This one’s for the Den. You put a smile on my face every single day. Thank
you for your relentless passion for reading and your incredible sense of
community.
 CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 CHAPTER 1
BIRTHDAY BLUES

Rook

“What are the chances there will be booze at a birthday party for a pair of
three-year-olds?”
“Uhhhh . . . slim to none?” My sister’s voice crackles through the car
speakers on a scoff. “Why are you going to a birthday party for toddlers
anyway? Is this some kind of new dating strategy? Like you’ll pick up
more women if they see you interacting with small children? Oh! Is this
like when we went to visit Kyle, and we took Max to the zoo, and, like,
five women slipped you their numbers?”
She’s referring to an incident that happened when I was visiting our
older brother, Kyle, in LA earlier this summer. Our nephew is like catnip
for women. “No, Stevie, it’s not like that. The party is for my teammate’s
kids, and his brother-in-law used to be the team captain, so it’s a good idea
for me to make an appearance.”
“Right. Okay. Well, that makes it a lot less exciting.”
“Not everything about my life is exciting. What about you? Any
plans this afternoon?” I need to move the conversation away from dating,
because my little sister always has an opinion on my lackluster love life.
“I have a date tonight, so I need to try on half my wardrobe before I
decide nothing is good enough, and then I’ll need to run out and buy
something new.”
“A date? Who is he? How’d you meet him?”
 “Listen to you, sounding like Dad.” Even though she laughs, there’s
sadness in her voice. We lost our dad three years ago to complications
from diabetes. We’re a pretty tight family, even with me living in Chicago,
my brother being on the West Coast, and my sister and mother having
relocated from New York to LA. My sister went out there for school, and
my mom decided it was time to retire, so she sold the house and farm and
moved out west at the end of last summer, right after Max was born.
“He’s in my program, we have a couple of classes together, and his
name is Joseph.”
“How many times have you been out with him?”
“It’s our second date. Speaking of dates, when was the last time you
went on one?”
I grip the steering wheel, hating that we’re back to this. “I don’t
know. A while. I’ve been busy.”
“Busy pining over Alaska girl.”
It irritates me that she continues to use that nickname for the woman
I spent the better part of last summer with in Alaska. “Don’t call her that.”
“It’s been a year, RJ. Don’t you think—”
I pull into the parking lot of the aquarium. “I’m at the party. I have to
go. I’ll talk to you later.” I end the call. I’d like to say this isn’t a
conversation we have often, but I’d be lying. Between Stevie and Kyle,
someone brings her up at least once a month. Her name was Lainey. Is
Lainey. Provided she’s still out there somewhere.
I park next to the massive blue pickup truck that manages to stand
out in this parking lot full of silver and black SUVs. It belongs to my
teammate Randy Ballistic, who’s currently leaning against the tailgate,
thumb typing on his phone.
I cut the engine and get out of the car. Randy falls into step with me,
pocketing his phone as we cross the lot. “I’m a little surprised to see you
here.” He eyes the gifts tucked under my arm, covered in rocket wrapping
paper.
“I haven’t seen most of the guys since playoffs, so I figured it’d be
good to stop by.”
He nods in understanding. “Yeah, I tried to get out of it, but Lily
insisted we come. She came early to help set up.” Randy and Lily have
been together for as long as I’ve been on the team, and while they don’t
have kids, they have a dog, which is like training for a baby.
 Inside the aquarium, one of my teammates’ kids runs by holding a
giant inflatable shark, screaming at the top of his lungs. I like kids, and
kids generally like me. But I prefer my current role as an uncle to my
nephew, Max. I can be the uncle who gives awesome presents, and when
Max starts crying, I can pass him back to my brother or sister-in-law and
walk away.
“This is like an advertisement for birth control right here,” I mutter
as a little redheaded toddler comes wobbling over, face covered in
chocolate and a doughnut in his hand. The kid—who definitely belongs to
my redheaded Scottish teammate, Lance Romero—reaches for Randy’s leg
with his doughnut-filled hand but misses by about six inches, which causes
the kid to trip over his own feet.
I swoop in and catch him before he can do a face-plant. He startles
and loses his hold on the doughnut, so he bursts into tears.
“Hey, buddy, you’re all right.”
“Mah doughnut!” he screams and lunges for it.
“Five-second rule.” Randy shrugs.
“Quinn! Don’t pick food up off the ground,” Poppy, the kid’s mother
and Romero’s wife, calls from across the room.
I crouch down in front of him. “Why don’t we toss that one in the
garbage and get you a new one?”
“I want dat one!” he screams in my face, then proceeds to throw
himself on the floor and have an epic meltdown.
Romero stalks over. “What’re you two doing to my kid?”
Randy raises both hands in the air. “He tripped and dropped his
doughnut.”
Romero looks to me. He’s a nice guy, and I like him, but sometimes
he has a short fuse, and I prefer not to be the one to set him off. “I told him
we should get a new one. He didn’t like that idea much.”
Romero picks his kid up off the floor and cringes when he sees his
face. “Quinn, my man, yer never gonna get the ladies like this. Let’s wash
yer face and get ya a new doughnut, aye?”
“Want dat doughnut!” He points to the floor.
Romero steps on the doughnut in question. “What doughnut?”
“Da-eee! Mah doughnut!”
Romero gives us both a look. “I gotta take care of this. After the
party wraps up, we’re headin’ to the pub. You two in?”
 “With or without the kids?” Randy quirks a brow at Quinn, who’s
fighting his dad’s hold and smearing his chocolate-covered face all over
his dad’s arm.
Romero rolls his eyes. “Without. What the hell would be the point
otherwise?” He lifts the kid over his head and makes airplane noises all
the way to the bathroom.
“I should’ve brought a flask,” Randy mutters as he fills a plastic cup
with soda.
I opt for a bottle of water. We make small talk with our teammates
while I keep an eye out for Alex Waters. He went into sportscasting as
soon as he retired from the ice. The camera loves him, but he’s got the
background and the temperament to coach a team, and I want to find out if
the rumors are true that he’s thinking about making the switch in the next
couple of years.
“Hey! Rookie! How’s it goin’? Glad you made it back from Alaska in
time for the party.” Alex claps me on the back. I have to brace myself so I
don’t stumble forward with the impact. Alex is a big guy, and just because
he’s not on the ice anymore doesn’t mean he’s lost any of his size.
I accept a man hug and back pat. “Me too. Things are good. Just
getting settled in—you know how it goes. Looking forward to preseason
training.”
“Team’s looking good this year. You wanna talk strategy at all, just
give me a call.”
Before I can segue, his wife appears. “There you are! Can you please
take Robbie to the bathroom? Every time we go into a women’s bathroom,
he tries to climb up on the sink and pee in there.” Violet gives us a slightly
strained smile. “Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt, but getting kicked out of the
aquarium for letting my kid use a sink as a toilet isn’t on my to-do list
today.”
She points at another child, who I think is one of Miller Butterson’s
four kids. I can’t keep their names straight, and I’m pretty sure the one
I’m looking at is one of their twins, which makes it even more difficult.
“I’m just waiting for that one to pee in one of the fake potted plants. This
summer Miller thought the best way to potty train Liam and Lane was to
let them wander around with their doodle hanging out so they could pee
whenever and wherever. Now Liam keeps trying to take his pants off, and
he thinks if it’s a plant, he’s allowed to pee on it.”
 “That’s actually awesome,” Randy says with a snort.
Violet grins. “I know, right? Liam has been the best thing to ever
happen to me.”
Alex clears his throat, and Violet rolls her eyes. “I mean in terms of
offsetting my own humiliating moments. Last weekend we had a barbecue,
and Liam got into the greenhouse. Let’s just say there’s a lot of
contaminated science experiments in there now.”
“Daddy, can we play yer-nal hockey now?” Robbie tugs on Alex’s
sleeve while cupping his junk through his pants with the other hand.
“Sure, kiddo.” He nods to us. “I’ll be back.”
Violet watches them disappear into the men’s bathroom. “Robbie
likes to aim for the salt pucks. He thinks it’s like playing hockey with his
wiener.”
Randy nods. “Pretty much, actually.”
Five minutes later all the kids go rushing over to the dolphin exhibit.
Apparently there’s some kind of guided tour. Since neither of us has kids,
Randy and I hang back near the food table. I grab a chicken wrap and
another water, wondering how much longer this will go on before we can
head over to the pub. I’m guessing—since they haven’t done cake yet—it’s
going to be a while.
Screaming comes from the gaggle of kids. “What the hell is going on
over there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m gonna go check it out—maybe
you should go have a chat with some of those girls.” He inclines his head
in the direction of a group of female aquarium staff who are standing in a
gaggle, whispering and gawking. We’re not especially low key today, since
we’re all wearing team hats and shirts.
“Uh, I’m good. They’re probably all in high school.” I follow him
toward the dolphin exhibit, curious about the shrieks and screams and
what sounds a lot like someone crying.
“Everyone stay calm! It’s perfectly natural during mating season for
something like this to happen!” The shrill, panicked voice is familiar.
Maybe one of the wives?
“Oh shit,” Randy mumbles. He has a little extra height on my six-
foot-two frame, so I’m guessing he can see something I can’t.
I make my way around the edge of the group; some of the moms have
their kids’ faces buried against their stomachs, and one kid is yelling about
someone being stabbed.
But the commotion barely registers, because across the sea of
screaming, laughing, and crying kids is a very familiar woman wearing an
aquarium-issued beige button-down.
Lainey.
Alaska girl.
 CHAPTER 2
ALL THE CRAZY BUNNIES

Rook
Fourteen months earlier

“Oh my God! Oh my Gooooood! ”

My eardrum is probably broken, based on the sheer volume of the
scream and the sudden ringing in my ear.
Once upon a time it would have been reasonable to assume I was
eliciting this reaction because of my amazing stick-handling skills—not
the on-ice kind either. However, I’m currently seated on an airplane
heading for Seattle, waiting for the rest of the passengers to load. And
while I’ve engaged in public sex, I usually kept it confined to places with
doors, like bathrooms. But I don’t do that anymore. I’m a reformed public-
bathroom fucker.
I cringe as the screamer drops into the seat beside me, still yelling in
my ear. “Rook, I haven’t seen you in forever! How crazy is this? I can’t
believe we’re on the same plane!”
“Totally crazy?” I’ve managed to stay under the radar without being
recognized . . . until now. “Is this your seat?” Please say no.
“No.” She pouts for a second, before a wide grin breaks across her
face. “But I’m right behind you! Last-minute upgrade. Are you flying
alone? What are you doing in Seattle?”
“I’m meeting my brother.” That’s not exactly true; my brother and I
are meeting in Anchorage, but she doesn’t need to know that. How the hell
do I know this chick? I rack my brain for a name, something, anything.
She’s familiar—and not in a good way.
“In Seattle?”
I nod.
“So you are flying alone! Me too! I bet we can get the person sitting
here to switch spots.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”
“Of course I do, silly!” She hugs my arm. “Then we can catch up!”
I’m still trying to place her, but that’s not always easy. I’m
embarrassed to admit that in the time I’ve been playing professional
hockey in Chicago, there were a couple of years where I did a lot of
fucking around. Literally. I screwed pretty much any bunny who dropped
into my lap. Until the shit hit the fan.
I took a break from the bunnies after I mistook a case of jock itch for
crabs—which resulted in the nickname Crabby for the better part of that
season, thanks to my asshole teammates. But every once in a while, I run
into one of the women I slept with during my partying days. It’s always
awkward. There were a lot of women in a very short span of time.
Sometimes more than one at a time. It was bad. I’m not proud.
And then there was that fake pregnancy blackmail—
Oh hell no. Now I remember exactly who this woman is. She’s the
blackmailer. It was literally the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She
took plaster casts of her sister’s growing baby belly every couple of weeks
and then stuck them under her shirt and posted pictures online, tagging me
in every single one. Until my lawyer got involved. The jock itch incident
happened right around that time too. Thus ending my puck-bunny days for
good.
“How’ve you been? What’re you up to? You look great! What are you
doing in Seattle? Wait, I already asked that last question!”
There is no way I’m going to be able to sit next to her for five hours
and stay sober.
When the woman who’s supposed to be beside me finally boards the
plane, my extra enthusiastic companion takes control of the seat situation.
She hugs my arm and presses her cheek against my shoulder, her extra
wide smile matching her extra wide eyes. I think she’s going for innocent,
but she really just looks bent.
 “Hiiiii!” she says to the middle-aged woman. “So I hope you don’t
mind, but my boyfriend booked our seats, and he couldn’t get ones beside
each other. We’re celebrating our one-year anniversary, and it’s the first
time we’ve flown first class.” She crinkles her nose. It makes her look
odd. She’s also disturbingly convincing in her lie. “Would you mind
trading seats with me so we can be together?” She bats her lashes.
I try to make eye contact with the woman, but she’s too focused on
the blackmailer to notice my panicked expression. “Aw. Aren’t you two
sweet? Of course I can trade seats with you.”
“Thank youuuuu! I’m seat 3C.”
The lady moves to the row behind us. Awesome. Now I have no
escape.
Sissy—whose name I finally remembered—doesn’t stop talking all
through takeoff. Once we’re in the air, I order scotch on the rocks and
make it a double. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to survive this.
About a half hour after takeoff, she leans in, her mouth at my ear and
her hand on my leg. She’s way too close to my junk to be appropriate. I try
to move her hand, but she digs her nails in. “I need to use the bathroom.
Wanna meet me in there?”
“Uh, I hardly fit in there on my own, let alone with another person.”
“Maybe I should ask for blankets instead.” She gives me an
exaggerated wink.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “You do remember how you pretended
to be pregnant and said it was mine. All over social media.”
She throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Oh my God! Rook, you
are sooooo funny! That was just a joke!”
This chick is legit out there. “You posted about it for two months.”
“Well, you stopped answering my messages, and for like a month I
thought I might actually be pregnant.”
“We used a condom.”
“Yeah, but there’s this drink my sister had, and I tried it too.” She
waves her hand around. “Anyway. It didn’t work for me like it did for her,
which is too bad because I think we’d make pretty babies together.” She
nuzzles my biceps again. “We could try again if you’re staying in Seattle
for a while.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
 Because you’re certifiable. “I’m in a relationship,” I lie.
“Oh.” She stops hugging my arm. “Really? I haven’t seen you with
anyone, and I follow all your social media accounts. I had to set up all new
ones after you blocked me.” She seems annoyed by this.
“It’s pretty new.”
“We’re in another time zone, so it technically wouldn’t be cheating,
right? Or you could just come in a cup for me if you think it’s a big deal.
They can last a couple of days, as long as they don’t dry out.”
I spend the next several hours fighting off her advances. As far as
flights go, this is the worst. I’d take turbulence and a crying infant over
Sissy. The torture is prolonged when the pilot says we have to circle the
airfield for another hour before landing.
Sissy rushes along beside me when we finally get off the plane. She’s
still trying to persuade me that being in another time zone would make
cheating okay. She follows me all the way to the gate and then wraps
herself around me like an octopus.
Eventually security steps in, and she’s forced to let go of me. The
whole situation reinforces my pledge to never sleep with another bunny, no
matter how hot she is.
 CHAPTER 3
SAFETY CUDDLES

Rook

I manage to make my connecting flight to Anchorage despite our delayed

landing. I’m grateful that the person next to me is a suit this time. I settle
into my seat—it’s an aisle instead of a window, which isn’t my preference,
but I’ll survive as long as I don’t have a crazy bunny next to me.
I stuff my earbuds in and cue up a movie on my entertainment
console. After the last flight, I deserve three hours of brain candy.
Just as I settle on an action flick, a body lands in my lap. At first, I
think I’m being accosted—yet again. It’s not unusual for women to
literally throw themselves at me. Typically I’m not on a plane, though, but
considering my last flight I shouldn’t be surprised by anything right now.
“What the—”
“I’m so sorry!” says the voice attached to the body in my lap. She
scrambles to right herself but jerks back, gagging, her tidal wave of silky,
dark hair slapping me in the face. It smells like mint and cucumber, which
would be nice if it weren’t in my mouth.
She grabs my shirt with one hand and catches my earbuds, yanking
them free. The other hand curls under the fabric wrapped tightly around
her throat. She’s sprawled across my lap, legs hanging over the armrest,
face level with mine. She’s totally blocking the aisle, making it impossible
for anyone to get by and creating quite the spectacle. “My scarf is caught,”
she rasps. “Oh my God. I’m choking myself. I’m so sorry. This is so
embarrassing.” The more she struggles, the more the scarf tightens, which
in turn causes her to flail.
I slide a supporting arm behind her. “Stay still for a sec.”
She freezes, still gripping my shirt, eyes wide with panic. I turn my
head to the side and lean forward. Her lips connect with my cheek.
“Oh!” She tries to turn away, but she really is stuck, so her nose ends
up in my ear and her lips are still pressed against my jaw.
“Just give me a few more seconds, and you’ll be free.” She exhales
heavily against my jaw, warm breath making my skin prickle. I lift her
carry-on and use my foot to pull the scarf free from the wheel.
She loosens the fabric around her throat, dragging in a long, deep
breath. “Thank you. So much. Choking to death on an attractive man’s lap
really isn’t the way I wanted to go.” She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes
to a stand. “I’m so sorry.”
She keeps her gaze averted as she gathers up the scarf that never
seems to end. It gives me time to check her out. Well, shit. This woman is
hot. Like pour a gallon of gasoline on me and light me on fire hot. She has
long dark hair, a shade of brown so deep it’s nearly black. Her eyes are the
color of coffee or chocolate—something with caffeine in it. Something
that would amp me up. And her face . . . daaaaamn. High cheekbones, full
lips, a dainty nose, arched brows, thick lashes.
I take in the rest of the package, which gives me pause because her
outfit is just . . . out there. She’s wearing a full-on parka, hiding her figure,
but based on her legs I’m thinking she’s probably slender. That’s a guess,
though, with all the layers she has going on. And that scarf has to be a mile
long with how many times she winds it around her neck, hence the near
strangulation.
Her little wardrobe malfunction has resulted in a line of people
waiting to board, so she rushes down the aisle, throwing another “So
sorry” over her shoulder as she disappears into coach.
I’m almost disappointed. Almost, but not quite. I plug my earbuds
back in and veg out to movies for the next three hours.
Once I land in Anchorage, I call my brother. He’s meeting me here so
we can get on the putt-putt plane to Kodiak Island. It’s been a family ritual
since I was a teenager. Even though our dad died two years ago, Kyle and I
still carry on this tradition where we spend a few weeks fishing in Alaska.
It is my favorite part of off-season and the thing I look forward to the most
every year, even without my dad.
“RJ, hey, bro, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for hours.” He
sounds off—worried, maybe.
“I didn’t bother connecting to Wi-Fi on the plane. Where are you? Is
everything okay?”
“It’s Joy.” He coughs, like he’s trying to hold back emotions.
I drop into the closest chair. “Is she okay?” Joy is his pregnant wife.
I’m aware that there’s no way Kyle is coming with me for three weeks to
hang out in Alaska next year. Not with a new kid. He might get a long
weekend, but this is the last trip we’re supposed to take together for a few
years, especially if one kid leads to more.
“She’s been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The doctors have
put her on bed rest.”
That explains the waver in his voice. I sit up straighter, a tight feeling
in the pit of my stomach, since we lost our dad to complications from
diabetes. “What does that mean? Is she going to be okay? Is the baby all
right?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine. The baby’s fine.” He sounds like he’s trying to
reassure himself, not me. “She just needs to be monitored. The doctor said
it’s not uncommon. It’s not like what Dad had—it’s a lot different.”
I relax a little. “Okay, that’s good. Do you want me to come to LA?”
“No. You don’t need to do that. We’re okay. Mom and Stevie are
talking about bringing Stevie’s stuff out here now instead of later in the
summer.” Our younger sister is working on her master’s and decided out
west is where she wanted to be, away from the cold winters.
“Mom and Stevie are coming? Are you sure I shouldn’t too?”
“Positive. You know how Mom is—as soon as she heard bed rest, she
was already packing. It sounds a lot more serious than it is, but I can’t
come to Alaska. I don’t want to leave Joy right now, and being that far
from her really isn’t an option. I’m sorry, RJ, I know how much you were
looking forward to this.” He sounds torn, which I don’t want, not when Joy
is experiencing complications.
I conceal my disappointment. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it.
Joy and the baby are priority number one.”
“If you don’t want to go on your own, you can come here.”
 I consider the offer. I love my brother. We’re pretty close, even
though we live thousands of miles apart, but I need this vacation. I need
this time away from the media and the constant demands, time when there
aren’t any expectations placed on me. I need to be in the one place I feel
close to my dad. More than anything else, I crave the peace and solitude I
find in Alaska and the escape from the circus my life has become. Last
year our team captain retired, and I stepped into the role. He was well
loved by the team and a legend in the sport, so I’ve had big shoes to fill.
“Thanks, Kyle, but I’m gonna catch some salmon, grow a massive
beard, and avoid showering for four days at a time.”
He laughs. “I figured you’d say that. If I can come out later in the
month, I’ll call. Well, I’ll call anyway. Touch base every few days so I can
make sure you haven’t been eaten by a bear—and I’ll keep you updated on
things here.”
The reception can be pretty spotty where we stay, and I like it that
way. I want the time to disconnect and just be a human, not an NHL team
captain. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the bears—you just take care
of your family. I’ll send pictures.”
We say our goodbyes, and I drop my head against the wall. It sucks
that my brother can’t be here, but I still want the time at the cabin, even if
I have to do it on my own.
Half an hour later, I carry my bag out to the Cessna. The first time I
ever flew on a plane that small, I tossed my cookies, so I’ve learned to
refrain from drinking on the flight from Seattle to Anchorage.
I’m last in line on this tiny eight-seater, which is fine. It’s a short
flight, and almost every seat has a spectacular window view. Except the
ones at the back—they’re a little tight for space.
I have to duck and turn sideways to get on the plane. It comes with
being over six feet and more than two hundred pounds. It’s a full flight,
and there’s only one seat left . . . at the very back of the plane. I shimmy
down the narrow aisle. Tucked into the corner, clutching a purse, is the
same dark-haired woman who fell into my lap on the previous flight. Well,
now, this should be interesting.
She glances away from the window, her nervous smile falling as her
eyes go wide. Her cheeks flush, and she lifts a hand to cover her mouth.
“Oh no.”
 I grin and fight a chuckle as I take the seat beside her. It’s actually
like one of those bench seats you’d find on a school bus, with about as
much room.
She slides closer to the window, trying to make more space for me.
She drops her hand. “I’m so sorry I fell on you.”
I flash her a grin and a wink. “That was the most exciting part of this
trip so far, so don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t mean to kiss you. I mean your cheek.” Hers grow redder.
“Oh my God, Lainey, just shut up and leave the poor man alone,” she
mutters and ducks her head.
“It’s really okay. Shit happens, right?”
She peeks back up at me, a tiny smile pulling up the right side of her
mouth.
I hold out a hand. “I’m RJ.”
I don’t know why I give her that name. My dad called me that, and
my brother and sister still do, but that’s it. Everyone else calls me Rook or
Rookie. Maybe because she doesn’t seem to know who I am, and I don’t
want her to find out? Oh well, too late now.
She slips her mitten-covered hand into mine, then makes a face.
Pulling off her mitt, she tries again. Her hand is warm and a little damp—
and much smaller than mine—but her grip is firm. She gives me a solid
shake. “I’m Lainey.”
“Hi, Lainey.”
“Hi, RJ.” Her eyes stay locked on mine for a few seconds. Still no
hint of recognition, which is fantastic.
“So what brings you to Alaska?” I ask, buckling myself in.
Her eyes light up. “Well, I’m currently working on my master’s
thesis, and my focus is aquatic animals. I’m fascinated by dolphins and
whales, so I’m spending six weeks out here to study them.”
“A master’s thesis, huh? You must be pretty smart.”
She shrugs. “I just like learning a lot. This is my third master’s.”
“Your third? How old are you?” She doesn’t look old enough to be
pursuing a first master’s, let alone a third. Although her outfit might be to
blame for that.
“Twenty-five.”
“And this is your third thesis?”
 She bites her bottom lip and nods. “Mm-hmm. I love learning new
things, and I keep getting full scholarships, so here I am. I have a master’s
in sex therapy and another one in geology. This one is going to be in
marine biology. Specifically, ocean mammals. I thought it would be
interesting to study the mating patterns of dolphins versus whales.”
“How do those go together?”
She shrugs. “They don’t, really. I just have a lot of different interests.
For instance, did you know dolphins mate not just for reproduction but
also pleasure, like humans?”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” But now I’m thinking about sex and how I
haven’t had it in a long time.
“Oh yes, they’re very sexually active. And some people think they
mate for life, like lobsters, but they don’t. They take several partners. Just
like some humans do too, although in Western society we’re sociologically
conditioned to choose one mate and stick with them, unlike dolphins. They
just like to get it on because it’s fun.”
She bites the tip of her finger. “I’m sorry, I get carried away. I’ve
been doing a lot of reading in preparation for this trip, and my brain is full
of so many facts, sometimes they just come out of my mouth. I can stop
talking if you’d like.” She motions to the phone in my hands with the
earbuds wrapped around it.
I slip it into my pocket. “Nah, you’re more interesting than anything
I could listen to on there.”
Her smile widens, and then she ducks her head again, blushing. God,
I miss shy women. The kind who don’t throw themselves at me looking to
fuck a star.
“What about you? Why are you coming to Kodiak Island?” She looks
me over in an assessing way, as if she’s trying to figure me out.
I’m dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. “I
come out here every summer to fish with my brother, but he can’t make it
this year, so I’m on my own.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
I shrug. “I’m okay with it. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from all
the crazy and be at peace with nature, you know?”
“I definitely do. I went to school in Seattle for a year. Well, more like
a month. It was a lot.” She shudders and shakes her head. “I’m not from
the city. Our town had less than two thousand people, so it was a big
change. Cities can be exciting—but scary. Are you from Seattle?”
“I grew up in New York.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there, but it looks so . . . overwhelming.”
“Well, to be fair, I grew up in Upstate New York, which is nothing
like the city. It’s pretty rural in some areas.”
“Oh yes, I read that somewhere.”
The pilot informs us that we’re cleared for takeoff. Lainey hugs her
mittens to her chest as we head for the runway.
“You okay?”
“I’ve never been on a plane this small before,” she says.
“We’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve done this at least twenty times, and
I’ve survived every one.”
Her eyes are wide as she nods, then looks out the window as we
gather speed. When the wheels lift off the tarmac, she grips my forearm.
“Oh! This is a lot bumpier than the big plane, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. A bit. You’ll get used to it.”
She releases my arm and hugs her mittens again. “Today is actually
the first time I’ve ever been on a plane.”
“Really?”
“The first flight was nice. I mean, there was a very old man beside
me with a lot of nose hairs who smelled like mothballs, but he was fine
otherwise. You’re much nicer smelling than he was.” She blushes again.
“Anyway, I guess on a plane this small you feel everything more.”
This woman is such a breath of fresh air. And her innocence is
alluring, especially since I’m going to be on my own for the next few
weeks. Kodiak Island is fairly expansive, though, so there’s a good chance
this short flight is all I’ll see of her. I’m going to make the most of this
hour of normalcy. “I can’t believe this is your first time flying.”
“I usually take the train if I go anywhere. But there’s no train to the
island, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the long ferry ride, so here I am.”
We hit a spot of turbulence, and she makes a squeaky sound, then buries
her face against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles into my arm.
“You don’t even know me, and I’m using you like a teddy bear.”
I laugh. “I’d climb into your lap so you can cuddle with me, but I
don’t think I’ll fit.” But she’d sure fit nicely in my lap.
 “Sadly, no—you’re kind of huge.” She gives my biceps a squeeze and
releases it on a slow exhale.
“What if I just do this?” I slip an arm around her shoulder.
“That’s nice.” She slides a little closer and tucks herself into my side.
“That makes me feel . . . safer.”
I’m not sure if she’s flirting with me or just genuinely needs some
kind of human contact to abate the anxiety, but I’m enjoying this, so I go
with it. “Safer is good.”
“It is,” she agrees.
I spend the next few minutes explaining the geography as she looks
out the window, but when we hit another patch of turbulence, her face
pales.
“Oh no!” She covers her mouth with her palm.
“You okay?”
She shakes her head but stops abruptly, paling further. “I don’t feel so
well.”
I reach into the seat pocket in front of us and pull out the barf bag. I
blow into it to open it up and then hand it to her. “Maybe just breathe into
this.”
She takes it from me with shaking hands and leans forward, her hair
slipping over her shoulders. I gather it up, twisting the soft, silky strands
around my hand to keep it out of the way.
And then she barfs. She tries to be quiet as she retches a couple more
times. I stroke my thumb along the back of her neck, and her skin pebbles
with goose bumps.
With my free hand I search my pockets for a tissue, grateful when I
find a handful in my hoodie. They’re crumpled but unused, so I pass them
over. Lainey turns her head away and wipes her mouth, dropping the soiled
tissues into the bag. She rolls the top over a few times and secures it
closed.
I let her hair unfurl from around my hand and run my palm down her
back. “You okay?”
“Other than hugely embarrassed, I think I’m fine,” she mumbles. “I
don’t know what to do with this.” She holds up the bag.
“Here, let me deal with it.”
“Oh God, no. My throw-up is in there.”
“It’s better if it ends up in the garbage than anywhere else, isn’t it?”
 “Oh yes, much better in a garbage can.” She hands it over.
I unbuckle my seat belt, shimmy down the aisle, and drop the bag in
the trash at the front of the plane, then make my way back to my seat.
“Feel better?”
“A little. I’m so sorry. I’m the worst person to sit beside on a plane.”
“Not true at all. I actually like being someone’s personal teddy bear.
I’d volunteer for a permanent position if it was available.” I slip my hand
into my pocket, root around until I find my pack of gum, and offer it to
her.
She plucks the package from my hand. “I love you so much right
now.”
I laugh. “Mouth tastes that bad, huh?”
“The worst. I had a burrito at the airport.”
“Oooh. Bad call, that.”
“You’re telling me.” She pops a stick of gum into her mouth and
closes her eyes, chewing a few times.
“Better?”
“So much.” She passes the pack back, but I fold her hand around it.
“It’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” She puts it in her purse and retrieves a small bottle of
hand sanitizer, squeezing a dab into her palm before passing it to me.
Before I know it, we’re on our descent. Her hands are balled into fists
in her lap, her eyes screwed shut.
“Hey.” I slip my arm along the back of the seat again. “You’re safe.
Human teddy bear right here for safety cuddles.”
She smiles nervously and edges closer, pressing herself right against
my side. “Thank you for being so nice, RJ.”
I don’t know that she’d say that if she knew I was withholding who I
really am. But here on this plane I’m not the NHL forward and team
captain with a history of being a player on and off the ice. I’m just a guy,
and she’s just a girl.
 CHAPTER 4
CABIN IN THE WOODS

Lainey

If this plane crashes, at least I’m going out on a high note.

RJ is the kind of attractive that makes a woman stop paying attention
to what she’s doing and nearly end up strangling herself with her scarf.
He’s tall and built, with dark hair that curls up at the nape of his neck,
hazel eyes ringed with dark green, and a smile that makes my insides
mushy.
I’m tucked into his side, his arm stretched out along the back of the
seat, fingers curved around my shoulder, keeping me nice and safe. RJ’s
arm is very sturdy, and solid, and thick, like a tree trunk. He also smells
great, like fresh laundry and cologne with a hint of peppermint, likely
from the gum he gave me to take care of my breath.
He dealt with my bag of vomit, which is both mortifying and
insanely sweet. At least the near scarf strangulation happened before I
hurled. I’m currently fisting his sweatshirt in one hand and hugging my
mittens to my chest with the other. I also keep trying to bury my face in
his armpit. Despite the long flight from Seattle and the tiny, cramped
quarters on this plane, he still manages to smell like deodorant.
He covers the hand clutching his sweatshirt.
“I’m sorry.” I pry my fingers from the soft fabric, but before I can
tuck my hand close to my own body, he threads his fingers through mine.
It’s an unexpected level of intimacy.
 “A couple more minutes and we’ll be on the ground again,” he
reassures me.
I squeeze his hand as the plane descends and squeak out my anxiety
when the wheels touch down, pressing my face against RJ’s chest.
Eventually, when it’s clear we’re bumping along the tarmac, I peek
up.
RJ grins down at me; it’s disarmingly charming. “We survived.”
I look out the window at the mountains rising to my right, the water
on the left. “We did.” Now that we’re on the ground I’m embarrassed all
over again. “Thank you for being my personal support person and human
teddy bear.”
RJ smiles even wider. “It was honestly my pleasure.”
“I don’t know if witnessing me toss my cookies was a pleasure for
anyone, but thank you for being so nice.” I gather my purse and mitts,
making sure I have everything before we disembark. Our luggage is
waiting for us on the tarmac. The cold air coming off the water makes me
shiver, probably because I’ve been roasting in my parka for the past hour. I
shove my hands in my mitts and try to bat my hair away from my face—
it’s not particularly effective, given how windy it is.
“Let me give you a hand,” RJ offers when he notices my struggle. He
slings his huge duffel over his shoulder and grabs the handle of my
suitcase, and we head for the warmth and safety of the arrival terminal. I
rush to keep up with his long strides.
Once we’re inside and the wind is no longer an issue, I tuck my mitts
into my purse and quickly braid my hair so it’s not a problem when I have
to go outside again. RJ stops when we reach the car rental desk. “Where
are you heading from here?”
“I have a cabin about ten miles past the town of Kodiak. It’s supposed
to be on the water. I wanted an authentic Alaskan experience.” My printout
with the directions from the airport to the cabin is in my purse.
“So you need a rental, then?” RJ motions to the kiosk. “I’m picking
up a vehicle. If you want, I can drive you to Kodiak and you can get one
there—it’ll be a lot less expensive without the airport taxes.”
I fidget with the end of my braid, embarrassed. “Oh, that’s really nice
of you, but I don’t have my license.”
RJ tips his head to the side, his expression curious. “How are you
planning to get to your cabin?”
 “I was going to shuttle to town and then cab the rest of the way.”
“Or I could just drive you.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. We might be in opposite directions.”
“You said you’re ten miles outside of Kodiak, right? I’m already
heading in that direction. I don’t mind dropping you off—unless you’re
waiting on someone?”
“Oh no, it’s just me.” I try to keep my hands still instead of talking
with them, which is something I do when I’m nervous. Incidentally, I’m
nervous often.
RJ’s brow furrows. “So you’re alone here without a car?” This seems
to concern him, which of course means it also starts to concern me.
“I can always call a cab when I need to go to town.” I used to bike
everywhere back home. And during my brief stint in Seattle I took public
transit. That was definitely nerve-racking. All those people so close
together.
It would be a good idea to get a bike so I can go back and forth to
town for groceries and stuff. That way I won’t have to worry so much
about making polite chitchat with the cab drivers. Also, there are a lot of
movies about psycho killers who pick up unsuspecting victims and such. I
don’t want to meet any of those while I’m here. I put purchasing a bike on
my mental to-do list. Mostly I’m tired and in need of a shower and maybe
a little rest after this long day.
“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck. “But at least let me drive
you today.”
“Only if it’s not too much trouble.” He seems safe and not like a
psycho killer.
He graces me with the same brain-fritzing smile as before. “It’s no
trouble at all, Lainey.”
I wait with our bags while he gets the keys to his vehicle. Then we
head to the valet, where a huge gray truck with roll bars and waist-high
tires is parked curbside.
RJ puts our bags in the back and helps me into the passenger seat
before he rounds the hood and climbs in. He adjusts the radio so it’s
playing a local station and turns the volume down low as we follow the
signs for Kodiak.
“It’s just so beautiful here.” I can’t take my eyes off the mountains in
the distance or the water to my right.
 “It really is—and peaceful, especially once we’re out of town and on
the water,” RJ says.
It doesn’t take long before we’re driving through the town of Kodiak,
where we make a stop for groceries. It’s a little awkward shopping for food
with someone I don’t know, but I’m happy to have a chance to stock up on
essentials, since all I have in my purse are a few granola bars.
He helps me load my groceries into the truck, then programs the
address to my cabin into his GPS and gives me a lopsided smile. “You’re
actually only about three-quarters of a mile away from where I’m staying.
What’re the chances?”
“It’s a pretty wild coincidence, isn’t it?” It also seems too good to be
true.
My stomach twists as storefronts and houses give way to tall trees
lining the road. I’m alone in a vehicle with a man I hardly know, and we’re
heading into the wilderness, where there aren’t a lot of people. Usually
that is my preference, unless it’s my family, who I know and trust. But
right now I’m nervous and uncertain. “My cabin is supposed to have
satellite TV. I really like the Discovery Channel, and of course Animal
Planet is always fascinating.” I realize I’m babbling, so I ask him a
question. “Do you watch TV?”
“Yeah, I watch TV.” He’s smiling, but his focus stays on the road.
“Do you have a favorite show?” This is good. I can learn more about
him. Maybe we have things in common other than liking Alaska.
“Sure, depends on my mood and how much time I have. I binge-
watch shows sometimes.”
“Oh, me too! Once I binge-watched an entire season of Criminal
Minds, which was a really bad idea. I got all paranoid and thought I was
going to end up kidnapped by a serial killer.” I glance over at RJ, nerves
going haywire.
He’s huge, much bigger than me. And even though I’ve taken self-
defense classes, I’m not sure they’d be useful against someone as large as
him. What if he’s planning to take me to his cabin and keep me there, like
a pet? Or a hostage. I should be panicking more at that thought. As it is,
my heart is racing.
He takes his eyes off the road for a second. “I promise I’m not a
serial killer.”
 “Are you a mind reader?” What the heck was I thinking, getting into
a truck with a guy I met on a plane? I can actually hear my mother losing
her mind over this poor decision-making. If he does kidnap me, I’ll never
hear another one of her lectures again. I’m uncertain how I feel about that.
I love her, but one of the reasons I’m all the way out here is because the
smothering is overwhelming.
RJ laughs, reminding me that I asked a question before I got lost in
the anxious spiral of my thoughts. “No, but your expression sort of says it
all. I’m just a guy hanging out in the wilderness for a few weeks, planning
to catch some fish. You’re safe with me.”
“I hope so.” I wring my hands, anxiety making my mouth dry and my
palms damp. Dammit. Why do I have to worry about everything?
He takes his foot off the gas, pointing to the passenger side window.
We pass a red mailbox that reads Sweet View Home. “That’s my driveway.
You’re not too far down the road.”
A minute later he makes a right on a narrow dirt road, the center of
which is overgrown with a strip of foot-long weeds. Tree branches brush
the mirrors as we pass them. It’s a bumpy ride that makes me wish I’d
used a bathroom while we were in town.
The lane finally opens up to a clearing and a tiny cabin.
“Oh! It’s so cute!” I clap my hands, excited that I’m finally here and
I’m still alive.
For the first time in my entire life, I’m going to have a real
adventure. On my own. This won’t be anything like my short time at the
University of Seattle. It will be peaceful, and I’ll be totally safe. Nothing
bad will happen to me here. It’s going to be awesome. At least this is what
I tell myself as enough knots to keep a professional escape artist busy
form in my stomach.
As we get closer to the cabin, the cuteness becomes questionable.
The cabin is actually pretty run down.
RJ frowns. “Are you sure this is the place?”
I dig around in my purse for the paper copy of the confirmation
email. I smooth out the crumpled sheet. The number on the side of the
cabin matches the address on the email, but the cabin looks a lot better in
the picture. “Yup, this is it. Maybe the ad was old?”
“Yeah. Maybe. Can I help you get settled?”
 “You’ve already done so much. I’m sure you have some settling of
your own to do.” I grip my purse strap to keep from wringing my hands
again. Of course now I’m worried that I should invite him in and that he’ll
want to stay and hang out, but I’m tired, and I don’t think I smell very nice
under this parka.
“I don’t mind. At least let me help you get your stuff in the cabin.”
I shove down the paranoia that he’s only offering so he can chain me
to my bed. If he was really a serial killer, he would have just taken me to
his bunker, not dropped me off at my cabin. Besides, it would be awkward
for me to carry my stuff in while he sits in the cab. “Okay. Sure. Thank
you.”
I grab the groceries, and RJ brings my suitcase to the front door. I
find the key under the mat like the instructions said and slip it in the lock,
hoping the outside just needs some fresh paint and that it won’t be a
reflection of the inside. The door creaks its protest as I shoulder it open. I
flick on the light and stare at my new home for the next six weeks,
coughing as I breathe in dust.
“It’s rustic.” It smells musty—and possibly like something rotten.
RJ sets down my bags and also coughs several times into the crook of
his arm. “That’s one way to describe it.”
He turns a slow circle, taking in my little home away from home. It’s
basically a one-room cabin with a bathroom and a closet. In one corner is a
double bed made up with a comforter that may have been fashionable
when my great-grandmother was my age.
A nightstand also doubles as a side table for the seventies-era
recliner in a color that resembles infant poop—sort of a yellowish, browny
green. A very old tube TV is set against the opposing wall, complete with
rabbit ears, which I didn’t even know still existed.
I’m not sure the information about satellite service was accurate,
based on what I’m seeing. On the other side of the cabin is the kitchen, if
one could even call it that. There’s a hot plate, a microwave, a sink, and a
tiny bar fridge. The kind I had when I lived—very briefly—in off-campus
student housing.
The biggest piece of furniture, other than the bed, is the two-seater
table pushed up against the far wall. It’s conveniently located close to the
tube TV, which is situated in the center of the room. Lucky me: I can
watch TV from my bed, the recliner, or the table while I’m eating my
noodles, which, based on the hot plate, are going to be my primary source
of nourishment. And maybe fried eggs and bacon.
“This is great!” My voice is high and reedy. This place is the opposite
of great, and I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack, which I’d like to
avoid while RJ is here. So I fake enthusiasm, hoping I can trick my brain
into believing it’s true until he’s gone. I clear my throat. “I love it! It’s
perfect.”
RJ adjusts his ball cap and squeezes the back of his neck. “Are you
sure you’re going to be okay here?”
“It’ll be great!” I pull the curtains open to let in some sunshine and
release a cloud of musty dust. This time I cough for a full thirty seconds
before I can speak. “It just needs a little fresh air and a good dusting!” I’m
much more careful when I open the curtains over the sliding door. The
glass is covered in a layer of grime, but the view beyond that is incredible.
Trees dot the front yard, framing the lake and the islands beyond, the
bright-blue sky reflected in the water.
I turn the lock, lift the security bar, and slide the door open. Or I try
to. It takes some serious effort, at least until RJ gives me a hand. A gust of
cool air comes off the water, and I pull the lapels of my jacket together. I
take a couple of steps onto the deck—which creaks—and almost fall
through a hole. Thankfully, RJ is there to save me with his lightning-fast
reflexes.
He grabs me by the waist, pulling me up against him. “I really don’t
know about this place, Lainey.” He sets me back down inside the cabin,
away from the danger.
“It’s fine. I’ll just call the rental people tomorrow and let them know
the deck needs a couple of new boards.” Half a board is now missing,
thanks to me. An animal scurries around under there. I’ve probably
disrupted his home. On the plus side, this is going to be a great place to
observe the wildlife. I pat RJ on the chest, noticing how solid it is, much
like his arm. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
He chews on the inside of his lip and rubs the back of his neck,
something he’s done a couple of times now. His expression tells me he
doesn’t believe me, which riles me a little. He doesn’t even know me, and
he’s making assumptions. Ones my parents would probably agree with and
which are possibly accurate, but I’m determined to prove myself while
I’m here.
 I’m twenty-five years old. I can be independent without the world
falling to pieces. I can handle living in a rustic cabin for six weeks on my
own. “Honestly, RJ. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” I start
unloading my groceries so I have something to do with my hands other
than wring them.
“Okay. Well, if you’ve got a handle on things, I guess I’ll head to my
place?” It’s more of a question than a statement.
I glance over my shoulder. “Thanks so much for all your help, and
sorry about falling in your lap, and . . . the Cessna.” I cringe, wishing I’d
left it at thanks.
“No problem, and it happens to the best of us. You mind if I take your
number down?” He taps the old-school rotary phone. The number is stuck
to the front with one of those adhesive labels.
“Sure. Go ahead.” I stuff my hands in my parka pockets. It’s not
particularly warm in here, but I’m still hot for some reason.
He takes the number down and shoves the piece of paper in his
hoodie pocket. As an afterthought he picks up the receiver.
“What’re you doing?”
“Making sure there’s a dial tone.” He sets it back in the cradle and
rocks on his heels. “Okay. Well, I hope I’ll see you around.”
“Me too. I mean, yes.” I try not to be too enthusiastic about my
nodding. “Thanks again for everything.”
“It’s been a pleasure, Lainey.”
I walk him to the door. He hesitates and takes a half step toward me. I
decide I want to hug him, because he’s been nice. And also because he’s
attractive, he smells good, and he’s warm like a big teddy bear.
“Thanks again.” I wrap my arms around his waist and let my whole
body make contact with his.
“You’re welcome.” His arms circle me. For a second I worry that he
really is a serial killer and I’ve just embraced my doom. But all he does is
give me a squeeze before he releases me. His tongue peeks out and drags
across his bottom lip, gaze fixed on my mouth.
I hope I don’t have something stuck in my teeth. And that he’s not
thinking about me being sick on the plane. I rub my lips self-consciously,
and his gaze lifts to mine again.
“I’m just down the road if you need anything. It’s probably a fifteen-
minute walk along the beach, but I’d wait until morning before you go
exploring.”
“I’m probably just going to unpack and maybe tidy up a few things.
It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been going since five.”
“You must be beat.”
“Kinda, yeah.” He glances around my cabin and seems disinclined to
leave, but since there isn’t much else to say, he finally heads for his truck.
I wait until he’s disappeared down the long driveway before I close the
door.
“It’s fine, Lainey. You’re fine. Just put on some music and enjoy the
beginning of your first-ever adventure,” I mutter to myself.
I find my portable speaker in my bag, plug it in, and put on some
happy, upbeat music.
I resume unpacking groceries, putting away the fridge items first. It’s
not very big, so it’s a bit like a three-dimensional food puzzle, but if I
close the door fast, everything stays put.
Next I move on to the dry goods. Everything is fine. I can totally do
this. I don’t need a big place or an actual oven to cook. I can get by with a
hot plate and a microwave.
I open one of the cupboards and am greeted by a mousetrap—with a
very dead mouse in it that smells absolutely putrid. I scream, because the
black holes where its eyes used to be are staring at me, and it’s disgusting.
I stumble back and fall on my butt in the middle of the kitchen. The floors
are rough-hewn wood, and I manage to get a palm full of splinters.
“It’s fine. You’re fine,” I say, for what feels like the hundredth time
already as I sit with a lamp aimed at my palm and pick each sliver of wood
from my skin.
But I’m not fine at all. My vision blurs, and I suck in a panicky
breath.
What have I gotten myself into, and how am I going to make it
through the next six weeks on my own in this turd heap of a cabin?
 CHAPTER 5
PRACTICE MAKES ANXIOUS

Lainey

“Hello, RJ!”
“Hi, RJ.” I shake my head at my reflection. “Hey, RJ!”
I blow out a breath.
I’ve been standing in front of my mirror for the past twenty minutes,
practicing saying hello. The thing about being really into learning is that I
haven’t spent a lot of time figuring out how to interact with people. I’m
really good at presenting information and findings, but conversation isn’t
my strong suit.
RJ said his cabin is a fifteen-minute trek down the beach. I use the
term beach loosely. It’s more like a path cut into the grassy, sometimes
rocky terrain with water on one side.
I’ve been here for two days. I have no internet reception. I’ve seen
lots of birds and rodents and, in the distance, some whales. My only
human interaction has come in the form of cashiers and a waitress at the
diner I had lunch at today.
In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve made some interesting
discoveries—such as, perpetual daylight sucks. Also, since I’m unable to
connect to the internet, I can’t check my email or do any research. I have
no satellite, and I’m bad at keeping a fire going.
More than anything else, this cabin sucks. It’s cold, drafty, dusty,
musty, and creaky. There are a lot of spiders, and I’m pretty sure I have
several rodent roommates, possibly related to the one I buried the day I
arrived. Also, the hot-water tank seems to have an issue. So far my
showers have been ice cold, which isn’t great, because my fire keeps going
out—even though I took outdoor adventuring as a Girl Scout. Although I
was never allowed to actually go on the outdoor adventuring trips because,
according to my mother, those were too dangerous.
I called the rental office hoping they’d be able to help, or maybe they
would have alternative accommodations better suited for human
habitation, but they’re away on vacation and won’t be back for another
week. So I’m stuck in this dump with only my textbooks and two novels,
both of which I’ve already read. I also haven’t slept much, so I’m a little
emotional.
This morning when I called my parents, I lied to them, which isn’t
something I typically do. But I’m determined to make this work, so it was
necessary. I told them I’m having a great time. I had to practice faking
enthusiasm for ten minutes before I made the call. I’m also grateful for the
terrible cell reception. It means my parents can’t video chat with me and
see my puffy eyes or call me out on my lies.
After I got off the phone, I decided the best plan was to go to town
and pick up a couple of tote bins to store my clothes and dry goods in.
Hopefully it will make the cabin less enticing for rodents.
Two cab rides, three hours, some limited human interaction, one
diner meal, and a shopping trip later, I’m back at the cabin. All of my
clothes and dry goods are safely packed in totes, and now I have an entire
afternoon free. With nothing to do.
So I’ve decided to bring RJ a thank-you gift. Well, it’s also an
apology gift. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. Although I’d never
kill a bird. But it’s a thank-you for being so kind and understanding on the
plane—planes—and an apology for falling into his lap, accidentally
kissing him on the cheek, and getting sick on the Cessna. And a thank-you
for giving me a lift here from the airport.
I picked him up a six-pack of beer while I was in town, the same kind
I saw him buy when we went grocery shopping together. I run my fingers
through my hair and adjust my hat. Maybe a little makeup would be
advisable.
I put on some lip gloss, but it’s very pink, and I don’t like how much
attention it draws to my mouth. The mouth I used to kiss RJ’s cheek. His
stubbly cheek that smelled like aftershave. The same mouth I used to toss
my cookies. No. I don’t want to draw attention to my mouth.
After another ten minutes of practicing, I decide I’m as ready as I’m
going to be. I leave my tiny one-room cabin and walk in the direction of
RJ’s place.
The fresh air is nice, but the fifteen-minute walk is actually more
along the lines of twenty-five, and I’m sweating under my parka by the
time his cabin comes into view. If one could even call it a cabin.
The two-story A-frame has a huge deck and stairs leading all the way
up from the water. It makes my place look like a derelict shack, which it
kind of is. No wonder he was worried about leaving me there.
I smooth out my hair, which is blowing around my face thanks to the
breeze, and take a deep breath. You can do this, Lainey. He’s just a man. I
knock before I lose my nerve.
The door swings open, and I’m greeted by a chest. A bare chest. A
big, bare chest. Oh my. I allow my gaze to drop a little lower. Sweet
heavens, he has an entire six-pack. And that V of muscle at his hips
disappears into his jeans, leading my eyes down. I’ve only ever seen that V
in magazines, never in real life. I thought maybe it was airbrushed or
something, but clearly I was wrong about that. I wonder if the rest of him
is just as defined . . . I snap my eyes up to his face. “Hi.”
“Hey. I was just thinking about you.” He rubs his lips, the hint of a
smile playing on them.
“You were thinking about me while you’re shirtless?” Oh God. I
didn’t just ask that.
He full-on grins. His smile is just so pretty. He has nice teeth. Perfect
teeth, actually. “To be fair, I’ve thought about a lot of things while
shirtless, but one of those things happened to be you.”
“Right. Of course.” I nod. “I would’ve called, but I didn’t take down
your number.”
“I tried to call you earlier today, but you didn’t answer.”
“You called me?”
“I wanted to check in. See how you were getting along.”
“That’s sweet. I’m doing fine. Good, even.” I hold up the beer. “I
brought you a gift. Well, it’s a thank-you—and an apology. It’s both.”
He inclines his head. “You wanna come in? We can have one of
those.”
 “Oh, uh.” I didn’t actually plan beyond bringing the beer over. “I
don’t really drink beer.”
“You can still come in, though. I have other liquids you can consume,
unless you have somewhere else to be.” A dimple pops in his cheek.
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
He steps aside and motions for me to come in. He really is a giant of
a man. I’m not tall, but at five foot four I’m around average, and he makes
me feel tiny.
He closes the door behind me and runs a hand over his cut abs. “I
should put a shirt on.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I gesture to his incredible chest. “I
mean, unless it makes you uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of me.
Then of course you can put one on, but if you’re comfortable shirtless then
you should just stay that way. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”
I should just stop talking. I set the beer on the counter and open a
cupboard. I don’t actually know what I’m doing—other than trying not to
gawk openly at his awesome chest. Which I sincerely hope he doesn’t
cover up with a shirt.
I find a couple of glasses in a cupboard and flip them over. “I can
pour you one?” I ask.
He steps up beside me, looking 100 percent perfectly shirtless. “I can
handle that.”
“I’ve got it.” I crack the top and pour the contents into the glass, but
it foams like crazy, half the glass filling with bubbles instead of beer.
“Hmm, is it supposed to be like this?”
“You really aren’t big on the beer, are you?” he asks on a laugh.
“I don’t like the taste. Did I ruin it?” We have two restaurants that
serve beer in the tiny town I grew up in, but my family didn’t eat out
often, and my parents only drink alcohol on holidays. I tried beer in
college, but I found it too bitter.
“You didn’t ruin it. It just needs to settle.” He reaches around me—
he’s so close I stop breathing. RJ grabs a bottle from the six-pack and
twists the top off, then picks up the extra glass. Angling it to the side, he
empties the bottle into it, filling it about two-thirds of the way. His only
foams a little. “Do you like lemonade or grapefruit juice?” he asks.
“I love grapefruit juice!”
 His smile is what sunrises are made of. He saunters to the fridge,
which means I have a moment to appreciate his very defined back muscles
while he retrieves a jug of juice. He tops off the glass and hands it to me.
“Give it a taste.”
I take a tentative sip. “Oh! This is yummy. I guess maybe I don’t
mind beer as much as I thought.”
His smile widens. “You’re the best thing in the world, you know
that?”
A warm feeling spreads through my entire body. No one has ever paid
me such a nice compliment before. There are a lot of amazing things in the
world, and that he thinks I’m the best is, well . . . surprising. So of course I
blurt out my own self-assessment. “I’m awkward and nervous.”
“Well, I like it. A lot.” After a few seconds of intense silence, he
motions to the couch. “Sit with me for a bit? We can be awkward and
nervous together.”
“You’re not awkward.”
He shrugs. “Sometimes I am. We all can be, context and situation
depending.”
“Sure. Okay.” I follow him to the living room.
His cabin is open concept; giant bark-stripped and sanded tree trunks
function as posts with no walls to separate the rooms. The ceilings are
high, and the entire front of the cabin is lined with windows, providing an
unobstructed view of the water.
A fire crackles across the room, throwing off heat, which probably
accounts for RJ’s shirtlessness. It’s definitely hot in here.
A huge framed photo of RJ and two other men—one likely his father
—holding a giant fish hangs on the wall, and beside it is another photo
containing two women: his mother and sister, judging from the matching
dimple in the younger woman’s cheek. There are also a lot of sports
accents scattered around, mainly hockey related. The throw cushions read
PUCK YEAH! There’s a lamp in the corner, and the base is made out of a
hockey stick. Even the coasters are old hockey pucks.
“Wow, so you must be huge sports fans.” I pick up one of the puck
coasters.
RJ rubs the back of his neck. “Pretty obvious, huh?”
“It sort of looks like my dad’s room in the basement, except it was all
baseball instead of hockey.”
 “Were you ever into sports?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. I’m not sporty at all. My dad and my
brothers always watched baseball, though. They tried to teach me how to
play a couple of times, but I don’t understand the rules in sports. I always
had my nose in a book.”
I hold on to my glass with both hands so I’m not tempted to wring
them or bite my nails or any of the other fidgety things I tend to do when
I’m nervous. “This is a really nice cabin.”
“My dad found it a number of years back and thought it would make
a nice place to vacation. I’ve always been really close with my younger
sister, Stevie, but she and my mom aren’t big on fishing, so they would
stay in New York and we’d go on a boys’ trip, which was good bonding for
me and my brother and my dad. We’ve been coming here every summer
since I was a teenager.”
“But your brother couldn’t make it this year?” I ask.
“His wife, Joy, is pregnant, and there are some complications, so he
has to stay put.” His smile is a little tense, as if there’s more to that.
“Oh no, is everything okay?”
“Joy has gestational diabetes, which I guess isn’t all that uncommon,
but they’re keeping a close eye on her. He says everything is okay, and I
tend to take him at his word.”
“What about your dad—is he still coming?” My family has never
really been one for traveling. My mom is scared of airplanes and doesn’t
like the danger of long drives, or cars in general, so we didn’t go too far
from the town I was raised in.
RJ looks into his glass. “My dad passed a couple years ago.”
I set my drink on the coffee table and put a hand on his knee. “I’m so
sorry. That must’ve been hard.” I’ve never lost anyone close to me, not
even a grandparent, so I can only imagine how painful that would be.
“Thanks—and yeah, it wasn’t easy. Holidays and birthdays can be
tough. I’ve always been pretty close with my family, so we still feel the
loss.”
“He must’ve been so young.” I start to shift away, worried I’m
making things awkward with the prolonged physical contact, but RJ puts
his hand over mine.
“He was only in his mid-fifties. He was type 1 diabetic—took really
good care of himself—but some bodies are just defective, you know?
Anyway, there were a lot of complications. He lost his vision, and then his
body just stopped working properly. It was hardest on my mom, watching
him deteriorate like that. The last summer he was around we had to cancel
the trip because he just couldn’t do it, but the next year Kyle and I came
back here. Unfortunately, this year I’m on my own.” His smile is sad. He
moves his hand from mine and tips his glass back, taking a healthy swig.
“What about you—are you close to your family?”
I pick my drink up to keep my hands occupied. “Oh yes, we’re all
very close.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” He seems happy to change the
subject, which is understandable, all things considered.
“I have seven siblings.”
He nearly chokes on his beer. “Seven?”
I nod. “Yup. I’m the youngest, and I have four older brothers. Dinner
was pretty much a full-contact sport at my house.”
RJ laughs. “I can imagine. What’s the age span between you and the
oldest?”
“Thirteen years. There are two sets of twins in there too.”
“Wow, how was that, growing up?” He rests his cheek on his fist as if
he finds me riveting.
It’s almost unnerving to have someone as attractive as he is with his
attention fully fixed on me. Also, the shirtlessness, while appreciated,
makes it kind of hard to think. Not that I’ll complain—I like a good
challenge. “It was like having a lot of extra parents who played pranks on
each other. Mostly it was nice to always have people around, but
sometimes I just wanted some space, you know? They all were always in
my business.”
He arches a brow. “Dating must’ve been fun.”
“Not really.”
He laughs again, rich and throaty. “Did they make it impossible for
you in high school?”
“Sort of. We were all homeschooled, so it was a little different for
me.”
RJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Homeschooled? What was that like?”
“It’s probably less isolating than it sounds. There are whole
communities built around homeschooling. Like, we even had dances and
events and stuff.” Not that I did much dancing. I was more the wallflower,
standing off to the side, watching everyone else while I tried not to have a
panic attack with all those people in one place at the same time.
“With your brothers and sisters?”
It’s my turn to laugh at his slightly disturbed expression. “Not just
my brothers and sisters, silly. Plus, most of them were a lot older, already
done with college by the time I was high school age. We’d get together
with all the homeschooled families in the area. They had sports teams and
everything. I usually only had about three hours of instruction a day, and I
learn fast. Anyway, by the time I was fifteen I’d finished all of the
curriculum for my senior year of high school, so I took the college
admission tests. I did well, but my parents thought I was too young to go
to college, so I took courses online for a couple of years.”
“So you’re a genius?” RJ asks.
I shrug, embarrassed, and focus on my drink. “I’m just a fast learner.
I pick things up quickly, and I have a good memory.”
“Smart is sexy, Lainey.”
I glance up to find RJ smiling warmly, but it’s the way he’s looking at
me that makes my palms damp and my stomach flutter. Like I’m a
fascination.
“What about you? You must have a pretty active job to look like
this.” I motion to all the cut lines of his torso.
Two dimples pop in his cheeks. “Is that a compliment?”
“It could be, if it doesn’t offend you.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m
objectifying him.
“It definitely doesn’t offend me, so thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I take another sip of my drink and realize I’ve
reached the bottom of my glass.
RJ plucks it from my hand and stands. “Here, let me get you another
one. Unless you want something else? I have a few bottles of wine kicking
around—and whiskey.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to monopolize your afternoon.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in the past
two days. I gotta be honest, fishing alone isn’t nearly as fun as it is when
my brother is here. Why don’t you stay for dinner? I was going to make
steak and baked potatoes, and it’s way easier to cook for two than it is for
one.”
 Anything that isn’t noodles or toast sounds amazing. And I don’t
really want to go back to my cold, lonely cabin any sooner than I have to.
“As long as I can help cook.”
“That would be great, because I can barbecue a mean steak, and I can
bake a potato, but my cooking skill set is pretty limited otherwise. I’m
excellent at ordering pizza, though.”
“I ruin steak every time I try to cook it, but I can manage pretty much
anything else, so we’ll make a great team.”
I can’t believe I’m having dinner with an insanely attractive man.
Sure, I dropped in on him unannounced, and we’re both likely starving for
conversation, but I can still be excited. And nervous, definitely very
nervous.
I have a new friend, and he looks great without a shirt on, and that
makes my damp palms and my speedy heart rate totally worth it.
 CHAPTER 6
SMOOTH MOVES

Rook

When Lainey excuses herself to the bathroom, I rush upstairs and throw on
a T-shirt. I know she said whatever makes me comfortable, but sitting
around shirtless is such a douche move.
I make it back to the kitchen and pour her a fresh drink before she
returns from the bathroom.
“How can I help with dinner?” Lainey drapes her sweater over the
back of a chair.
And my mouth goes dry. Like I ate an entire sleeve of saltines and
chased it with a tablespoon of salt. So far I’ve only seen Lainey in a giant
parka or an oversize sweater. Under all that bulky fabric is one hell of a
body. She’s wearing a simple white waffle shirt that conforms to her
curves. A pair of dark-wash skinny jeans encase her toned legs.
I’m used to bunnies throwing themselves at me, often in questionable
states of undress. I stopped getting excited about miniskirts and revealing
tops a long time ago. There’s something infinitely sexier about a woman
who can show off her body without actually showing it off at all.
Lainey tips her head to the side. Her teeth press into her full bottom
lip. I want to do that. Suck that pouty, full lip between my teeth and bite it.
I want to do a lot of other, far more explicit things than that, but a kiss
seems like a good place to start.
“RJ? Is everything okay?” Her eyes dip down to my chest. I’m
wearing a shirt from one of my endorsement campaigns. It afforded me
the extensive renovations on this cabin a few years ago.
“Huh?” I give my head a shake. “Oh. Yeah. Everything’s good. Sorry,
zoned out there for a second.”
She smiles and pushes up on her toes, her eyes twinkling—like, they
legit light up, and her excitement makes her entire body vibrate. It also
makes her boobs jiggle. I try to keep my eyes glued to her face. It’s not
easy, though.
“I do that all the time! Sometimes my brain is busy with so many
thoughts I miss entire conversations. Does that happen to you too?”
I grin. I love that she seems to say whatever is on her mind. “All the
time.”
“It’s actually a helpful skill when you’re being lectured, because I
can sort through stuff in my head, but it’s not so great when your
supervising professor is telling you what’s wrong with your thesis.” She
pulls her hair over her shoulder and finger combs it.
“I take it that’s happened to you.”
“It did. Thankfully he also emailed all his criticisms, so missing out
on it the first time wasn’t that big of a deal.” She divides her hair into
three sections and deftly braids it without looking at what she’s doing even
once. It’s pretty damn impressive. I almost want to pull it apart so I can
watch her do it all over again. “Anyway, enough about that. Let’s get
started on dinner!” She nudges me out of the way so she can wash her
hands. She dries them on her jeans and moves over to the fridge, opening
it to check out the contents.
I kind of like that she makes herself at home. I’m used to women
who expect to be catered to. It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t
want me to pander to her.
I start pulling things out of the fridge as she starts naming items
she’ll need and set them on the counter. I manage to locate most of what
she asks for.
“What about garlic? Do you have any of that?” She leans over,
peering into the fridge beside me. Her braid slips over her shoulder,
skimming my arm.
“Uh, maybe we could forgo the garlic?”
“Are you allergic? My oldest brother gets bloated when he eats it. It
took us forever to figure out what was causing it. Sometimes I’ll still put
some in when he’s coming for dinner, because it’s funny to see him look
like he’s expecting.” She tips her head to the side. “Or you just don’t like
garlic?”
“I like it sometimes, but it depends.”
Her brows pinch together. “On what?”
“Who I’m eating with. I mean, if I’m going out with buddies, you bet
I’m gonna order the honey garlic wings, or the cheesy garlic bread, or the
pasta Alfredo. But if I’m eating dinner with a pretty girl, I’m gonna pass
on the garlic.”
“Oh.” She twists the end of her braid around her finger.
Shit. I hope I’m not reading things wrong and making her
uncomfortable.
“Does that mean you think I’m pretty?”
That she sounds genuinely curious as to my answer is unexpected.
“You see yourself in the mirror every day—what do you think?”
She averts her gaze, still playing with the end of her braid. “My eyes
are too big, so I always look like I’m surprised. My nose is small, and my
lips are too full, so my mouth doesn’t really fit the rest of my face.”
“Wow. I think you need a new mirror, because all I see is a whole lot
of gorgeous.”
She snorts a laugh and waves me off. “Once, I took a portrait class,
and we learned all about proportion and symmetry of the face. Those are
just my flaws based on what I was taught.”
“Well, I’m a big fan of all your flaws, and I think they make you
more beautiful, not less.”
“Thanks. I think you’re beautiful too.” She cringes. “I mean
handsome. You’re very nice to look at, with or without a shirt on. When I
fell in your lap on the airplane, I remember thinking, At least I fell on
someone nice looking.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” She opens a drawer, maybe to avoid looking at me.
“And as much as I was mortified when you sat beside me on the Cessna, I
couldn’t complain about the view, inside or outside of the plane. That you
turned out to be really nice, and just so helpful, was a great bonus.” She
hands me a roll of foil. “Why don’t you wrap the potatoes? They take the
longest, so we should get started on those first.”
I put the potatoes on the barbecue and let Lainey order me around.
She definitely knows her way around a kitchen. When I was growing up,
my mom did most of the cooking, but my dad could make a mean
Saturday-morning brunch. He also made great bread, which I miss a lot.
An hour later we’re seated at the table, plates full of steak, twice-
baked potatoes, and crispy brussels sprouts cooked in bacon fat. I open a
bottle of red wine and offer Lainey a glass.
“Just a little bit? I’m not sure I like red wine.”
“Maybe you just haven’t had the right red wine.” I pour a little into
her glass.
She picks it up and gives it a swirl, then sniffs it. “I’ve seen people
do this in the movies, but I don’t really know what the point is,” she
admits, then tips the glass back and takes a tentative sip. Her expression
turns thoughtful; then she takes another, slightly more robust sip. “This is
actually really nice. I like it. Maybe the red wine I had before was bad.”
“Maybe. Some of the cheap stuff tastes pretty awful.” I pour more
into her glass before filling mine. I hold up my glass and wait for her to
raise hers. “To chance meetings.”
“To new adventures and great company to share them with.” We toast
and take a sip, each smiling behind the rim.
Dinner is fantastic. I can get by on my own, but back home I have
someone come in to prep my meals for me, because I don’t have a lot of
time during the season and my diet is pretty strict. Nothing beats a good
meal cooked by someone who knows what they’re doing.
“Tell me more about your family.”
“Like what?” She pops a brussels sprout into her mouth and chews
thoughtfully.
“What do your parents do for a living?”
“They’re dairy farmers. I have to admit, I haven’t missed getting up
at the crack of dawn to milk cows the past couple of days, although there
really hasn’t been a dawn to speak of either.” Lainey takes another sip of
her wine. Her glass is almost empty.
“I grew up on a farm too. Gotta say I don’t miss those early mornings
either.” I uncork the wine and refill her glass and mine.
Lainey sits up straighter, and her eyes go wide with that excitement
I’ve seen a few times already tonight. “Oh! What kind of farmers?”
“Alpaca.”
“Really? That must have been so fun! They’re just so adorable.”
“They can be—when you’re not trying to shear them, anyway.”
 She leans in closer, eager for more information. “Tell me all about
that. I want to know everything. How often do they mate? What’s it like to
raise them? Did you get attached? Did they all have names?” She’s just so
sweet.
I laugh and tell her all about my childhood growing up on an alpaca
farm, happy to have something else in common that I can share with her.
“And is that what you do now? Farm alpacas?”
I hesitate, weighing my options. For the first time in years I feel . . .
normal. Being here, in this place with so many good memories—of the
time before hockey took over my life, when I was just RJ enjoying my
summer and fishing and being a regular guy. I want to hold on to that for
as long as can.
There’s no pressure, no self-doubt that she’s only interested because
of my career and my bank account. Besides, what’s the harm in telling her
a little white lie? In a different life, if I hadn’t been such a good hockey
player, I would be an alpaca farmer. “It’s what I grew up doing.” It’s not a
straight answer—so not a complete lie, but not the truth either.
“That’s so great. Do you have other siblings who work with you?”
“Both my brother and sister decided on other professions. My brother
works in animation, and my sister wants to work in sports therapy. She’s
still in school.”
“That’s so nice. All of my brothers went into dairy farming. One of
my sisters does all the bookkeeping, and my other two sisters help with
distribution.”
I shift the conversation away from myself, feeling uncomfortable
that I just blatantly lied to her. “So you’re the only one who didn’t go into
dairy farming? Was that hard?”
Lainey looks down at her glass and shrugs. “I still help out, but I
didn’t go to school for anything agriculture related. At first it was tough.
My family likes to stick together, and they’re pretty protective of me—
being the youngest and all—but I really enjoy learning, so I keep finding
new things I love to study.” She leans back in her chair and cups her glass
of wine in her palms, like she’s holding a bowl. “What about you? Did you
go to college?”
“For a couple of years, but school wasn’t my favorite. I like to be
moving instead of sitting.”
 “Mmm. Yes. I can see that.” Her eyes drift over my T-shirt-covered
chest, and she bites her lip. I don’t think she’s being coy, just honest. She
clears her throat and touches the back of her hand to her flushed cheek. “I
think this wine is going to my head. Is it really warm in here?”
“You’ve got the wine blush. It looks good on you.”
“I should probably hold off on finishing this glass.” She sets it down
and pushes back her chair. “I’ll help clear the table.” She arranges her fork
and knife on her plate, which she cleared impressively, and takes it to the
sink to rinse it off.
I put away the condiments while Lainey rearranges the dishwasher
for me. She also refuses to put the pots and pans in there, assuring me they
won’t come clean and it will just bake on and be ten times harder to get
off.
“I can wash.” Lainey bumps her hip against mine, nudging me out of
the way.
“You’re my guest—you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.” She puts the plug in the drain, squirts some dish soap
into the sink, and turns on the tap. “The hot water is actually really nice.”
I lean against the counter. “What do you mean?”
“Just a bit of trouble with the water heater at the cabin.” The fact that
she doesn’t look at me tells me there’s probably more than a bit of a
problem.
“Do you have hot water?”
“It’ll be worked out soon.” She waves a soapy hand, flinging suds in
the air. They land on her chest and in her hair—and also on me. “Oh! I’m
so sorry!”
She wipes her sudsy hands on her jeans and starts brushing them off
my chest and neck. I don’t stop her, because I’m more than happy to have
her hands on me.
She makes the most adorable face. “There’s some in your hair. I’m
really sorry—I get flaily when I’m nervous, which is a lot of the time. And
then I start talking and I can’t stop.”
“Am I making you nervous?” I bite back a smile.
“Well, not you, exactly, but the whole situation at my cabin—and I
don’t want you to think I came here because I want your help or anything.
Or that I’m trying to mooch a meal off of you or take over your kitchen.
Really, I just wanted to see you again, and say I’m sorry, and thank you.”
 “First of all, you don’t need to apologize for anything—and I offered
to drive you to your place, mostly for selfish reasons.”
“What’s selfish about going out of your way for someone else?”
“I wanted to spend more time with you, Lainey, without coming
across as too forward or pushy.” Or scaring you off. Which seems likely
with how nervous she is most of the time. I’m getting used to it, though,
and it’s pretty damn endearing.
“Oh.” Her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip as she contemplates
that bit of honesty. “Well, in that case, I didn’t bring the beer over just as
an apology and a thank-you—I wanted to see you again too.”
“And here you are.”
“And here I am.” She blinks her big doe eyes at me, a small, shy
smile on her full lips.
“If you haven’t figured it out already, I’m really happy about that,
and not just because you make kick-ass twice-baked potatoes.”
That blush of hers amps up a couple of shades of pink.
I skim her warm cheek with a knuckle.
“Do I have something on my face?” Her voice is soft and whispery.
“No. You’re blushing, and it’s sweet.” I tip my head down in silent
request.
“I like the way that feels.” Lainey takes a small step forward and
reaches up. Her breasts brush against my diaphragm, and her very warm,
soft fingers caress my cheek, mirroring the touch.
“Am I blushing too?”
“Maybe.” She bites her lip to suppress a smile.
I dip down a little more. “Lainey?”
“Yes, RJ?”
“Can I kiss you?”
“I was hoping you would, so please, yes.” She tips her chin up, and
her eyes fall closed.
I curl my fingers around the delicate curve of her neck, feeling the
heavy rush of blood pumping against my palm. I bend to touch my lips to
hers. Her grip on my shoulders tightens, nails biting through my shirt as
she makes the sweetest, softest sound. So of course I do it again—and
again.
Lainey’s hand slides higher, fingertips dancing along my collar until
they slip into the hair at the nape of my neck and tug. She parts her lips
and flicks her tongue out. It’s all the confirmation I need that we’re on the
same page. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me.
I suck her pouty bottom lip like I’ve wanted to since I met her and
follow with a nibble. She gasps and pulls away, gaze darting from my
mouth to my eyes and back. “I feel that through my whole body.”
“Should I do it again?”
She nods once and whispers, “Please, yes, and thank you.”
So I do it again, and I’m rewarded by yet another sweet gasp,
followed by a low moan.
The kiss goes from tentative exploration to frantic in seconds. Dishes
forgotten, we stand in front of the sink and make out. It feels a lot like it
did when I was back in high school with my first-ever girlfriend, when
everything was new. God, I’ve missed this: being with someone who’s
genuinely into me. Not because I’m an NHL player—not because I have
money, or a sweet ride, or any of the other reasons that typically draw
women to me—but because we’re acting on a mutual attraction.
One of her hands roams over my chest and down my abs. I will it to
go lower, but as soon as she reaches my belt she heads back up. I shift her
a little so she’s pressed up against the counter. If there weren’t a pile of
dirty dishes strewn all over it, I’d lift her up so I don’t have to bend down
quite as far.
I want to run my hands all over her body, but I take into consideration
all the things I’ve learned about her tonight. It sounds like she’s been
pretty sheltered, so I let her take the lead and wait for her to make the next
move.
She feels behind her, elbow bumping a pot on the counter and almost
knocking over an empty glass. She makes a muffled sound of annoyance
as she presses her hips into mine.
Lainey breaks the kiss long enough to suck in a deep breath and peek
around me. I’m about to suggest we take it to the living room and that I’m
more than happy to carry her there. Before I can say a word, she pulls my
mouth back down to hers and sidesteps over to the table. The kiss grows
sloppy and wet as she reaches around me. I try to figure out what she’s up
to, but I can’t without separating our mouths again, which I’m really not
inclined to do.
“Here, sit,” she mumbles into my mouth as the chair scrapes across
the floor. She pushes on my shoulders, and I drop into the chair. Lainey
follows, her ass resting on my thighs. Maybe I’m a little off base about
how sheltered she is. I definitely should’ve moved this to the living room
when I had the chance. The couch is way more comfortable. Lots of room
for stretching out and lying down.
We kiss like we’ve been starving for each other, hands roaming but
staying in mostly safe zones.
She rolls her hips, and I groan at the friction. Lainey goes stiff and
still, gasping when she feels me. Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she
pushes away, eyes wide.
“Oh my God.” She clambers out of my lap and backs up into the
counter. “I am so sorry.”
Me too. Because I’m missing all of that soft and hot rubbing up on
my aching, disappointed hard-on. “For what?” It’s mostly a croak.
“For throwing myself at you. I’m not usually so forward. I really
don’t know what got into me.” The color rises in her cheeks. “I should
probably head back to my cabin.” She smooths out her shirt and adjusts
her jeans.
“Whoa, wait.” I stand and snag her wrist before she can make a move
to actually leave. “I need to sober up a little before I can drive you back.” I
don’t want to take her back to that shitty cabin at all, but I also don’t want
to make her more uncomfortable than she already is.
Her eyes are fixed on my chin, cheeks flaming. “It’s okay—you don’t
need to do that. I can just walk.”
“It’s midnight, Lainey—there’s no way you’re walking anywhere.”
Her eyes flip up to mine, and her lips flatten into a line. She looks
like she’s about to fight me on that, so I release her wrist and barrel on.
“It’s dangerous this time of night. I know it’s not dark, but bears will
be out, and you’ve had a few drinks.”
“I’m not—”
“Sober or not, the walk down the beach is rocky, plus the temperature
drops and it’s cold out. Just stay the night.”
“Stay here? With you?” She twists her hands together.
“There are four bedrooms—you can pick whichever one you want.”
But you’re more than welcome to sleep in my bed—with me. “Oh, and for
the record, you can totally throw yourself at me whenever you want. I
won’t mind in the least.”
She ducks her head and huffs a laugh.
 “If you really want to go back to your place, I can call you a cab, but
I’d like you to stay.”
She tips her chin up, wide eyes meeting mine. “You would?”
“Yeah, Lainey—in case you couldn’t tell, I’m way into you. I don’t
want you to be uncomfortable, though, so it’s totally up to you, but there’s
plenty of space here.”
Her cheeks flush yet again. “You really won’t mind if I spend the
night?”
“I’d love more time with you, talking or kissing. I’m good with
either—or both.”
She looks away, a shy smile flirting on her lips. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
I try not to get too excited as I lead her upstairs to the second floor
where all the bedrooms are. I’m pretty positive I’m not getting laid
tonight. And I’m okay with that, but my dick seems to have missed the
memo, considering how hard I still am.
I pause at the first door. “This is my room.”
Lainey peeks inside. “It’s so big.”
I bite back a dirty reply. “Yeah, lots of space, which is nice. Come on,
I’ll show you the other rooms.” She follows me down the hall to the next
bedroom. I push the door open and flick on the light. “It has a private bath
and everything.”
“Oh wow!” She slips past me and beelines it to the bed. Throwing
herself on the plaid comforter, she rolls onto her back and spreads her
arms out, making her shirt pull up, exposing an inch of smooth skin. “This
is amazing.”
I lean against the jamb and cross my arms over my chest, smiling,
and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying things that will
embarrass her or me. Such as, Imagine how amazing it would be if you
were naked under me. “You want to see the other rooms before you make a
decision?”
“I don’t think I need to. This is perfect.” She props herself up on her
elbows, stifling a yawn.
“Why don’t I grab you something to sleep in? There should be a
brand-new toothbrush in the bathroom—and anything else you might
need.”
“Okay. That would be great. Thank you, RJ.”
“It’s no problem.”
 She slides off the bed and pads over to the bathroom. I head back to
my room, unsurprised that she’ll be sleeping in the room next to mine
instead of with me. And if I’m totally honest with myself, I’m actually
kind of glad, even if other parts of my body aren’t in agreement. Now that
I think about it, it’s nice to get to know someone before jumping into bed
with them. Make a connection in more than just the physical sense.
I think that’s probably what I’ve missed the most since I started
playing professional hockey. Don’t get me wrong—I had my fair share of
fun. And I tried to date a few women, but most of them thought they
already knew me, so dates started on uneven footing. When I didn’t match
the idea they had of me, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Much like the lie I told her about my job. I should’ve just been
straight with her, but then maybe she would look at me differently. I
decide I’ll tell her the truth . . . when she’s a little more comfortable
around me and the time feels right.
Once I’m in my room, I rearrange my hard-on into a more
comfortable position and give it a pat. “Patience, little man. This one will
be worth the wait.” I roll my eyes at myself, feeling like an idiot for
talking to my dick.
I open my dresser, riffling through my T-shirts until I find a plain
white one. I also grab a pair of boxer shorts for her, although I have a
feeling they’ll be way too big. She’s still in the bathroom, so I leave the
shirt and boxers on the bed and go back downstairs so I can get us each a
glass of water, set up the coffee maker for the morning, and turn off all the
lights.
By the time I come back upstairs, she’s already changed into my T-
shirt. Her back is to me, so I have a moment to observe her. The hem hits
her mid-thigh, showing off her lean legs. She bends over and pulls the
comforter back, exposing the flannel sheets.
I clear my throat, and she jumps.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I brought you a glass of water.” I
cross the room and set it on the nightstand.
“Oh, thank you, that was thoughtful.”
“You have everything you need?” I ask, wishing she weren’t so
nervous around me and that our make-out session hadn’t brought with it an
awkwardness to our interactions.
 “Yup. All set. And thank you for this.” She tugs at the sleeve, which
almost reaches her elbow.
My gaze drops and catches on her chest, where her nipples pop
against the white fabric. I drag my eyes back up to her face. “No problem.”
I have to clear the frog out of my throat. “I’m not sure if you’re an early
riser, but the coffee is ready to go, so if you’re up before me, just make
yourself at home.”
“Okay.” She takes a tentative step forward and wraps her arms around
me. I return the hug but try to keep everything below the waist from
making contact with any part of her.
I wait for her to let me go before I slip a single finger under her chin
and press a chaste kiss to her minty, soft lips. “Night, Lainey.”
“Night, RJ.”
 CHAPTER 7
MORNING AFTER

Lainey

I sleep for almost ten blissful hours. I could probably lie in this bed
forever, but it’s after ten, and I can hear RJ downstairs in the kitchen.
I roll out of bed and pad across the floor to the bathroom. Once I get
an eyeful of my hair, I decide it would be best to indulge in a shower
before I go downstairs, especially since my cabin lacks hot water. While I
enjoy the perks of a functioning hot-water tank, I replay that kiss—make-
out session—from last night over and over in my head. I wonder if he’ll
kiss me like that again before I leave. I hope so.
I don’t have a choice but to put back on my clothes from yesterday
once I’m done, but at least I’m clean and warm. I’m nervous all over
again, unsure how not to be awkward as I head downstairs. I plan to thank
him for being so hospitable, and then I’ll head back to my cabin. RJ is in
the kitchen, pushing something around in a frying pan. He’s wearing a pair
of low-slung sweatpants and a white T-shirt that pulls tight across his
back. All my words disappear as I watch his muscles flex under the cotton.
I would like to be that cotton.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” RJ gives me that smile that seems to
make my brain short out for a moment.
“I slept great, thank you. I’m sorry it’s so late. Those blinds keep out
all the light, don’t they?” My sweater is hanging over the back of the
chair, so I pick it up. “I should probably be going.”
“Or you could stay for breakfast,” RJ suggests.
 “Oh, I couldn’t do that—I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I’m
sure you have a busy day.” I pull the sweater over my head, even though
I’m already hot. If I go now, maybe I’ll get that goodbye kiss I’m hoping
for.
RJ props a hip against the counter. “Actually, my day is wide open. I
mean, there’s a chance I’ll go fishing at some point, but otherwise I’m
totally free. Do you have plans?”
“Uh, no, no plans.”
“So you can stay? Have breakfast with me, and then maybe—if
you’re feeling up to it—we could go to town, or whatever you want,
really.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.” Staying means no goodbye
kiss, but maybe we can spend some of the day with our lips against each
other’s.
“You’re not imposing at all, Lainey. I’m happy you’re here, and to be
honest, I’m still looking for any excuse I can find to spend more time with
you.”
“Well, in that case, breakfast sounds great. What can I do to help?”
And just like that, the awkwardness is gone.
RJ pours me a coffee. “You drink this, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I add a little sugar and cream, stir, test, and repeat until it’s perfect.
“This coffee is amazing.”
“You sure you got the cream-to-sugar ratio right?” RJ asks.
“Are you making fun of me?”
He holds his thumb and finger close together. “Maybe a little.”
“Too much cream and sugar ruins coffee. I err on the side of
caution.” I poke his chest.
RJ wraps his arms around me, pulling me up against him. It looks
like that kiss I was hoping for is going to happen a lot sooner than I
anticipated. He drops his head, and our lips meet and part, tongues
stroking in a wet, velvet caress.
I try not to get carried away like I did last night, but kissing RJ is like
eating birthday cake. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I run my hands
over his chest and grip the back of his neck to keep them from wandering
too much. RJ’s hands move in the opposite direction, and he palms my
bottom, pulling me closer.
 With his free hand, RJ shoves aside whatever’s on the counter and
knocks the cutting board into the sink with a loud crash. We break apart
for a second to check the damage, but everything seems fine.
RJ turns his attention back to me, lifting me onto the counter. “God, I
love your mouth.”
“Every time you kiss me, I feel like I’ve just consumed a gallon of
coffee spiked with alcohol,” I tell him.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?” He drags his lips along the column of
my throat.
“It’s good. I think.” I tip my head to the side. “Although both are
highly addictive. Do you think people can get addicted to kissing? I
suppose it’s possible, since people can be addicted to sex. I guess you can
be addicted to anything, really.” Crap, I’m babbling.
RJ chuckles and nibbles along the edge of my jaw. “I’m definitely
developing an addiction to you.”
I part my legs, and RJ steps into the space, groaning when his
erection presses against me. I wrap my legs around his waist and hook my
feet behind his back, sinking deeper into lust.
Just as RJ slips his fingers under the hem of my shirt, the pungent
aroma of something burning—not related to the fireplace—causes him to
break the kiss. “Oh shit!” He reaches over to shut off the burner and move
the frying pan, now filled with semicharred hash browns, to an unused
burner. In his haste, he knocks over my coffee, which spills across the
counter.
I jump down before it can reach me, but it drips over the edge onto
the floor, splattering our feet.
RJ nabs a dishtowel to sop it up, cheeks flaming just like mine. “That
went wrong fast.”
“Maybe we should save the make-out sessions for after meals,” I
suggest, breathless and a little embarrassed that once again I’ve gotten
totally carried away. At least it’s not one-sided.
“Probably a good idea.” He pushes the charred hash browns around in
the pan. “So . . . bacon, eggs, and toast?”
I pat his chest. “I’ll make the toast, and you take care of the eggs?”
After breakfast RJ takes me for a ride in his boat. The only kind I’ve ever
been in is a canoe, which tipped over, and yesterday I tried to put the one
at my cabin into the water, but a family of squirrels was living in it, so that
put an end to that.
Being on open water makes me nervous, so RJ distracts me with
more making out. My lips are probably going to be seriously chapped after
today, so I’ll have to use some lip balm tonight to keep them from peeling.
By the time we get back from our boating trip—I didn’t see one
dolphin or whale, although I wasn’t paying much attention to anything
besides RJ—it’s well past lunchtime. We make steak sandwiches with last
night’s leftovers, and RJ suggests a trip into town. I have a list of things I
need to pick up, like a new space heater, so I’m all for it.
After a brief stop at my cabin so I can change into fresh clothes, we
spend the afternoon shopping. We tour the quaint downtown and grab
dinner at a pub. It’s after eight by the time we head back to his truck.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” RJ asks once we’re on the
way to our cabins. Well, my cabin, his rustic house on the water.
The answer to that question is yes. I definitely do. However, I’m
concerned about my ability to manage myself around RJ. I worry that
things are moving too quickly, and as much as I dislike my cabin, it might
be a good idea to spend the night on my own. “That’s really sweet of you,
but I don’t want to impose, and I should probably do some work on my
thesis paper, since that’s why I’m supposed to be here.”
“It’s really no imposition, Lainey.” He pauses, and I almost want him
to try to convince me otherwise. I don’t think it would take much. “But I
totally understand if you need to work.”
We pass RJ’s cabin and continue to mine. He helps me carry all my
purchases inside. While I set up the new space heater, RJ helps get the fire
going.
Once that’s taken care of, he hooks his thumbs in his pockets and
rocks back on his heels. “Can I call you tomorrow? See what you’re up
to?”
I’m still bundled up in my parka, but I’m nervous again, which
means I start to sweat—so I tug off my hat, then realize I probably have
hat head since I’ve been wearing it all day. I can feel my bangs sticking to
my forehead and static working its magic elsewhere. I want to put it back
on, but I drop it on the lounge chair and fiddle with the end of my braid
instead. “I’d like that.”
“Okay. Well, if you have any problems tonight, I’m just a phone call
away.” He scribbles down the number for his cabin on a piece of paper,
then pulls me in for a hug. I let my gloves drop to the floor and curve my
palm around the back of his neck. I know he’s leaving, so I might as well
get in one last good-night kiss. It goes from soft to needy between one
heartbeat and the next.
Several minutes later we come up for air.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” This time it’s not a question.
He comes in for another kiss that, once again, turns into a dance of
tongues and a grinding session.
“If you don’t go, I’m not getting anything done tonight, and no one
gets any kind of reward tomorrow.” I shimmy us toward the door.
“It’d be a lot easier if you weren’t such an active, enticing
participant,” RJ mutters as our tongues tangle again.
“It would be a lot easier for me if kissing you didn’t make my whole
body feel like it’s been dipped in some kind of sensory-heightening
serum.” I fumble with the doorknob, sucking on his bottom lip at the same
time.
Eventually I manage to get the door open. The shock of frigid air is
enough to finally get us to separate. I pry my fingers from RJ’s neck, and
he releases me, taking a step back.
He slips a hand into his pocket and does some blatant rearranging,
which both thrills me and makes me blush.
He smirks. “What can I say? We both like you.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You’re incorrigible. Now go, so I can make
an attempt at being productive.”
RJ holds up a finger. “Just one more kiss to tide me over?”
“Just one.”
He leans in, and I put my hand on his chest, allowing only a couple of
sweeps of tongue before I step back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He walks backward to his truck, and I stand in the doorway, staying
there until the taillights disappear down the driveway.
I’m probably going to regret not staying at his place tonight, but I
think I should at least try to resist him. Besides, this will inevitably
heighten the very present chemistry between us. Theoretically, it should. I
guess I’ll find out tomorrow if I’m right.
 CHAPTER 8
SCAREDY-CAT

Lainey

I can list the things I like about my cabin on one finger: not being in it.
I spend a good part of the evening trying to work on my thesis. Trying
being the operative word. Mostly, all I can think about is kissing RJ and
the feel of his erection pressing against my stomach through all the
barriers of fabric.
While I have spent some time on the water, it hasn’t been studying
the animals in it. So I review some of my preliminary research and
manage to make notes on the correlations I intend to focus on when I
actually put some time and energy into the real reason I’m here. Which is
not making out with RJ.
But he’s so good at it.
It makes me wonder how many other women have had the
opportunity to experience his kissing skills. It also makes me wonder what
else he’s good at. Probably everything, I decide. He seems to know exactly
what he’s doing. While I have a master’s in sex therapy, most of my
knowledge is theory and text based.
And now I’m thinking about sex for what seems like the millionth
time since I fell into RJ’s lap on the plane a few days ago. And I’m
thinking about how uncomfortable this bed is in comparison to the one in
his spare room. Right next to his bedroom. Where he’s probably sleeping
right now. Unlike me.
 Instead, I’m lying on a lumpy mattress, staring at the ceiling,
freezing under a pile of musty-smelling blankets, wishing I’d taken him up
on his offer.
I know without an ounce of doubt that I would not be sleeping in the
room beside his if I went back to his place. I don’t think there’s anything
wrong with people being attracted to each other. In theory, it’s a natural
human reaction. But I have never been this wildly attracted to anyone
before in my life, and I worry that my lack of restraint may be a problem.
I roll over onto my stomach and pull one of the dank pillows over my
head, close my eyes, and try to shut my brain off. It’s pointless, though.
I’m wide awake. It’s only four o’clock in the morning, but I give up on
trying to sleep.
I make myself a coffee, toast a bagel and slather it in cream cheese,
and head outside with a pair of binoculars. While we were in town
yesterday I was able to borrow a couple of books on my e-reader, and I
picked up a million brochures so I’ll have some reading for comparative
data analysis.
I get lost in my reading and watching for dolphins and whales on the
water for the next few hours. I would probably spend the entire day sitting
outside, despite it being cold and my fingers being mostly numb, just to
avoid the cabin.
Eventually I need to use the bathroom, and I could definitely use a
fresh pot of coffee, since my eyeballs feel a lot like eggs covered in sand
when I blink. The phone rings just as I’m finishing up in the bathroom. I
don’t even bother to wash my hands. Instead, I rush out with my pants still
half-down and answer the call before the phone stops ringing.
“Hello!” I shout and then cringe because I’m too loud.
“Lainey?”
My excitement deflates like a sad balloon, but I try to keep the
disappointment out of my voice. “Oh, hi, Mom.”
“Thank God you answered. I was getting worried. I emailed four
times already this morning, and I’ve been calling for the past two hours.”
“Oh, sorry, I was outside and I couldn’t hear the phone, and cell
service really isn’t reliable here. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, oh yes. Everything is fine. I was just worried about you since
you didn’t call yesterday. I read an article about bear attacks up there in
Alaska. Did you know you can’t keep your garbage outside because of the
bears? And did you know that brown bears are related to grizzlies? They’ll
come sniffing around if you leave any food out. You have bear spray, don’t
you? I should have insisted you take shooting lessons over archery when
you were a teenager.”
“I know all about the garbage, Mom, and you know how I feel about
guns.” I shudder at the thought of ever having to hold one.
“I know, I know. But what about the bear spray? Do you at least have
that?”
“I do.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good. How are things going? You know it’s all
right if you get homesick and decide to come back early. Your ticket is
open ended, so you can fly home anytime.”
“I’m actually having a great time.”
“Oh. Well . . . that’s good. You’re managing the anxiety okay, then?
You have all your visualization techniques for when things get stressful?”
“I’m managing everything just fine, and yes, I know what to do when
things get stressful. It’s pretty quiet around here, though.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She doesn’t sound glad at all. “Have you
made any friends? You can be so focused on your studies and sometimes
making friends is hard for you. Are there any other students there?”
“No other students, but I did make a friend.”
“Really? That’s so wonderful!”
I try not to be affronted by her shock.
“Where did you meet her? Have you done fun things together? If
she’s not a student, what does she do? Is she local?”
“I met them on the plane. They’re not local—they actually have an
alpaca farm in New York, which is really cool. We went boating
yesterday.”
“Well, that sounds fun! Did you wear a life jacket? What’s her
name?”
“RJ.”
“RJ? That doesn’t sound like a girl’s name.”
I hate that I’m twenty-five and telling my mother that I met someone
who isn’t female is still a thing. “That’s because RJ isn’t a girl.”
I’m met with silence—a long, heavy silence. I’m aware it won’t last.
“You’re spending time with a boy? What do you even know about him?
And who goes by initials? I don’t like this at all, and I don’t think your
father is going to like it either.”
I bite back the scathing remarks I’d like to let fly, aware I’ll regret it
if I get into an argument with my mother with no way to patch things up
from this far away. “He’s very nice, Mom. He’s been very helpful and kind.
He’s taken me grocery shopping, and we had a nice afternoon exploring
the town together.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea, Lainey? You know how
attached you get to people. You’re only there for six weeks, and you
already sound smitten!”
“I’m not smitten.” I don’t like how sour those words are. “I’m only
here for a short time, and he’s only here for a few weeks. There’s no harm
in spending time with someone I like.”
“Boys only want one thing, Lainey.”
“He’s not a boy, Mom, he’s a man—and I’m not a girl. I’m a twenty-
five-year-old woman. We have fun together, and I’m going to enjoy my
time with him,” I snap.
More silence follows.
“Please, Mom, don’t make this hard for me.”
She sighs. “You know how much I worry about you.”
“I know, but I’m having fun, and he really is nice.” And very good at
kissing. “How’s everyone doing? How is Mooreen? She must be ready to
have her calf soon. Is Dr. Flood coming to take care of that?” It’s not a
subtle shift, but it does the trick.
My mom goes off on a rant about the animals, then goes on to gossip
about the neighbors.
Eventually she lets me go so she can get back to laundry. I decide to
call my friend Eden, who recently moved out to Chicago for a great job. I
miss her, but we still keep in touch through phone calls and email. She’s
much more enthusiastic about my new friend.
By the time I end the call with her, it’s already two o’clock in the
afternoon, and I’m tired and hungry. I eat a handful of crackers, too
exhausted from being up since four o’clock in the morning to be bothered
with boiling water and making noodles. The sun is no longer shining,
clouds having rolled in while I was on the phone, darkening the afternoon
sky.
 I decide a twenty-minute nap will do the trick and that I might be
able to make it through the rest of the day, and I have half a hope of
getting a decent night’s sleep. After my nap I can call RJ and see if he’s
still up for doing something.
I put on some relaxing music and lie down on my lumpy bed. The
moment I close my eyes, RJ’s toned chest appears behind my lids. I allow
the memory of his lips on mine and the way it felt to be pressed up against
all those hard muscles to take over as I sink into blissful sleep.
A huge bang startles me awake. I bolt upright and reach for the
closest object, which happens to be a textbook on my nightstand. No lights
are on, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, since I could’ve sworn they
were when I fell asleep. A flash of lightning startles me, and seconds later
a crash of thunder makes the entire cabin shake. Shadows crawl across the
walls for the short span of time that there’s light, so, of course, I scream.
I hate thunderstorms. The thunder sounds a lot like gunshots, and it
reminds me of my time at college in Seattle. That, along with the fact that
I’m in a rickety cabin, the fire has gone out, and there are no lights on,
sends me right into Anxiousville.
Rain pounds on the roof, and more thunder and lightning have me
hiding under my covers. I try to slow my panicked breathing, but it’s
coming too fast and I’m already spiraling out of control—all my thoughts
are fleeting. I need light.
“Take a breath, Lainey. Take a breath and figure it out,” I tell myself.
I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. Breathe in. Breathe out.
There has to be a flashlight somewhere in here. Or some candles. I
gave up on charging my cell phone yesterday, since I have one of those
cheap carrier services and I haven’t been getting reception at all. Still, it
doesn’t hurt to see if it’s holding a charge so I can at least use the screen to
find something more reliable. Unfortunately, it’s dead, just like all the
lights in this place.
A cold drop of water hits me on the back of the neck—and then
another on my arm.
The momentary reprieve in my panic dissolves as I stumble around
in the strange inky darkness, searching the cupboards for anything other
than the pack of matches I keep using to light the fire. I finally find a
lighter, but all it does is spark without giving me a flame. Eventually I
manage to find a flashlight, but it flickers once and dies. “Is nothing about
this stupid place reliable?” I yell to no one.
The only answer is a strike of lightning and a boom of thunder.
The wind picks up, howling through the walls, making it sound like
there are wolves outside my cabin. Which is when I totally lose it. Because
here I am, alone in this cabin with no lights, no flashlight, no candles—
and the roof is leaking in a bunch of places, based on the number of times
I’m getting dripped on.
“You need to get a grip, Lainey,” I tell myself through a sob. I suck in
a deep breath and release it through my nose, trying to focus on the
visualization strategy my therapist always tells me to use when the panic
gets too big.
I go through my senses: five things I can taste, four things I can
touch, three things I can smell, two things I can hear—that doesn’t help
the anxiety at all, since thunder happens right at that moment.
I work to block out the memories from college. The storm. The
lightning and thunder, how they overlapped with the repetitive rat-a-tat.
The crashing open of the lecture hall doors. The screaming . . .
I’m startled once again when the phone rings. If it’s my parents,
there’s no way they’re going to believe I’m okay. Because I’m not. I’m
terrified. But I really don’t want to be alone in this storm right now, so I
answer it, even if it’s going to bring me nothing but grief.
“Hello?” I croak.
The line crackles with static. “Lainey?”
It’s not my parents, thank God. “RJ?”
“Hey, I’m glad you answered. I tried to call earlier, but the line was
busy—” He cuts out when a huge crack of thunder makes the cabin shake.
I also shriek, which makes it hard to hear. “Are you all right?”
“Uh . . .” I consider lying but realize there isn’t much of a point. “I
don’t have any power.”
“Yeah, all the lines are down. The summer storms can be harsh here,
and we can lose power for a couple of days.”
“A couple of days?” There’s that high pitch again.
“Yeah, I have a generator in case of power failures. I’ll come get you,
okay? I’ll be there in five minutes, maybe ten at the most.”
“Okay. That would be nice.” I whimper at the next flash of lightning.
“I don’t really like thunderstorms.”
 “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
“Can you bring a flashlight? The ones here don’t have any batteries.”
“Shit. Yeah, of course. I’m already on my way out the door. See you
in a few.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I reluctantly hang up the phone. I want to pack a
bag, but I can’t do that without some kind of light source.
Minutes drag on for what feels like hours, until a knock scares me—
although pretty much everything is scaring me right now. I flip the lock
and throw open the door. Standing on the rickety, unsafe back steps,
getting pounded by the rain, is RJ, dressed in a yellow rain slicker, holding
a flashlight bright enough to land a plane.
I step back, letting him in. His hood falls back, exposing his gorgeous
face, flushed and dotted with raindrops. I close the door behind him and
throw myself into his arms, not caring that he’s soaking wet. Or that I look
desperate. A crash of thunder has me trying to bury my face in his chest.
He stands there for a moment, unmoving, possibly shocked, before he
finally wraps his wet arms around me. “Hey, you’re okay.”
“I really hate thunderstorms,” I mumble into his rain slicker.
He runs a soothing hand down my back. “Totally understandable
when it’s raining almost as hard inside as it is outside.”
I take several deep, steadying breaths, trying to regain a little
composure so I don’t come across as a complete head case, but I’ve been
crying, and my face always gets blotchy and my eyes get puffy. At least
the lighting is bad.
Eventually I loosen my hold, aware I can’t koala bear him forever.
“I’m okay. I’m fine. Thanks so much for coming.”
“I would’ve been here sooner if I’d known it was this bad.” He
cringes as drops of water land on his head from the ceiling above. “Let’s
pack you a bag and get you out of here.”
I nod. “I’d like that.”
With the help of his flashlight I stuff clothes into my suitcase. I
throw in my laptop and any other electronics, worried that they’ll get wet
and ruined with how much rain is coming through the roof.
I toss my toiletries in as well and throw on my coat. “I think I’m
ready.” I shove my hands in my pockets so he can’t see how much I’m
shaking.
 RJ stuffs my suitcase into a big black garbage bag before we head
out. The rain is so heavy I can barely see the truck, still running, sitting
less than twenty feet from the back door. “Let’s go,” he shouts, voice
drowned out by the driving downpour.
I make a break for it as another boom of thunder shakes the ground.
My feet slide out from under me, but RJ’s strong arm wraps around my
waist, dragging me back up.
“Got you.” RJ half carries me the rest of the way to the truck, only
letting me go when he’s sure I have my footing. I wrench the door open,
scrambling into the passenger seat with help from RJ. Once I’m safe
inside, he tosses my suitcase into the back seat and rushes around the
hood.
It’s warm and dry inside, apart from where I’m dripping all over the
seat and the floor. In the short distance between the cabin and the truck,
my coat got soaked through to my shirt. RJ blasts the heat, and I buckle
myself in.
The windshield wipers are on full speed, but the rain is coming down
faster and harder than they can do their job. It takes twice as long to get
back to his place, because branches have fallen on the road and he has to
swerve around some of the larger ones.
Once we reach Sweet View Home, he presses an automatic garage-
door opener and pulls in. Shifting into park, he cuts the engine. “Come on,
let’s get you inside and dried off.”
Despite the blasting heat, my teeth are still chattering—I’m not sure
if it’s from the cold or the anxiety. “That w-would be n-nice.”
RJ is out of the truck and around the passenger side before I even
have my seat belt unfastened. Although I can’t really feel my fingers, so
hitting the release button is more difficult than usual. I manage to free
myself as RJ opens the door. He wraps his wide palms around my waist
and lifts me out of the truck. I brace my hands on his shoulders,
embarrassed and strangely turned on by how easy it is for him to pick me
up like I weigh no more than a toddler.
He sets me down, and I huddle into myself, still shivering, as I wait
for him to grab my stuff from the back seat. I follow him inside, not
knowing what to say. My shoes make a squishy sound as I step onto a mat
in what’s clearly the mudroom. This space alone is probably bigger than
my entire cabin.
 I drop to one knee and focus on the task of untying my shoes. The
laces are soaked, and they pull tighter instead of looser when I tug the
loops. I’m frustrated, embarrassed, and still trying to get a handle on how
anxious I am.
“Hey.” RJ drops down into a crouch in front of me. He’s still wearing
rain boots, which are far more practical than my running shoes.
“I keep making the knots tighter.” I avoid making eye contact by
continuing the futile task of untying my shoes.
His warm hand covers mine. “You’re freezing. Let me help, Lainey.”
I stop fighting with the knots and let him take over. He leaves the
laces and pulls my shoes off. My socks are soaked, along with every other
part of me, and they stick to the shoes, coming off with a wet suction
sound. I’m sure the bottoms of my feet are wrinkly, and the rest of me
looks like a splotchy drowned rat.
My teeth won’t stop chattering as RJ helps me to my feet and unzips
my coat. It lands on the floor with a heavy thud. His own yellow raincoat
is gone. I shiver violently, and RJ runs his hands up and down my arms. It
feels nice, but it doesn’t do much good since I’m soaked to the bone.
“Come on. You need to get warm, and that’s not going to happen in
these wet clothes.” He tucks me into his side and grabs my suitcase,
leading me down the hall and upstairs to the bedroom I stayed in two
nights ago. RJ drops his arm from around my shoulder and sets my
suitcase on the bed.
I hug myself, trying to control the shivering. I’m embarrassed that
I’m in such a state. Another roll of thunder and flash of lightning makes
me jump.
He moves closer until his socked feet touch my bare toes. “God,
you’re like a scared little kitten, aren’t you?” He skims my cheek with the
back of his hand.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s silly and it’s j-just a th-thunderstorm.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. That cabin is the prime setting for a
horror movie.” He tips my chin up, his expression soft. “Why don’t you
warm up with a shower and put on some dry clothes? I’ll make you
something hot to drink.”
“I would l-like that.”
“Great. I’ll put a few extra logs on the fire. Take your time.” He
presses a kiss to my cheek, then leaves the room, closing the door behind
him with a quiet click.
I exhale a long breath as soon as I’m alone. Thank God I managed
not to cry in front of him. That would be insanely embarrassing. I turn on
the shower, strip out of my soaked clothes, and step under the hot spray. I
can’t hear the thunder or lightning in here, so I’m finally able to relax a
little. I don’t know how long I stay there, but by the time I’m done my
hands are as pruney as my feet and my skin is bright pink.
I rummage around in my suitcase for a nice pair of underwear. I have
to settle on pink cotton ones since I didn’t bring anything sexy for this
trip, thinking the only guys I’d be hanging around with would be of the
whale or dolphin variety.
I pull on a pair of thermal leggings, a thermal undershirt, an oversize
sweater, and wool socks. I check my reflection in the mirror, relieved my
cheeks aren’t blotchy anymore, and head downstairs.
I find RJ in the living room, stoking the fire. There are pillows laid
out on the floor and big fluffy blankets. On a tray next to the pillows and
blankets are two steaming mugs of hot chocolate piled high with
marshmallows. A plate of cookies and pastries sits between them. The rain
has slowed, the pounding now a light patter.
“This looks cozy.” I clasp my hands to keep from wringing them.
Now that I’m not panicking, I’m more than a little embarrassed by the way
I acted when RJ picked me up.
“And you look much warmer.” He pats the pile of blankets. “Wanna
come sit with me?”
“Sure.” I drop onto one of the cushions and cross my legs as RJ does
the same. “Sorry I was so . . . freaked out when you came and got me.”
He props himself up on one elbow. “Can I be completely honest?”
I glance quickly at him and then away. “Of course.”
“I’m just glad I get to spend more time with you. And I actually
really like that I get to protect you, even if it’s just from getting rained on
—which probably sounds wrong. It’s just . . . nice to take care of someone
else? Feel . . . needed?” He blows out a breath and cringes. “I’m going to
stop while I’m ahead. Or maybe behind.”
“I think I get what you mean.” I run my fingertip along the seam of
my leggings so I have somewhere to focus that isn’t RJ’s face—or
specifically his mouth. Now that the worst of the storm seems to have
passed and I can do something other than panic, I’m remembering what it
was like to be kissed by him. “It’s kind of nice to be taken care of.
Normally I’m just dealing with overprotective parents, so this is much
more welcome.”
He relaxes a little. “Okay. Good. I’m glad you feel that way. And I
can completely understand why your parents are overprotective.”
“I can take care of myself—I just don’t like thunderstorms,” I say
rather defensively.
He runs a gentle finger along the back of my hand. “I think you can
take care of yourself just fine, considering you survived in that shithole
cabin the past few days. But I’d be overprotective, too, if I had a daughter
and she was gorgeous and sweet like you. I wouldn’t want anyone to take
advantage of what’s mine.” He shakes his head. “I think I’m digging
myself a bigger hole, aren’t I?”
I laugh. “There weren’t many opportunities for me to get taken
advantage of with four older brothers.”
“Can’t say I blame them for wanting to keep the wolves at bay.” His
gaze moves over me in a hot, familiar way.
“You’re not a wolf, though, are you, RJ? You’re a teddy bear.”
His dimpled grin appears. “I’m glad you think that. You feeling
better now?”
“Much, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight if you
hadn’t come to get me.” Other than cry, anyway.
“I’m glad I could. Tomorrow we can go back and get the rest of your
stuff.”
“The owners of the cabin will be back at the end of the week, I think.
I can let them know the roof needs to be fixed.” I work on sounding
flippant about it, because I’ve already been the damsel in distress more
times than I’d like with RJ.
RJ cocks a brow. “At the risk of sounding like I’m telling you what to
do, you can’t stay there anymore, Lainey.”
“I’ve already paid for it, though, and I can’t afford to rent something
else.”
“You don’t have to rent something else. You can stay here. Four
bedrooms, remember? And you’re already set up in one of them. Unless
you don’t want to stay here. If that’s the case, then I can drive you to town
and we can see what’s available there, but that cabin is a total shithole, and
I can’t in good conscience take you back there unless it’s to get your
things.”
 CHAPTER 9
SENSORY EXPLORATION

Rook

Shit. That might not have been the right thing to say.
Lainey’s expression remains flat for several more seconds before she
finally cracks a smile. “It really is a dump, isn’t it?”
I’m relieved she didn’t take that the wrong way. “I gotta be honest—I
felt bad leaving you there the first night.”
“I felt bad about that too.”
I laugh at her wry grin. “So you’ll stay here? I don’t have to worry
about that roof caving in on you or the raccoons cuddling in bed with
you?”
“I think mice and spiders are the more likely cuddlers.” Lainey
shudders. “Yes, I’ll stay for now.”
We sit by the fire, drinking spiked hot chocolate and talking about
what it’s like to grow up with four older brothers and three older sisters. I
like that I can talk about my siblings and my family with her. As we share
stories, I decide I should come out and tell her the truth about my job and
hope that she isn’t upset that I wasn’t honest in the first place. I prop
myself up on one arm so I can look directly at her. She’s reclined against a
pile of pillows, long hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes soft, cheeks
pink with the heat from the fire and the spiked hot chocolate.
“I want to tell you something.” I finger a lock of silky hair, nervous
and second-guessing myself. I really don’t want this to change things.
 She smiles and bites her lip. “Okay. Sure. You can tell me anything,
RJ.”
I return her smile, but I doubt mine is as easy. “So you know how I
said—”
A flash of lightning makes Lainey’s eyes flare with panic and her
face pale. “Oh no. I thought the storm was over.”
An impressive crack of thunder follows that statement, and she sits
up, pulling her knees to her chest so she’s almost a little ball.
Obviously my truth has to wait. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.” I shift
so I can put an arm around her.
“It’s silly to be afraid of thunder.” She turns to me, her entire body
shaking.
I slip an arm under her legs and move her so she’s in my lap. “Human
teddy bear right here, offering safety cuddles, free of judgment.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry.” She presses her forehead against the side of
my neck, warmth feathering across my throat with her panicked breaths.
“You don’t need to apologize for being scared, Lainey. Did you have
a bad experience during a storm?” It’s the only reason I can come up with
for her to be so freaked out.
She nods against my shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She’s quiet for long enough that I almost backtrack.
“Remember how I said I went to Seattle for college?”
“But you didn’t stay long.” She said she was only there a month. I
assumed the city was too much for her.
“No. I didn’t.”
“What happened?” Now I’m trying to figure out how thunderstorms
and leaving her college program fit together.
“I lived off campus in the student apartments. There was a
thunderstorm one night, and the building lost power—so when I woke up,
it was only about twenty minutes before class. We were getting tests back
that day, and I decided I’d rather be late than miss it altogether, so I got
ready and rushed to campus. I was only about five minutes late. It was still
storming, lots of thunder and lightning.” She shudders and curls up tight
against me. “I was on my way up the stairs into the lecture hall. There was
this sound, and at first I thought it was thunder.”
 I stroke up and down her back, hoping to soothe her, aware that this
story is going nowhere good. “But it wasn’t?”
“No.” Her voice is so small, like she’s trying to hide from her own
memories.
“What happened then?”
She shifts a little so she can meet my gaze, her own swimming with
ghosts and tears. “There was a boy in my class—or a man, I guess. He was
kind of a loner, like me a bit. Quiet. Shy, but also . . . dark? He never really
looked happy about anything. Just sort of cynical. But I always said hi to
him even though he never looked very friendly, because no one really
wants to be alone, you know? And he always nodded. It was never
anything more, but I tried.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, that day he
brought a semiautomatic to class, and the sound I mistook for thunder was
him firing into the lecture hall. A few people got hit before he turned the
gun on himself.”
“Oh God, Lainey, that must have been awful. I can’t even imagine
what would make a person do that.” I tighten my hold on her as I consider
how terrified she must have been.
Her eyes are sad and distant. “He failed the test, so maybe that set
him off? I wondered if maybe—if I’d tried a little harder—he would have
talked to me. Maybe, if he had a connection to someone in there, that
would have stopped him? It’s probably stupid to think that. I mean, clearly
there was something wrong with him—he wasn’t balanced—but still . . .”
I brush away her tears as they fall. “You can’t take that on, Lainey.
He was mentally ill. The only time a person does something that extreme
is if they’re not well. You’re lucky you were late.” I’m lucky you were late,
or you might not be here.
“That’s what my family kept telling me. They still do. Because I’m
here—and I didn’t see it happen, I just heard it and witnessed the
aftermath.” She looks haunted in that way only people who have
experienced deep trauma can be. “This isn’t . . . I haven’t really talked
about this with anyone but my family and my therapist. It’s just . . . not
good conversation. I couldn’t talk about it with my mom—she couldn’t
handle it.”
“How do you mean?”
“She worries more than I do. And the news coverage of the incident
made it so much worse.” Her fingers drift slowly along the collar of my T-
shirt, eyes following the movement.
“I’m glad you feel safe enough with me to talk about it—and as hard
as it is to do, sometimes it’s better to get it out rather than keep it all
locked up inside.”
“I used to worry that talking about it would make the fears worse
instead of better.”
“Because it makes the memories fresh again?” I rub her back, not
really knowing what else to do for her.
“Mm-hmm.” She nods. “But it feels good not to hold on to it alone
anymore.”
“Good. It shouldn’t be yours to hold on to.”
“That boy, the shooter, he didn’t survive.” Lainey drags her finger
along my clavicle, body jolting with the next rumble of thunder. She
exhales a shaky breath before she continues. “People came rushing out of
the lecture hall. Everyone was screaming.” She presses her palm against
the side of my neck, thumb brushing back and forth slowly along the edge
of my jaw. “I was just . . . frozen on the steps. I knew I needed to move,
but I couldn’t make my body follow the command. By the time I turned to
run, everyone was on me. I twisted my ankle on the steps, but someone
grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the way before I could get
trampled. I was lucky I didn’t see any of it firsthand.”
The last part sounds more like something she says as self-
reassurance. “I’m so sorry you went through that.” No wonder she was so
terrified when I came to pick her up. And I realize that Lainey is far
stronger than I ever could have imagined. To survive something like that
and still be able to look at life with such positivity is a miracle.
“My classmates went through much worse, but now you know why I
hate thunderstorms so much. I’ve always been anxious, but after that . . . I
have a very hard time with crowds, so the airport was a challenge for me.
And being on a plane with no way of escaping, that wasn’t pleasant either.
But I used all the strategies I have to stay calm, and I made it through just
fine—and then you were on the Cessna, so that helped. I should be able to
handle a thunderstorm, but the memories are hard to deal with
sometimes.”
“Is there anything I can do? Some way I can help now?”
“Being here with you makes me feel safer.” She smooths her hand
over my shoulder and down my biceps, slipping under the hem of the
sleeve. “I don’t like to rely too much on people to help calm me, because
it’s not always effective—especially if those people aren’t there when the
anxiety becomes intolerable—so I usually do a sensory calming exercise.”
“What is that?”
“I focus on the five senses, counting down from five to one. So
unless it’s dark, I usually start with five things I can see.” A flash of
lightning startles her, and she digs her nails into my biceps.
I tuck a finger under her chin and turn her head away from the
windows behind us, since she’s waiting for the next rumble of thunder.
“Tell me what you see right now, Lainey.”
Her eyes search mine, bottom lip trembling. “I-I see flecks of blue
and gold near your iris when I’m this close to you.”
“That’s one. What else?”
“You have a dimple high on your left cheek. It’s always there, but it’s
more obvious when you smile or laugh.” She skims my eyebrow with her
fingertip. “You have a scar above your eyebrow that makes it look arched
all the time.”
I laugh, and she smiles. “You have a tiny freckle right here.” She taps
my bottom lip, then drags her finger down the side of my throat. “And this
vein right here shows me exactly how calm you are right now.”
“What’s next? Touch? Or do I get to play this game too?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Are you anxious?”
“Maybe a little.”
She frowns as if she’s concerned, which is ironic considering what
she’s been through and how it’s affecting her right now. “About what?”
“I have a gorgeous woman that I really like who’s anxious because
she’s been through something bad that I can’t fix, even though I want to be
able to. I don’t want to mess this up by saying or doing the wrong thing.”
She shifts, and for a moment I think she’s going to move off my lap,
but instead she straddles my thighs. “Everything you say is perfect, so you
have nothing to worry about.”
A flash of lightning has her sucking in a breath.
“Hey, hey, stay with me, right here. Focus on me. Tell me what you
feel.” I cup her face in my palms to keep her eyes locked with mine.
 “I feel . . . my heart racing, the warmth of your palms against my
skin, the heat of your body under me even through our clothes, and an ache
. . .” She bites her lip and her cheeks flush.
“What kind of ache?”
“For you to touch more of me,” she whispers, almost shyly.
I skim her throat lightly. “Like this?”
“Yes, please.”
I drag my fingers over her collarbone and down her arms until I reach
her hands. I bring one to my lips so I can kiss her knuckle. “Is taste next?”
She nods, eyes staying on mine. “It is.”
“What do you want to taste, Lainey?” I run my hands up the outside
of her thighs, wishing I were touching bare skin. I know what I want to
taste, but I’m not exactly sure what direction we’re heading, and I’d like
her to lead.
“Your skin.” She leans in, nose brushing along my jaw as her lips
find my throat, right over the pulse point. Her soft, warm tongue strokes
along my skin before she kisses her way up to my ear. “I taste salt and the
bitterness of aftershave.” Her lips travel over my cheek until they finally
brush over mine. She sucks my bottom lip. “I taste mint and chocolate and
marshmallows.”
She angles her head, lips parting as she comes in for another kiss,
this time with tongue. I keep my hands on her thighs, even though I
desperately want to touch more of her. Her tongue strokes mine, and she
whimpers quietly.
She slides her fingers into my hair and latches on. Lainey shimmies
forward until her chest is flush with mine, and I’m sure she realizes that
her calming exercise has been having the opposite effect on me. I groan
into her mouth.
“I hear desire.” She drops her hands and grabs the hem of her
sweater. “And the soft rustle of fabric.” She lifts it over her head, along
with the thermal shirt under it, skin pebbling—possibly because it’s cold,
maybe because she’s still anxious . . . or turned on.
She’s gloriously topless, and my imagination has proven absolutely
abysmal in concocting anything close to the reality of what this would
look like, feel like, be like.
I couldn’t have predicted a set of circumstances that would bring us
into each other’s lives like this, let alone to this point. It feels . . .
different. Like there’s significance in every single touch and caress, and I
feel the sharp bite of guilt over not being completely honest with her about
who I am. But I won’t ruin it now, not when she’s shared something so
obviously painful for her. Not when she’s here, looking for me to take it
away for a while in whatever way I can.
“You’re gorgeous.” I smooth my hands down the sides of her neck
and kiss her.
“We never got to smell,” she murmurs against my lips.
“I smell mint and cucumber shampoo.” I brush my nose along the
column of her throat. “And the sweetness of your vanilla lotion. What
about you?”
“I smell need and lust and wanting.”
“We should do something about that, shouldn’t we?” I settle my
hands on her waist.
“Yes, please.”
I kiss her again, and this time restraint becomes unnecessary. Like
every other time we’ve kissed, it’s as if someone has flicked a lighter in an
ocean of gasoline. She wraps herself around me, and I have to coax her to
loosen her hold. “I want to taste every inch of you, Lainey, starting right
here.” I touch a finger to her lips and drag it down between her breasts.
“And I’ll make a stop here, before I continue”—I draw a line straight
down, circling her navel, and stop at the waistband of her leggings
—“under here. Do you think that would be a good sensory calming
exercise?”
“I guess we’ll have to try it out to see if it works.” She gives me a
tentative, saucy grin.
And I make good on my sensory exploration promise. We undress
each other slowly, savoring the experience. I kiss every bare, sweet inch of
her, spending the most time between her thighs, licking and kissing until
she’s writhing under me and calling out my name as an orgasm rolls
through her.
I’m fully prepared for that to be where it ends, but Lainey tugs me
back up and wraps her legs around my waist. She’s already slick from my
mouth and her orgasm. “Lainey,” I groan when I settle against her, warm
and wet.
“I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.”
 I lift my head and meet her hazy, lust-soaked gaze. “Are you sure?
We don’t have to—”
She looks suddenly unsure. “You don’t want to know what I feel like
from the inside?”
“That’s not—” I have to clear my throat. “Yes. Of course I do, I just
don’t want you to feel pressured—”
“I don’t feel pressured. I feel like I’m under pressure. Like one of
those mints dropped into a bottle of soda and shaken with the top on.
That’s what it’s like when you kiss me, so I want to know what it’s like
when you’re in me.”
“Is this . . . have you . . .” I don’t know how to ask without making it
awkward.
She tips her head to the side, brows furrowing for a moment until
they pop back up. “Oh! You think—” She bites her lip. “I’m not that
inexperienced, RJ.”
There’s no good way to respond, so I drop my head and kiss the side
of her neck. “I just wanted to be sure, and I want this to feel good for you
—for both of us. Let me grab a condom.” I’m grateful that there’s one in
my wallet, because the box I bought the day after I met Lainey—hopeful
that at some point we’d get here—is upstairs in my nightstand.
I kneel between her thighs, and Lainey sits up, taking the foil square
from me. She strokes me a few times, then bends to kiss the head, wetting
it with her lips before she tears the wrapper open and rolls the condom on.
It’s sexy and sweet and so damn hot. Especially when she straddles me,
positions me at her entrance, and sinks into my lap.
This is nothing like our frantic make-out sessions. It’s slow and
gentle, a leisurely climb to the peak. When I feel myself getting close, I
still her with my hands on her hips and kiss her as a distraction. Over and
over, I balance at the edge and back off until Lainey can’t stop the orgasm
from stealing her breath.
I flip her over so I can keep the rhythm, chasing down my own
orgasm. I try to bury my face against her neck, but she cups my face in her
hands. “I want to see you,” she murmurs, eyes soft and searching.
I meet her gaze, and my ego pretty much expands to fill the entire
universe. Lainey’s eyes hold fascinated awe, like there’s nothing more
enthralling than me in this moment. I come hard, eyes locked on her
gorgeous face, wishing there were no end to this feeling.
 I drop my forehead to hers, breathing hard. She kisses the corner of
my mouth. “I would do that again and again and again just so I could see
that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Pure rapture.”
“That belongs to you and you alone.”
Orgasm drugged, we kiss until exhaustion creeps in. I remove the
used condom, tie it off, and toss it near the fireplace. I pull the blankets
over us, and Lainey curls into me.
I think about how I could get used to this—not just the sex, but her.
And I wish I’d started this with the truth instead of a lie, because it’s too
late to take it back . . . but I promise myself I’ll find a way to tell her
before we leave Alaska. And I hope like hell it won’t ruin what we have
here.
 CHAPTER 10
THE FALL IN

Lainey

Having grown up on a farm, in a rural area, homeschooled, and with social

anxiety doesn’t mean I never had a boyfriend. I did. Not a lot, but a few,
and most of them were long term. Well, longish term.
Also, having four older brothers meant dating could be difficult—and
often secretive. In addition to the secrecy came the challenge of finding
opportunities for privacy. Even now, at twenty-five, I’ve never lived away
from home for long. Because of the farm, none of my siblings have
strayed very far from the hub of the family wheel. Everyone lives within a
few miles of each other.
Sure, the house we all grew up in was big, with lots of places to sneak
off to—barns are decent places to make out in, if you can get over the
smell. And animals don’t generally rat you out—unless you happen to kick
over a bucket and it lands in a cow stall, scaring the crap out of them.
Even with the challenges I faced in the dating world, I went out with
a guy who had his own place for a while. That proved helpful in expanding
my sexual repertoire and putting theory into practice; however, based on
my most current experience, that guy wasn’t all that great in bed.
Certainly not as giving, skilled, or well endowed as RJ.
Suffice it to say, I don’t put up a fight the next morning when RJ
suggests we get the rest of my things and bring them back to his place. But
first we have more sex. And then a shower, which leads to more sex. I can
see how that particular location might be a little dangerous with someone
who isn’t as strong or agile as RJ.
Being intimate with someone who is in such amazing physical
condition is pretty fantastic. Not only can he pick me up and carry me
around like I weigh as much as a bag of potatoes, he can also hold me up
—with the help of the shower wall—and give me an orgasm. It’s
extraordinary.
He’s rather extraordinary, really.
After last night there’s a shift between us. It feels like we’re
connected in ways beyond intimacy.
We make a quick breakfast, get the rest of my personal effects from
my crappy cabin, and return to his place. And yes, we have more sex.
Actually, that’s pretty much all we do for the rest of the day. That and eat. I
wander around in one of his button-down plaid shirts, and he wanders
around in his boxer briefs—my request, obviously.
I’ve never had a fling before, and I’m aware that’s what this is. He
lives in New York, and I live in Washington. He has to run an alpaca farm,
and I have to finish my master’s and get a job, eventually—or start my
PhD, whichever makes more sense.
So I try not to worry about what will happen when I go back home.
Instead, for the first time in my life, I just let myself enjoy the time I have
with RJ and hope that my heart can handle it. I also enjoy sex with him. A
lot. So that helps too.

Days bleed into each other as RJ and I settle into a routine. We make
meals together and go boating almost every day, and I even manage to
work on my thesis paper. His internet reception is far superior to what
mine was, so I’m actually able to get quite a bit done . . . all things
considered. As the days on the calendar count down to his impending
departure, everything that doesn’t involve spending time with him takes a
back seat.
A few days before he’s supposed to go home, RJ changes his plans.
My ticket is open ended, and he doesn’t have any obligations until the
middle of July, so he suggests that he stay longer. My heart skips a few
dangerous beats at the thought of more time with him. I’m so attached to
him already, and this is only going to make it that much harder when we
have to leave. But I’ll take a bruised heart in exchange for more time, and
he delays his departure so we both leave closer to mid-July.
Two weeks before we’re supposed to fly back to Seattle, we run out
of condoms. It’s not really a surprise, considering how quickly we’ve been
going through them. We’re in the kitchen, making coffee and toasting
bagels, me in my favorite uniform—one of RJ’s flannel plaid shirts—and
him in his boxer briefs.
He reaches over me, erection poking me in the hip as he grabs two
mugs from the cupboard above my head. He sets them in front of me,
moves my hair aside, and presses a wet kiss to my neck. He follows that
with the gentle scrape of teeth.
“RJ.” It’s more moan than warning.
“How am I supposed to resist you, especially when I know there’s
nothing under that shirt.” His fingers dip beneath the hem and skim along
bare skin. I bat his hand away, spin to face him, and put a palm on his
chest. Not that it’s much of a deterrent, since I hum in appreciation instead
of pushing him away—and brush my thumb over his nipple. In the short
weeks RJ and I have had to explore each other’s bodies, I’ve discovered
that his nipples are a hot zone. So are his neck and the V of muscle at his
hips, leading to the hottest hot zone of all.
He grabs me by the waist, picks me up, and deposits me on the
counter. His palms curl over my knees.
“It’s been, what, two hours?” I drag my nails down the side of his
neck and relish his low groan.
“Two hours too long. I’m going through withdrawal.” He puts
pressure on the insides of my knees, a silent request to let him in.
I spread my legs, my appetite for him as voracious as his is for me.
“We need to go to town.”
“We will, but breakfast and orgasms first, and not necessarily in that
order.” RJ slides his warm, rough palms up my thighs, biting his lip as he
pushes the flannel up, exposing me. I’m already wet. It’s pretty much
perpetual with RJ. “Fuck, Lainey.”
“Not until after we go to town.” The statement comes out a little
breathless—but also with conviction. I internally pat myself on the back
for being responsible.
RJ rests his forehead against mine. “I could just slip it in there for a
couple of strokes, like two or three. That’d be okay, right?”
 I snort a laugh. It’s definitely not a becoming sound at all. And it
turns into a moan when RJ pulls his boxer briefs down and rubs the head
of his erection along the inside of my thigh.
“I told you we should’ve gone to town yesterday,” I murmur, half-
entranced by the way he keeps rubbing the head along the crease in my
thigh, up one side and then down the other, over and over again.
“You feel so good.” He circles my most sensitive skin, and I moan.
“Just two strokes bare, Lainey, please.”
The toaster pops behind me. “The bagels are ready.”
“Fuck the bagels.”
“That might hurt.” I suck in a breath as he drags the head of his
erection down, parting my lips, passing my entrance. “One stroke. In and
out. That’s it,” I say before I fully consider the ramifications.
RJ’s eyes flip up to mine, and his chest rises and falls. His gaze
drops, and so does mine. “You’re sure?” He’s right there, hand shaking,
erection kicking in his fist.
“Once. One time.”
The head slips in, both of us look down, and I clench around him. It’s
such a terrible, wonderful idea. He pushes in another inch on a low groan.
“God, Lainey, look at you.” He frames my sex with his hands, thumbs
sweeping over me, and pushes all the way in.
I moan, long and low and desperate. Because it feels so good, and I
know it’s so wrong and bad and dangerous. But I wrap my legs around his
waist anyway, keeping him in me as I roll my hips. His mouth drops open,
and his lids flutter, his fingertips digging into my thighs as his forehead
comes to rest against mine. “You feel so good like this—so fucking good,
Lainey.”
“You too.” I unhook my legs from his waist and put a hand on his
chest. “But it’s not safe.”
His lust-heavy gaze meets mine, torn and desperate. He looks down,
and I follow his eyes, watching as he eases out on a plaintive groan. As
soon as the ridge appears, I push him back and slip off the counter,
dropping to my knees. Engulfing the head, I taste my own need. RJ’s hands
slide into my hair as I take him in as far as I can.
We end up on the floor, me straddling his face while I take him in my
mouth, competing to see who can make the other come first. I would’ve
won if he hadn’t added his fingers.
 Afterward we toast new bagels and drink lukewarm coffee for
breakfast. “That can’t happen again,” I say between bites of bagel.
“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’ve always been safe in the past and
that we’ll be safe from here on out. I got carried away. Right after this
we’ll go to town and stock up, okay?” He leans in and kisses my cheek,
lips moving to my ear. “You feel like velvet, and you taste like heaven. I
would stay inside you forever if I could.”
I push away from the table. “I’m getting dressed so we can go.”
“Good idea.”
Fifteen minutes later, RJ and I are fully dressed and ready for an
outing so we can restock condoms—and maybe food, although that is
definitely second on the to-do list.
It’s fairly warm today, crisp like that time between spring and
summer in Washington.
He spins the truck keys on his finger. “You know what we should
do?”
“If it involves your penis and my vagina, it needs to wait until we get
back from our shopping trip.”
He grins wolfishly. “You have a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m around you, apparently,” I mutter.
“Lainey! Catch!” RJ shouts.
I raise both hands defensively, because I am not known for my
excellent reaction time, and am rather surprised when my fist closes
around the object he’s tossed my way. “I am not good at catching things, so
I don’t suggest you do that again.”
“You can be good at anything if you practice enough,” RJ replies.
I glance down at my palm and find I’m holding his truck keys. “I
don’t have my license, remember?”
“I know. I’m going to teach you how to drive.”
I glance at his monster rental truck with all the bells and whistles.
“No. Nope. No way.” I toss the keys back to him. My aim is terrible, but he
still manages to snag them out of the air before they hit the ground.
“Why not?”
“What happens if I ruin that truck?” My father has the base model,
and it’s expensive as heck. I can’t afford to ruin a truck.
“You’re not going to ruin it, Lainey. I’ll be right beside you, teaching
you what to do. We’ll take it slow.”
 “But I might scratch the paint. Or hit something.” I’ve seen a lot of
roadkill on our trips to town. I would prefer not to add to that body count.
RJ arches a brow. “You grew up on a farm. You have to have driven a
tractor.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Of course I’ve driven a tractor. “Not
the same, and you know it.” I can back up into the fence or accidentally hit
the side of the barn and no one will get mad at me for scratching it, since
farm machinery is meant to get beaten up.
A half grin tips up the corner of RJ’s mouth. “You’re right, not the
same at all. A tractor is way more difficult to drive than a truck. You’ll be
a pro in no time.”
“Tractors are meant to be ridden hard—trucks like this one, not so
much.” I make a flaily gesture toward his sporty, unscratched, undented
rental. It’s rather intimidating and fancy.
His half smile turns into a full-on grin, and his eyes move over me in
a slow, hot sweep. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll let you ride me however you want if you give it a try.”
“How would that be different than any other day?”
He taps his lip thoughtfully. “Hmm, you have a point. You’re pretty
demanding when you’re naked.”
“I’m trying to be helpful!” I defend myself. “I don’t see the point in
being a passive recipient. Unless you’d prefer I keep you guessing as to
what I like and what I don’t.”
RJ drags his tongue along his bottom lip. “I fucking love how
expressive you are.” Palm flattening against my lower back, he pulls me
into him, his erection pressed against my stomach. “Please, Lainey. Let me
teach you something new.”
I glance at the truck and back at RJ. He looks so excited and turned
on by the prospect. When I said I didn’t have a license, I didn’t mean that I
can’t drive. I can. But I’m not comfortable on highways, and I’ve only
ever driven on country roads—and always in a beat-up pickup truck, not
something nice like his rental. Still, RJ thinks I don’t know how, and if he
wants to persuade me to learn, who am I to take the opportunity away from
him?
I’m sure I can handle driving on the road into town. Plus, I won’t
have my mother beside me, freaking out when I get even close to the speed
limit. She drives like an eighty-year-old on Sunday.
“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”
RJ helps me into the driver’s seat—which is mostly just an excuse to
touch my butt—and adjusts the seat so I’m closer to the gas and brake
pedals. He rolls down the window, closes the door, and pulls his phone out
of his pocket. “Smile, baby.”
I give him a cheesy grin, excitement and nerves battling as he snaps a
picture and rounds the hood. He gives me a brief rundown of all the dials
and knobs before I slip the key in and turn the ignition over. The engine
rumbles to life. I wipe my hands on my thighs, since I put lotion on before
we left the cabin.
“Hey.” RJ places his hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t doubt yourself, Lainey. You got this.”
I realize he must think I’m anxious, so I follow his instructions,
shifting the truck into gear and tapping lightly on the gas pedal, sort of
like I would when I’m driving a tractor. He lets me get the feel for the gas
and the brakes by circling the wide-open driveway a few times. Every time
I hit the brake, the truck lurches to a stop, gravel spitting from the tires. At
first it’s not purposeful—the brakes on his truck are particularly touchy—
but I’m having fun watching RJ be so attentive and concerned, so I keep
doing it.
“Sorry.” I bite back a smile when he not-so-subtly braces a hand on
the dash.
“You’re doing great—you just need to get a feel for how sensitive the
gas and brake pedals are. Kinda like when I go down on you. If I want to
make you come fast and hard, I need to hit your buttons like I mean it, but
if I want to drag it out, then I’m gentle. Same principle.”
I cock a brow. “Is this whole driving lesson going to be explained in
sexual analogies?”
He grins and shrugs. “Seemed like a good comparison.”
I roll my eyes but take his advice, barely tapping the gas when I want
to speed up and gently moving to the brake when I want to stop. It’s
actually a pretty accurate analogy. Eventually I make my way down the
long driveway. When I reach the main road, my nerves become real. While
it’s not a busy road, logging and transport trucks use it frequently, and the
speed limit is higher than I’m usually comfortable with.
 RJ stretches his arm across the backrest and gives my neck a
reassuring squeeze. “You got this. Just take it slow, and you’ll be fine.”
The road is clear of traffic, no one coming in either direction. As far
as “learning” to drive goes, this is probably ideal. I signal left, toward
town, and ease out of the driveway. I’m currently only doing about twenty-
five miles an hour, much lower than the posted speed limit. I check the
rearview mirror. “What happens if someone comes up behind me?”
“You can always pull over and let them pass. Give it a bit more gas,
gorgeous.” The pet name warms me from the inside.
I do as he instructs until I reach about forty-five miles an hour. “How
do people drive on the freeway when everyone is going this fast and
they’re all so close to each other?”
“You get used to it. You’re doing great.”
I like the praise, so I keep easing the speedometer up until I’m going
the posted speed limit. “This is a rush!” I tell RJ.
He laughs. “It’s fun, right?”
“It is!” I glance over at him, taking my eyes off the road for a split
second. Or maybe it’s a little longer than a split second, because when I
shift my focus back to the road, a little red squirrel is bounding across the
pavement. “Oh shoot!” I put on the brakes, tires squealing as the tiny
rodent freezes. No one is coming in the other direction, so I swerve around
it, managing to avoid turning him into a pancake. A few minutes later I
pull into the parking lot of the pharmacy without additional animals
playing chicken with the truck.
RJ reaches for the door handle. “I’ll be right back, unless you want to
come in with me?”
“Um, I’m okay to wait in the truck.”
He leans over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and jumps out. As soon as
he’s inside the store, I unbuckle my seat belt and switch to the passenger
seat. Five minutes later RJ leaves the store as a blonde woman dressed in
skintight jeans and a fitted sweater is about to go inside. She looks like she
belongs in a commercial for perfect hair. Perfect everything, actually. I
immediately hate her when she smiles at RJ in a way that tells me she
appreciates what she sees.
His eyes flare, and for a moment his gaze shifts to the truck. He
accepts a hug from her, and a tight feeling settles in my stomach as she
runs her hands down his arms. It’s familiar. I don’t like it. She glances
down at the bag, a coy smile on her lips as she tries to peek inside.
When he moves it behind his back, she flips her blonde hair over her
shoulder and grabs the lapels of his down vest. RJ’s expression hardens,
and he shakes his head, prying her fingers from his vest. Her expression
shifts from friendly to irritated.
RJ motions to the truck. Her gaze follows his, and her eyes widen. I
look down at my lap, suddenly uncomfortable. RJ said he’s been coming
here for years. I’m not the only woman to notice how attractive he is, and
based on how good he is in bed, I’m definitely not the only woman to
experience his skill set there.
The rest of their conversation is short and stilted. He holds the door
open for her and returns to the truck, his expression tense, which tells me
more than I’d like—not just about who they are to each other but also
about my feelings for this man. I shouldn’t be jealous. This is a summer
fling. But somewhere along the way my heart forgot to consider what my
brain knows: that this has to end.
RJ opens the driver’s side door and climbs in, tossing the plastic bag
on the center console. “Sorry about that.”
“Sorry about what?” I keep my hands clasped in my lap so I don’t
give in to the urge to bite my nails or fidget.
He makes a general hand motion toward the store.
“Oh, you mean your friend? She was flirty.” I hate that it comes out
sounding bitter, catty, and insecure.
“Charity flirts with everyone who has a dick. Doesn’t matter if
they’re twenty or eighty.” RJ smooths his thumb down the back of my
neck, and I jerk away.
“You don’t need to placate me, RJ. It’s obvious there’s something
between you. I know I’m not the first woman to share your bed.” And I’m
well aware that I won’t be the last either.
“Hey, can you look at me for a second, please?”
I reluctantly shift my gaze to meet his.
“Charity works at one of the bars here. She’s stuck and looking for a
way out, or an escape, and I’ve made it clear I’m not going to be that guy.
When I come here—it’s always been to spend time with my dad and my
brother, not hook up with random women.”
“She’s beautiful, though.”
 He shrugs. “She’s not my type.”
“And I am?”
“Yes. You’re exactly my type. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny,
adventurous, and just so fucking sweet. You don’t have anything to be
jealous of, Lainey.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten short with you.”
“I’m going to say something, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong
way, okay?”
“Okay?” It’s more of a question than a statement.
“I like that you’re jealous.”
“You do? Why?” I’ve never considered jealousy a positive emotion.
It indicates a level of insecurity and vulnerability.
“It means we’re on the same page, because if the tables were turned
and it was you coming out of that store and me sitting here watching some
guy flirt with you, I probably would’ve made a huge ass out of myself.”
“How do you mean?”
“There’s no way I could’ve played it cool. I would’ve been out of the
truck making sure he knew you were mine and that he should back the
fuck off.” RJ cringes. “I probably should’ve stopped while I was ahead—
now I sound like a possessive douche. What I mean is, I want to be the
only one you get jealous over, that’s all. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it makes sense.”
With that, we head back to the cabin and make good use of that
residual jealousy—and the condoms.
 CHAPTER 11
ALL GOOD THINGS

Lainey

“Lainey, baby, wake up.”

I groan and snuggle into the pillow. “Just let me sleep for five more
minutes, RJ, then you can sex me.”
He presses his lips to my cheek, and when he speaks again, his tone
makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Baby, please. I need
you to wake up. I have to go.”
I blink a couple of times and roll over. RJ is sitting on the edge of the
bed, fully dressed. His expression is pained. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my brother. Well, it’s actually Joy. She went into labor. She’s
more than a month early, and there are complications. I know we’re
supposed to fly out together, but he needs me right now.”
I’m still half-asleep, so it takes me a few seconds to absorb what he’s
said. “Is the baby going to be okay? Is Joy?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty touch and go. I need to get out there so he
has some support. So they all do, just in case.”
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to process it all. “Right. He
definitely needs you. When will you leave?”
“I have a flight in less than two hours. I have to go now.” He keeps
skimming my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Now?” I push up on my arms, the weight of his words finally
settling.
 “I’m sorry, Lainey. I wanted to fly back to Seattle with you.” His
expression is pained. “I really don’t want to go, but I have to.”
“No, no, I get it. Your family needs you—you have to be with them.”
If it were one of my brothers or sisters, I would do exactly the same thing.
“I’ll call, okay? When I get there, I’ll call and let you know I landed
and how everything is going—so you don’t worry.”
“Okay. Yes. Please.”
“I’m sorry I have to leave.” He cups my face in his hands and kisses
me, evidently not caring about my sleep breath.
My stomach hollows out when I realize this is goodbye. I thought we
had another day—time to talk, to figure things out. I’m not going to see
him again. Not anytime soon. Part of me wants to offer to come with him,
but it’s just prolonging the inevitable.
A desperate, forlorn sound bubbles up as he pulls back, eyes roaming
over my face. “I need you one last time.”
“Please. Yes.” I can already feel the ache in my chest, and he’s still
here with me. I’m terrified of what it will be like when he’s really gone. I
shove down the anxiety and focus on the moment.
He pulls my sleep shirt over my head, so it’s just a matter of
unclasping his belt and unbuttoning his fly. “I’m sorry I can’t take care of
you the way I want to.” His mouth covers mine again, and his kiss is full
of the same desperation I feel.
I climb into his lap while he’s still fully dressed and free him from
his boxer briefs.
There’s no finessing our way through this—it’s sheer desperate need
driving us as I sink down and cry out from the invasion. Everything is
magnified, including the sensation of having him inside me, knowing it’s
the last time.
I keep our mouths fused, holding him tightly as he moves me over
him, slow at first, gentle—but it doesn’t last; we grip and cling, teeth
clashing, tongues warring, bodies battling as we crash into each other,
taking what we both need because we’re out of time.
RJ tears his mouth from mine. “I need you to come.”
“I’m close,” I assure him.
He lifts and lowers me, faster, harder, pushing my body to the limit.
The orgasm steals my breath, and I cry out, wishing the sensation were
something I could hold on to.
 “Lainey.” The single word is as much a demand as it is a plea. I open
my eyes and focus on his face, on the torment in his eyes, on the regrets I
can feel creating a hole in my heart in the form of a love I’ll never fully
experience apart from these brief weeks.
He comes, eyes on mine, body shaking with his release. He kisses
me, hard at first and then softer. Eventually he wraps his arms around me
and squeezes tightly, lips pressed against my throat. He murmurs
something against my skin that I don’t catch.
Fragile moments pass, and his imminent departure looms. His palms
smooth up my back, tangling briefly in my hair before he finally pulls
back and exhales an unsteady breath. His eyes are glassy and sad. “I have
to go.”
“I know.”
“I wanted more time with you.”
“Me too. I’ll walk you out?”
“That would be good. Let me get you a shirt.”
I move off his lap, feeling the absence of him everywhere as we lose
our physical connection. He tucks himself back into his pants and crosses
to the closet, grabbing one of his shirts that he leaves at the cabin. He
helps me into it, fastening a couple of buttons with shaking hands.
“That’s good enough—I know you’re out of time.”
He laces our fingers together, and I follow him down the hall. I slip
my feet into a pair of flats and curl into him as we step outside into the
near dawn. Dark clouds blanket the sky, a complement to my gloomy
mood. Goose bumps rise on my legs and arms, prickling all the way to my
scalp. The truck is already running, his duffel in the passenger seat.
He brushes my hair away from my face. “Lainey, I . . .” He shakes his
head and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll call as soon as I’m in LA.”
“Okay.”
He pulls me against him, hugging me tightly. He kisses me one last
time, a slow, sad goodbye. I’m the one who breaks the kiss first, aware that
the longer this takes, the closer I get to losing it in front of him.
He cups my face in his hands. “I have so many things I needed to say
to you. Things I wanted to tell you.”
I fight back a sob. “It’s okay. You can tell me later.”
“I miss you already.”
I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Me too.”
 He presses his lips to mine one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Drive careful.” I step back as he gets in and closes the door.
I watch as he pulls away. The window rolls down, and he waves
before he turns onto the main road. I wait until his taillights disappear
before I let the tears fall. And with them comes the first drop of rain.
I stand there, staring at the end of the driveway, feeling very much
like I just lost my heart.
By nine a summer storm has set in, complete with lightning and
thunder. I’m too sad to be scared as I pack up my things. At noon I lose
power and wait for the generator to kick on, but it doesn’t. I have candles
and flashlights here, so I’m relieved that I don’t have to sit in the dark
through the storm, but it feels like a bad omen.
At one o’clock in the afternoon, a flash of lightning is followed by a
huge crack of thunder. A second boom makes the entire cabin shake and
the candles flicker for a moment, and everything goes stark and still. I try
to manage the crushing panic, but the sensory calming exercise only
makes me think of RJ, and the tears keep falling like the rain. By three
o’clock in the afternoon I get antsy, having expected to hear from RJ
already. I check the phone, thinking I’m being paranoid until I realize
there’s no dial tone.
“No, no, no.” Without a phone RJ can’t call me and tell me he made
it safely, that his brother is fine, that Joy and the baby are okay.
And I can’t tell him any of the things I planned to today. Like I want
to come visit him in New York. Or that I think I’m falling in love with
him.
As the next morning arrives, the phone lines finally come back on,
but my time in Alaska has run out. And just like that, all my hope
vanishes, and my heart breaks.
 CHAPTER 12
DOLPHIN D*CK

Lainey
Present Day

Today is not my day. At all. After a night of little sleep, I arrived at work
to be told two of our staff are off sick with the flu. Since it’s a Saturday,
and they happen to be friends and college aged, I’m guessing the flu is
code for hungover. Must be nice to have zero in the way of
responsibilities.
Since we’re short staffed and one of the girls on today is new, I’ve
been given the job of running the birthday party tour for a pair of three-
year-old twins. This typically isn’t in my job description.
For the most part, I get to avoid the swarms of people who visit the
exhibits every day, which is usually fine with me. Peopling takes a lot of
energy, and I don’t have much of that to spare these days.
Unfortunately for me, today I’m the resident expert on all things
aquatic, which apparently makes me the best candidate to run a tour. I was
handling the responsibility well until about twenty minutes ago, when I
found out the birthday party is for the sons of an NHL player. Apparently a
very attractive, popular one, based on the way the girls who work here are
freaking out.
I don’t know much about hockey, but I understand the basics: it takes
place on an ice rink, and there are sticks, pucks, and helmets involved.
Also, based on the fact that this hockey player has rented out the entire
aquarium for the afternoon, NHL players have a lot of money to throw
around.
The cake alone must have cost a small fortune. It’s in the shape of a
shark head coming out of the water. It’s very realistic. I saw the price list
for this event—it was on my manager’s desk—and I could pay my rent for
an entire year with what this hockey player shelled out for an afternoon
looking at aquatic animals.
In addition to this extravagant party, Miller Butterson—what an odd
last name—and his gorgeous wife have donated a huge amount of money
to fund the dolphin project I’m working on with one of the senior staff
members here. It’s all very exciting. And the reason I’m currently trying
not to hyperventilate.
I perform my sensory calming exercise for the third time in a row,
hoping that I’ll be able to make it through this experience without
embarrassing myself. On the positive side, at least I only have to contend
with one group of kids and their parents, rather than hundreds of families.
I fidget with the end of my braid as I stand at the front of the group
of adorable, well-dressed children. Their mothers are all very put together
and attractive, making me feel dowdy in my beige-on-beige uniform. I
stand with my back to the huge glass wall as I tell the children all about
Daphne and Dillon, our dolphins. I can totally do this. I can pretend I’m
presenting my findings to a panel of very small, cute professors.
Everything seems to be going smoothly until a dark-haired little boy
tugs on my arm. “Is that the daddy dolphin?”
I look over my shoulder just in time to see what has his attention.
“Oh my goodness.” I spread my arms and try to block the children’s view,
but it’s futile. The dolphins have decided that right now, during this very
expensive birthday party, is an excellent time to mate. They couldn’t wait
for the aquarium to be empty. Oh no, they have to get their stupid hump on
right here.
“It’s like a big pink lightsaber!” the dark-haired boy says gleefully to
the redheaded little boy beside him. The redheaded boy holds his hands in
front of his crotch and makes lightsaber sounds, and the dark-haired boy
joins in for a few seconds, pretending to have a sword fight with their
invisible lightsaber penises.
“Mommy! Look! That’s like Daddy’s peepee!” the dark-haired boy
yells.
 A petite woman with long auburn hair and huge boobs, who also
appears to be significantly pregnant, drags her attention away from the
giant of a man whose arm is draped protectively over her shoulder to
address her son. “Honey, we don’t broadcast that.”
“But it’s true!” he protests, little arms flailing.
“I know, sweetie, but we don’t want to make the other mommies
jealous.”
I can’t believe this is an actual conversation, happening right now, in
public. I’d like to believe this mother is joking, but considering the
statements are coming from a child and they’re generally not adept at
lying, I have to believe that what he’s saying is true. I inappropriately
wonder how that even works with a woman her size. And then, of course,
because my brain is a messy place these days, I think about RJ and how
. . . ample he was and how I’m close to the same size as that woman. I cut
off that line of thinking right away, because it’s unhelpful and
embarrassing.
Heedless of his mother’s warning, the little boy plasters himself
against the glass, fascinated by what he’s seeing, and yells, “Daddy! The
dolphin has a big peepee just like you! Mine is gonna be just like that!”
“Robbie, buddy, we don’t talk about that in public,” the handsome
man says, his eyes glued to his wife, or, more specifically, her cleavage.
Robbie’s mother finally registers what’s happening in the dolphin
tank, and her eyes go wide. “Holy hell, that thing is freaking huge.” She
elbows her husband in the side. “Maybe you’re part dolphin.”
Her husband drags his attention away from her chest and follows her
gaze to the spectacle behind me, eyes popping. “Wow. No wonder his
girlfriend is trying to get away.”
All hell breaks loose as a little blond boy starts crying. “Mommy!
The boy dolphin is trying to stab that girl dolphin!”
His equally blonde mother tucks him into her side and pats his head
reassuringly. “He’s not trying to stab her, honey, he’s trying to love her.”
I really hope no one asks me to explain dolphin mating rituals,
because I think I will likely burst into flames. “Okay, everyone! Let’s give
the dolphins some privacy and move on to the next exhibit! Who wants to
see the sharks? Raise your hands!” I shout into my headset, causing
feedback to echo through the cavernous room.
 Thankfully it distracts everyone from the fornicating dolphins. As I
usher a few of the most distraught kids and their parents on to the next
exhibit, apologizing profusely for something beyond my control but still
insanely embarrassing, a man at the back of the group catches my
attention.
My heart stutters as I take in what I swear is the familiar set of RJ’s
shoulders and the distinct shape of his cut jaw. I took up sketching again
just so I could try to capture the memory on paper. Yes, I’m that pathetic.
No, I haven’t gotten over him.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the bathroom is?” The woman’s
shoulder is covered in spit-up, and the infant in her arms looks like he’s
about to cry.
I drag my eyes away from what very well may be a complete
hallucination based on the lack of sleep I’ve had over the past several
months and point the poor mother in the direction of the women’s
bathroom. When I look back to where my hallucination/fantasy was
standing, all I see is a bunch of balloons.
I’m losing it today.
I rush to the front of the group and continue with the tour. Thankfully,
the sharks are behaving themselves, and it’s feeding time, which usually
goes over well with the kids. But not this time: one little boy starts crying
again when he realizes that they’re feeding the sharks fish and calls them
cannibals. Another boy asks if we’ll get to see the shark’s peepee too. His
mother pulls him aside and gives him a stern talking-to.
I keep glancing at the back of the group, trying to figure out if I’m
truly hallucinating. But then I get another glimpse of the man who came
into my life over a year ago, turned it upside down, and kept it that way.
It’s definitely RJ. I wonder if he’s related to one of these hockey
players. Maybe his brother relocated from LA or he has a cousin here. But
as I take in the other men at this birthday party, I realize they’re all
wearing the same baseball caps and T-shirts with the same logo, like it’s a
uniform. And RJ is no different, his huge, bulky frame filling out the T-
shirt that matches the rest of the men’s, all rivaling each other in size.
Shaken and very much confused, I lead the party through the tour,
stumbling over my words more than once. Of course the dolphins can’t be
the only ones acting up today. When we get to the sea otters, one of the
males presses himself against the glass and rubs himself on it, licking the
window. The kids think it’s hilarious, and the parents all pull out their
phones and take videos. At least the otters aren’t trying to mate.
I’m relieved when the tour is finally over, because my mouth is dry
and my stomach is in knots. I’d given up long ago on ever seeing RJ again
or contacting him, and now here he is. Over the past year I called every
alpaca farm in New York, but none of them linked to RJ, and without a last
name it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I can’t believe we
didn’t even exchange last names. I hoped I might hear from him once he
found the note I left for him at the cabin with my contact information;
instead there was nothing but painful silence. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t
hold my breath every time my phone rang the entire summer.
I stand there, wringing my hands, as he weaves through parents and
avoids stepping on small children.
His eyes move over my face in a familiar, searching way. I’m sure I
look like hell today. I was up several times last night and had trouble
falling back to sleep, so no amount of concealer could cover up my dark
circles this morning. Also, my entire uniform is beige, and the pants have
pleats in the front, so neither the style nor the color is flattering on me—or
anyone else, for that matter.
He stops just inside my personal-space bubble, which makes my
palms sweatier than usual. I’m forced to tip my head back so I can look at
his face. His perfect, gorgeous face. He looks exactly like I remember,
except his hair is shorter, as if he’s had it cut recently.
“God, I thought I’d never see you again, and here you are,” he says in
that deep baritone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on
end.
I just stare at him, incapable of ungluing my tongue from the roof of
my mouth. He’s so beautiful and real. At least I think he’s real. I hope so—
otherwise I need to see a doctor.
His brow furrows, eyes swimming with an emotion I can’t quite
identify. Hurt, maybe? Or worry? “Lainey? Do you remember me?”
“Of course I remember you, RJ,” I whisper.
Relief softens his expression. “It’s so good to see you.” He wraps his
thick, strong arms around me and pulls me against him.
I’m shocked stupid by the contact and the sudden wave of calm that
accompanies his touch. I inhale deeply, breathing in the familiar smell of
his cologne and the scent that is uniquely him. Emotions slam into me:
sadness, longing, relief, and fear. His hold on me tightens enough that I let
out a small squeak.
He loosens his grip and takes a cautious step back. “I’m sorry. It’s
just so good to see you after all this time.” He runs his palms down my
arms and takes my hands in his, squeezing gently. “You look amazing.”
I glance down at my outfit, wondering if maybe he needs glasses or
something.
He doesn’t let go of my hands. “How are you? What are you doing in
Chicago? I mean—obviously you’re working, but what brought you here?
Are you staying?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” I reply, like an idiot, because that’s what
I’ve become, apparently. I don’t know how to handle him being here. That
brief wave of calm has disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and in its wake
is bewilderment.
He laughs a little. “You’re right. It is a lot of questions. Let’s start
with one. How are you?”
“I’m . . .” Exhausted, elated, terrified, confused. “Good.”
“Good. You look good.” His thumb smooths back and forth over my
knuckles. It feels nice, but it’s also distracting. “What brought you to
Chicago?”
It’s closer to New York than Washington and a way to escape my
parents’ overprotectiveness. And a way to prove to them and myself that I
could do this on my own. But I don’t say any of that. “I was offered a job,
and I thought I should take it.”
“That’s amazing, Lainey. Does that mean you finished your
master’s?”
“It does. Yes.”
He hugs me again, not as vigorously or as long as the first time, but it
still steals my breath and threatens what little composure I have. “Does
that mean you’re here permanently?”
“I have a temporary contract, but I should be here for another six
months or so, as long as I don’t mess it up. You know, scarring small
children for life with fornicating dolphins and such.”
“It’s not like you can control those horny bastards. They can’t help
that they like to get it on for fun, right? And clearly they don’t mind an
audience.” He smiles, but the awkwardness of this whole reunion makes it
seem uncertain.
 “Clearly not.” I shift my gaze away from his, unable to erase the
memories of RJ and me getting it on pretty much anywhere we could,
anytime we wanted, during those brief weeks in Alaska. “What about you?
What brings you to Chicago? Are you visiting friends?”
His expression shifts from excited to distressed between one blink
and the next.
Before he can answer, another man dressed in a red shirt and ball cap
approaches, giving me a curious once-over. “Hey, Rook, sorry to interrupt,
but—uh, we need you for a minute.”
“Just hold on.” He doesn’t even look at the man.
“We’re taking a team picture—you’ll only be a minute, then you can
get back to your friend here.” His gaze darts from RJ to our clasped hands.
“Team picture?” I glance back and forth between them.
“Lainey . . .” RJ says my name like an apology.
And it all clicks into place. All the hockey stuff in his cabin—how
huge he is, and built—his stamina, the matching T-shirts and ball caps.
“I thought you said you were an alpaca farmer from New York.”
 CHAPTER 13
NOT-SO-LITTLE WHITE LIES

Rook

All the awesomeness that comes with finally seeing Lainey again
disappears with that single statement. It’s amazing what a person can
forget in a year. Such as the way I built our entire brief relationship on a
lie.
It doesn’t matter that I had a plan all worked out to explain why I
lied. Because the truth is, I had plenty of opportunities to tell her—and
every time I was about to, something would happen or I’d find a reason to
put it off. Until it was too late. I was too afraid that I would lose what we
had, that it would change things, that she would see me differently. I lost
her anyway, though, because she didn’t answer when I called from LA.
Even worse, she didn’t leave me a way to contact her: no note, no number,
nothing.
“RJ?” Lainey looks confused, and hurt, and nervous, and just so
damn beautiful.
“I can explain.”
She wrings her hands. “Are you a professional hockey player now?”
“Yeah, but—”
“For how long?”
I blow out a breath. There’s no point in lying anymore. “This will be
my seventh season with Chicago.”
“Seventh?” Her lips flatten into a line, and that hurt shifts, turning
into something that looks like betrayal. “You lied to me about your job?”
 “I was going to tell you the truth, I swear.” It’s the worst cop-out.
Her brow furrows. “It was the two of us for weeks—you had plenty
of time to tell me the truth. Why would you lie in the first place?”
“There’s a logical explanation, Lainey. I promise, if you’ll let me
explain, it’ll all make sense.”
She continues to wring her hands. “How can I even believe you?
What else did you lie about?”
“Rookie, Lance, you two comin’? We need you for the team picture,”
Alex calls from behind me.
Fuck. I forgot that Lance is still here, watching this train derail.
Lainey takes a step back. “I have to get back to work anyway.”
“Just give me another minute,” I call out.
Alex throws an arm over my shoulder, completely oblivious to the
tension flaring or Lainey’s anxiety, which I’m far too familiar with. “Sorry
to interrupt, but I need to borrow this guy for a minute—can’t take a team
picture without the captain.”
“Captain?” Lainey parrots, eyeing me like I’m a stranger and not the
man she spent almost six weeks playing house with.
“You being all modest again, man?” Alex slaps me on the chest.
“This guy is the best player in the league.”
“Uh, Alex, I think—” Lance tries to interrupt.
“You’re an excellent player too, Romero.” He winks at Lainey. “You
did a great job on the tour, especially dealing with the whole dolphin
situation.”
“Thank you. That usually doesn’t happen during birthday parties.
Typically Dillon waits until evening to get frisky with Daphne.” Lainey
takes another step back, muttering something under her breath as her
cheeks flush.
“Do you think we can put a hold on the team photo? I need a minute
with Lainey. We know each other.” I pin them both with a meaningful look.
Alex’s eyebrows pop, while Lance’s pull down and then shoot up. It
would be funny if things weren’t so tense right now. Alex drops his arm
and steps back, eyes darting between us. “Sorry, sorry. Sure thing. Liam
and Lane are getting antsy to open their presents.”
Lainey’s still trying to back away slowly.
“Please. It’s not what you think.”
 Her spine straightens, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You
don’t know what I think.”
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” I glance over at the information
desk, where three girls are huddled together, watching us.
“I can’t—I’m in the middle of a shift.” She takes another step toward
a door that reads STAFF ONLY.
“What about when you get off? We could meet for coffee somewhere
close by?” I realize how inappropriate the first part sounds after it’s out of
my mouth.
Either she doesn’t notice, or she pretends not to. “I can’t. I’m busy.”
“It’s been a year, Lainey. I tried to call when I got to LA, but you
never picked up. All I want is the chance to talk—at least give me that.”
“There was a storm. A tree took out the phone lines and all the power.
Even the generator didn’t work.” Her rigid stance wavers, and her bottom
lip trembles.
That explains why the phone just kept ringing and ringing and
eventually all I’d get was a click and a dial tone, but she could’ve left me
with a way to get in touch with her. “I didn’t know about the phones. Why
didn’t you leave me a way to contact you?” I take a step forward for every
step she takes back.
She blinks, confused. “I did. I left a note with my phone number and
email.”
My stomach twists with this news. I’d considered going back to
Alaska after LA, but things had been so difficult with Max’s birth, there
hadn’t been time. “I didn’t find one when I went back this summer.”
“I left it in your bedroom. And maybe it was a good thing you didn’t
find it, considering you’re a liar.” Her chin trembles, and her hands flutter
in the air before she clasps them together in front of her.
I was in such a rush that morning, worried about my brother and Joy
and the baby, wishing I’d done things differently with Lainey. I didn’t even
think to leave her my cell. “I made a mistake—granted, it was a big one. I
just . . . you didn’t recognize me. I didn’t think . . . can I give you my
number now? I get that this is a lot to take in, and maybe you need time to
think? I can give you that, but please, at least give me a chance to
explain.”
She shakes her head, but she pulls her phone out of her pocket, keys
in the pass code, and hands it over to me. I quickly add myself as a contact
before she can change her mind. Then I send myself a message to make
sure I have her number before I hand it back.
I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I shove them into my
pockets. “Can I call you later so we can set up a coffee date?”
She holds her phone to her chest, eyes darting to the STAFF ONLY
door and then to the group of women gathered by the information desk
before coming back to me. There’s no warmth, just wary mistrust. “I don’t
even know you. Why would I go on a date with you?”
“Don’t say that. You know me, Lainey. The only thing you didn’t
know about was my job. That’s it.” I take another step toward her, but she
shakes her head and backs away.
“That’s it? It’s not a little lie, RJ. You told me you were an alpaca
farmer instead of telling me you were the captain of a professional hockey
team. That’s kind of a pretty huge detail to leave out, don’t you think?”
Her voice shakes, whether with anger or another emotion I can’t be sure,
but she looks as if she’s on the verge of tears, and I hate that I’m the one
who did that to her.
The door behind her opens. “Lainey? Sorry to interrupt, but I need
your help with the otters. Ollie keeps trying to make moves on all the
female otters, and you’re the only one who seems to be able to control him
when he’s like this.”
“Of course. I’ll be right with you.” I don’t like how relieved she
seems by the interruption. She spares me another wary glance. “I have to
go. Take care of yourself, RJ, if that’s even your name.” She spins on her
sneakered heel and speed walks away from me.
Even in the awful beige pants her ass looks fantastic, which is a
terrible thing for me to notice or focus on.
I take my hat off and run my hand through my hair, cursing under my
breath. What are the chances that I’d run into her here, of all places? That
she would end up in my city? At least I know where she works, and I have
her number. Now I just have to work on getting her to agree to talk to me.

I head back to the party, take part in the team photo, and watch fifteen kids
from newborn to six years old turn a room upside down faster than a bunch
of drunk frat guys on a bender.
Alex steps up beside me and sips out of a red cup. “You all right?”
 “Yeah.” I nod, even though I’m probably the furthest thing from all
right. For a few minutes I was ecstatic. Now I’m confused, disappointed,
and freaked out. I just want to sit Lainey down and make her hear me out.
And I want to understand what the hell happened to the note she left and
why it wasn’t there when I went back this summer.
I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her, and I figured it was
mutual. One minute she was the center of my world, and the next she was
just gone.
“I’m gonna call bullshit, Rook. Wanna tell me what’s going on with
the tour guide?”
“Lainey. Her name is Lainey. And we had a . . . thing a while back.”
I’m being vague, mostly because explaining this sucks. I’ve never told
anyone the full story about what happened with her.
“She doesn’t really seem like your usual type, or what used to be
your usual type, anyway.”
I nod in agreement. “You’re right about that.”
Alex looks around and slips a flask out of his pocket. “You look like
you could use a shot.”
I lift a brow.
He motions to the screaming gaggle of children, players, and wives.
“I know you’re here because you’re the team captain and you want to
make a good impression on your teammates, not because you love
spending your Saturday afternoon with a bunch of screaming kids. Add in
whatever’s going on between you and the tour guide, and you definitely
deserve a drink. Besides, I figure this’ll get you to talk. Can’t keep it all
bottled up forever, Rook. I know the last couple of years have been
intense.”
He has a point. I hold out my glass of lukewarm soda. I’ll leave my
car here and pick it up in the morning if I need to. And based on how
things are going, I have a feeling a lot of alcohol will be involved in the
rest of my evening.
“So, tell me what’s going on with the tour guide.”
I drain half the cup in one gulp. “I met her on Kodiak Island last
summer.”
He’s in the middle of a sip and cough chokes. “That’s the girl from
Alaska? I thought you said she was from Washington. What’s she doing
here? Don’t tell me you have another stalker.” The year before I took over
for Alex as captain of the team, we got pretty close, mostly because he
took me under his wing and mentored me. At the time I didn’t realize he
was grooming me to take his place. Since then we’ve stayed pretty tight.
“Yes, she’s the girl from Alaska. Yes, she’s from Washington. She got
offered a job here and took it, and I’m pretty sure she’s not stalking me.”
“How can you be sure? I mean, you’re not that hard to find.”
“She wasn’t big on technology.” I scrub a hand over my face. “And I
never told her I played professional hockey.”
“Too busy getting busy to be bothered with the chitchat?” Alex asks.
“No. Well, I mean yeah, there was lots of . . . sex, but that wasn’t
what it was all about.”
“So how is it that you being a professional hockey player never came
up?”
“I might’ve lied about where I lived and what I did for a living.” I
mumble it quickly and drain my cup. I could use another drink. Or just
downing whatever is left in his flask.
“Why lie?”
“She didn’t recognize me, and she wasn’t into hockey. You know how
it is with bunnies. They’re just in for the fuck and the ride, right?”
“But she’s not a bunny, so I’m not getting why it would matter then.”
He looks confused more than anything.
I sigh, aware explaining my rationale isn’t going to be easy. “I
wanted to be normal for a few weeks.”
Violet squeezes her way between us, snatches Alex’s cup, sniffs it,
and raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, Alex? You better be careful how sauced
you get. Your parents said they’d have a sleepover in the pool house with
Robbie, and you know how I get in my second trimester.”
Alex grins and bends to whisper something in her ear. She hands him
back the cup, turning her attention to me. “I assume you’re coming out for
drinks after this shitshow.” She motions to the table of children shoveling
cake into their mouths.
I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, we’ll see.”
“Rook’s trying to hook up with the tour guide,” Alex supplies.
Violet grins knowingly. “You mean the poor woman who was trying
to hide that huge dolphin dick?”
“That’s the one,” Alex replies.
 She gives me a light punch on the arm. “My respect for you just went
up a few notches. I had no idea you were into the nerdy chicks.”
“She’s not nerdy,” I say defensively.
Violet gives me a look. “Uh, she knows an insane amount about
aquatic animals and can rhyme off statistics like a Beat poet. Also, as a
nerd, I can easily identify other nerds—and she is definitely one. It’s too
bad they can’t put her in something other than beige, because she’s also
super gorgeous. You should invite her along. Introducing her to your
friends will go a long way toward getting you into her pants—if that’s your
plan, anyway.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? When was the last time you went out with someone,
Rook?” Violet looks like she’s about to start in on me about dating. It
wouldn’t be the first time in the past year.
At one point Violet and the rest of the girls mentioned setting me up
with one of Poppy’s massage therapist friends I’d been interested in back
when I first came to Chicago. But I wasn’t in the right headspace, and I
didn’t want to make things awkward or mess up a friendship if things
didn’t work out.
“Nerdy tour guide is the Alaska girl from last summer.” Alex passes
me the flask behind her back.
“Wait, what? She’s Alaska girl? That’s so awesome!” Violet jumps up
and down once with excitement. It quickly turns into a grimace, and she
grabs on to her boobs. I look away because Violet, for being as small as
she is, has a huge rack, and she’s currently wearing a shirt that shows off a
significant amount of cleavage, and all the jumping and self-groping only
draws more attention to it. Also, I don’t want Alex to catch me looking.
“Yeah, I don’t know if awesome is how I would describe this
situation.”
“Why not? It’s like fate.” She grabs Alex by the shirt and tips her
head back so she can look up at him. “Just like when you accidentally let
your nerd hang out when you mentioned how I was reading Fielding at a
hockey game. My beaver took the reins that night.”
He gazes down at her, wearing a half smile, all the fucking love in
the world oozing out of them like freaking rainbows. Actually, I think he
might be looking down her top. “Best damn night of my life.”
 I’m about to ask them if they want some privacy, but Violet returns
her attention to me. “You have to go talk to her.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it’s that simple. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Apparently he lied about his job,” Alex tells her.
Violet frowns. “Why would you do that?”
I shrug. “Because I’m an idiot. She didn’t know who I was, and it was
kind of nice being a regular guy for a few weeks, you know what I mean?”
“So what kind of job did you tell her you have?”
“I told her I was an alpaca farmer, which would’ve been true if I
didn’t play professional hockey.”
Her frown deepens. “That’s an oddly specific lie.”
“My parents were alpaca farmers.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Really. How did I not know that?”
“It doesn’t come up much in conversation, I guess?”
“Okay, so you lied about your job—no big deal, right? Unless you
lied about something else?”
I scrub a hand over my mouth and mutter, “My name.”
“I’m sorry, did you say your name? Why lie about that?”
“Well, like I said, she didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t like I made
up a fake one. I just gave her my nickname instead.”
She blinks a few times. “You told her your name was Rookie?”
“No, I told her it was RJ, which is what my dad always called me and
what my brother and sister still call me now. So it wasn’t totally a lie. I
mean, my name is pretty uncommon. Shit. I handled this all wrong, and
now she’s going to look me up and see all the bunny crap.”
“So was it just that you didn’t want her to know you used to let the
puck bunnies use you like their personal dildo?”
“No. That wasn’t it. I mean, now it’s obviously going to be an issue,
but I just wanted to be normal for a few weeks. And now she knows I lied
to her about my job and my name, so I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want
anything to do with me. And even if she’s willing to talk to me, once she
realizes what else I’ve left out she’ll probably never want to speak to me
again.”
This fuckup is on me. I kept putting off telling her the truth, maybe
in part because I hoped that if she fell for me the way I fell for her, by the
time I finally told her what I really did for a living, it wouldn’t matter.
 “Well, that’s a complication, since you’re still obviously hung up on
her.”
“Yeah. I have her number, though, so that’s good, right?”
“If she’ll answer your calls, sure,” Alex says.
“And what happens when she finds out about my personal
relationship history?”
“You mean that you used to be a manwhore?” Violet asks.
“Yeah. That.”
Violet puts a hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “If it’s
meant to be, she’ll get over it—as long as you didn’t give her some kind of
lasting STD as a gift.”
 CHAPTER 14
WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW . . .

Lainey

Eden’s disembodied head appears in the doorway of the observation room.

She’s the reason I have this job. We grew up homeschooled in the same
community, but when she became a teenager she went to a local school and
then went on to attend regular college. We still stayed close and even
managed to keep in contact when she moved to Chicago a couple of years
ago, despite my not being on social media.
When things got a little crazy with my family after I returned from
Alaska, Eden suggested I come out for a visit. Since I’d already braved a
plane before, I decided I could do it again. Also, my parents were back to
smothering me, especially since I came home brokenhearted. My mother
never outright said I told you so, but it was implied. Often.
I went for a weeklong visit, fell in love with the aquarium, and a
couple of months later returned, this time with a job and an apartment.
“Hey. I figured I’d find you in here.” Eden lets the door close behind
her.
“It’s peaceful.” I turn off the tablet clutched in my hands, almost glad
for the break from yet another distressing article I’ve stumbled upon.
“Researching again?”
“Something like that. Am I needed up front?” Occasionally I’ll have
to work at the information desk. I don’t mind talking to people one-on-
one, especially when they’re asking about the animals.
She leans against the door. “I’d stay put for right now.”
 “He’s back again, isn’t he?” I fold my hands in my lap to keep from
wringing them.
“Yeah. He’s back again.”
It’s been over a week. Nine days, actually. Nine long days since RJ—
otherwise known as Rook Bowman, captain for Chicago’s NHL hockey
team and apparently quite the notorious playboy, according to the many,
many accounts on the World Wide Web—dropped back into my life.
Since then he’s stopped by the aquarium every single day. He’s also
called and texted daily and has taken to sending me rather extravagant
gifts. Well, extravagant by my standards, but I’ve also discovered that his
salary is a staggering eleven and a half million dollars a year, so the
hundreds he’s likely spending on ostentatious flower arrangements and gift
baskets is similar to tossing a handful of dollar bills into the air and
watching them fall like snow into a pit of lava—or the mouth of a shark.
“He seems really . . . apologetic,” Eden offers.
I give her a hard look. “Not you too.”
She crosses over to sit beside me on the bench. The seals swim by,
unaffected by my anxiety or my slightly morose mood. “I understand that
this is difficult, especially because he lied to you, but maybe he had a
reason?”
“I can only imagine what that reason is.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to hear it from him instead of going on
speculation?”
“I don’t need to talk to him, because it’s not speculation, it’s sarcasm
—which I know is the lowest form of wit, but I looked him up, Eden. The
picture the media paints isn’t very pretty.” I open the article again and pass
her the tablet.
Eden points to the date. “This article is old.”
“There are more recent ones.”
She arches a brow. “How recent?”
I focus on the happy seals. “From a couple of years ago. It doesn’t
matter. He lied.”
“Probably because he was worried you’d react like this,” Eden says
softly. “I understand you’re upset, but don’t you think he deserves—”
“Do not say it, Eden.”
She sighs and puts her arm around my shoulder. “All of these rumors
you’re so focused on are old news. I know you’re scared, but you can’t
avoid him forever, and you know it. And you’ll never know if he’s really
just a lying asshole with a pretty face and rock-star moves in bed if you
don’t at least sit down and hear what he has to say.”
“I never thought I was going to see him again,” I whisper, fighting
tears. “And I just started seeing someone.”
Eden makes a face. “You mean Walter? That guy in your building?”
“He’s nice.” And he is nice. He works in IT; he’s quiet, likes Italian
food, has a cat named Sam—and he’s kind. He also knows about my
circumstances and hasn’t bailed, which is saying something, since I’m
kind of a huge mess. The last time we went out he kissed me good night.
Like him, it was nice. No fireworks or shooting stars, but it wasn’t
unpleasant either.
“So is the weather today—it doesn’t mean he’s right for you.”
“And just because RJ keeps showing up here doesn’t mean he’s right
for me either.”
“Or maybe it’s a sign. I mean, think about it. I get a job out here, and
all of a sudden they need someone who specializes in dolphin reproduction
behaviors? How many people are qualified for that specific job?”
“Anyone who specializes in aquatic mammals has the right
background.”
“But they hired you—after a phone interview, which never happens,
by the way.” She gives me an I told you so kind of look.
“They’d already met me in person, because I’d been here before.”
“Okay, I can give you that one. But what about the fact that his
teammate’s wife funds the initiative you’ve been hired for, and then they
throw a birthday party and he ends up here. It feels a lot like fate
intervening to me, and I usually don’t even believe in things like fate. You
have to give him a chance, Lainey.”
“I’ll think about it.”

The following day RJ shows up while I’m covering the information desk.
It’s a Tuesday, which is one of the slower days of the week. Not that it’s
ever slow per se, but there are fewer staff on days like this one. And it
means I can’t run away and hide in one of the anterooms of the exhibits.
He’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. His hair is styled instead of
covered with a ball cap. He looks just as gorgeous as he did a year ago, if
not even more so. Today his arms are loaded with white flowers. Truce.
Surrender. Peace.
I plaster my hands to the countertop so I don’t give in to the urge to
touch my hair. My heart stutters in my chest and then kicks into a full
gallop as he approaches the desk.
“Hi.” His voice is soft and warm, like marshmallows melting in hot
chocolate.
“Hello.” Mine is hard and sharp like knives.
“I brought these for you. I don’t know if you’ve gotten all the other
things I’ve left for you or not—”
“I got them all.” Each one has been like twisting a knife in a wound,
because they’ve all been attached to memories from Alaska—which is
clearly the point.
He sets the bouquet of flowers on the desk; the fragrant scent of the
blossoms surrounds me. I want to reach out and stroke the pretty petals,
but instead I keep my hands on the counter. “Lainey, please, can we talk? I
know I lied to you, and you have every right to be angry with me about
that—but if you just give me a chance to explain, then maybe you’ll
understand that it wasn’t my intention to ever hurt you.”
“I can’t right now.”
“I understand that, but can we set something up?” His hand covers
mine before I can pull it away and hide it under the counter. “Just—please,
Lainey, all I want to do is talk.”
My heart aches, and my skin burns where he touches it. “Fine. We
can talk.”
He clasps my hand between his, lids fluttering shut as he lifts it to his
lips, brushing them over my knuckle. I can’t breathe through the sudden
emotional deluge. I pull my hand free from his grasp and take a step back,
even though my head feels light.
“Tonight? Are you free? I can come to you if that works best.”
“No!” I lace my fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “I mean—
tonight won’t work, and I would prefer if we did this in a public place.”
“Uh, that might not be the best idea. Chicago is a hockey city—I get
recognized a lot here, so it would be ideal if I either came to you or you
come to me.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that. “It would be better if I came to you,
then.”
 “Would tomorrow night work? Or—Thursday’s your day off, right?
That might be better for you.”
“How do you know Thursday’s my day off?”
“Uhhhh . . .” RJ taps on the counter nervously. “I might’ve asked
about your schedule in exchange for tickets to the first game of the season.
I can get you tickets too, if you want—for whatever game you want,
really.”
“I’ll have to get back to you about Thursday.” I also need to speak to
Eden about taking bribes.
“You’ll call me—or text?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
I remain stone faced apart from my arched brow.
“Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

On Thursday morning I’m standing on the curb waiting for a car to pick
me up. Apparently RJ has sent a taxi for me—or something. I assume he
didn’t come to pick me up himself so as not to make me uncomfortable. I
have a car, but I’m not sure driving is a good idea, considering how
anxious I am.
I looked up his address on my computer. It’s in a very nice
neighborhood, from what I can tell. A black SUV with dark tinted
windows pulls up to the curb. I step back, assuming someone is going to
get out. I don’t want to get hit with the door.
A man dressed in a black suit, wearing sunglasses, rounds the hood of
the SUV. “Miss Carver?”
I look around, expecting someone with the same last name as me to
breeze by, but there’s no one there.
“Miss Lainey Carver?” The man looks at something in his hand.
“Yes?”
“I’m here to take you to Mr. Bowman’s.”
I glance at the nondescript black SUV and then back at the man in the
suit. “Can you give me a minute, please?”
“Certainly, Miss Carver.”
He folds his hands in front of him and stands beside the SUV while I
pull up RJ’s contact and hit the Call button.
 It doesn’t even finish ringing once. “Please tell me you haven’t
changed your mind.”
“Welllll, that depends,” I say slowly.
“On what?” His panic is frustratingly endearing.
“There’s a black SUV and a man in a suit claiming he’s here to take
me to you, but I’ve watched enough crime shows to know better than to
trust a man in a suit driving an SUV with tinted windows.”
“You can ask him to tell you his name—it’s George Oriole.”
“That sounds like a fake name.”
“It’s not. I promise.”
“And I should have faith in your promises? How do I even know RJ
isn’t something you made up?” It’s a legitimate question. He’s been
dishonest with me before. In fact, everything I know about him is based on
a lie.
He sighs. “RJ isn’t a made-up name for me either—it’s what my dad
used to call me, and my brother and sister still do most of the time. It’s
only my teammates and non–family members who know me as Rook or
Rookie. Please ask him his name, Lainey, so I can see you.”
“Fine. Give me a second.” I relent, because as angry as I still am, I
want some answers. “Excuse me, sir, can you please tell me your name?
First and last,” I call to the suit. He’s eerily still.
“George Oriole, Miss Carver. I’m in Mr. Bowman’s employ as a
driver. Please allow me to take you to him.”
“Thank you.” I hold up a finger and give him my back. “He gave me
the right name.”
“So you’re on your way?”
“What if he’s not actually George Oriole? What if he hijacked the
SUV on the way here and he’s posing as him? What if George’s body is in
the trunk?” I realize I sound like a lunatic, but this is the kind of thing that
happens in crime shows all the time. Also, last night I couldn’t sleep, so I
stayed up too late watching TV, and I woke up on the couch after midnight
to that exact scenario playing on the screen.
To his credit, RJ doesn’t even question my sanity—he simply tells
me to take a picture of the driver and message it to him, so I do, and he
confirms that it is, indeed, George.
“I’m getting in the SUV now.”
 “Okay, great. I would’ve come to get you myself, but I wasn’t sure
how you’d feel about that.”
“This is better, thanks. I’ll see you soon.” I end the call, and George
opens the back door, holding out a hand to help me in.
I feel very much like I’ve entered the twilight zone. Bottles of water,
both still and sparkling, sit in an ice bucket in the center console. There’s
also a take-out cup containing a hot beverage. I pick it up and give it a
sniff.
“Mr. Bowman requested a hot chocolate for you, Miss Carver—I
hope it’s to your liking.”
“Thank you—I’m sure it’s perfect.” I settle in and watch the scenery
change as we leave the Loop and head toward the outskirts of the city. The
farther we get from my apartment building, the bigger and nicer the
houses are. We pass grand-looking estates with manicured front lawns and
gorgeous landscaping.
I shouldn’t be at all surprised when the SUV pulls down the driveway
of one of the really nice, really big houses. It’s a two-story Craftsman with
a huge wraparound porch. In some ways the rustic-ness reminds me of his
cabin in Alaska, except tailored to the city.
I pop a breath mint and crunch down on it as George pulls up to the
front steps and puts the car in park. My palms are sweaty and my mouth is
dry as I gather my purse and run my hands over my thighs. I’m wearing
jeans and a sweater. I went light on the makeup, only covering up the dark
circles under my eyes and throwing on a coat of mascara—and, okay,
maybe a bit of eyeliner and a hint of shadow too. I want to look decent but
not like I tried too hard for him.
George opens the door and extends a hand, helping me out of the car.
“I’ll be here to take you home when you’re ready, Miss Carver.”
“Thank you, George.”
“It’s been my pleasure.”
As I climb the front steps, the door opens. I almost expect to be
greeted by a butler, but it’s RJ standing there, waiting for me. He has one
hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans; his black T-shirt stretches across
his broad chest.
“Thank you for agreeing to come.” He moves back, allowing me to
step inside.
 “You’re welcome.” I’m both relieved and disappointed when he
doesn’t try to hug me.
I take in the spacious entrance, cataloging the decor. Despite the
house being huge, probably twice the size of the cabin in Alaska, it still
manages to have a homey, cozy feel to it. The floors are rough-hewn
hardwood; the color palette is warm and light and the decor a combination
of rustic country and modern elements.
I leave my shoes at the front door, a habit I’ve never been able to
shake, having grown up on a farm. I follow RJ down a wide hallway to a
state-of-the-art kitchen. I wonder if he cooks at all or if he has someone
who does that for him. All the articles I’ve read about him and the horrible
pictures I’ve seen chronicling his womanizing ways come to mind, and I
have to wonder how many women he’s paraded through this house—how
many parties has he thrown?
“You have a nice house,” I croak, feeling awkward and vulnerable.
“Thanks. I just moved in at the end of last season, in June.” He stops
in the middle of the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Water would be good, please.” I loathe how relieved I am about the
short span of time he’s lived here, which significantly reduces the number
of women who are also intimate with this space and him.
“I have grapefruit juice.”
My heart skips a stupid beat and takes off at a sprint. “Just the water,
but thank you.”
He nods, chewing on the inside of his lip as he turns away, retrieves a
glass, and fills it with water. “We can sit outside, if you want.”
“Sure.” I hate how uncomfortable things are between us. I don’t
know how to deal with any of this. He feels like a stranger despite the fact
that we lived together in a tiny little bubble a year ago. A bubble that’s left
me with no end of repercussions.
RJ’s sprawling backyard is heavily landscaped, with a covered sitting
area, an outdoor cooking space, an in-ground pool, and beyond that, an
outdoor hockey rink. The amount of money it would cost to have all of
this, especially in a place like Chicago, is mind boggling.
I’m fortunate my apartment is subsidized by my job at the aquarium,
otherwise I’d never be able to afford it.
I take one of the single chairs, and RJ sits on the love seat
perpendicular to me. “How are you?” he asks.
 “Very confused and anxious,” I say honestly.
He nods. “I’m sorry I lied about who I was.”
“So am I. It feels like everything between us balanced on that lie, RJ
—or should I just call you Rook?”
“I like it that you call me RJ.”
“I’m sure that was purposeful, giving me a name that would be
impossible to search.” Before I found out who and what he is, I’d idealized
him in my head, but now . . . I don’t know.
“Not the way you think.” He exhales a long, slow breath, his
expression pained. “I had a reason for keeping the truth from you, Lainey,
and I never meant for it to hurt you.”
“Because you never planned to see me again after Alaska,” I shoot
back.
“That’s not true.”
I arch a brow. “We lived on different ends of the country—it wasn’t
like a long-distance relationship was an option after six weeks together. It
was a summer fling.” I say the words because it’s what I’ve told myself in
my head this past year. But my heart says something different, and hope
beats like a hummingbird’s wings against the fragile cage inside.
“Maybe it started out that way, but it was a lot more than that. At
least for me, anyway.” RJ keeps running his hands over his thighs. He
props his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “I know we weren’t
together long. And maybe we never talked about it being anything beyond
a fling, but I wanted it to be more. And then Joy went into labor, and I had
to—”
“How is Joy? And the baby?” For the past year I’ve wondered if
everything was okay—if they were okay or not.
“She’s great, and so is Max.”
“She had a boy.”
“She did. He’s growing like a weed. They’re not planning on having
any more children because it was such a high-risk pregnancy, but everyone
is happy and healthy.”
I nod. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“I tried to call when I got to LA, Lainey, at least twenty times. Things
were hectic and stressful, but I didn’t want you to worry—and then I was
worried because you weren’t answering, and things were really touch and
go with Joy and the baby. Kyle was beside himself. Stevie and I have never
seen him like that before. I thought he was going to have a complete
breakdown.”
“I’m so sorry.” And I am—for the pain he endured, for the fear he
must have experienced, for the danger they might have been in.
“It was rough at the time, but everyone is doing well now. Would you
like to see a picture of Max? He’s a real bruiser.” RJ slips his phone out of
his pocket and waits for my nod before he pulls up his photo app. “Do you
want to sit here? It’ll be easier to see them.” He pats the cushion beside
him.
I stare at the empty space. He’s a big man, taking up a lot of that love
seat. He shifts to make more room for me, obviously sensing my
hesitation.
“Or you can stay there. Whatever’s more comfortable for you.”
I relent again—partly because the way he’s sitting will make it
awkward if I don’t move next to him. I shift to the spot beside him, and he
moves the phone so it’s between us. “This is Max in the hospital.
Apparently babies are a lot bigger when the mom has gestational diabetes,
which I didn’t realize.”
“Geez, how much did he weigh?” I cringe at the idea of pushing that
head out of my vagina.
“Almost eleven pounds, I think?”
“Oh my goodness, that’s huge! Some three-month-olds barely weigh
that!”
“Yeah, Joy ended up having a C-section. He was breech, and there
was something going on with the placenta. I don’t know all the details, but
it wasn’t an easy pregnancy or birth for her—or anyone, really.” He flips
through pictures showing his nephew at various stages over the past year.
There are pictures of RJ holding him as an infant, of Max in a tiny
Chicago jersey, of him holding on to RJ’s hands as he takes a wobbly step.
“It looks like you’re a good uncle.” My voice cracks, and I have to
clear my throat as I fight to hold back tears.
“Being an uncle is easy. I get to spoil the shit out of him and then
give him back to his mom when he gets cranky.”
“Sounds about right.” That’s always the way with uncles, aunts, and
grandparents.
“I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like since they’re so far away,
but I try to make the most of my time when I’m with them. I’ll get to
spend time with them when I play in LA, which is good.” RJ covers my
hand with his. “I should have taken you with me—to LA. I should’ve
booked two seats and brought you, but my brother was so panicked, and I
didn’t think it through.”
“You couldn’t bring me with you, though, because you’d lied about
who you were.” I slip my hand out from under his; he tightens his grip for
a second before he lets me go.
RJ sets his phone on the table and scrubs a hand over his face,
muttering a curse. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want to
ruin things between us. I figured if I told you the truth, you’d leave, so I
kept putting it off—and the longer I did, the harder it got to tell you.” His
gaze meets mine, imploring me to understand. “After I left you, I realized
I had so many things I still needed to tell you, including my truth. I had
this plan in my head that, once I got to LA, I’d tell you everything.”
“Why lie at all? Why taint everything with untruths?”
“You didn’t recognize me.”
It’s a simple explanation that tells me nothing and everything. When
he doesn’t continue, I push. “And? That’s supposed to explain why you
built what we had on a lie? You had weeks to tell me the truth, but instead
you layered on more lies to support the one you started with.”
“I omitted more than anything, but I regret not saying anything. I just
wanted to be normal for a while. You don’t understand what it’s like—”
“You mean all the parties and the women?” My stomach rolls as the
images I’ve seen online come back to haunt me. I can’t get them out of my
head. “I looked you up, RJ, as soon as I realized you’d lied. What I found
is nothing like the man I was with in Alaska. I don’t even know who you
are.”
“Yes, you do, Lainey. I’m the man you met on the plane who
comforted you, the one you spent all those weeks with, the one who taught
you how to drive and held you through a thunderstorm. That’s the real
me.”
He moves to touch me again, so I shoot up off the love seat and step
out of reach. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“I get that it looks bad—I really do, Lainey—but if you check all the
dates you’ll see it was years ago. I came from a small town and was
drafted young. I made some choices that weren’t the best, and I live in a
city where hockey players are on par with celebrities—in an era where
everything that should be private is public fodder. My mom and my sister
wouldn’t speak to me for almost a year because of all the shit out there, so
I know what the consequences of my actions are.”
I scoff at that last part. He has no idea what kind of repercussions
I’ve faced as a result—or the strain it’s put on my relationship with my
parents. If I thought they were protective before I went to Alaska, they
were a million times worse when I came back.
“There had to have been a time in your life where you rebelled.
Haven’t you ever gone through a wild phase, Lainey?”
“Yes. You were my wild phase, and clearly that was a terrible
mistake,” I snap.
RJ pushes out of his chair and tries to corral me, but I slip between
the chairs, out of reach once again.
“You said you planned to tell me the truth once you got to LA and we
got in touch, but how was that ever going to work? I’d see all the same
things, and I would’ve been on the other side of the country. How would
you explain it then? How would you have been able to make me see
whatever truth you want to feed me?” I move toward the house. “I tried to
find you—I called every single alpaca farm in New York looking for you,
but no one knew who you were, which makes sense, since I was asking for
someone they’d never heard of.”
RJ’s expression is pained. “My mom sold the farm right after Max
was born—to an investor. She wanted to be in LA with my sister and
brother.”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear how we missed each other by
weeks. “I tried to find you, but how hard did you try to find me, RJ? Really
and truly?” I remember how devastated I was when I couldn’t find him
and how, recently, I began to wonder if it hadn’t been a karmic blessing. “I
need to go.”
RJ’s shoulders cave. “Please, Lainey.”
“I can’t be here right now. This is too much.” I move toward the
sliding door, needing to get away from him and all the memories and the
conflict I’m feeling over him and everything I know now.
“Can’t you give me a chance to prove you already know the real
me?”
I can’t look at him and see that his expression matches the sadness in
his voice. I want to give him that chance, but I don’t want to set myself up
for more disappointment. “And put my heart on the line for you again?
How will I trust you?”
He steps in front of the door before I can reach it. I stumble back, and
he grips my biceps to keep me from falling—or maybe to keep me from
running away. I long for the feel of his arms around me again. I want to
sink into his warmth and the comfort I remember so vividly still.
“I was falling for you. I was halfway in l—”
“Don’t!” I all but shout. “Don’t play with my emotions. It’s unfair.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m trying to be honest.”
“You had plenty of chances to be honest. Just let me go, Rook.” I say
his name like a curse.
“I already let you go once, Lainey, and it gutted me—I don’t know if
I can do it again.”
“Well, you can’t hold me captive, can you?”
“No. I can’t.” He releases me, and I spin around, yank the door open,
and pad across the hardwood to the front entrance. Stupid, rogue tears start
to fall as I shove my feet into my flats. I don’t know how to reconcile the
version of him I thought I knew with the one who lives in an almost
mansion and has a reputation for being a colossal playboy.
I struggle to open the door, unable to figure out how the locks work
with how blurry my vision is. I realize I’m on the verge of a full-blown
panic attack—all of this is too much to handle. I struggle to breathe, to
think. My vision swims with dots, and suddenly I find myself pulled into
his solid embrace.
His lips find my temple. “Breathe, Lainey—just breathe.”
I cling to his shirt, trying to force myself to let go when all I want to
do is hold on tighter. He rubs soothing circles on my back, murmuring for
me to breathe over and over, telling me he’s sorry, that he never wanted to
hurt me.
I count all the things I can feel, see, hear, taste, and smell. Eventually
I calm down enough that I’m able to pry my fingers from his shirt. I press
my palms against his chest, his heart beating hard under them.
He brushes away my tears. “I’m so sorry, Lainey. This wasn’t what I
wanted. I thought your silence was your way of telling me my feelings
were one-sided.”
“I have to go.” It’s nothing but a broken whisper.
He cups my face in his palms. “Please look at me.”
 I slowly lift my eyes, taking in his devastatingly handsome face.
“I messed this up once, Lainey, and I understand that I’ve blindsided
you with all of this, but I promise I’m the man you met a year ago, and
I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that to you.” For a
moment I think he’s going to kiss me.
And he does—on the cheek.
My skin burns. My heart stutters.
I should tell him my own truth.
But for now we’re tied: a lie for a lie.
 CHAPTER 15
BACK IN THE GAME

Rook

Lainey asked for space, but considering how upset she was yesterday when
she left my place—and how poorly I slept—I call her first thing the next
morning and leave a voice mail asking how she’s doing and letting her
know I’m thinking about her before I hit the gym.
I still haven’t heard from Lainey by the time I’m finished with my
workout, so I fire off a message with basically the same content as the
voice mail and then proceed to order her a bouquet of flowers. I’m just
about to head home when my phone lights up. I check the screen, elated as
fuck when I see Lainey’s name pop up.
“Hey, hi. How are you?”
“Uh, hi. Is this RJ?” It’s a female voice, but it’s not Lainey.
“It is.” I check the screen. It’s definitely Lainey’s number, which I
memorized the night I acquired it. “Who is this?”
“Uh, it’s Eden. I’m a friend of Lainey’s, and I’m sort of staging an
intervention.”
“An intervention? Is Lainey in some sort of trouble?” I consider the
dark circles under her eyes and her anxiety—which I was familiar with in
Alaska, but it was always something she seemed to manage okay when she
was comfortable and felt safe—but maybe I’m missing something.
“Not like an intervention intervention—more like I’m trying to give
her a friendly nudge in the right direction. So I’m probably going to get
myself in some trouble for telling you this, but she hasn’t ever really
gotten over you. I mean, she’s been dealing with a lot of stuff, and she’s
only recently tried to start dating.”
“She’s dating someone?” This is not what I want to hear.
“Not really. I mean, they’ve gone on a couple of dates, and she thinks
he’s nice and stable or whatever, but she’s not really into him.”
“So it’s not serious?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Like I said, just a couple of dates, but I think
he really likes her—and he lives in her building, so that’s not ideal for
you.”
“Shit. No, it’s not.” I really need to step up my game.
“It’s just that Lainey has a lot on her plate, most of which I’m pretty
sure she hasn’t mentioned to you but definitely should.”
“Is there something I can do? Some way I can help?”
“We both get off at four. You should come by the aquarium.”
“But I just saw her yesterday, and she said she needed time.”
“Lainey’s already had lots of time. More than a year. She’s scared. If
you’re really serious about wanting her to give you a second chance, you
should be here. She’s leading a private tour until three forty-five. Shoot,
gotta go.” She hangs up before I can thank her.
I need to get my ass in gear and figure out how to make Lainey see
I’m serious—and that I’m more than just lies and empty promises.
I stop at home, shower again, and change into black dress pants and a
button-down. I don’t know why I feel the compulsion to dress like I’m
ready for a date, but on the off chance Lainey’s interested in more than
telling me to fuck off, I want to be adequately prepared.
I arrive at the aquarium at three thirty, just to be safe, and approach
the front desk. A familiar-looking woman with brown hair, glasses, and a
whole lot of curves gives me a once-over and a raised eyebrow. “No
flowers this time?”
“Dammit.” I can’t believe I forgot to stop on the way over. “Is there a
place close by where I can pick some up real quick?”
She holds up a hand. “Lainey left the last bouquet here because she
doesn’t have room in her apartment for more, so I think you’re good on
the flowers.”
“What about chocolate or something?”
“She left the last box of chocolates here too. And while we all
appreciate it, because they were delicious, I’m trying not to gain ten
pounds before the holidays this year, so you can put a hold on the
chocolate and flowers for a little while. Maybe for a week.” She extends
her hand. “I’m Eden.”
I wipe my palm on my pants before I shake her hand. “Rook Bowman
—I mean, RJ.”
“Oh, I know who you are.” She props an elbow on the counter and
motions to a bench close to one of the many fish tanks. “Might as well
take a seat—you’ve got a few minutes before she’s done. You get bonus
points for being early, though.” She pushes her glasses up her nose and
turns to the screen in front of her, dismissing me.
“Okay, thanks.”
I manage to stay seated for about five minutes before I get antsy and
start to pace. I end up standing in front of the dolphin exhibit while I wait
for Lainey. Today the boy dolphin seems to be on his best behavior.
Eventually Lainey and a small group of very scholarly-looking
people enter the lobby. Most of them disperse, but one guy stays behind to
talk to her. I can tell by the way he keeps jamming his hand into his pocket
and then rubbing the back of his neck that he’s interested in her. Which
isn’t much of a surprise. Lainey’s gorgeous, even in her drab beige
uniform.
As if she can sense my presence, her gaze shifts to me. The guy she’s
talking to is in the middle of a sentence when she walks away from him,
heading straight for me. I’d like to say getting her attention is a good
thing, but based on her expression she’s not all that happy to see me.
“Why are you here?” she snaps.
I jam my hands into my pockets, just like the guy she blew off. “I
wanted to see how you’re doing after yesterday.”
She blinks a few times, maybe a little shocked, and wrings her hands.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. You seem upset.” The circles that I noticed
under her eyes yesterday are even more pronounced, like my appearance in
her life has caused her to lose sleep. I don’t like that idea, but I guess I can
understand. I haven’t been sleeping all that great either.
“I didn’t expect you to show up here after yesterday.” She tugs at the
end of her braid.
“Can I take you for coffee—or hot chocolate?”
 “I can’t, I have to . . . I-I have an obligation,” she stammers; the
hand-wringing ratchets up a notch.
Eden appears out of nowhere, laden down with jackets and purses.
“Actually, I can handle your obligation for you.”
Lainey gives her a meaningful look. “You really don’t need to do
that.”
“It’s no big deal. I can totally handle it.” She hands Lainey her purse.
“I’d like to at least change first and check on . . . things.”
“You look beautiful just the way you are, but if you want, I can drive
you home. We could even pick up coffee and go to your place if that’s
easier for you.”
“No!” she shouts and then lowers her voice. “I mean—I need to
clean. And I live just across the street. There’s a coffee shop next door. I
can meet you there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, sure.” I assume she’s being all sketchy because she doesn’t
want to run into the guy she’s dating in her building. A coffee shop isn’t
ideal, especially since I don’t have a ball cap to hide under, but I’ll take
whatever I can get here.
 CHAPTER 16
HEY, BABY

Lainey

I am going to kill Eden. Okay, that’s untrue. I can barely manage killing a
spider, but I’m going to be very annoyed with her for at least the rest of
today. I take several deep breaths as the elevator counts down the floors to
the lobby.
I would really like to be less anxious right now. My palms are
insanely sweaty. Actually, a lot of parts of me are sweaty. I check my
reflection in the surrounding mirrors, making sure the concealer I dabbed
under my eyes is blended in properly. This morning I got into the elevator
and realized it was still smeared in a line—like those black lines football
players have, except it was flesh colored.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the lobby, murmuring
hello to people getting on. And, of course, one of them happens to be
Walter. Instead of getting on the elevator, he lets everyone else pile in and
pulls me into a hug.
Through the window across the lobby I can see RJ, hands jammed
into his pockets, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes. I release
Walter first and take a step back, which makes him take a step forward.
He’s weird about personal space.
“You look nice—are you going somewhere?” Walter fingers the end
of my braid, which also puts his hand close to my boob.
I glance toward the window again. RJ’s face is practically pressed up
against it, and if he had superpowers, I would bet that laser beams would
be shooting out of his eyes right now and Walter would be minus a hand.
“Just coffee with a friend.”
“Lucky friend.” He gives me an exaggerated wink. “Will you be
around later? Maybe I could come by and we could watch an episode of
Jeopardy! together.”
“Oh, um, can I take a rain check? I’m not sure how long I’ll be out,
and I haven’t been sleeping all that well the last few nights.”
His smile drops. “Sure, of course. You can call if you change your
mind. I have a bag of sweet-and-salty popcorn and some of that special
mint hot chocolate you’re always drinking.”
“That sounds nice.” I push the elevator button for him. “I’ll call you
later.”
“Sounds great.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek before I can
run away.
Thankfully, the elevator dings.
RJ is waiting outside the front doors for me. I glance over my
shoulder, relieved to see that Walter is already in the elevator. He lifts his
hand in a parting wave at the same time as RJ pulls me in for a brief hug.
Walter’s smile slides off his face like an egg off a nonstick pan as he
disappears behind the elevator doors.
“Friend of yours?” RJ asks, obviously referring to Walter.
“Yes. He is.” I adjust my purse. I want to tack on that it really isn’t
any of his business, but I refrain.
“Does he work in IT or something?”
I frown. “How did you know that?”
He smirks. “Lucky guess.”
“Walter is nice. Not everyone is built like a Greek god and gets to be
a celebrity.” As if I need to stroke his ego. Based on everything I’ve seen
in my internet searches—which is all I have to go on, since I have no idea
where the lies end with him—he and a good percentage of the female
population of Chicago know how amazing his body is. I push past him and
head for the coffee shop next door. I know the baristas here, and there are
always a lot of regulars, so it feels like a safe space.
RJ grabs my hand. “Sorry. I’m just . . . jealous and being petty.”
I purse my lips and try not to let the butterflies in my stomach get the
best of me.
 RJ puts his hand on the small of my back, inciting another storm of
butterflies. He also opens the door for me and pays for our coffees and
pastries, although I order a decaf tea because I’m already having enough
trouble sleeping these days without hopping myself up on caffeine at
dinnertime.
He picks out a table in the corner, and we settle into our seats. I’m
barely out of my jacket when two teenage boys approach us asking for
autographs. For the next half hour RJ is bombarded every two minutes by
another group of people asking to take pictures and wanting an autograph.
Teenagers, college kids, adult men, and fawning women who rudely drool
all over him with me sitting right there across the table. It’s incredibly
overwhelming. And enlightening.
This is his life. This is what happens to him every time he goes out in
this city. It’s what he knows, and I have to assume it’s much worse
depending on where he is and who’s around him. I consider all the pictures
I’ve found since I discovered his true identity, and a very small part of me
can understand how difficult it would be to have a relationship that
involves any kind of equity.
He would never know if he was wanted by someone because of his
fame or because of who he really is. And isn’t that another question I don’t
have an answer to? The man I was with in Alaska was kind and sweet and
down-to-earth. But this . . . it’s completely different. And this is what his
life is really like.
I move aside, unable to handle the number of people clamoring to get
close to him, and allow his fans to mob him while I observe from the
sidelines. RJ is gracious and accommodating and charismatic, but I can
sense his frustration by the tic in his cheek as more people gather for
selfies. Finally, once everyone has had their picture taken and he’s signed
all the hats and random pieces of paper people shove at him—and even a
couple of magazine spreads—he gives me a pained smile. “Is there
somewhere we can go that’s a little less openly public? I should’ve worn a
ball cap—it helps make me less identifiable.”
“There’s a park not too far from here. We could go there?” I offer. He
can’t come up to my apartment. Not yet. Maybe not ever, depending.
I use the bathroom before we leave, and when I return RJ has fresh
hot drinks for us in take-out cups. I don’t know what to think about this
entire situation. Walter is nice, he doesn’t travel for work, and he doesn’t
make a scene or get mobbed when we go out in public. And he’s been very
accepting of my current situation and my obvious reluctance to get into a
relationship.
I decide I need to just be honest with RJ—it’s really the only way I’ll
know for sure what his real intentions are. If he can’t handle the truth, then
he’ll disappear from my life again, and that will be that.
We find a secluded bench in the park down the street from my house.
There are parents seated on the other side, near the play structure, but
otherwise it’s peaceful.
“I’m sorry about that. I probably should’ve suggested we just come
to a park in the first place. It’s not always this intense, but the season is
starting soon, so we’re getting a lot of promo. I’ve been trying to stay off
the media radar, but being team captain makes it tough.” He stretches his
arm across the back of the bench, fingers brushing my shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?” I fidget with the sleeve on my cup,
picking at the edge so I don’t have to look at him. He’s just so disarmingly
beautiful.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so intent on pursuing me when you
could have anyone you want. What am I to you, other than the woman you
pretended to be someone else with for a handful of weeks?”
“That’s the thing, though, Lainey. I wasn’t pretending to be someone
else. Yes, I lied about my job, but everything else was me—you got the
real me.”
“But did I really? Because what I saw back there, isn’t that the real
you? Is that what happens to you whenever you go somewhere and people
recognize you?”
“I just wanted someone to see me, authentically see me, and I felt
like you did. I never felt more like myself than I did when I was with you.”
I consider that—and how, for those weeks I was with him, I’d felt
like the best version of myself. He made me feel safe and special and
important. “I have to tell you something.” I clutch my tea, trying to find
the resolve to spit the words out. I can’t decide anymore if I want him to
still be the man I spent those weeks with or the lying jerk who recently
dropped back into my life. Both are complicated for very different
reasons.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
 I shift, turning toward him, knowing I need to see his reaction when I
tell him this, because for better or worse, it will change everything.
“I have a son.”
 CHAPTER 17
DO THE MATH

Rook

“I—what?” I don’t know what I expected her to say—maybe something

along the lines of I’m still in love with you. Or I missed you, or I used to be
a fucking circus clown, but I have a son was definitely not on my list of
possibilities.
“His name is Kody, with a K.” She sets her tea down and pulls her
phone out of her pocket. Her hands shake as she keys in the pass code. “He
was born on April fourth, about ten days earlier than expected. The
pregnancy was good—I was very healthy, and I had a wonderful doctor and
lots of support. Although my family was not happy about it, there was
really nothing they could do.” She’s still looking down at her phone as she
continues to talk, like she just wants to get it all out. “It took me a couple
of months to realize I was pregnant when I came home. I’d thought I was
lovesick, but then I missed my period two months in a row, and I went to
see a doctor, and well . . .” She cradles the phone to her chest. “He’s four
months old now.”
I suddenly feel like I’m choking. It’s also like being hit with the most
extreme case of déjà vu in the universe. It’s like Sissy part two—except
worse, because I spent six weeks with Lainey, screwing on every available
surface. We’d used protection. Well, except that once. And it was only for
a stroke—one delicious, amazingly memorable stroke. But she got her
period the next day, so everything was fine. And it lasted all of three days,
so it didn’t slow us down much, if at all. I’m so shocked, and frankly
really freaked out, that the first words out of my mouth are “You’re
fucking with me, right?”
A little kid runs by, followed by his mother, who shoots me a dirty
look. I mutter, “Sorry,” and turn back to Lainey, lowering my voice. “Is
this your idea of a joke? If that Walter guy is actually your boyfriend—or,
worse, your damn husband—then the last place you should be is with me.”
She’s not wearing a ring, and if that baby is four months old, then she—
what, moved right the hell on the day I left?
Lainey looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Kody is yours.”
“How is that even possible? We used condoms every single damn
time.” I have to fight to keep my voice down.
“Yes.” She nods in agreement. “Except—”
I railroad right over her. “So how the fuck can it be mine, unless you
fished a used condom out of a wastebasket and turkey basted yourself?”
She raises a hand right in my face. “Okay, that is just . . . absolutely
disgusting and appalling. It’s also disturbing that you could come up with
something so ludicrous without even having to think about it.”
She has a point. Also, it’s something I could see Sissy doing, because
she was a certifiable lunatic. And now the woman I thought might be my
soul mate is clearly one as well. I should take a vow of celibacy. “What
other explanation do you have? Unless I magically inseminated you from
across the country,” I snap.
Lainey’s lips thin into a line, and she pins me with a look that makes
me feel about two feet tall—which is pretty impressive, considering my
mother is the only person who has the power to do that.
“Because we used protection every time except the last time.”
I shake my head. “That’s not—” I filter through the foggy memories
from that morning. The phone call that came at 3:00 a.m., my brother’s
panic, setting up my flight to LA, and throwing all my stuff in my duffel
and starting the truck.
Only when I was ready to leave did I go back upstairs and do the
thing I desperately didn’t want to: say goodbye to Lainey. I remember how
frantic we were when we realized we’d reached the end sooner than we’d
meant to, how intense the sex had been, how it ended far too soon . . .
because I hadn’t even thought about a condom.
“But it was only that one time.” I scrub a hand over my face.
 “That’s really all it takes. I was fertile, and you’re apparently virile.”
Her tone is matter-of-fact, but her voice shakes with anger. “I tried to
contact you as soon as I realized. I called every alpaca farm in New York
but couldn’t track you down. I even called the cabin, but of course no one
ever answered. I had no other way to get in touch with you. Well, I guess if
I’d bothered watching anything other than Netflix and documentaries, I
might have figured it out.” Lainey grips her phone tightly in her hands,
lips pursed as if she’s waiting for another accusation.
If I hadn’t been in such a rush that morning, I would have given her
my cell number. Hell, I would’ve given her the whole truth if I’d had the
chance. I look at her, really look at her. She’s scared and sad and angry
and guarded. My stomach twists and drops. “I have a son?”
She nods, and her chin trembles as she asks, “Would you like to see a
picture of him?”
“Yeah. Yes. Please.”
With shaking hands, she punches a code into her phone again. It’s old
—a smartphone, but it’s been around for a while. She scrolls through some
pictures until she finds one she likes and holds it out so I can see. “Go
ahead, take it.” She wraps my hands around the device and slides a little
closer, her cheek brushing my arm. “He’s so beautiful.”
I stare at the two-dimensional little face in the screen, looking for . . .
I don’t know. Something that reminds me of myself? He’s laughing at the
camera, the end of Lainey’s braid clutched in his chubby little fist. He has
Lainey’s dark hair and her nose, but that smile is all mine, and so is the
little dimple popping in his right cheek.
I swallow thickly, reality finally setting in. I consider all the things I
missed: her entire pregnancy, his birth, the first four months of his life.
She’s been doing this all on her own.
And she’s always been close to her family—even when she was
staying with me in Alaska, she called her parents at least twice a week and
spent a good hour on the phone with them. So what had happened to make
her come all the way here and raise a baby alone? There are so many
questions that don’t have answers. Except one: this baby is definitely
mine.
“Can I meet him?” I ask.
Lainey bites her lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”
 “You don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to meet my four-month-
old son who I didn’t know existed until now?”
“Don’t you want a paternity test or something?” Her fingers go to her
lips.
“Well, I might if he didn’t look like me, and yeah, it’s probably a
good idea regardless just to make it all official—and I’m pretty sure my
agent will insist on it, so we’ll have to set something up—but for now I’d
like to meet him.”
Lainey’s eyes are wide, and she’s practically eating her fingernails. I
set the phone down and take her hands in mine. “Please, Lainey. Put
yourself in my shoes—I’ve already missed out on so much.”
She exhales in a heavy rush. “Let me message Eden.” She quickly
types out a text. It only takes a few moments before she gets a response.
She holds up the phone. On the screen is a picture of Kody, swaddled in a
blanket in a crib, a stuffed teddy bear beside him. “He’s sleeping.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“I’ll let her know we’re on our way.”
Lainey’s quiet on the way back to her apartment building. I don’t
push conversation, even though I have questions. It’s clear she’s already
overwhelmed, and I don’t want to make it worse, since it’ll only make her
more anxious. When we were in Alaska together, I’d distract her with sex
whenever she got nervous. Everything is different, though—she’s different
—and now I know why.
I follow her into the apartment building. Thankfully we don’t have to
wait long for the elevator. When we get to the eleventh floor, Lainey holds
up a hand and peeks out into the hallway. She brings her finger to her lips,
signaling that I should be quiet. Then she grabs me by the wrist and pulls
me out of the elevator and down the hall. I don’t know why we’re trying to
be all stealth like we’re pulling a heist, not going back to her apartment so
I can meet my son.
Jesus. I have a son. I’m not sure when that thought alone is going to
stop feeling completely surreal.
She roots around in her jacket pocket and quietly retrieves the key.
She eases it into the lock and slowly, carefully turns it, grimacing as it
clicks. She sucks in a sharp breath and pushes the door open, ushering me
in. Her palm lands on my back, urging me forward as she closes the door.
 “You wanna—” She slaps her palm over my mouth and makes a
shushing motion.
I hold my hands up like I’m being held at gunpoint. After a few
breaths she drops her hand and drags me away from the door.
Eden appears in the hallway. The two of them make random hand
gestures I don’t understand.
“Can some—” Lainey smacks me on the chest and shushes me again,
then drags me across the open living room and pushes me into the galley
kitchen. There’s barely enough room for me, let alone Lainey and her
friend, in the cramped space.
“Do you think it’s safe for you to leave?” Lainey asks Eden.
“That’s dicey. He already knocked on the door once, and you know
he’ll probably be waiting for it to open again, since you just got in.”
“Once you leave, he’ll think the coast is clear.”
“Exactly.”
“Someone wanna fill me in on what’s going on?”
Lainey says, “Nothing,” and Eden says, “Walter.” I’m inclined to
believe Eden over Lainey in this case, especially with the look she shoots
at Eden.
Eden shrugs and mouths, “Sorry.”
“Is this the guy you were talking to in the lobby?”
Lainey blows out a breath. “Yes.”
“He lives right across the hall from you?” This is not good. Not for
me, anyway. As much as he might not look like competition, he clearly has
designs on Lainey.
“Yes.”
“What does he do, stand at his door with his eye pressed against the
peephole, waiting for you to come home every night? Am I the only one
who finds this a little fucking creepy?”
“His living room is right by the door, and the walls are thin.”
“Or maybe he’s just a creepy-ass stalker. I don’t like this.”
Lainey crosses her arms over her chest. “Walter is not creepy or a
stalker. He’s nice, and helpful, and kind.”
“So why are you worried about him hearing Eden leave?”
Lainey rubs her temple and gives me a pointed look. “Because he saw
me with you, and I’m sure he has questions. I think I have enough going
on without having to deal with Walter tonight.”
 I arch a brow. “I can deal with Walter.”
“Absolutely not,” Lainey snaps.
“I thought it wasn’t serious.” It better not be serious. The idea incites
panic, because if she’s actually into Walter, that means I’m going to have
to share my son with some other guy—and I’m not sure I’m cool with that.
At all.
Lainey shoots Eden a look. “It’s not . . . it’s complicated, especially
with you being here. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and I’m going to
have to explain what’s going on, and I’d like to do that without an
audience.”
“Should I go? Or . . .” Eden thumbs over her shoulder toward the
door and looks between me and Lainey.
Lainey sighs and nods. “Sorry. Yes—thank you so much for watching
Kody.”
She hugs her friend, who gives me a look I can’t decipher. I hang
back, half in the kitchen, half in the living room, while they whisper talk
and Eden puts her shoes on.
The apartment is small but cozy and functional. The walls are a
generic cream color and bare, but there are framed photos on the side table
beside the gray couch. A basket of baby toys is tucked under it, and a blue
blanket is spread out on the floor in front of it. I wonder how long she’s
lived here.
Lainey’s expression is set in a cringe as she carefully unlocks and
opens the door, ushering Eden out. She doesn’t even have the door closed
all the way before there’s a soft knock. She looks over her shoulder at me
and makes a waving motion.
I mouth, “Really?” Because clearly she wants me to hide.
I don’t see the point, because he probably already knows I’m here,
but she mouths, “Please,” so I do what she wants. For now.
I can hear the low tones of a male voice and Lainey’s soft responses
but not the content of their brief conversation. Less than a minute later, the
door clicks shut. I step out from my hiding place to find Lainey standing
there with her hand still on the doorknob and her fingers at her mouth.
“You okay?” I ask.
She closes her eyes and exhales an unsteady breath, but she nods all
the same.
 I’m at a loss as to what I should do. I want to offer her some kind of
comfort, but I don’t know if it’s at all welcome—or if it’s even
appropriate. I decide the situation warrants more than me being silent on
the other side of the room.
I cross over to her. “Do you need some safety cuddles?”
She looks up at me, eyes watery, chin trembling.
I open my arms, and after a few uncertain seconds she steps into me,
gripping my shirt while she buries her face against my chest. I wrap her up
in a hug and absorb the feeling of being close to her like this again, of the
way she still seems to fit with me. I drop my head, breathing in the scent
of her shampoo. Everything about us just got a shit-ton more complicated,
and I’m sure she’s feeling the hard truth of this new reality.
“Is he upset?” I almost choke on the words but manage to get them
out without sounding like a dick.
She releases my shirt and steps out of my embrace, smoothing out
the fabric with her palms. “He’s confused and concerned. He’s been a good
friend.”
I have to remind myself that while I’ve been living the single, mostly
celibate life, she’s been raising a baby alone.
She sniffles and pats my chest. “Come. Let me introduce you to
Kody.”
She brushes by me, and I follow her down the hall.
“I just moved him to the nursery a few weeks ago, because he got too
big for his bassinet.” She pushes open the door and steps into the room.
Unlike the rest of the apartment, the walls have been painted a pale,
buttery yellow, and there are decals of mountains and cartoon animals on
the wall beside his crib. A mobile of airplanes hangs above it, and in the
middle of the airplane-themed sheets, lips parted and eyes closed, is a
bundle of baby.
Lainey reaches into the crib and brushes her finger along his cheek.
He smacks his little lips, and his hands open and curl back into fists. I
stare down at him, so small and new and very clearly mine. I can see it in
the shape of his face, the set of his mouth.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Lainey asks on a whisper.
I nod, unable to find words. I want to ask if I can hold him, but I
don’t want to wake him, especially based on how tired she looks. “Does he
sleep through the night?”
 “Occasionally.” Her smile is soft.
My mind is spinning in a million different directions. “I can help. I’ll
help. I know we’ll need the paternity test, but we can have that done right
away, and I’ll talk to my agent, and we can figure out exactly how to
manage this. My schedule is about to get really busy, but when I’m not
traveling for away games, I’ll be here to do this with you. I’ll take care of
both of you. I’ll get a nursery set up in my house.”
“No!” Lainey growls in a tone I’ve never heard before.
A hot feeling creeps up my spine. One I’m not sure what to do with. I
may not be prepared to be a parent, but if he’s my son, damn right I’m
going to do what I can to support and raise him. “I’m his father. I’m
responsible for him, just like you are. I take care of what’s mine.”
Lainey moves to stand in front of the crib, protective and possessive.
“We don’t need to be taken care of. We’ve made it this far on our own, and
I don’t need you coming back into my life and turning it upside down.
You’ve already done that once—I won’t let you do it again!”
I open my mouth to argue, but I’m cut off by a shrill, angry cry.
 CHAPTER 18
MINE

Lainey

I scoop Kody up and cradle him to my chest. My heart is pounding;

anxiety makes my mouth dry and my hands sweaty. “Shhh.” I bounce him
gently and pat his bottom while he continues to wail.
“You need to leave,” I tell RJ.
“Come on, Lainey. You can’t keep me out of his life.” I can both see
and hear his panic.
It’s echoed in me, likely for very different reasons. “And you can’t
come barreling back into mine and think you can take over. That’s not how
this works.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to take over. I just
want to be part of his life and yours, if you’ll let me.”
The screaming ratchets up a couple more notches, and I worry I
won’t be able to get him to settle—and then it’ll be another night of too
little sleep. “Can’t you see you’re making us both upset? Please, just go.”
“We need to talk about this. You can’t tell me I’m a father, let me see
my son once, and then ask me to walk away.”
He’s right, but I also don’t know how to deal with everything that’s
been thrown at me since RJ came slamming back into my universe. He has
fame and money—lots of money. Enough that he could fight for Kody.
Anxious tears slide down my cheeks, and Kody’s cries get even louder.
“Please, you’re only making it worse.” I turn my back on him and shush
Kody, whispering brokenly that it’s going to be okay. “Mommy’s right
here. I’m right here, shhhh. I’m not going anywhere.” I take deep breaths,
willing myself to calm down, to find some perspective.
I should be glad he wants to be part of Kody’s life, but all I have is
fear—because I’m struggling in this tiny apartment, and he has a huge
house and all kinds of resources that I don’t. I don’t really know him, and
he doesn’t know me. We only have six weeks in a bubble, which is nothing
like real life. Especially not one filled with diapers and baby vomit and
sleepless nights.
Kody’s cries quiet down, and he bumps his nose along my collarbone.
I stroke his silky black hair as he hiccups and whimpers. I turn to face RJ,
but he’s gone.

At midnight I wake up in Kody’s room. I’m sitting in the glider, one boob
hanging out, Kody nestled in my arms. I slowly, carefully adjust my hold
on him. My arms have fallen asleep, so I have to wait several minutes
before I can transfer him back to the crib.
I tuck his blankets around him, make sure his teddy bear is close, and
tiptoe out of the room. I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t wake up. I
use the bathroom, pour myself a glass of water, and make sure all the
lights are turned off before I head for my bedroom. I pause and root
around in my purse for my phone. I could hear it buzzing from Kody’s
room when I was feeding him—and apparently fell asleep.
I touch the screen and see I have messages from Eden, Walter, and of
course RJ. Eden’s message came through at nine, asking for an update on
how things went with the daddy-and-son meet and greet. Walter wants to
talk, and RJ . . . well, he’s sent a slew of messages, all of them asking if
we’re okay, if Kody has stopped crying, if I have, if I’m ignoring him, and
to please, for the love of God, answer this message before he goes insane.
That one was sent less than ten minutes ago.
I start and stop composing a message about twenty times. I’m in the
middle of typing that we’re both fine and that Kody is asleep when another
message pops up from RJ.
RJ: I’ve been watching the little dots for 15 min. RU ok?
Lainey: Yes. Kody is asleep.
RJ: I didn’t mean to upset you.
 I stare at the message for a minute before I finally compose a
response.
Lainey: I’m just overwhelmed.
RJ: Me too, but we’ll gure it out.
I don’t know how to interpret that, so I end the conversation with
good night.

Setting an alarm has become a pointless practice, since Kody wakes up

every morning at five fifteen to let me know he’s hungry.
I roll out of bed, more exhausted than I was yesterday, if that’s even
possible, and stumble down the hall to his room. “Morning, little man. I
have breakfast right here for you.” I already have my boob out and ready
to go.
His little fists wave in the air, his mouth opening and closing as I
bring him to my breast and settle in the glider. I fall back asleep for as
long as he feeds on the right breast. He squawks when he’s ready for the
other side. I burp him first, then set the left boob free. I’m already leaking,
so he splutters when he first latches, the milk coming too fast.
Once the initial gush and rush slows, he settles in, punctuating sucks
with happy grunts. I stroke his hair, and he looks up at me, his blue eyes
locked on my face. “Oh, sweet boy, what am I going to do? All these
months I’ve been wishing I had some help, and now I’m afraid I have to
share you.”
He pops off my breast and makes a loud gurgling sound before he
latches back on. I fall asleep again for another fifteen minutes before he
lets me know he’s done with breakfast and needs his diaper changed.
The wonderful thing about working at the aquarium is that they help
subsidize the cost of day care, and there’s one right inside my building.
I’m extra quiet as I leave my apartment, not in the mood to deal with
Walter yet, mostly because I have no idea what to say to him.
He’s a good friend, and he’s been so supportive since I moved into
the building, but the progression from friends to dating hasn’t been
natural. I like him, he’s nice and pleasant to be around, but I don’t crave
his affection.
RJ, on the other hand . . . I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt
to just be held by him. Which is yet another complication. And another
reason why he’s right that we need to talk. Maybe he wanted to relive our
time together in Alaska when he first ran into me, but now . . . Kody
changes everything, for both of us.
I drop Kody off at his day care and head to work. Today is a research
day with no interruptions, which I’m grateful for since I don’t have the
energy required to deal with the general public.
I head to the lab and find Eden already set up at her computer. Like
me, part of her job is to research and help manage the animals, so we often
work together. She pushes a take-out cup in my direction and gives me a
raised eyebrow. “Can I be optimistic and assume that the bags under your
eyes are because you and the hockey hottie spent the night getting biblical
with each other?”
“You’re welcome to be optimistic, even if it also makes you very
wrong.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
I drop down in the chair beside her. “He wants to be involved in
Kody’s life.”
Eden pushes her glasses up her nose. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s just . . . what if he wants partial custody?
He has bags of money. He can hire a nanny, have someone take care of
everything for him if he wants to, and what do I have? This job and a tiny
apartment. I’m just . . . scared.”
“But isn’t he, like, still way into you? And you’ve been pining for
him for the past year. I mean, you named your son Kodiak, Lainey. I think
that pretty much tells everyone where you’re at with this guy.”
“But that was before I knew he was a professional hockey player. You
should’ve seen it last night at the coffee shop. There was a swarm of
people waiting to take pictures with him and get his autograph. And the
women were the worst! It didn’t matter if they were teenagers or
grandmothers, they practically dry humped him!”
“Can you blame them, though?”
I give her an exasperated look. “How am I supposed to deal with
that? He used to be this huge playboy, and I’m sure women are constantly
throwing themselves at him. It’s nothing like I thought it would be, and
now I’m connected to him for the rest of my life because of Kody. I just
wanted a normal life.”
“You had a normal life, Lainey. It was making you miserable.”
 “Being homeschooled and getting my degrees by correspondence
isn’t normal.”
“What is normal these days? I know this is hard, but he’s going to be
part of your life no matter what. You know what I think the real issue is?”
“What?” I mutter into my coffee.
“It’s not that he’s a hockey player—it’s not the lie, which I think you
can probably get over. I think it has more to do with being afraid that he’s
going to come swooping in and try to take care of you, and you’re going to
equate that with losing your independence again.”
“That’s not—”
“True? Are you sure about that, Lainey? We drove across the country
when you were seven months pregnant because your parents were
smothering you. I’m going to go ahead and say you’re really not keen on
anyone trying to take over your life like they tend to.”
“It was pretty extreme, wasn’t it?”
“We can always blame the hormones.”
“And now what do I blame?”
“Hormones and protective mothering instinct. And fear of having
your heart broken, because let’s face it, Lainey, even though he didn’t
mean to, that’s exactly what he did the first time.”
 CHAPTER 19
WOO THE BABY MAMA

Rook

Leaving Lainey’s apartment last night wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
First and foremost, my experience with babies has been limited to my
nephew and my teammates’ kids. Sure, I’m good with them. I can make
them giggle and smile, but the second they start to cry, I pass them back to
their mother and I’m on my way.
Kody is mine.
I made him.
And I’ve had sweet fuck all to do with his mother or him since his
conception. So I’m a little out of my depth here.
Also, I know Lainey. As much as she’s changed, I’m aware that she’s
the woman I rescued from a thunderstorm. The same one who had never
been on a plane before her trip to Alaska. And the woman who’s been
through some pretty traumatic stuff and still manages to be sweet,
innocent, and a touch naive. But she’s also fierce, strong, and determined.
And whatever happened to bring her to Chicago has brought out that
strength, which is both sexy and, frankly, really fucking inconvenient.
A year ago she would’ve welcomed me back into her life without
batting an eyelash. One heroic rescue attempt would’ve been all that she
needed, but now she’s different.
I hit the gym, as one does when there’s stress and preseason training
coming up. It’s ten by the time I’m done with my workout. I consider
calling my brother, but it’s early on the West Coast, and if there’s half a
chance Max is still sleeping, I don’t want to be the reason he wakes up—
so I message my sister instead, since she’s an early riser, to see if she’s
around to talk. She’s been in LA for her master’s program. She might be
younger than me, but she’s female, and she can usually provide
perspective I don’t have. Thankfully, she’s awake, so I video chat her.
“Hey, big brother!” Her smile turns into a grimace as my image fills
her phone screen. “Whoa, you’re looking rough.”
“Last night wasn’t great,” I admit. The part where I met my son was,
but the part where I made both Lainey and Kody cry overshadows that.
“I can tell. You look like a bag of shit, which is saying something,
because you could probably go on a four-week bender and not shower once
during that time and still manage to look decent—but right now you look
like you’ve taken a beatdown by a gaggle of puck bunnies and you did not,
in fact, come out on top.”
“Your brain is a weird place, Stevie.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She props her phone up and leans
back in her chair. “So? What happened last night? Oh, wait, weren’t you
supposed to try to see Lainey? I’m taking it that didn’t go as well as you
hoped.”
I’ve already filled Stevie in on reconnecting with Lainey, my lie, and
her response to finding out what I used to be like. “So she agreed to talk to
me, but we went to a coffee shop, and I got mobbed.”
Stevie groans and rolls her eyes. “You can’t go to coffee shops when
preseason is starting up.”
“I didn’t have a lot of options, and I didn’t think it was going to be as
bad as it was. I haven’t been going out much, but the season promo has
started, so people are all hyped up, you know? It was worse than usual, but
eventually we got out of there . . . anyway, things are a lot more
complicated than I expected them to be.” I pour myself a glass of water
because my mouth is dry. I’m drained and wound up.
“Complicated how? Why are you so freaking fidgety? Does she have
a boyfriend or something?”
“No. Well, she’s been seeing this guy, but I don’t think it’s serious,
and I sorta trump him now.”
“Trump him how? Because you’re ridiculously good looking? Spit it
out, RJ. You’re antsier than me after a freaking accidental energy drink.”
“So, last night I found out that Lainey has a baby.”
 Stevie jerks up, and the phone clatters onto the table, giving me a
view of the ceiling fan. Suddenly her face is three inches from the screen
and out of focus. “What?” she yells.
“Lainey has a four-month-old baby, and he’s mine.”
Stevie flops back down in the chair, her face a mask of shock. I
wonder if that’s what I looked like last night when Lainey told me.
“Holy shit. Are you sure it’s yours?”
“I’m sure. I met him last night, and he looks like me.”
“But . . . what if this is like that crazy chick who pretended to be
pregnant with your baby and tagged you on social media for months?” I
open my mouth to interrupt, but Stevie’s eyes are wide, and she’s on one of
her tangents. “What if this Lainey woman has a type, and you’re it? What
if it’s someone else’s baby and she’s trying to pass it off as yours because
you’re rolling in money? God, this is like a freaking soap opera. Actually,
it’s more like one of those scripted reality shows.”
I level her with an unimpressed glare. “This is super unhelpful—you
do realize that?”
“Sorry, sorry.” She raises her hands in the air. “I’m just . . . shocked, I
guess? You’re sure the baby is yours?”
“Pretty damn sure, yeah. He has my mouth—and my dimple. There
are some very strong family resemblances.”
“Okay. Wow. So I’m an aunt again? Does this mean you two are
going to try to make this thing work between you?”
“That’s the thing—she freaked out last night and told me to leave.”
Stevie narrows her eyes. “Why? What did you do?”
“Why do you automatically think it’s something I did?”
“Because you’re a guy, and you’ve never incubated a human life
inside your body.”
“Neither have you.”
“Yeah, but I have the ability to, unlike you with your silly dangly
parts. So, what happened to make her freak out on you?”
“I don’t really know. She let me see Kody—”
“His name is Kody?”
“Yeah.”
“I love it. Okay, continue.” She crosses her legs and motions for me
to go on.
 I’m thinking I probably should’ve waited to call my brother for
advice, but I continue anyway. “So, she let me come up to her apartment to
meet Kody, and when I realized that he’s really mine, I told her I would set
up a nursery in my house and that I would take care of them.”
Stevie arches a brow. “I’m sorry, you said what?”
“That I would take care of them. He’s mine as much as he is hers.
I’ve already missed out on the first four months of his life. I’m not going
to miss out on any more of it.”
“Did you happen to say that to her as well?”
“Yeah, of course. I have every right to be part of his life. I have all
the resources to take care of him. Of both of them.”
Stevie gives me her you’re an idiot face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She sighs and shakes her head. It’s annoying that I can’t force her to
explain faster. “Listen to what you’re saying, RJ. This woman has gone
through an entire pregnancy on her own. She’s spent the last four months
raising a baby—on her own. You come swooping back into her life, she
finds out that you lied about who you are and also finds out that you have
ass loads of money. The second you find out that you made a baby with
her, you essentially try to take over her entire world.”
“I’m not trying to take over anything. I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t
have lied, and it’s my fault that I’ve missed out, but I don’t think it’s
unreasonable for me to want to be part of their lives.”
“It’s not unreasonable at all, but what you’re saying and what she’s
hearing are probably two very different things.”
“I don’t get it.”
Stevie nods, like she expected as much. “So, you know how after
Max was born no one could hold him for more than like five seconds
before Joy wanted him back?”
“Uh, yeah, but I don’t see what—”
“The mothering instinct is strong. She barely put him down for the
first week, and even Kyle could only hold him for a few minutes. I’m
guessing—and this is just a guess, but I think it’s a pretty solid one—that
Lainey’s terrified that you’re going to try to take her baby away from her.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Because you have an insane amount of money and you’re planning
to put a nursery in your house. It’s all in the delivery, RJ.”
 “But I want to take care of both of them.”
Stevie props her chin on her fist. “Does she know that?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I run a hand through my hair. “What am
I supposed to do? Yesterday I was trying to get back into her life, and now
I’m a dad with no rights to my own kid. I don’t know how to handle any of
this.”
“Now you have to woo them. Show her that you want them both.”
“How do I do that?”
“The same way you went about softening her up after you lied about
being a millionaire NHL player—do nice things for them. She’s a single
mother living on a single income. Don’t you remember how tired Joy and
Kyle were at the beginning? Even now, it’s a miracle if they’re still up
after ten. From what I’ve seen, being a parent is freaking exhausting, so I
can only imagine that being a single parent is like signing on to be a
zombie for a good three years.”
She definitely has a point, one I hadn’t really had time to consider.
“This is why I want to help take care of them.”
“Yeah, but Lainey needs help without feeling like she’s being
railroaded. Get her groceries delivered so she doesn’t have to waste time
shopping, get her a housekeeper, send her to the spa so she can get a
freaking pedicure. Joy loved it when Mom and I did that for her. She
couldn’t see her damn feet for the better part of half a year, and I’m
betting now she doesn’t have the time, energy, or money to indulge in
things like that. Give her a reason to trust that you’re going to be there for
both of them and that you’re not just a playboy and a liar.”
“It was one lie.”
“Unfortunately, it was a pretty damn big one. She needs to know she
can rely on you, so be reliable.”
“Okay. I can do that. I can be reliable.”
Less than twenty-four hours ago I was thinking about all the ways I
wanted to get back into Lainey’s pants and her bed, and now all I can think
about is how I’m going to find a way to cement myself back in her life so I
don’t miss out on any more time with my son—because I sure don’t want
him to grow up without a dad.
 CHAPTER 20
SHOW ME YOU MEAN IT

Lainey

I glance at Walter’s closed door as I back out of the elevator. I don’t want
to hurt him, but I need to give RJ a chance with Kody—and possibly give
us a chance too, depending on what he wants out of this. It isn’t until I spin
Kody’s stroller around that I notice the pile of boxes stacked beside my
apartment door. “What the heck is all this?” I ask Kody, who babbles and
shakes his teddy bear rattle.
The door across the hall opens, and Walter appears, arms crossed
over his chest. “Most of them have been here since I got home from work.
Except the two on the top—they arrived a few minutes ago.” He’s still
dressed in his work wear, a pair of khaki pants and a white short-sleeved
button-down complete with pocket protector and striped tie.
“Oh, hi, Walter.” I slip my key into the lock, aware we need to have a
conversation, one I’m not excited about.
Walter is right there to help me, rushing over to hold open the door
while I get Kody inside. He assists with all the boxes—some of which are
heavy, based on the way the veins in his neck bulge and his face goes red
with exertion.
Once we’re done bringing everything in, he stuffs his hands in his
pockets. “I didn’t realize you were seeing other people.”
I unbuckle Kody from his stroller and pick him up, half using him as
a shield for this conversation. “It’s not like that, Walter.”
 “Really? Because last night you went on a date while Eden watched
Kody, and then you brought him back here and flaunted him right under
my nose.”
I realize how it all must look to him—and how I would feel if I were
in his shoes. “I wasn’t flaunting him. He’s Kody’s father.”
The anger shifts to confusion. “I thought you said his father wasn’t
interested in being part of his life.”
I rub my temple. “I thought he wasn’t. We recently reconnected.”
“Reconnected how? Are you planning to get back together with him?
He hasn’t been a part of Kody’s life at all, and now you’re going to let him
jump back in like he’s been here the entire time? Is this stuff all from
him?”
“Maybe?” I glance at the stack of boxes. Logically they must all be
from RJ, but I’d have to open them to be sure. “It’s a complicated
situation, Walter. I don’t really know what’s going on myself right now.”
“What about you and me?” He motions between us.
“I don’t know about that either,” I say honestly.
His shoulders curl forward, and he nods at the floor.
Before he can say anything else, the buzzer for my door goes off. My
phone also pings in my purse. “Just give me a second.” I shift Kody to my
hip and hit the intercom button. “Hello?”
“Delivery for Lainey Carver.”
“Okay. Come on up.” I buzz the person through.
“I guess I should probably go,” Walter says dejectedly.
“I’m really sorry, Walter. I don’t want to mislead you, but this whole
situation is just . . . confusing.”
“I understand.” He bops Kody on the end of the nose. “See you later,
little guy.”
He leaves my apartment as a deliveryman steps out of the elevator
rolling a cart of boxes. I recognize the name of the company on the side of
the box; it’s one of those high-end grocery delivery services.
Walter disappears inside his apartment without another word. I feel
bad, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I allow the
deliveryman to come in and unload the cart in the kitchen. The boxes take
up all the space on the counter. Once he’s gone, I put Kody in his activity
center to play while I unpack everything. Fresh produce and ready-to-cook
meals, as well as a variety of types of baby food, fill my cupboards and my
fridge.
I have to assume that all of this is from RJ. I can’t even begin to
guess how much this cost. Everything is name brand or high-end organic
produce. I expected to have to make time for grocery shopping this
evening, and now I’m set for at least the next week, if not longer. It’s
thoughtful and kind, which is more in line with the RJ I knew in Alaska.
Groceries unpacked and put away, I feed Kody, then sift through my
now-stuffed fridge and debate what I’d like for dinner. I settle on a pasta
dish. It’s supposed to serve three to four people, which means I’ll have
plenty of leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
The muffled ping of my phone reminds me that I have unchecked
messages. I leave the package on the counter and bend to kiss a happy
Kody on the top of the head as I retrieve my phone. I have two voice
mails, one from my mother and another from RJ.
I listen to the one from my mother first; it’s a request for a call back.
She left the message less than twenty minutes ago, but if I know my
mother, she’ll call again before an hour has passed. She knows I’m home
from work, and she calls at least three times a week to check in on me and
Kody. She wants me to come back to Washington, but I like it here. I also
like not being smothered. And now I may have another reason to stay.
I skip to the next message, and RJ’s deep voice fills my ear and
makes all sorts of warm tingles happen in my body. “Hi, Lainey, it’s Rook,
RJ. It’s . . . hi. I’m sorry about last night. I’m sure this isn’t easy for you,
and it’s not for me either. I don’t want to take Kody away from you. I just
want to help and be a part of his life and yours, however I can. I sent you a
bunch of stuff today, things I thought you could use. When you have time,
can you call or message to let me know if everything arrived? I hope I hear
from you soon.”
He’s obviously trying to show me he wants to be involved. Buying
these things is . . . helpful, but it’s not the same as getting up in the middle
of the night for feedings or dealing with Kody when he’s fussy for hours.
The only way I’m going to know if he’s really serious about wanting to be
part of his life, and maybe mine, is by allowing him to spend time with us.
I listen to the message three more times before I finally call him
back.
It doesn’t even finish ringing once. “Hey.”
 “Hi.” I chew on the inside of my lip, trying to summon some
courage.
“Did you get my message? And all the stuff I sent?”
“I did. Thank you. Um . . . I was wondering if you want to come
over? I have all this food and these boxes to open . . . maybe we could
have dinner?”
“I’d love that, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me
over. I sent all that stuff because I want to help however I can, and I
figured this was a good start,” he says softly, sounding hopeful.
“It was. It is a good start, I mean. And I don’t feel obligated. Not
really. Not in the way I think you’re thinking.”
“I can be there in less than half an hour.”
“Okay. Great.”
I realize I’m still in my stupid uniform, and I likely smell fishy. I
take Kody with me into the bathroom and sing to him while I shower away
the eau de aquarium.
I decide to go with leggings and a long, loose shirt. I don’t want to
look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to look like I’m not
trying at all. I’m back to my prepregnancy weight, but my boobs are twice
as big because I’m breastfeeding, and my stomach is a little less toned
thanks to how big Kody got while he was in there. I have a few stretch
marks left behind as an extra reminder that I’m a giver of life, and I don’t
mind them one bit.
I brush out my hair, braid it while it’s still wet, and finish up by
applying a little concealer under my eyes to manage the dark circles. I
exhale a long breath as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and inspect
my reflection. This isn’t a date, but in a lot of ways it feels like one.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since lunch,
at the same time as my buzzer goes off. Kody lets out an aggravated wail,
and I pluck him from his activity center, rushing down the hall to buzz RJ
in.
I wait by the door, bouncing Kody on my hip while I listen for the
elevator. I usher him in quickly, feeling a pang of guilt as I glance at
Walter’s door.
I need to find out what exactly RJ wants out of this. I don’t want to
open my heart back up to him just to have it broken all over again. It was
one thing when we were both single and looking to enjoy each other’s
company, but now my life is completely different. And so is his.
I close the door in time to see Walter’s start to open. I lock it and
slide the chain latch home. Kody gives me another annoyed squawk and
rubs his eyes. “Is someone getting tired?” I coo and kiss his cheek.
RJ holds up a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a little gift
bag and gives me a chagrined smile as he glances around my apartment.
Since he appeared at the aquarium, he’s been sending me flowers regularly,
so there’s a bouquet on almost every available surface. It’s a good thing
most of them came in their own vases, since I only had one of my own.
I glance pointedly at the stack of boxes still sitting just inside the
door. “As if all of this wasn’t enough?”
“I didn’t want to come over empty handed.” He rocks back on his
heels and smiles, making that little dimple that matches Kody’s pop.
Kody wails again, head bumping against my collarbone as he pats my
boob and grabs on to my shirt. “I think I’m going to have to feed him
again before I do anything else. This is his witching hour. He’s tired, but
he’s hungry.”
“What can I do to help? Can I feed him?”
“I’ve got the feeding part covered.” I motion to my boobs.
“Oh, right.” RJ’s gaze drops and his eyes flare, cheeks flushing.
“Should I start on dinner, then?”
“Sure. It’s on the counter. Let me show you where the pots are. I was
thinking the pasta puttanesca would be nice.”
He follows me to the kitchen, and I show him where the pots and
pans are. I check the recipe—the meals come with directions—and then I
leave him to get started while I settle in the chair in the living room to
feed Kody.
He latches on quickly, always extra hungry in the evenings, like he’s
been waiting all day for my boob because a bottle just isn’t the same. I
smooth out his dark, thick hair, trying to settle the cowlick, which keeps
curling back up.
“Hey, Lainey, can I get you something to—oh shit, sorry!”
I look up to find RJ standing in the middle of the living room, eyes
comically wide and focused on where Kody is latched on to my breast, one
hand splayed protectively over the swell.
 “I, uh . . . I wanted to see if I could get you something to drink, but
you’re booby, I mean busy. I mean—sorry.” RJ blinks a bunch of times and
averts his gaze, but he doesn’t seem to be able to help the way his eyes
keep darting back to me and my exposed breast.
“Water would be nice, actually.”
“Okay. I can get you that. I’ll be right back.” He returns a minute
later, setting the glass on the table beside me while trying to keep his eyes
anywhere but me and failing completely.
I touch the back of his hand. “There’s a privacy blanket over there, if
it would make you more comfortable.”
He looks at me and then down again and back up. “What?”
“I can cover up if it makes you uncomfortable. For now, anyway,” I
amend.
He licks his lips. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I just don’t
want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Then don’t cover up for my sake.” His eyes stay on mine, and a wry
grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “It’s more envy than discomfort at
this point, anyway.”
I blush, not knowing what to say, but pleased he’s still attracted to
me.
He heads back to the kitchen.
Kody snuffles, and his hand flexes on my breast. “Don’t worry, little
man, they’re all yours for at least another six months.” Although it’s nice
to be reminded that I won’t be a feed bag forever.
Dinner is almost ready by the time Kody’s done feeding. He’s sleepy
and sated, at least for now, so I settle him in his swing, turn on the lullaby
track, and join RJ for dinner at the dining room table, which I rarely use. I
get two bites in before Kody starts fussing.
“Sorry, he gets cranky around this time in the evening. He doesn’t
really like to be put down until he’s ready for bed.” I pick him up and
cradle him in one arm so I can soothe and eat at the same time.
“I could hold him while you eat,” RJ offers.
“It’s okay. I’m used to doing most things one handed these days. The
fact that I’m eating something that’s still warm is actually a treat.”
RJ sets his fork down. “I get to eat hot food all the time, with both
hands. I really wouldn’t mind holding him. Please?”
 I realize then that he hasn’t even had a chance to hold him once yet.
Yesterday I was scared of what I stand to lose by bringing RJ into our
lives. But I can see that he’s trying, and I can also see that despite the lies
he told me, he’s still kind and considerate and trying his best—so I need to
try my best too, even if I’m still afraid.
Besides, this isn’t about just me anymore. It’s about Kody growing
up with a father he knows and who loves him, and I need to give RJ the
chance to be that, if it’s what he truly wants. I can’t freeze him out because
of my own fears, even if in some ways they’re valid. His lies make sense
now that I’ve seen what his life is like, and I might not like what he did,
but at least he’s not making excuses. And he’s not running the other way or
throwing money at me to keep me quiet. He wouldn’t be sitting across
from me at my dining room table, after cooking dinner he bought, if he
weren’t trying to show he’s invested.
“Of course.” I kiss Kody’s forehead as I push back my chair and
stand. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to let you hold him before now—it’s just
that I’m so used to having him all to myself. It’s been him and me against
the world.”
“I can understand that.” RJ smiles up at me.
I return the grin, directing him how to position his arms and cradle
Kody’s head.
He looks so tiny in RJ’s arms. I stand back and press my fingers to
my lips, fighting tears as I watch RJ’s face light up with wonder. Kody
makes a plaintive little noise, eyes darting to me. I stroke his warm cheek.
“It’s okay, baby,” I coo. “This is your daddy.”
I grab my phone from the side table where I left it and snap a few
pictures of RJ and Kody before I sit down and resume eating. RJ’s full
attention is on our son, who has discovered his finger and keeps trying to
eat it. Once I’m finished, RJ reluctantly passes him back. Kody snuggles
right into my neck, one hand resting possessively on my boob. I sniff his
head, taking in his baby scent and now the faint smell of RJ’s cologne.
After we’re finished with dinner, I pass Kody back to RJ and clean up
the kitchen while he cuddles him. It’s sweet and wonderful and confusing
—because it makes me hopeful.
Once the kitchen is tidied and the leftovers are put away, I open the
bottle of wine and pour us each a glass, although mine is modest since I’ll
need to feed Kody again around midnight. Usually I’d put him in his crib
at this point in the evening, but I don’t want to take him from RJ,
especially when they’re so enthralled with each other. Kody can’t seem to
take his eyes off RJ, and he giggles every time RJ makes a face or tickles
his little feet. While Walter seems to enjoy Kody, he never really settles
with him, not like this.
Once RJ is seated, I help make him more comfortable by propping
his arm up with a cushion. “Is that better?”
“Yeah, much. Thanks.” He smiles. “You’re great at this—you know
that, right?”
“Not really. I’m just figuring things out as I go.”
“That’s kind of how parenting is, though, isn’t it?”
“Seems that way.”
I spend the next half hour opening the various boxes RJ sent. There
are clothes—most of which won’t fit Kody for a few more months—toys,
a new top-of-the-line stroller I drooled over when I was pregnant but knew
I’d never be able to afford. There’s even a sweet little hockey jersey with
“Bowman” and RJ’s number on the back—and a teddy bear with a
matching jersey that’s almost the same size as Kody.
“You went a little overboard,” I say as I survey the empty boxes and
the pile of new clothes and toys.
“I’m making up for all the missed time. And I want to reassure you
that I have no intention of trying to take Kody away from you—I just
don’t want to miss out on any more of his life than I already have. Does
that make sense?”
“It does. And I don’t want you to think I don’t want you in our lives.
I’ve just spent all this time doing it on my own. He’s just been mine, so the
thought of having to share him is scary.”
“I get it, but won’t it be a lot easier if we’re in this together instead
of you on your own?” he asks softly.
“Is that what you want? For us to be in this together?”
RJ swallows thickly. “I had sort of hoped we could see if we still fit. I
know I have to work to earn back your trust, Lainey. I get that I messed
this up—and that’s on me—but I’ll be honest: it gutted me when I realized
I had no way to contact you and I’d left you with no way to find me either.
I wanted so badly to seek you out, but I figured your not answering the
phone and not leaving a note was clearly telling me you weren’t interested
in an ‘us’ outside of Alaska. I should’ve tried to find you, but I didn’t
think I could handle hearing that kind of truth. I wish I could go back and
do things differently.”
I clasp my hands in my lap, trying to keep myself from wringing
them out of nervousness. I fell so hard and fast for him last time, and the
aftermath was more painful than I ever could have imagined, but it can’t
be by chance that we’ve found our way back to each other. I owe it to
myself and to Kody to see if we still feel the same way. “I think, for
Kody’s sake, it’s worth trying.” I still need to be careful with my heart,
though.
“Really?”
“We worked well together before, but everything was so different, so
we’ll have to see. One day at a time and all that, right?”
RJ nods. “I can handle one day at a time.”
I don’t mention my fears: that this reality is too different from the
one we lived in a year ago. This one has responsibilities and obligations
that Alaska didn’t. And all the attention RJ seems to thrive on terrifies me.
But for Kody I’ll try—and, selfishly, for me, because the other option is
shared custody, and I don’t want to give up 50 percent of my time with my
son.
“Um, I don’t know how to broach this without it being awkward, but
I spoke to the team doctor about a formal DNA test. It’s pretty obvious
that Kody is mine, but I figured we’ll need it moving forward, and it’ll
avoid a lot of red tape—so whenever you have time, he can make a house
call.”
Kody starts fussing, as if he can suddenly sense my anxiety. Without
my having to say a word, RJ carefully transfers him to my arms. I shush
him, patting his bottom as he cuddles into my neck and snuffles quietly.
“Any day is fine with me. I have tomorrow off, but I’m not sure if that’s
too short notice or not.”
“We can make it work. I have practice in the morning, but after that
I’m free. You could come, if you want—both of you. I could have a car
pick you up?”
“I have a car.”
“You got your license.” He smiles—it’s a statement, not a question.
At some point I should tell RJ the truth: that I knew how to drive in
Alaska but I just never got my license. It was one of the first things I did
when I returned to Washington, wanting that piece of independence. “I did,
and I drove all the way here from Washington.”
RJ’s eyes bug out. “That’s one hell of a drive.”
“You should try it when you’re seven months pregnant. It probably
took twice as long with all the bathroom stops.”
“What made you come all the way to Chicago?” RJ props his cheek
on his fist.
I shrug and look away. “There was a job opportunity, and I took it.” I
press my lips to Kody’s forehead. He’s finally asleep. “I’m going to put
him in his crib.”
“Okay. Sure. Can I help?”
“Of course.”
I teach RJ in whispers how to put Kody to bed. It’s not particularly
difficult, but we have a routine we follow. Once he’s settled in his crib and
sleeping soundly, RJ and I head back to the living room.
I pull out two photo albums, the first chronicling my pregnancy—
including the ultrasound pictures, my progress from tiny bump to full-on
baby belly, the drive from Washington to Chicago, setting up his nursery in
this apartment, and the trip to the hospital with Eden.
One of RJ’s arms is stretched out across the back of the couch, the
album open between us. He’s shifted until our thighs are touching. I’m
hyperaware of our proximity, of every place where our bodies touch, of the
way he keeps fiddling with the end of my braid. The closeness is easy—
but not, because it reminds me of those weeks when we were together and
of the way we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
“Eden was with you for the birth?” RJ asks, pulling me out of my
head and my spiral of inappropriate thoughts.
“She was. She’s been a good friend.”
“I’m glad you have her. I’d hate to think of you completely alone out
here. I can’t imagine your parents were all that happy that you moved
across the country.”
“They’re the reason I’m here.”
“Can I ask what happened?” RJ shifts so he’s facing me.
I focus on the picture in front of me, the last one I took before my
entire life changed all over again. “My parents were happy to have me
home when I returned from Alaska, but I was . . . not as happy to be there.
I missed Kodiak Island—I missed you—and you were just . . . gone. It
didn’t take long before my mother started with the whole overprotective
routine. It got old fast, and things went downhill quickly when I realized I
was pregnant. I tried to find a way to reach you, but when I’d exhausted all
my options . . . well, it all seemed pretty hopeless.”
“I’m so sorry, Lainey.”
“Me too.” I reach for my glass of wine and take an unsteady sip. “I
actually moved in with my oldest sister and her family for a little while
because of the tension with my parents. I needed space, and I couldn’t get
any. I finished my master’s thesis, and then Eden suggested I come out for
a visit. I took a plane that time because I wasn’t too far along to fly. I fell
in love with the aquarium and the independence. I didn’t want to go back
to Washington, but at the time I didn’t have a choice. Until the position
came available at the aquarium.”
“So you took it and drove out here on your own.”
“Eden flew out, and we drove back together. My parents weren’t
happy, obviously, but I needed the space and the ability to prove not just to
them but to myself that I could do this.”
“You know you’re amazing, right? After everything you’ve been
through—and then handling a pregnancy on your own, coming here,
raising a baby alone.”
“I’ve had lots of support. And my job is fantastic. I have flexible
hours. It’s right across the street. I can even do research at home when I
need to. The medical and other benefits are excellent. As far as moves go,
this one has been great—for me, at least.”
“Have your parents at least met Kody?”
“Oh yes. They came out to visit as soon as he was born. Tried to
convince me to come home, but I was settled and determined, so I stayed.”
I flip the first album closed and open the second one, setting it between us.
The first picture is the birth announcement.
“Kodiak RJ Carver,” RJ murmurs, tracing the edge of the photo.
“Kody. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together.”
I look up at him, a little embarrassed but more nostalgic than
anything. “We made a lot of special memories there. Well, they were
special for me.”
“It was the same for me, Lainey.” His eyes are soft, his tone earnest.
“I want to make more of those with you. With both of you.”
 CHAPTER 21
THE FALL BACK IN

Lainey

RJ left an hour ago—he kissed me on the cheek, which was very

respectable and sweet. I’m disappointed, and then again I’m not, because I
don’t think I’m ready to explore the chemistry that’s still very much
present between us yet, and maybe he could sense that.
I’m about to give Kody his midnight feeding when my phone rings. I
check the caller and see that it’s my mother. “Mom, why are you calling
me at midnight?”
“Because I just got off the phone with Walter, and he informed me
that a male visitor just left your apartment, that’s why I’m calling. Lainey
Patricia Carver, you have a four-month-old baby—you can’t be
entertaining men at midnight!” she shrieks in my ear. “I don’t know what
in the devil has gotten into you, but Walter is absolutely devastated.
Devastated. I raised you better than this. You are not some kind of hussy
who spreads your legs for a man just because he’s attractive. Have you
learned nothing from your mistakes?”
I grit my teeth, annoyed that Walter had the audacity to tell my
mother about RJ. “First of all, Walter has no business calling you to tattle
on me—”
“He didn’t call me. I called him because you hadn’t returned my call
from over six hours ago. Six hours, Lainey! I’m a wreck over here!”
I take a deep breath and try to find some calm. “I’m sorry I didn’t
call you right back. I was busy—”
 “Being a floozy!” she shouts.
“First of all, you have no idea what was going on here. You’re
making false assumptions, and the name-calling is unnecessary. I have not
ever been, nor will I ever tolerate being called, a floozy—especially by my
own mother. Secondly, I will not allow you to make me feel bad for
allegedly engaging in a healthy physical relationship with someone I cared
very deeply for.”
She scoffs. “He left you there—”
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t try to spin it in a way that makes it seem less
than it was. We cared about each other, and unforeseen circumstances
separated us. And while I agree that my falling pregnant was not ideal, I
do not regret a moment of the time I spent with RJ or that I now have
Kody.” The only thing I regretted was waiting until it was too late to tell
him how I felt about him.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re tromping all over poor Walter’s
feelings.”
My parents met Walter when they came out to meet Kody after he
was born, and my mother instantly took a liking to him—so when I told
her we’d become friends she was ecstatic, and she was even happier when
I told her we’d gone on a date. Now I wish I’d kept that information to
myself. “If you’d stop interrupting, I’d be able to explain that by some
great karmic chance, RJ and I have reconnected. He lives here in Chicago,
and he was here tonight, not some random male visitor I was flaunting in a
bid to hurt poor Walter. And while I feel badly about the situation—and
Walter—under the circumstances, I think it’s quite reasonable that RJ and
I at least attempt to see if we can make this work between us, for the good
of our child.”
“But I thought you said he was an alpaca farmer in New York—how
can he live in Chicago?”
I cringe, because this is the part that’s not so easy to explain and the
most difficult to get over. “His family owned an alpaca farm in New York
but have since sold it. RJ plays professional hockey, here, in Chicago.”
“Professional meaning what?”
“He plays for the NHL.”
I get several long seconds of silence. “Doesn’t that mean he has to
travel a lot? How can he provide any kind of emotional stability for you?
For Kody? I don’t like this. Not one bit, Lainey.”
 And this, right here, is the exact reason I’m in Chicago instead of
Washington. I may have asked myself the same questions, but I don’t need
my mother making this harder for me. “You can not like it all you want,
but this is my life, not yours—and I get to make my own choices, whether
you approve or not. It’s late—I’m tired. I have to feed Kody, and then I’d
like to go to bed.”
“Lainey, please. I’m your mother. I know what’s good for you.”
“I love you, Mom, I really do, but you know what’s good for you, and
that’s not necessarily what’s good for me. I’m going to try with RJ, for
Kody’s sake and my own. You can support me or not, but either way, this is
the choice I’m making.”
“Well, I think it’s another mistake.”
“You’re welcome to that opinion. I still love you, whether you choose
to support my decision or not. Good night, Mom.” I end the call, expecting
anxiety to take over. But it doesn’t. Instead I feel good about standing up
for myself, even though it wasn’t easy.

Over the next couple of weeks, RJ—I can’t get in the habit of calling him
Rook no matter how hard I try, which isn’t all that hard, to be quite honest
—infuses himself into my and Kody’s lives. After the team doctor
confirmed what we already knew to be the truth—RJ is Kody’s father—
we’ve been spending as much time as possible together.
I now have a housekeeper who comes by not once but twice a week to
tidy the apartment. A layer of dust doesn’t even have a chance to form
before she’s back again. She also does all the laundry, and I’ll be honest—
baby laundry is a giant pain in the butt. Baby clothes are adorable. And
tiny. And babies go through clothes like they’re modeling for a runway
fashion show. Except they’re often covered in spit-up—or, now that we’ve
begun trying solids, explosive bowel movements. It’s the opposite of
glamorous, and I’m pretty okay with not having to scrub out stains.
RJ has taken to coming to my place most nights of the week, unless
he has early practice or he has to meet up with his teammates for evening
meetings—which sometimes take place at the pub. He invites me to tag
along or come to his practices, but I’m still trying to get used to him
before I get used to all the other craziness that comes with his life and my
being in it. The idea of sitting in an arena with all those people is enough
to make my heart race and my palms sweat. I’m just not ready for that yet.
It’s bath night for Kody, which is his favorite. He loves splashing in
the water and playing with his toys, so it’s kind of a production, but I don’t
mind because he always sleeps so well afterward.
RJ picks him up from the play mat on the floor and gives him a
raspberry on the tummy, which elicits a shriek and a giggle out of Kody.
“Come on, little man, it’s bath time! You want to smell good for Stella at
day care tomorrow. I saw you trying to steal her soother today, and I gotta
tell you, that’s not the best way to make a good impression. If you don’t
watch it, that little punk Hunter is going to move in on your territory. I saw
him sharing his giraffe teether with her the other day. Now that’s how you
get the girl.” Kody coos at his father, enthralled by everything he says like
he’s actually mentally taking notes from him. RJ winks at me, and I follow
him down the hall, shaking my head with a smile.
I’ve already set up the baby bath and all of Kody’s toys. While RJ
undresses him, I put lavender-scented bubbles and warm water in his tub. I
turn to see how RJ is managing and smile even wider as he leans down and
gives him another raspberry, then removes his diaper and gives him a
tickle.
I’m about to warn RJ that naked tickles aren’t the best idea—at least
not where Kody is concerned—but I’m too late. Kody giggles loudly,
which also prompts him to pee, and RJ is right in the line of fire.
“Oh shit!” RJ tries to use his hand as a shield, but Kody kicks his
legs, which has a loose fire hose effect. RJ looks down at his now-wet shirt
and hands. “Not cool, little man, not cool.”
I clap a palm over my mouth to muffle my laugh and nudge RJ out of
the way so I can get to Kody. “Did you pee all over Daddy? You got him
real good, didn’t you? Yes, you did! Daddy needs a bath too, just like
you!” Kody babbles and smiles as I set him in the tub, immediately
slapping at the bubbles and sending a spray of water my way. At least it’s
just soapy water and not pee.
At the sound of metal hitting metal, I glance over my shoulder—and
suck in a breath when I catch RJ unbuckling his belt. I lift my gaze, eyes
raking over six-pack abs, defined pecs, and heavy shoulders. I can’t seem
to command myself to look away as he unbuttons his jeans and drags the
zipper down.
 In the weeks since he’s come back into my life, I’ve been hesitant to
fully acknowledge the chemistry between us, to give it room to breathe,
because once I do there’s no going back. But I can’t ignore the way my
body heats up at the sight of him undressing in Kody’s bathroom.
“What’re you doing?” My voice is high, almost panicked.
He gives me a saucy grin. “You said I need a bath too.”
“But—”
He shoves his jeans down his thighs, and I look away, focusing on
Kody in the bath and not how almost naked RJ is, or how close to me he is,
or how long it’s been since I’ve had sex . . . the last time being the night—
or rather morning—I conceived Kody.
RJ removes the showerhead and lets it hang, then steps over the edge
of the tub and lowers himself in, one muscular leg on either side of Kody’s
baby bathtub. The tub itself has less than three inches of sudsy water in it,
and I’m both relieved and disappointed that RJ is still wearing boxer
briefs.
I pass RJ a cloth and the baby wash. “Might as well do the honors,
huh, Daddy?”
His grin grows wider as I stare in blatant appreciation at his mostly
naked body taking up the vast majority of the tub. “If I wash Kody, does
that mean you wash me?”
“I think you can take care of yourself just fine.” I have my doubts I’ll
be able to keep things safely platonic if I help RJ out. I use the edge of the
tub to pull myself up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I nab his pee-covered T-shirt and Kody’s dirty clothes and throw
them in the wash. On the way back to the bathroom, I grab my phone from
the living room and pad quietly down the hall. RJ is busy splashing around
in the shallow water, making Kody smile and giggle, so I quickly take a
bunch of pictures, thinking that these would all be perfect with the caption
ovaries exploding.
I watch the muscles in his back flex as he zooms one of the bath toys
around over Kody’s head. In the year since we’ve been together, he seems
like he’s in even better shape, if that’s possible. My body has changed too
—and it’s definitely not more defined or toned. I don’t want him to look at
me differently, see me differently, although I’m aware he probably already
does. I’m the mother of his child. We have a baby together. It changes
everything. Which is part of the reason I’m holding on so hard to the
things I know.
Also, the second I let him into my pants, I’ll inevitably let him back
into my heart. With RJ, there isn’t one without the other.
I tune back in to their one-sided conversation. “You know what, little
man? I think I’m making some progress with Mommy.”
Kody babbles and smacks the water, splashing him in the face.
“I know. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I have a lot of work to
do still . . . but dude, I gotta tell you, your mom’s a MILF—and if you ever
tell her I said that, I’ll straight-up deny it. But God, she’s beautiful.”
Kody shrieks and kicks at the water.
“You’re handsome, no doubt about that, little man. Can I tell you
something important?” Kody giggles when RJ tickles the bottoms of his
feet. RJ smiles, then turns serious. “I think if it wasn’t for you, your mom
wouldn’t be giving me a second chance. So thank you. I love you, buddy,
and I’m hoping I get to say that to you every day for the rest of my life.
Even when you’re a teenager and it embarrasses the shit out of you.”
My heart squeezes as I take in this giant of a man telling his son he
loves him.
“You know who would have loved to meet you and your mom?”
Kody babbles, as if he’s answering his dad’s question.
“Your grandpa Steven James, my dad. You and me both have his
dimple.” RJ touches his cheek and leans in to kiss Kody. “God, I miss him.
He was such an awesome dad. We had the farm, and he was always so
busy, but he still managed to make time to come to all my hockey games. I
really don’t know how he did it. Farms are hell to run. Long hours, hard
work, but he did it with a smile and cheered me on. I wish he was still
here.” RJ squeezes shampoo into his palm and starts washing Kody’s hair.
“Your grandpa worried about me a lot. I’ll be honest, little man, I
didn’t always make the best choices, especially when I first made the NHL
—and I’m going to try my best to help you make better ones than I did.
But your mom was definitely the best thing that ever happened to me, and
so are you, and I think your grandpa would’ve loved you both so much,
just like I do.”
 CHAPTER 22
CAN YOU HANDLE IT?

Rook

Hours at the gym have become an absolute necessity these days, because
otherwise, I have no way of exorcising the pent-up, restless energy that
comes from being around a gorgeous, sexy woman who is also the mother
of my child. Lainey is effortlessly beautiful, and she’s an incredible,
patient mother—which wouldn’t have been a turn-on less than a month
ago.
To be fair, I’ve seen a lot of boob recently. Seen but haven’t been able
to touch. It’s an odd kind of torture. There’s been a lot of hugs and kisses
on the cheek and flirty touches, but I don’t want to push too far too fast.
Then there was last night. Kody has been fussy the past few days
because he’s teething, and Lainey was wiped from lack of sleep. I offered
to stay over and take the middle-of-the-night feeding so Lainey could get
more than a couple hours in a row. I was prepared to spend the night on the
couch, and in hindsight that likely would have been a hell of a lot smarter.
She lay down with Kody on her chest, and I waited until they both
fell asleep before I transferred him back to his crib. I figured it would only
be a couple hours before he woke for a feeding, and her bed is so much
more comfortable than the couch, so I stretched out beside her.
The middle-of-the-night feeding never came, though, so I didn’t
relocate to the couch. Instead I woke up spooning Lainey, with my
morning wood pressing into her back and one hand very close to cupping
her boob. Thankfully it didn’t make things too awkward, which I’m taking
as a good sign.
Regardless, the mounting sexual tension is the reason I’m on set
number six of chest presses.
“What rock have you been hidin’ under the past couple o’ weeks?
The only time I see you is practice or workouts.” Lance is my spotter.
“I’m a little busy these days,” I grunt through the eighth rep.
“When you gonna stop hiding yer tour guide?”
“I’m not hiding Lainey—I just don’t want to subject her to my
shitstorm. And we’re kind of figuring out how we work together. The last
time we went out, I got mobbed, and it freaked her out.”
“She can’t get used to it without exposure.” Lance racks the bar for
me. “You can’t hide her from the world, and it doesn’t do her any good if
you’re trying to protect her from the media. Rip the bandage off, Rook.
Bring her to a practice—and when she’s ready, bring her and Kody to a
game so she can meet the wives. She needs to know she’s not alone. Your
team is your family.”
“She hates big crowds.”
“The boxes are safe. And Poppy and Sunny are like the Zen team—
they’ll make her feel right at home.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m
hitting the sauna, and you should too, if you don’t want to be crying like
yer baby later.”
He has a point. I’ve asked Lainey if she wants to come to practice
pretty much every time we have one. And it would be great if she could
attend before an actual game when it’s total mayhem. I decide I’ll bring it
up again tonight, once Kody is in bed.
I fire off a message to see if Lainey wants to have lunch. Most of the
time I’ll pick something up and bring it to the aquarium, but today I’m
thinking we could try a café. Baby steps and all.
I don’t hear from her before I reach the aquarium, but that’s not all
that surprising. She doesn’t respond to messages when she’s leading a tour
or with the animals. I find out from Eden that she left work about an hour
ago and that she was feverish, with the chills, feeling nauseous.
I try calling her again, but there’s still no response. “What about
Kody?” I ask Eden.
“He’s still at day care, as far as I know. At least I hope he is. I don’t
think Lainey’s in any state to take care of him right now. She really didn’t
look good when she left.”
“I’m going to check on her. See what she needs.” I’m halfway across
the lobby when I realize I don’t have a key, and if she’s not answering her
phone, I can’t be sure she’s going to answer her door either.
I turn to find Eden dangling a key chain from her finger.
“Can I borrow those?”
“No. I thought I’d taunt you with them.” She shows me which one
gets me into the building and the one for Lainey’s apartment.
I rush across the street and take the elevator to her floor. I knock first,
so I don’t scare the crap out of her, but when she doesn’t answer after
about thirty seconds, I use the key to let myself in. “Lainey?” I call out as
I close the door and lock it behind me.
I slip the keys into my pocket; anxiety makes my heart beat faster as
I walk down the hall. I peek in Kody’s room but keep going when I see it’s
empty. I pass the open, unoccupied bathroom and head for Lainey’s
bedroom. The comforter is turned down; there’s a bowl on the floor and a
half-full glass of water on the nightstand.
“Lainey? You here?”
“RJ?” It’s more of a croak than my name, and it’s coming from the
bathroom.
“Eden said you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” That declaration is followed by a
horrible retching sound, a splash, and the flush of the toilet.
I find her hugging the bowl, her cheek resting on the edge. She’s
wearing a loose nightshirt, legs bare and mostly exposed. Her hair hangs in
a haphazard braid down her back, flyaways poking out, strands stuck to her
neck and forehead. Her normally tanned skin is pasty white, and a fine
sheen of sweat covers her face and neck despite the fact that she’s covered
in goose bumps.
“You don’t look okay.”
Her eyes are glassy and slow to track. “You shouldn’t see me like
this. I look awful.”
I ignore her as I crouch down, and she tries to wave me away. I press
the back of my hand to her forehead, then lean in and follow with my lips,
like I remember my mom used to do.
She makes a little noise, sort of like a hum combined with a groan.
“You’re burning up. Do you have a thermometer around here?”
 “There’s one in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across from
Kody’s room, but I’m fine. It’s just a bug. I need to sleep for a few hours.”
“I don’t know that sleeping wrapped around a toilet is a great option,
Lainey.”
“The bath mat is pretty soft.” She shivers and looks over her shoulder
at the floor.
“Let me help you back into the bed.”
“I can’t yet. The nausea is ge—” Her face pales further, eyes going
wide, and then she pulls herself up, arms shaking, fingertips going white
as she clutches the seat and heaves violently. She tries to tell me to leave,
but she can barely get words out before she heaves again; this time nothing
comes up. She flushes the toilet, but spasms continue to rack her for a
good two minutes until she finally sags again, cheek resting on the seat.
I grab a washcloth and wet it so I can clean her up. She’s so weak and
spent that she doesn’t put up a fight. “How many times has that
happened?”
“I don’t know. It comes in these awful waves. I’ve been in here since
I came home, and that was before lunchtime.”
“I’m going to get the thermometer so I can check your temperature
and get you a glass of water so the dry heaves aren’t as painful.” I smooth
her hair away from her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
I fill a glass with water first, then search the bathroom for the
thermometer. By the time I get back she’s dry heaving again. Once she’s
done with that round I take her temperature, which is over 103 degrees. It’s
another hour before she finally stops heaving. She’s pale and sweaty and
exhausted. I pick her up off the floor and carry her back to bed.
Lainey struggles to sit up, shivering, eyes bloodshot and glassy with
fever. “I need to get dressed and pick Kody up from day care.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll pick up Kody—you lie here and get
some rest.”
“But I—”
“Lainey.” I put a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting
up. “You need to let me help you. You don’t want to risk Kody catching
what you have.”
Lainey’s eyes flare. “Oh God, I didn’t think of that.”
“I’m here, and I want to be involved. Let me show you I can do this
with you.”
 She settles back on her pillows with a groan, teeth still chattering
even though she has ten blankets piled on top of her.
“Do you want me to get you something warmer to wear?”
She pulls the covers up to her chin. “N-no. I’ll get the s-sweats, and
then I’ll have to t-take it off anyway. I’ll s-stop s-shivering eventually.”
There’s no way I’m leaving her here alone when her teeth are
chattering like she’s in a freezer. I round the other side of the bed and strip
off my shirt.
“What’re you d-doing?” Lainey asks.
“I’m gonna make you warm.” I fold back the covers and slide under
them.
“B-but I’ll make you sick.”
“I’ll be fine unless you try to make out with me.” I scoop her up and
settle her in my lap, wrapping my arms around her.
She’s too tired to resist or even consider fighting me on it, so she
snuggles right in, tucking her frozen feet between my thighs. Her clammy
forehead rests against the side of my neck, and she settles her palms
against my chest. “You’re s-so warm.”
“Big teddy bear, remember?”
“Mmm. I remember.”
Her hair tickles my arm, and I run my hand gently up and down her
leg, waiting for the shivers to subside.
She keeps shifting in my lap, and despite that fact that she’s sick as a
dog, my body starts to react inconveniently to her proximity, the feel of
her hands on my chest, and the inadvertent friction.
“RJ?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Is your phone in your pocket?”
“No. Why? You need me to call someone?”
She wriggles around some more in my lap. “No, but there’s
something hard—oh.” She lifts her head, bloodshot eyes meeting mine.
She covers her mouth with her palm, and for a moment I worry she’s going
to be sick again, until she asks, “Are you . . . do you have a hard-on?”
I don’t bother fighting my grin as I lift a shoulder and let it fall.
“You’re doing a lot of moving around. Some parts of my body are
inconsiderate and don’t really care that you’re sick.”
 “I look like hell, and I probably smell terrible.” She drops her hand,
giving me a quick glimpse of her smile before she snuggles back into me.
Eventually the shivering subsides and her breathing evens out. Once I’m
sure she’s asleep, I move her off my lap and cover her in blankets.
I make sure she has everything she needs before I put my shirt back
on.
I wash my hands in the bathroom down the hall, making a mental
note to call Lainey’s housekeeper so she can come in and disinfect. The
last thing any of us needs is for this to be passed along.
I grab Lainey’s keys so I can return Eden’s to her, then rush back to
pick up Kody. I’m grateful Lainey had me added to her very short list of
approved adults who can pick him up. Currently it’s Lainey herself, Eden,
and me. I’m happy to note Walter has never been given that privilege.
“Lainey working late tonight?” Kristen, one of the day care
providers, asks as she leads me over to where Kody and the other infants
sit in their activity centers, playing with the light-up buttons or squeezy,
crinkly things. One of the other staff is sitting cross-legged on the floor,
keeping them entertained.
“She’s not feeling well, so I thought it would be a good idea for me to
come pick up Kody. How’s he been today?”
“He’s been great—slept well this afternoon, and he’s really loving the
cereal Lainey’s been sending with him. There’s a flu bug going around, so
we’ve been watching all the kids closely and, of course, making sure
everyone is washing their hands.”
“I don’t think working at an aquarium with thousands of people
going through on a daily basis helps much with the germ exposure.” I
crouch down so I’m at Kody’s level. “How’s my little man?” I lean in and
give him a kiss on the forehead, checking to make sure he’s not hot too. He
smiles and makes a happy sound, holding out his arms like he’s asking to
be picked up. I lift him out of the activity center, and Kristen helps me
gather his things. I didn’t think to bring the stroller with me, which Lainey
usually does, so it’s a bit of a juggling act, but I manage to shoulder the
bags and keep my hold on Kody with a little assistance.
We head back up to Lainey’s apartment, the elevator half-full with
people returning home from work.
“Mommy’s not feeling all that hot, buddy, so we’re going to take care
of her, and you and me are going to have a boys’ night. Sound good?” He
squawks at me, like he’s in agreement with this plan, so I keep talking.
“We can watch some hockey, and I’ll even let you drink all the mommy
milk you want, as long as you don’t rat me out.” Kody makes more baby
sounds at me and reaches up to smack uncoordinatedly at my face. “You
high-fivin’ me?”
The elevator dings and I glance up, checking to see if it’s my stop,
which is when I notice that every woman on the elevator is staring at me.
Thankfully, it’s my floor, so I excuse myself, and they all clamber to either
move out of the way or hold the door open, since I’m laden down with
baby things and a baby.
“I think my ovaries just exploded,” says one woman as the doors start
to shut.
“He’s like the poster boy for DILFs,” says another one.
I don’t get to hear any more commentary, because the doors slide
closed. I have to set all the bags down and root around in my pocket to
find the keys.
The door across the hall opens, and Walter appears. I’m loath to
admit it, but he’s not a bad-looking guy. Lean, almost wiry build, still has
all of his hair—but there’s a hint of recession flirting at the temples, which
means in about ten years he’ll have a horseshoe. Solidly average, maybe,
but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an asshole. “You look like
you’re struggling.”
“I got it,” I mutter, finally snagging the keys.
“Just so you know, I’ll be right here, waiting for the day when all the
fun of playing house wears off and you abandon Lainey again.”
I glance over my shoulder and find him leaning against the doorjamb,
arms crossed over his chest. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that. “Look, I
know my showing up threw a wrench in your plans, Walt, and I appreciate
the fact that you were here to help Lainey when she needed it, but you
should probably move on. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll believe that when you’re still here six months from now. You’re
on the road all the time, aren’t you? Professional hockey player and all
that. Must be hard on relationships, being away that much. Lainey’s bound
to need some help when you’re not around, and me being right across the
hall makes it easy for me to step in.” He smiles wryly. “Have a good night,
RJ.” He turns his attention to Kody and gives him a little tickle under the
chin, his tough-guy facade turning into wistful sadness. “Be good for your
mom.”
He disappears back into his apartment, and for a few seconds I feel
bad for him. He was here when I wasn’t. He wanted Lainey despite the fact
that she came with a brand-new baby that wasn’t his. He knows how
special she is. But he’s wrong about being around to help out, because as
soon as she’s ready, I’ll be moving them into my house, so Walter will
effectively be removed from any and all equations.
I might feel bad for him, but I sure as hell don’t want him as my
competition.
I put Kody in his activity center in the living room before I grab the
fifty million bags Lainey sends with him to day care. I drop them all on
the couch, lock the door, pick Kody back up, and head down the hall to
check on Lainey.
I peek in the room and find her sleeping, which is good. She
obviously needs some rest. I mentally scroll through the list of things
Lainey typically does when she gets home from work. Usually she feeds
Kody right away, and considering how he’s bumping his nose on my
shoulder, I have a feeling he’s not going to be quiet about how hungry he is
soon. And there’s no way I’m going to wake Lainey up to take care of him
right now.
“Come on, little man, let’s get you some dinner.”
Lainey keeps bottles in the fridge, and there’s a box of baby cereal on
the counter, probably from this morning. I put Kody in his saucer to
bounce around while I follow the directions to make him dinner and heat
up a bottle to go with it.
Word to the wise: feeding a baby cereal the consistency of . . . things
I’d rather not compare it to is messy business. By the time I’m done, Kody
has food in his hair and all over his neck, his bib, and his hands.
I somehow have managed to get it all over my shirt as well. I don’t
have a change of clothes, so I’m forced to use a dishcloth to clean off the
spots. Then I take Kody to the bathroom, run him a tepid bath, and wash
all the cereal off him before I give him his bottle.
It’s well after six by the time we’re done with dinner and the bath,
and I still haven’t eaten. I don’t want to make unnecessary noise on the off
chance it’ll wake Lainey up, plus the smell might not go well with nausea.
 I take stock of what’s in her pantry and the fridge and decide a
shopping trip is necessary. There’s a small grocery store down the street
where I can pick up a few things for her and something for me. I leave a
note on her night table and get Kody dressed in his going-out gear.
Getting him into the stroller is another epic feat, but I figure it out.
Lainey has one of those baby carrier things where I can strap him to my
body, but there’s about seven hundred yards of fabric that I don’t know
what to do with, so I leave that for another time.
I don’t take into account that this is Kody’s fussy time of day, or the
fact that I can’t see him as he squawks his irritation, probably at still being
awake and not in his mother’s arms. I manage to pick up the necessities,
such as ginger ale, soda crackers, chicken soup, sports drinks, and some
bread and cold cuts so I can make myself some sandwiches when we get
back to the apartment. I also pick up a pizza slice and devour it while I’m
loading things on the belt.
Kody’s turned into a banshee by the time I finish paying. People give
me looks ranging from pity to something like disdain and judgment. His
face is beet red, mouth wide open as he screams, tears streaming down his
cheeks. “Okay, little man, I hear you. We’re going home now.” I unbuckle
him from the restraints, wondering if maybe they’re too tight, but as soon
as I lean in close enough, I know that’s not it.
“Oh sh—” I manage to censor myself just as a woman with a kid
probably a few years older than Kody passes me. “Smells like you’re up to
no good,” I tell Kody.
Of course, I didn’t have the foresight to bring his diaper bag, so I’m
forced to buy a pack of diapers, cream, and wipes so I can take care of the
situation before we head home. I’m grateful that there’s an extra sleeper in
the stroller, because he’s demolished the one he’s currently wearing.
I use half the package of wipes, aware that bath time round two is
going to take place as soon as we’re home. The smell rivals the inside of a
hockey bag combined with an outhouse.
By the time we get back it’s after seven, and by the time I’m done
with the bath routine it’s almost eight, which is way past Kody’s usual
bedtime, so it makes sense that he’s cranky as hell. I at least have the
foresight to get a bottle ready before his bath so I can feed him again as
soon as he’s clean, dry, and dressed in his jammies. I pick the hockey-
themed ones, for obvious reasons. It doesn’t take much to get him to fall
asleep, and I have a feeling I won’t be far behind him.
Once he’s in bed I check on Lainey again; she’s still sleeping. Her
phone buzzes, so I snatch it up as I pull the door closed behind me, not
wanting to disturb her. The name on the screen reads MOM. I let it go to
voice mail.
I’m aware her mother knows that I’m back in her life. I haven’t
pushed for a lot of details on the situation there, but this distance she’s
created has been purposeful. I’m also aware that she speaks to her mother
several times a week, which tells me that—as much as Lainey wants to
prove she can do this on her own—there’s still a lot of love there.
Her mom calls again less than fifteen minutes later, so I answer this
time. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry—I must have dialed the wrong number.”
“You’re looking for Lainey?”
That makes her pause. “I . . . yes. Who is this?”
“It’s RJ. Rook, Lainey’s . . . friend.” I cringe a little at that. I don’t
think I’d classify myself as her friend at this point, but she’s not referring
to me as her boyfriend, and it’s not like there have been a lot of
opportunities for dating. Middle-of-the-night accidental spooning doesn’t
really count.
Her mother scoffs. “Is that what you’re calling yourself, now? You
get my daughter pregnant, lie to her about who you are, and then it’s a year
before you show your face again. Some friend you are. I suppose you think
that just because you’re some big-time hockey player none of the usual
rules apply to you.”
As much as getting chewed out by Lainey’s mom sucks, I get where
she’s coming from. And I tell her as much. “With all due respect, Mrs.
Carver, I understand why you’re unhappy with me. If I had a daughter and
this happened to her, I would do everything in my power to protect her—
and I sure as heck wouldn’t have any kind of warm feelings toward that
guy, which I realize is me in this case.”
“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong about my feelings toward you.
Lainey’s always been a special girl—she’s delicate—”
“Maybe not as delicate as you think, though.”
“You don’t know what she’s been through.”
“You mean the shooting at her college?”
 “She told you about that?” She seems shocked.
“She did. Alaska has some pretty bad storms in the summer, which is
an understandable trigger for her.”
“She never talks about that with anyone,” her mother says softly. “I’d
like to speak with her now, please.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carver. As much as I’d like to be able to get her for
you, she’s not well, and she’s sleeping right now. I’m sure you can
understand why I wouldn’t want to wake her up.”
“Unwell? What’s wrong?”
“I think she has the flu.”
“The flu? You better not have gotten my daughter pregnant again.”
There’s real threat behind her words. “I’m sure it’s the flu and that
she’s definitely not pregnant. That’s not . . . that would be impossible.”
And that, right there, has to be the most awkward of awkward first
conversations with the woman I’m assuming will one day be my mother-
in-law.
“Well, that’s a relief.” I think that’s sarcasm, but I can’t be sure.
“How sick is she? Should you take her to the hospital? Do I need to come
out there? I kept telling her working at an aquarium wouldn’t be good for
her. It’s a cesspool of germs and disease. It’s actually amazing that she
hasn’t gotten sick before now. She really just needs to be done with this
and come home so she can have the help she needs to raise that child.”
“Lainey has me.”
“Is that right? And for how long is that going to be the case? Do you
know anything about raising children? Who’s going to be there when
you’re traveling all over the place and she’s taking care of that baby
alone?”
“She has friends here, and so do I. There are other wives—”
“Other wives?” she screeches in my ear. “Oh my God, did you elope?
Did you marry my daughter without even asking permission first?”
I can see now why Lainey ended up moving halfway across the
country. “No, that’s not . . . I meant the other players’ wives. We didn’t
elope. I’ve made a lot of mistakes with Lainey . . .”
“Oh, you think so?” Her sarcasm is on point.
“I should’ve told Lainey the truth about my job from the start. My
life is complicated—and that’s not an excuse, but know that I never
wanted to lose contact with Lainey. If I’m completely honest, I was gutted
when I couldn’t reach her after I left Alaska, and when I found her again
and realized what had happened, I was devastated all over again. I missed
her entire pregnancy—I missed the birth of my son and the first four
months of his life. I can’t go back in time and change how things
happened, but I’m trying to make up for it. So I’m here, taking care of her
the best I know how—which right now is to let her sleep so she can get
well.”
She’s silent for a few long, drawn-out moments. “How’s Kody?”
“He’s asleep as well, for now. But as soon as Lainey wakes up, I can
have her call you.”
“Yes. Okay. I’d like you to do that. But also, I’d like updates every
couple of hours. When Lainey gets the flu, she can sometimes be down for
days. She spikes high fevers. We had to take her to the hospital more than
once when she was young. And make sure you keep Kody away from her
until her fever breaks. She’ll want to feed him, but that’s too much of a
risk. And you should make sure you have ginger ale and soda crackers for
when she can stomach food again.”
“I have all those things. And I’ll definitely message with updates
every couple of hours.”
“I just wish she was home so I can take care of her.”
I decide the best way to win them over is to offer them the
opportunity to see her. “Would you like to come for a visit?”
“It’s a long drive.”
“I can arrange flights for you.”
“Oh . . . I don’t fly.” I can almost see her wringing her hands, like
Lainey when she’s anxious. I see where it comes from now.
“You could do it for Lainey, though, couldn’t you? When was the last
time you saw Kody?”
“Not since he was born . . . but the farm . . .”
“You have lots of help there, don’t you? Lainey would love to see
you. And Kody’s sitting up now. You can think about it.”
“Let me just ask her father, see if he thinks it’s something we can
do.” I wait while she has a muffled conversation with Lainey’s dad. “Okay.
Yes. Simon thinks a visit is a good idea.”
“I’ll book your flights and arrange accommodations for you.”
“You don’t need to do that. Simon can take care of it.”
 “Please, it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me handle it. I’ll just
need information for the tickets and an email to forward them to.”
She hesitates for a minute but finally relents. I take down all the
information I need, grab Lainey’s laptop, and bring up flights, finding the
first one out tomorrow morning from Washington to Chicago. Once
everything is booked, I forward the email.
I end the call and toss Lainey’s phone on the couch. I’m beat. I don’t
know how Lainey has done this on her own all these months. And now I’ve
invited her parents out for a visit. Winning over her mom is one thing, but
her dad . . . well, let’s just hope I still have my balls by the time they leave.
 CHAPTER 23
METTLE

Lainey

I wake up around one o’clock in the morning, breasts aching, but I don’t
feel feverish anymore or like I’m going to throw up, which is a relief. Dry
heaves are the worst.
I roll out of bed. Every muscle in my body hurts, like I tried to run a
marathon or lift weights for several hours in a row. My stomach is raw and
tender from all the throwing up.
I take a few tentative sips of water, cringing at how sore even my
throat is. And my mouth tastes awful. I use the bathroom and brush my
teeth, catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a wild mess, random
strands having freed themselves from the braid.
I have dark circles under my eyes, and my skin is the color of paper. I
consider going right back to bed, but I need to pump. Or feed Kody. I’m
light-headed and weak, but at least the worst of the sickness seems to have
passed.
I peek into Kody’s room and immediately go into panic mode when I
don’t find him in his crib. I rush down the hall and come to an abrupt,
dizzy stop. RJ’s huge body is sprawled out in the glider, my breastfeeding
pillow secured around his waist, head lolled to the side, Kody cradled in
his arms, both asleep. An empty bottle sits on the table beside them. They
look so sweet together.
I sneak into the kitchen and try, as quietly as I can, to find my breast
pump. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to fill two six-ounce bottles.
Once I’m finished, I clean everything in the bathroom sink and also
manage my own horrid appearance—although RJ’s seen me barf, twice, so
I’m not sure why I feel the need. And unless I dreamed it, he cuddled with
me and managed to get hard with me looking like yesterday’s strung-out
lady of the night.
I change my pajamas and wipe myself down with a warm cloth,
aware I’ve had the fever sweats for most of the night. The whole process is
exhausting, and by the time I’m done I need to lie down again. Which of
course means I also need to close my eyes. And fall asleep thinking about
how I’m glad I made the choice to give RJ a second chance—and that he’s
proving to be worth it.
I wake up at five thirty to the sound of a hungry baby. I throw off the
covers and shrug into my fuzziest robe. If I’m quick enough, I can catch
Kody before he’s fully awake, and often it means he’ll fall back asleep for
another hour or so once he’s done feeding.
I’m still a little clammy and warm, and my entire body feels like I’ve
been hit by a transport truck, but it’s a significant improvement over
yesterday. The fact that my stomach rumbles is also a good sign.
I find RJ in the kitchen, Kody propped on one hip. His hair is all over
the place—both boys—and since RJ slept in his clothes, he’s a wrinkled
mess. There’s also a spit-up stain on his shoulder. And yet I don’t think
I’ve ever seen him look as sexy as he does right now, in this moment.
“Let’s see if there’s any more mommy milk in here, little man.”
“Morning.”
“Oh, hey. Sorry if we woke you up. How ya feeling?” He gives me a
once-over. “You look better.”
“I feel better.” Kody lets out a shriek and lurches toward me. “I can
take him.”
I hold out my arms, but RJ cups the back of his head protectively and
turns his body slightly away from me. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,
Lainey. We don’t want him to catch what you had.”
I’m both irritated and impressed, considering he looks like he needs
six more hours of sleep and a shower yet still manages to be gorgeous and
concerned. “I’m sanitized and changed. He can get his milk right from the
source, no bottle necessary.”
“Your mom said it would be better—”
“My mom? When did you talk to her?”
 “She called last night. She was worried when you didn’t call her
back.”
Kody screams again, louder this time, insistent. I step forward and
put a palm on RJ’s chest. Giving him this second chance hasn’t been easy.
I haven’t wanted to put my heart on the line, afraid it’ll just end up broken
again, but I’m beginning to see just how much RJ wants this. He fielded a
call from my mother, and that says a lot, all on its own. “It’s okay. I’m
okay, and he needs to be fed—and I need to feed him, because I’m running
like a leaky faucet.”
With a little reluctance and a whole lot of wide eyes, he passes Kody
over. As soon as Kody’s in my arms he’s bumping around, pecking at me
almost like a bird, mouth open and waiting for food. I’m on autopilot, not
really thinking about what I’m doing as I shift my robe aside and undo the
snap on my nightshirt, which is designed specifically for middle-of-the-
night feedings.
Kody roots around almost frantically. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.
Breakfast is on its way.” He latches on, and after a few seconds he coughs,
so I tuck my pinkie between his mouth and my nipple, forcing him to let
go. Even though I pumped, I’m still way overdue for a feed, so I’m like a
fire hose, shooting everywhere.
Unfortunately, RJ seems to be the main target, as I spray him across
the shirt. I try to cover up, but all I end up doing is diverting the spray and
hitting him in the face. I pull my robe closed, much to Kody’s displeasure.
I maneuver around RJ, who’s clearly shocked, and lean over the sink,
giving my boob a good squeeze before I attempt feeding Kody again. I
wait until he’s latched on and there’s no sign of him choking before I turn
around.
“So, that actually happened.” RJ wears an amused grin. “I feel like I
can add and cross getting sprayed with breast milk off my bucket list,
which is right up there with getting peed on by my son.”
I laugh—and then groan, because my stomach still hurts from all the
hurling I did yesterday. “Sorry about that. I’m a bit of a gusher.”
His smile quickly becomes a smirk. “I remember.”
I poke him in the chest. “Our child can hear you.”
He grabs my finger. “The one we made, together.” Lacing our hands,
he presses his lips to my knuckle. “You should sit down—you look better,
but you’re still pale. Can I get you something? Water, juice, ginger ale,
something with electrolytes?”
“I don’t think I have ginger ale or anything with electrolytes in the
house, so water would be good, thank you.”
“Kody and I went grocery shopping last night—you have both of
those things, so if you want something other than water, let me know.”
“I’ll take electrolytes, please. What flavor do you have?”
“Lemon-lime—that was your favorite kind, right?”
“It still is.”
He sends me off to the living room while he gets me a sports drink
and a plate of saltines slathered in butter. I eat them slowly, dropping
crumbs all over poor Kody, but he’s so intent on eating he doesn’t notice or
care.
RJ makes sure I’m okay with the smell of coffee before he makes
himself a cup, then sits on the couch across from me, fidgeting, eyes
bouncing from Kody to my face and back down. I think it’s sweet that he’s
so concerned. “He’s going to be okay. The worst is over, and I’m on the
mend.”
“I believe you. I’m just trying to reconcile my semi and the fact that
your boobs aren’t my toys and they’re meant for Kody. It’s a weird thing to
try to wrap my head around.”
I laugh again and groan. “Please don’t be funny—my stomach hurts
too much for that.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be serious from here on out.” His phone buzzes, and
he checks it, thumb typing a message in response.
“Who’s messaging you at six in the morning?” A sudden spike of
irrational jealousy hits me. He’s been here almost every night since I
introduced him to Kody, and we woke up spooning the other day. Sure, he
might be ogling my boob—but he’s a man, and they don’t have boobs, so
of course they’re fascinated by them. Just like women are fascinated by
the penis and all the interesting things it does.
“Your mom. She and I have been messaging back and forth all night.”
“Oh my God. Did you tell her I was sick?”
RJ looks up from his phone. “Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to lie to her.
She wanted me to wake you so she could talk to you, and there was no way
in hell I was going to do that, so I told her you were sick.”
 “She must have flipped her lid.” I can’t even begin to imagine how
she would’ve reacted to him denying her.
“She was concerned about your well-being, like any mother would
be.”
His tone tells me more than his words. “So you—what? Told her
you’d text her hourly updates?”
“Every couple of hours,” he mutters.
I almost want to laugh. I can just picture my mom bargaining with
him for updates. “It’s the middle of the night there—why is she still up?
Maybe you should give me the phone. I should call her.”
“She’s packing right now.” RJ makes a weird face, sort of a cringe
and an oh shit look.
“Packing? Are they going somewhere?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, well—”
Of course this is the exact moment Kody decides he wants to switch
boobs. I set him on my shoulder and pat his back, waiting until he burps
before I go ahead and make the switch.
Once he’s latched and I’m sure he’s not doing a keg stand on my
boob, I refocus my attention on RJ. “Uh, well, what?”
“I might have invited your parents to come for a visit.”
I scoff and wave that off. “My mother will never get on a plane.”
“She’s planning to, for you.”
“Are you serious?” My high pitch startles Kody, and I shush him,
stroking his hair, which helps tone down the anxiety a little.
“I wanted to reassure her that I wasn’t some douchebag looking to
screw her daughter over. I figured the best way to do that was to show
them exactly how much I care about you and Kody.”
“So you decided to fly them out here?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they going to stay? I don’t even have a spare room or a
pullout couch.”
“I can set them up in a hotel if you’d like, or we can make alternate
arrangements.”
“Alternate arrangements?”
“I have lots of space in my house. You could all stay there. I can even
stay in a hotel if that would make you more comfortable.”
 I can’t believe he’s managed to convince my mother to come out here
—on a plane. Once again my heart does that fluttery thing, and this time I
allow that feeling to spread instead of trying to keep it contained. I can see
in his expression and actions that he’s serious about making this work. He
wouldn’t have spent the night taking care of us or offered to fly my
parents out to visit if he wasn’t. Since he’s come back into my life, our
lives, he’s proven time and time again that he sincerely wants both of us.
Last night was a true testament to how committed he is. Little by little he’s
erasing his lie and earning my trust with everything he does.
“I would never kick you out of your own house—that’s just silly. It
would actually be great for my parents to see us together.”
“Like a family?” RJ looks so hopeful.
I nod as I smooth my palm over Kody’s silky hair. “Thank you for
taking care of us last night. It means a lot, RJ—and for convincing my
parents to get on a plane and come visit. I’m warning you, though, they
can be a lot to handle.”
“I think I’ve got your mom covered.”
“Yeah, well, she’s the easier of the two to win over.” But I’m hoping
that when they see the way he cares for me and Kody—and how much I
care about him—they’ll come around. That he’s willing to face them and
the choices that have brought us to this point tells me everything I need to
know.
 CHAPTER 24
HOUSEGUESTS

Rook

It’s been a very, very long time since I met the parents of a woman I was
dating. Like, all the way back to high school. And this isn’t just a regular
meet-the-parents scenario, because the reality is I’m not a regular guy.
Being a professional hockey player in Chicago is like being Britney Spears
in Vegas. It’s not the low-key image I painted of myself when I first met
Lainey, and that lie is going to be a huge issue with her parents. Which I
can understand.
Lainey seems to want to pack the entire contents of Kody’s bedroom,
so I finally admit that I’ve already converted one of my bedrooms into a
nursery and she just needs the basics.
Lainey stops stuffing a bag with clothes and diaper cream and gives
me an incredulous look. “When would you have time to set up a nursery?
You’ve been here more than you’ve been home the past couple of weeks.”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “I ordered a bunch of stuff and
had painters and a decorator come in.”
She sits down on the edge of the bed, looking tired again. “It’s not
easy to get used to the fact that you can afford to hire people to do all
these things for you.”
“I’ll work on conditioning you slowly. In the meantime, can you let
me take care of this? We don’t have to pick your parents up for another
five hours. You spent a good part of yesterday reenacting that scene from
The Exorcist into the toilet bowl. You might feel better, but you’re not
really in any kind of shape to be doing much other than lying around,
getting better.”
“We’ll pack Kody’s bag. Then I’ll lie down.”
I’d like to argue with her, but I can see that she’s not going to be able
to relax until his bag is packed too. And I know without her having to say
another word that she doesn’t trust me to pack it without her supervision.
I force her to take a seat in the rocking chair, from which she calls
out all the things he’ll need. I don’t bother to tell her I have almost all the
same things at my place already.
After a few minutes she stops calling out items. I look over to find
her passed out in the chair. I leave her there while I change her sheets, then
carry her back to her bedroom. Since we’re all underslept, I use one of her
nursing pillows to surround Kody and set him in the middle so he’s
flanked on either side, and the three of us have a nice long nap.
When Lainey wakes, I run her a bath filled with Epsom salts for the
aches and pains while she nurses Kody. Lainey looks significantly better
than she did twenty-four hours ago, and she’s ready for a trip to the airport.
I’m a bit of a mess, still wearing my shirt Lainey sprayed with breast
milk and Kody spit up on earlier. I’m also still unshaven and unshowered.
At least I have a jacket to cover the shirt stains, and my ball cap covers my
hair.
We head down to my SUV, which already has a baby seat installed,
and load all the bags. I park at the airport, and Lainey straps Kody to my
body with the straitjacket carrier. She wanted to wear him, but I thought
the extra weight and exertion wouldn’t be good for her. It’s impressive
how quickly she can manage to get four hundred yards of fabric wrapped
around me.
I’ve learned that just because we won’t be at the airport long doesn’t
mean we should leave the baby bag in the car, so I shoulder that too. At
least it’s blue with little airplanes, so it’s sort of manly-ish.
My palms are sweaty as we walk from the parking garage to the
arrivals area. Lainey slips her hand in mine and gives it a squeeze.
“They’re going to love you as soon as they see how hard you’re trying.”
“Fingers crossed.” I squeeze her hand back. “Should I get you a
wheelchair? Do you feel well enough for this? Maybe you should’ve
stayed in the car.”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired, and this won’t take long.”
 As soon as we’re at arrivals, I make Lainey sit down. Then I find the
closest airport café and grab her a bottle of water, a mint tea, and a
buttered bagel to nibble on while we wait.
I take the seat beside her, adjusting Kody’s legs so he’s comfortable.
He’s also managed to pass out again. Lainey eats half the bagel before her
parents arrive. Her mother and father pull her into a group hug, murmuring
how much they missed her and how happy they are to be here.
I can see, in just that one hug, how much they truly do care, even if
sometimes that love has been stifling for her. And I get it, because Lainey
comes across as delicate at times, when in reality her innocence and sense
of adventure are exactly the things that make her stronger and more
resilient than people give her credit for. And if that’s not convincing
enough, then the fact that she came to Chicago to raise a baby on her own
should do it.
Having Kody strapped to my body functions a lot like a shield.
“Oh! Isn’t this a picture? All this handsomeness is almost too much
to handle!” Lainey’s mom pinches Kody’s cheek with one hand and pats
mine with the other. “And you’re not bad looking either.”
Her father stands behind her mother, mouth set in a grim line—at
least until his gaze shifts from me to Kody, and then his eyes light right
up. Lainey unstraps Kody from my body and passes him to her dad. He’s
not allowed to hold him very long before her mom swoops in and steals
him away.
I shake her dad’s hand and introduce myself, not at all surprised by
his wary expression and the very tight grip.
“How was the flight?” I take both suitcases off their hands, and we
head back to the parking garage.
“Well, it was just lovely. My doctor gave me something that was
supposed to help with the anxiety, and it worked like magic! I wasn’t
nervous much at all, and I slept most of the flight because the seats were
so comfy. And they served us the nicest breakfast. If I’d known flying
would be like that, I would’ve gotten on a plane a long time ago!”
“We flew first class, Elaine. For most people it’s not that nice,”
Lainey’s dad, Simon, says.
“Well, then, I guess first class is the only way to go, then, isn’t it?”
Lainey and her mom sit in the back seat. Her mom fusses over her,
telling her how she looks pale, and asks if she’s taking care of herself.
Meanwhile, I try to drag conversation out of Simon. I would liken it to a
tooth extraction, without freezing, done with a set of rusty pliers.
I ask him about his farm, which gets little more than grunts in
response. I can feel the confrontation brewing.
My nerves ratchet up a few notches once we arrive at my house. I
wonder if this is how Lainey often feels—and if it is, I’m even more
amazed by her, because it’s exhausting to be this amped up.
My house isn’t ostentatious, but it’s big. I’ve seen pictures of
Lainey’s family home, and while it’s bigger than average—to
accommodate all her brothers and sisters when they were growing up—it’s
a traditional farmhouse.
“Oh wow! This is just . . . a lot of house. Is it just you here?” Elaine
asks as I show them through to the living room.
“For now, yes. I have a brother who lives in LA, and he often comes
to visit with his wife and son during the holidays. My mom and sister will
come visit as well.”
“You could lose a person in here!” I’m not sure if Elaine is joking or
not.
I turn to Lainey, who’s propped herself up against the wall. I press my
lips to her forehead. She’s not warm like she was yesterday, but we’ve had
a lot of excitement for someone who was tossing her cookies less than
twenty-four hours ago. “You should lie down—you must be wiped.”
“Maybe just for a bit.” She gives me a grateful smile.
“Why don’t I show you the bedrooms, and everyone can get settled?”
I carry both suitcases to the second floor and bring Lainey’s parents
to one of the guest rooms, taking Kody from Elaine. We leave them to
unpack, and I shift Kody to one hip so I can take Lainey by the hand,
guiding her farther down the hall. “I have something to show you.”
“Okay.”
I open the second door on the left and flip on the light. Lainey’s palm
covers her mouth, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, RJ, this is just . . . amazing.”
The nursery is decorated in a hockey theme, because, well, it’s my
life. The crib is designed to look like a hockey rink, an idea I got from
Alex and Violet, and the bedding boasts our team logo.
I set Kody in the new crib. He reaches up, as if he’s trying to grab the
mobile hanging over his head. “I figured it would be good to introduce
Kody to hockey at an early age. Maybe he’ll have the same love for it as I
do. But he might be more like you, so I figured it was good to have a bit of
both of us in here.” I turn on the sea creature mobile and motion to the
mural of Kodiak Island. It’s a decal, rather than painted, so we can switch
it up whenever we feel like it.
Lainey wanders around the room. She takes a seat in the glider and
rocks back and forth a few times before she moves on to the dresser and
changing table. Eventually she comes back to stand in front of me, eyes
bright with unshed tears.
“I didn’t do this because I want to take him away from you, Lainey—
you understand that, don’t you? I did it because I wanted you to see that I
care about both of you and I want to be part of raising him. Together or
apart, he’ll always be ours.”
She smiles, a little sad, a little wistful. “You were right, you know.”
“About what?”
“You’re exactly the man I thought you were.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“Good. It’s good.” She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her
cheek against my chest.
I fold her into an embrace, relieved that she’s here and that she seems
to understand and believe that I genuinely want to right my wrong. “I
made some big mistakes, Lainey, but I’m trying my best to make up for
them.”
“You’re doing a great job.” Lainey pulls back and tips her chin up.
She settles a palm against my cheek and smiles softly. “I understand it
better now, why you omitted the truth at first.”
“I’m still sorry I didn’t tell you when I had the chance.” That I
missed all this time with them is a punishment I’m not sure I’ll ever really
get over.
“I know you are, but I can also understand how it became harder to
tell me the longer we were together. And I’ll be honest with you—I don’t
know how the version of me you knew then would’ve handled all of that,
because so much has changed.” She exhales a shaky breath. “And I’m
sorry I didn’t tell you about Kody right away.”
“I understand why you waited. I blindsided you with the truth.”
“And telling you had the potential to change my entire life, and at the
time, I wasn’t sure if it was going to be a good or a bad change—so thank
you for being patient with me while I figured all of this out.”
 “Thank you for giving me a chance to prove I’m the same man I was
a year ago.” I press my lips to her temple and hold her, grateful for this
second chance.
Since Kody seems content in his crib—for now—we leave him there
while I show Lainey the bathroom connected to the nursery. There’s
another door leading to a bedroom on the other side, so all three rooms are
connected.
“If you want to stay in here, you can.” I don’t want to push Lainey for
more than she’s prepared to give.
Lainey nods and bites her bottom lip. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“I’m actually connected to Kody’s room too, through the closet.” It
was a design feature I didn’t understand at first. But I realized later that
the guest bedroom I’d planned for Lainey to stay in was actually meant to
be a nanny suite. I take Lainey through the walk-in closet full of new
clothes for Kody to the door on the other side, which takes us to my
bedroom.
She crosses over to the bed, which is exactly like the one from the
cabin in Alaska. Even the comforter is the same. She runs her hand along
the edge of the footboard. “What if . . . I want to stay in here instead?”
“I can take the other room if this is what you prefer.”
She glances over her shoulder, lip caught between her teeth, looking
shy and nervous. “No. I mean, what if I want to stay in here with you?”
I bridge the gap between us and wrap her up in my arms. “I missed
you every day for more than a year. I missed the smell of your shampoo,
the way you feel in my arms, the sound of your voice, the softness of your
skin—and even though your dad might kill me if you stay in here with me,
I’m willing to take that risk.”
Lainey chuckles. “I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman—and a mother. I
think we all know I’m not the innocent little girl he would like to pretend I
still am. And I’ve missed the way my heart feels when you’re close to me
—so please, be careful with it this time around.”
Despite the fact that Lainey might still be a little on the right side of
fluish, when she tips her head back and her gaze settles on my mouth, I dip
down with the intention of kissing her.
She turns her head a few inches so I make contact with the corner of
her mouth. “I don’t want to make you sick.”
 “My immune system is stacked—I’ll chug a bottle of vitamin C and
chase it with hand sanitizer if I need to.”
Before I can make a move to kiss her properly, Kody lets out a loud
cry.
Figures I end up cockblocked by my own son. “I’ll get him—you lie
down.”
“What about my parents?”
“I can handle entertaining them. You need rest, and they’ll want to
visit with Kody.” I make an adjustment in my pants on the way to Kody’s
room. I close the door behind me so Lainey has some quiet and enter the
nursery at the same time as her dad. He reaches the crib before I can and
picks up Kody. “Where’s Lainey?”
“Taking a nap. The flu took a lot out of her.”
He nods and looks around the room. “This is, uh . . . an expensive-
looking room for an infant.”
Kody keeps crying—not loudly, but still squawking all the same. I
want to take him, but I don’t want to deprive his grandfather of the
opportunity to soothe him either. It’s definitely not an easy situation to
navigate. “Maybe we should take Kody downstairs. I don’t want to disturb
Lainey.”
Simon follows me to the main floor. I’m not 100 percent on what all
of Kody’s different cries mean, like Lainey seems to be, but I can tell by
the way he’s bopping his face on Simon’s shoulder that he’s probably
hungry. I root around in the baby bag until I find one of the bottles packed
in the separate cooler space and put the spare in the fridge.
Simon frowns. “I thought Lainey was breastfeeding.”
“She is, but she pumps so he can have bottles when he’s at his day
care. It also means I can be involved in feeding him and she can have a
break when she needs it.”
I offer him the bottle, but he shakes his head. “I never really got the
hang of that.”
“Doesn’t hurt to give it a shot, though, does it?”
After a short stare down, he allows me to show him how to hold
Kody so he can feed him. I’m a little annoyed when he takes the bottle
without a problem, mostly because I want an opportunity to show Simon
I’m good for more than just my bank account and my sperm donation.
 “I can’t believe Lainey’s already working again. She should be
raising Kody, not some day care provider.” He adjusts his hold on Kody
and shoots me a pointed glare.
I maintain eye contact, aware that looking away would be like
backing down with a bear. “She likes her job.” At least that’s the
impression I’ve gotten from her. I don’t see why she’d move across the
country and take a position like this if she didn’t want to. Or maybe she
felt it was the only option.
“If she came back to Washington, she could just stay at home and
she’d have our help. She wouldn’t need to work.” He scans the living
room, eyes bouncing over the expensive electronics, the leather furniture,
and the hockey-themed art before they settle on me again, cold and
accusatory. “I did a little research on you, son—you’re making more than
enough to support them both, so the question is, why aren’t you?”
I knew this conversation was imminent, and I tried to prepare myself
for it, but I’m not sure I quite understood the wrath of an angry father until
now. “We’re just getting reacquainted, and if I know anything about your
daughter, it’s that she’s not very fond of feeling like she’s being taken care
of or like she’s being forced into situations that are out of her control. So
I’m doing everything I can, and everything she’ll allow, to involve myself
in raising Kody.” I fight to keep my hands at my sides and not give away
my nervousness by jamming them into my pockets.
Simon doesn’t respond right away—processing, digesting, maybe
trying to decide how sincere I’m being. “What are your intentions with my
daughter?”
I have to give it to him. He’s meeting me head-on, like any protective
father would. I’m having second thoughts about the whole “Lainey staying
in my bedroom with me” thing while Simon is in the house. He’s a dairy
farmer. He’s had to put animals down, which means he knows how to use a
gun. Not a comforting thought, really. “Well, sir, I plan to take care of
Lainey and Kody in whatever capacity she’ll allow me to. I’ve already
missed Lainey’s entire pregnancy and the first few months of Kody’s life
—I don’t want to miss out on any more time with them.”
He arches one unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re still going to miss a lot
of time, though, with how much you have to travel. Your career isn’t very
conducive for family life.”
“I have plenty of teammates who are happily married with families.”
 He frowns, eyes narrowed and still fixed on me. “Is that part of your
plan? To marry my daughter?”
I feel a lot like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to be
pushed over the edge. I swallow down the horrible anxiety. “If I’m going
to be one hundred percent honest with you, then yes, eventually, with your
permission I’d like to ask Lainey to marry me, if we get to a place where
that’s something she wants.”
“And if she doesn’t get to a place like that, then what?”
I don’t like these questions, because they bring up fears that already
plague me. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”
“What if Lainey finds someone else? What if she wants to move back
to Washington and she meets someone better for her? How will you handle
that?”
I blow out a breath and rub the back of my neck, my stomach
twisting at just the mention of this—or the idea that there’s someone better
for her than me. “Honestly? I’ll be devastated. Sir, I fell in love with your
daughter, and I’ve spent the last year wishing I’d made different choices
when it came to her and our relationship. But if she decides I’m not the
right person for her and she meets someone else, I won’t stand in the way
of her happiness, and we’ll figure out a way to raise Kody so he knows we
both love him. Until that happens or she tells me she’s not interested in
trying to make this work between us, I’m going to do everything in my
power to win back her heart.”
He seems to relax the tiniest bit, but his face remains a stony mask.
“You’re going to have to do a lot more than throw money at her if you
want that to happen.”
“I’m aware, sir. Money can certainly make things easier in a lot of
ways, but it isn’t a replacement for time and love—and I plan to give
Lainey and Kody as much of both as I can, in spite of the fact that my
career means I can’t be with them all the time.”
He nods, but his posture remains guarded. “I hope you mean that,
son, because I’ve never seen Lainey as devastated as she was when she
came back from that trip, and I never want to see her go through that
again. She might be strong in a lot of ways, but she has a soft heart. I
won’t watch it get stomped on by you or anyone else—I don’t care how
much money and flash you throw my way.”
 “I understand your reservations, and I respect that you want to
protect Lainey, but I flew you out here so you could spend time with her
and see for yourself that I’m head over heels in love with your daughter—
and our son.”
 CHAPTER 25
HOCKEY HAZING

Rook

Based on Lainey’s recent bout of flu and the fact that her parents are
visiting, the aquarium gives her the rest of the week off. Apart from ice
time and training, I spend every spare moment I have with Lainey and
Kody and her parents.
They see, maybe in a way they haven’t before, how incredibly
competent and independent Lainey has become. I also get to see the
overprotectiveness in action, and I understand better why Lainey came to
Chicago.
Once Lainey’s back to herself, I decide a good way to help make her
parents see that Lainey will have support when I’m on the road is to invite
my teammates and their families over for a dinner party. In theory it seems
like a great idea—the reality is a little different.
I’m currently standing between the kitchen and the living room,
trying to figure out how nearly four thousand feet of living space suddenly
feels cramped. The living room looks more like a ransacked toy store than
a place we can relax in.
Some of the wives and Lainey are sitting in a circle in an area that’s
been cordoned off with an extensive series of adjustable baby gates and
fences meant to corral the toddlers and infants who are too young to go
wandering around the house. It’s a friendly version of baby prison.
The older ones, who are less at risk of falling down stairs or putting
dangerous objects in their mouths, are in the backyard with Alex and
Miller—playing hockey, of course.
Lainey’s mom is in the kitchen ordering around Lance and Randy,
who are currently wearing aprons and seem either too scared or too
bewildered to do anything but follow her directions. I see where Lainey
gets her kitchen bossiness from.
Violet is standing just outside the cordoned-off area where the infants
are, talking animatedly to Simon and the wives. That could be a good or a
bad thing, since pretty much whatever Violet’s thinking comes out of her
mouth unfiltered.
Kody has learned how to roll over, but only in one direction, so he
barrel-rolls across the floor until he bumps into the barrier of the gate by
Violet’s and Simon’s feet.
I grab a nonalcoholic mimosa, which is essentially orange juice and
fizzy white grape juice, from the counter and a bottle of beer from the
fridge and make my way over to them.
“Alex was so enamored with Robbie the second he popped out.”
Violet’s eyes are wide, and she leans in. “I mean, babies are all kinda
funky looking, though, right? At least at first. Robbie looked like an alien.
His head was shaped like a damn cone, and he had these crazy puffy eyes.
He looked like he’d been smoking all kinds of the green demon while he
was waiting to ruin my damn vagina.” She pats her belly. “I’m hoping this
one looks a little more like a regular human than a distant relative of E.T.
when he comes down the chute.”
I expect Simon to look scandalized, but instead he throws his head
back and laughs. “The first one always looks the strangest. After that they
start coming out looking a little less squished up.” He leans in and drops
his voice. “Lainey came out looking just perfect right from the start. We
knew we weren’t going to have any more kids after Lainey, so Elaine
asked the midwife to fix things up a little.” He makes a hand motion below
his waist.
“Oh my God, Dad! Are you serious?” Lainey looks mortified.
In Simon’s defense, people have been handing him beers steadily for
the past three hours, and I’m about to offer him one more.
Violet doesn’t seem bothered in the least by this discussion. “Did it
work? Alex wants us to have a hockey lineup, thanks to that one.” Violet
thumbs over her shoulder at Sunny, who is also Alex’s younger sister. “I
told him three is my max, because after that point I think they just kind of
slide right out on a sneeze, you know?”
Simon chuckles. “It was like we were newlyweds again.”
And that, right there, is far more information than I ever needed
about my future father- and mother-in-law. “Anyone need a refill?” I ask,
sounding a lot like a prepubescent teenager.
Simon and Violet startle a little, possibly at my squeaky voice. Violet
takes the glass from me and drains it in two long gulps. “I’m so freaking
thirsty all the time, but this kid is trying to use my bladder like it’s a
trampoline.” Violet pats Simon on the shoulder and then gestures below
her waist. To Simon’s credit, he keeps his eyes on her face. “Thanks for the
reassurance that my lady bits won’t be permanently ruined, but if you
could avoid sharing that story with Alex, that’d be great. I’d rather he not
know I can have six kids and still be a size extra small.” Violet waddles off
toward the main-floor bathroom.
“She’s a lot of fun, isn’t she?” Simon tips the bottle back and takes a
swig.
“She certainly can be. Pretty much always says exactly what’s on her
mind.” Kody bumps up against the gated barrier, but when Lainey tries to
move him back to the center of the circle, he squawks his irritation and
reaches for me.
“You want to hang out with me and your gramps, little man?” I take
him from Lainey, lifting him high in the air before I bring him in for a
raspberry on the tummy. He giggles loudly and flails. Another, less
adorable sound comes out of the back end.
Lainey glances at the clock. “I should feed him soon, or he’s going to
get fussy.”
“How about I give him a bottle, and you can have a real mimosa and
enjoy your time with the girls instead?” I offer.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I kiss her on the cheek, get her a mimosa, and warm up
one of the bottles from the fridge so I can feed Kody. At first he used to
balk when I’d try to give him a bottle, but now he’s used to it. Lainey
being sick, while not great for her, has been helpful in getting Kody to take
a bottle easily from me. I get comfy in one of the lounge chairs, and Kody
settles right in, sucking loudly.
Simon drops into the chair beside mine.
 “You know, Lainey never really used to speak her mind, not until last
summer. And I have to say, I think it’s a good change, even if it was hard to
get used to at first.” Simon taps the arm of his chair and surveys the living
room. “Your friends tell me a lot about who you are as a person, RJ.”
“They’re like a second family. Lainey won’t ever be alone—even
when I have to travel, she’ll have people she can rely on.”
Simon nods, his attention shifting from Elaine in the kitchen, trying
to help Randy take the hairnet off his beard—that he let her put it on in the
first place is a miracle—to Lainey and the wives laughing with each other
while they take turns tickling babies. “I can see that, and as hard as it’s
been giving her space and independence, it’s clear that it’s been good for
her. You’re good for her.” He says it almost reluctantly but with a smile
that tells me I’m finally winning him over.
“She and Kody are the best thing to happen to me.”

The dinner party seems to be a turning point for me and Simon. After that
he loosens up and lets his guard down. We talk baseball and farming, and I
take him and Kody to the arena one afternoon while Lainey and her mom
are at the spa getting pedicures together.
Two days before Lainey’s parents are scheduled to fly home, Elaine
announces that Lainey and I need to go out on a date. “It’s wonderful that
the two of you are so involved with Kody, but give us grandparents a night
with him and go enjoy yourselves. Take Lainey for a nice dinner and a
movie.”
“Are you sure? Kody can get fussy around seven, and sometimes
he’ll cry for an hour.”
Elaine gives Lainey a look. “I raised eight children. I’m practically
immune to the sound of crying. Go have fun, enjoy each other’s company.”
Since the get-together, Simon has lightened up a bit, so I feel a lot
less like I’m walking on eggshells.
I make a reservation at one of my favorite exclusive restaurants
where I won’t get mobbed by fans.
One of the biggest challenges so far is finding time to be adults
without an interruption. So we take the opportunity that’s offered. I throw
on a pair of black pants, a button-down, and a tie while Lainey gives her
parents an outline of Kody’s every need and want—including a rundown of
possible atypical scenarios—until Elaine holds up a hand and tells her that
she’s pretty sure she can handle one night with her infant grandson and not
to rush back.
And with that, she ushers us out the door.
We stop at Lainey’s apartment so she can change into dinner-
appropriate attire, since she didn’t have anything formal to wear at my
place. While I wait, she offers me a glass of white wine, the only alcohol
she has, apologizing for the lack of options since breastfeeding and booze
don’t really go well together.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy to have time with
you—I don’t care about your wine selection.”
She disappears down the hall into her bedroom. I’d like to follow.
The time with her parents has been good, but I’ve felt a lot like I’m back
in high school being monitored. Beyond that, there really haven’t been any
opportunities for actual privacy, and by the time everyone is in bed, we’re
both exhausted.
So when Lainey appears in the hallway in a slinky black dress, asking
me if I can help her zip it up, all the blood in my head rushes to the one
south of my navel. The prospect of having to sit through dinner with a
raging, potentially embarrassing erection is rather unappealing. And
peeling her out of that dress and worshiping every inch of her becomes the
only thought I can entertain.
“Rook?” Lainey snaps her fingers a couple of times.
“Huh?” She never uses my given name, so I must have missed
something.
“Never mind. I’ll change into something else.”
“Wait. What? No. I don’t want you to change. You look stunning.”
She scoffs and self-consciously runs her hands over her stomach.
“My body is different.”
“The only difference I see is up here.” I pat my pecs. “And I’m sure
as hell not going to complain about that.”
“You might when I’m not breastfeeding anymore and they resemble
sad mud flaps.”
I push out of the glider—they’re ridiculously comfy and soothing to
sit in—and cross over to where she’s standing. “Enough with the self-
deprecation. You’re gorgeous. End of story. My body doesn’t lie.” I motion
to where my pants are snug at the crotch.
 Lainey’s eyes dart down, and that blush I’ve missed so much colors
her cheeks. She ducks her head. “You haven’t seen me naked in a while.
Nothing is the same under here.”
“Is that an invitation, a challenge, or a statement of fact?”
She settles her palms on my chest, and for a moment I think she’s
keeping me at bay, until she says, “Can it be all three?”
“I’ll accept the invitation and the challenge, but I don’t think it’s a
statement of fact. Maybe you see yourself differently than I do.” I brush
her hair over her shoulders, appreciating the slight tremor and her sharp
inhalation as I move into her personal space.
“You’re blinded by the boobs.”
“They’re pretty incredible.” I ease a hand up her side. “But then, so is
the rest of you.”
She steps into me and tips her head up. I don’t need more
encouragement than that. I’ve kissed her on the cheek countless times in
the past few weeks, but this isn’t the same. This is the first time I get to
kiss her—really kiss her—since we said goodbye in Alaska.
I caress the edge of her jaw and sweep my thumb along the contour
of her bottom lip, enjoying the anticipation before I drop my head and
touch my lips to hers. A million memories come flooding back at her soft
whimper and the bite of her nails against the back of my neck. And just
like every single other kiss that’s had the intention of becoming more—
and even the ones that didn’t—it starts out sweet. She tastes the same,
feels the same—but better. She feels like mine and home and love.
I’m acutely aware that Kody isn’t here to act as an adorable
cockblocker—that we’re very, very much alone—and all the tension that’s
been driving me crazy seems to funnel right down into my pants.
Lainey pushes her hips into mine and moans softly. Her fingers slide
into my hair and latch on, and her tongue sweeps out to tangle with mine.
Two or three velvety swirls quickly devolve into no-holds-barred making
out. Like we’re teenagers who dropped Ecstasy and can’t get enough of
each other.
Lainey pulls at my shirt, freeing it from my dress pants, and her
hands slide up and under, roaming over my back. Then she tugs at my belt
buckle, freeing the clasp.
I break the kiss, and she freezes, fingers dipping into the waistband
of my pants, close to my insanely hard erection. We stare at each other for
a few seconds, panting.
“Bedroom?” I ask.
“Floor, couch, kitchen counter. I don’t really care.”
I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, and we resume
kissing. I’d like to say there’s some finesse once we get to the bedroom,
but that would be a lie. I drop her on the edge of the mattress and follow
behind her as she scoots back.
Lainey’s skirt bunches up, exposing the satin-and-lace panties
underneath. Ones I’d like to take off with my teeth. Which then becomes
part of my master plan, if I can get us to slow down from Mach 4 million
to somewhere along the lines of Mach 2 or 3.
Lainey fumbles with the button on my pants while I loosen my tie
and yank it gracelessly over my head. I unfasten the first few buttons on
my shirt, and she drags the zipper down, the metallic vibrations making
my cock twitch.
There’s zero teasing involved as Lainey reaches into my boxer briefs,
wraps her gorgeous, soft hand around the shaft, and sets me free. She’s not
even finished the first stroke before she leans in and wraps her lips around
the head, sucking gently.
I groan several filthy expletives, which makes her both blush and
smile around my cock. And then she takes me deeper, stroking with her
hand and her mouth. She pops off for a second—likely to pull the freaking
move that always makes my balls feel like they’re going to explode. The
one I haven’t experienced in more than a year but remember so vividly it’s
often the image-sensation combo I pull up when I’m in self-gratification
mode—so I take the opportunity to pull her dress over her head.
And then she’s back to sucking me off.
I fumble with the clasp of her bra, highly distracted but very intent
on getting her as naked as I am. It slides down her arms and drops to the
bed between us. “God, I missed everything about you.”
She pops off long enough to say, “Same,” and then she’s right back at
it.
Once her boobs are free, my stamina takes a terrible nosedive—and I
issue a warning that I’m about to come. And as soon as I do, it’s like I’ve
finally jumped off the sex speed train, able to focus again.
“Thank you. That was amazing.” I lay her out on the bed, taking my
time now that 90 percent of my blood flow is no longer pooled below my
waist. I cup her boobs, so full and lush, and pepper them with kisses.
“Just don’t squeeze too hard unless you want a shot in the face,”
Lainey says, somewhat breathlessly.
I laugh into her cleavage. “Can I kiss and lick?”
“Yes—everything is supersensitive, though, so just be careful.”
I devote attention to her breasts, 100 percent enthralled with them
and the fact that most of the time I’m not really allowed anywhere near
them. Lainey writhes under me, legs wrapped around my waist, fingers in
my hair.
Eventually I go lower, kissing my way over her stomach. And just
like I planned, I tug her panties down with my teeth and kiss her until she
comes.
She reaches over to the nightstand and opens the top drawer, rustling
around until she produces a box of condoms. A spike of jealousy hits me.
Lainey puts her hand on my cheek and forces my gaze back to hers.
“I bought them after you started coming over here every night. I wanted to
be prepared, just in case all my restraint evaporated and something like
this happened.”
Relief that I don’t deserve hits me, and I settle between her thighs
and roll my hips. “I missed you. I missed us.”
“Me too.”
I open the box and tear a condom free. Lainey plucks it from my
fingers and pushes on my chest. She rolls it on, and instead of pulling me
over her, she settles in my lap, slowly taking me inside.
And when we’re together like this, connected in the most intimate
way we can be, it’s like we’ve never been apart, like the year that
separated us has been erased. We find a slow rhythm that allows us to kiss
and touch and breathe each other in. Lainey comes first, and I get to watch
her tumble over into bliss. I missed this with her—I missed everything in
her absence, but this feeling, like my world has been tipped back into
alignment, tells me what I knew then but failed to acknowledge: that she
was and always will be my balance.
I don’t look away from her as my own orgasm hits, and afterward we
stay wrapped in each other, kissing, hands roaming, relearning each other
through touch.
I cup her face in my hand and meet her stunning chocolate gaze. “I
love you, Lainey.”
 She smiles softly. “I love you too.”
“I wanted to tell you that when we were in Alaska, but I ran out of
time,” I admit.
“Well, you can tell me as much as you want now, can’t you?”

By the time we leave her bed we’re cutting it close for dinner—not that it
matters, since they’ll hold my table regardless. Lainey checks her
reflection in the hall mirror while we wait for the elevator. “Oh my God,
did you leave a mark on my neck?” She tips her head to the side and
inspects the right side of her throat.
I wrap an arm around her waist and press my chest against her back.
“I don’t see anything, but if you want a mark I’m more than happy to put
one there.”
I nuzzle into her neck and nibble on the spot just as the elevator
doors slide open. Lainey elbows me in the side, and I take a step back—
which is when I notice Walter standing in the elevator.
Lainey covers the side of her neck like she’s hiding something.
“Walter! Hi!”
This should be fun.
“Lainey.” He gives me a curt nod as he reaches out for something
beside him. Which turns out to be a someone in the form of a petite
brunette. He pulls her into his side and awkwardly throws his arm over her
shoulder. “This is my cou—date, Ursula.”
His “date” Ursula’s eyes widen, and she looks up at him, maybe a
little confused. He squeezes her shoulder, and she grimaces. “We went out
for dinner, and now we’re going to watch Jeopardy!” He turns his head to
look at her. “Isn’t that right, Ursula?”
“Uh, yes?” Her eyes bounce back and forth between me and Lainey,
and then her brows raise. “Oh my God, is this your neighbor? The one that
lives across the hall?”
“We have to go! Jeopardy! is starting, and we don’t want to miss the
first round! It was nice to see you again, Lainey.” He shoots dagger eyes at
me as he drags Ursula out of the elevator. “RJ.”
“Bye, Walter—it was nice to meet you, Ursula.” Lainey gives me
raised eyebrows.
 We step into the elevator, and the doors start to close, but not before
we hear Ursula ask, “Isn’t that Rook Bowman? The hockey player? Oh my
God! I would have gotten his autograph! And is that the Lainey woman
you were dating? God, she’s really pretty—no wonder you’re such a mess.
Good thing you didn’t tell your mom about her, right?”
The doors slide closed, and I hit the button for the lobby, waiting
until we’re moving before I speak. “Sooo . . .”
Lainey cringes. “Well, that was super awkward.”
“I think more for Ursula than anyone else. I’m guessing, based on the
family resemblance, she’s not really his girlfriend.” I tap my nose to signal
what I mean, then wrap my arms around Lainey’s waist and pull her
against me. “Did you two watch Jeopardy! together?”
“Why? Does it make you jealous?”
I shrug. Truthfully, maybe a little, but mostly because I know that
show is on when Lainey gives Kody his before-bed booby snacks. “Smart
is sexy, Lainey—even Walter knows that.”
“Do you know what I think is sexy?”
“What’s that?”
“You. Especially when you’re showing me how much you love our
son.”
I dip down and kiss her until the elevator dings.
We end up being late for our dinner reservations, but Lainey is the
best appetizer—and later, when we get home, we steal quietly up to my
bedroom so I can make her dessert too.
 CHAPTER 26
ANXIOUS NEW BEGINNINGS

Lainey

My parents’ visit is both a good and a bad thing. Good in that they see
exactly how hard RJ is trying and how sincere he is in wanting to prove
that he’s really in this with me. But the bad comes with my parents
leaving, because as much as they drive me crazy with their
overprotectiveness, I miss them.
I don’t miss living under their roof or having them fuss over me like
I’m a helpless infant, but I miss having them close. There really isn’t an
easy solution either. Not when RJ plays for Chicago. He’ll be on the road a
lot very soon, but this is still his home base.
My dad might have asked, more than once, what I plan to do when
my contract expires with the aquarium. It’s only supposed to be a
temporary research position, and in all honesty, I should be able to
complete the research in the allotted time. Even if I take reduced hours
like RJ has suggested and manage to negotiate a slightly longer contract,
once it’s complete, I’ll need to start looking for a new job. Unless they
happen to need more research on aquatic animals’ mating habits that
specifically relate to dolphins and whales. Which is unlikely.
Finding a new job shouldn’t be difficult in a city like Chicago,
especially with three master’s degrees. But I don’t interview all that well,
since I get so nervous, and I can’t be guaranteed that any other place of
employment is going to be quite as accommodating as they continue to be
at the aquarium. For the time being, I try not to worry too much about the
things I can’t control. Instead, I focus on research when I’m at work,
loving Kody when I’m not, and falling in love all over again with RJ
whenever we’re together—which, for the time being, is often.
In the week since my parents went home, I’ve slept at RJ’s house
three times. In his bed, with him. We’ve had sex all three of those times.
We’re currently cuddled up in his bed, Kody’s asleep in the room
next door, and RJ is reading hockey-related articles while I brush up on
dolphin seduction techniques. Like humans, a male dolphin will present
the female with a gift—but substitute a sea sponge for flowers or
chocolate—in order to gain her sexual favor.
So far, when RJ tries to explain hockey to me, I feel very much like
I’m being taught a foreign language. I’ve never really understood sports,
so it’s all a little over my head.
“How far are your parents from Seattle?”
I look up from the article I’m reading. “About two and a half hours,
depending on weather conditions. Why?”
“Just wondering.” He sets down his phone and props himself up on an
elbow. “I think we need to talk about the start of the season.”
“You mean the hockey season?”
RJ nods. “Yeah. Exhibition games start soon. I’d really like you to
bring Kody to a practice game. A lot of the other wives and girlfriends
come, and they’ll bring their kids.”
“Will there be a lot of people there?” My fingers are already at my
lips. I’ve come a long way in the past year, learned how to cope with the
anxiousness that results from being in places with a significant crowd.
But an arena crammed with thousands of people is not the same as
the aquarium, or a full bus, or even the inside of a shopping mall—the
latter of which I generally avoid if at all possible. Actually, I’d still rather
avoid two out of the three most days.
“Practices are pretty chill, which is why I want you to come. I know
the idea of the arena freaks you out, but it won’t be crazy like it is during
the regular season. Even exhibition games aren’t as heavily attended. I just
. . . I want you to see what it’s like, so you can get used to it. And I
promise it’ll be fun.” He looks so nervous and hopeful.
We can’t just live in the tiny bubble of his house and my apartment,
with the occasional dinner out or gathering with friends and a grocery
shopping trip thrown in here and there. Most of our relationship has been
built in a cosmos of domestic compatibility.
Hockey is his passion, his job, and the thing that drives him. It’s a
huge part of his life, and while I’ve watched games with him on TV and
seen footage of him playing, it’s not the same as seeing him on the ice in
real life. I love the man I met in Alaska and the father of my son, but I
want to be able to love all of him, even the parts that scare me—and that
includes the NHL star that women drool over.
In order to do that, I need to learn how to handle the other very
significant part of his life. And I’m not going to do that by limiting our
lives together to the inside of a house. “I think it would be a great idea for
Kody and me to come to a practice.”
“Yeah?” RJ’s smile is radiant.
I return his grin, although I’m sure mine is nervous instead of
breathtaking, and nod. I had a great time with the girls when they came
over while my parents were visiting.
RJ lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I can talk to Lance and
Miller—you seemed to really get along with their wives when they were
over.”
“You mean Poppy and Sunny? They’re sweet, and you don’t need to
talk to Lance and Miller. I can just message the girls—we’re already in a
group chat. We can organize something. They’ve already been asking
when I’m coming to a practice, so they’ll be happy when I tell them the
next one.”
“That’s perfect.” He tugs on my waist, pulling me closer. “There’s
something else I want to talk to you about.”
I sit up a little straighter, and so does he. “What’s that?”
He shifts around, patting his thighs. “Come here.”
I give him a look. “We had sex two hours ago.”
“It’s not about sex. I just want you close to me.”
I’m not sure if I believe him or not, but I move to straddle his lap. He
smooths his hands up the outside of my thighs and licks his lips. It’s not
sexual, though; it’s all about nerves.
“What’s going on?”
“So, I know everything is pretty new, and there’s been a lot of change
in a short time—maybe more for me than you—but I don’t know . . . it’s
just . . . I’ll be on the road a lot soon, which means I won’t have as much
time with you and Kody.”
“We’ll all adjust to the schedule.”
He nods. “I know. So I was thinking . . . I looked into hiring a part-
time nanny, someone who could take care of Kody when you’re at work
and I’m playing away games.”
“I already have day care, and Kody does well there.”
“Yeah, I know.” RJ’s chewing on the inside of his lip. “Kristen is
fantastic with him.”
“She really is.” As much as I don’t like being away from him, I do
love that there’s someone I feel comfortable with taking care of him.
“Which is why I offered to pay her double what they do if she’s
willing to take care of just Kody.”
“You what?”
RJ holds up his hands. “Hear me out—those women don’t get paid
enough for what they do, and Kristen is great with Kody.”
“But I like that he has interaction with other kids. That part is really
important, RJ. I spent most of my time with my siblings, apart from the
homeschool community events. I want Kody to have a full social life with
lots of friends. I don’t want him to struggle like I did, like I still do
sometimes. A lot of the time,” I amend.
“I totally agree, although I think you’re better than you realize with
people. But I also figured you would say that. Miller and Lance both live
in this neighborhood. Their nannies can coordinate playdates with Kristen
and Kody. He’ll have lots of friends.”
“But I’ll have to get him here every day before I go to work. How
efficient is that?” I’ve been spending a lot more time at his place, but we
haven’t really had the relationship talk. Our entire situation is
unconventional, and nothing really seems to fit into a neat box where
we’re concerned.
“Well, that’s the other thing I wanted to bring up.” He keeps running
his hands over my thighs. “What if you moved in? Then it would be easier
all the way around, right? Especially if you’ll be able to work from home
sometimes and the aquarium is being flexible about your hours.”
“You want us to move in with you?” Now it’s my turn to be nervous.
The only people I’ve ever lived with, aside from when RJ and I were in
Alaska, are my family.
 “It’s a big step, but it makes the most sense, don’t you think? I’m
already going to miss you and Kody when I’m on the road, and when I’m
home I want to be with you. I was kind of hoping you wanted the same.”
Moving in with him means that slice of complete independence is
gone, but at the same time, he makes a good point. We can’t be partners,
not the way I think we both want, if I’m living under a different roof. He
wants to be part of our lives, and I want the same. And that’s what love is
—learning how to lean on someone else, doing it together.
“It’ll be just like Alaska, except you already have friends here, and
once you come to practice you’ll get to know the girls better. You don’t
have to decide right now. I just want to make it easier for us to spend time
together, as a family and as a couple. Think about it, okay?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Good.” His hands settle on my waist. “Now bring those lips here—I
need a hit of your love before bed.”
I lean in for a kiss that turns into sweet, slow lovemaking. It’s as
much a distraction from all the things RJ is asking as it is a way to show
me that he loves me and needs me just as much as I’m starting to accept
that I need him.

Three days later, Kody and I accompany RJ to practice. I changed my

outfit an unreasonable number of times, until RJ finally told me jeans and
a team shirt with his name emblazoned on the back are perfect. He’s right:
the arena isn’t crowded with people like I’ve seen when I watch game
reruns with him. Instead there’s a smattering of observers spread out in the
seats. RJ shows me around and introduces me to the players I haven’t met
before, which makes me nervous since it means I have a whole bunch of
new names to remember. Typically I have a great memory, but when I’m
nervous it can be a challenge.
I’m relieved when I start to recognize a few of the guys who came
over to RJ’s while my parents were visiting, and as soon as I see Sunny’s
blonde hair, Poppy’s wavy red mane, and Violet’s auburn ponytail I’m
totally at ease. I’m learning, slowly, that I can’t control all the things that
happen in my life—but I can control how I react to them. The only way to
conquer my fears is to face them with as many safety nets in place as
possible.
 “It’s so great to see you again.” Sunny gives me a side hug, since
we’re both holding babies. And when we try to separate, we have to
untangle each other’s hair from our infants’ fists.
“I gotta change and get on the ice. You’ll be okay?” RJ kisses Kody
on top of the head and me on the lips.
Violet scoffs. Even though her husband doesn’t play for the team
anymore, she still likes to come to the games so she can hang out with the
rest of the girls. “She’ll be fine, Rookie—this is a bunny-free zone today,
so we won’t have to teach her how to take down a puck slu—”
One of the other women slaps her arm—I’m pretty sure her name is
Charlene. “Vi, censor.”
Violet cringes. “Right. Sorry. She’s in good hands.”
RJ kisses me one last time and disappears down the hall toward the
locker room.
Violet slips her arm through mine. “We’re so excited that you came
today! I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to you when we came to
Rook’s, but your dad is great. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that we’re all
so glad you gave Rook a second chance, because this is pretty much the
happiest he’s been in over a year. You know, when he came back from
Alaska last year, we were all worried about him. He’s usually such a
positive guy, but man, he was like Eeyore for a good six months, black
cloud of doom hanging over his head.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, he was just so sad.” Sunny pats her baby’s bottom, and her
three blond boys rush on ahead of us, along with Violet’s and Poppy’s sons.
The three older boys are trying to keep control of the younger ones. “We
all thought it was because of the anniversary of his father passing away.”
“Because he used to go to Alaska with his dad and his brother, and he
ended up having to go alone last summer.”
“Exactly.” Sunny nods. “So the guys thought it had to be that, but
then he told them about you, and well, we all realized he was just
heartbroken.” She blinks a few times, like she’s on the verge of tears. She
waves a hand in front of her face. “Sorry, I’m in the first trimester, and I
get more emotional than usual. I hate to see people hurting, and Rookie
was down for such a long time.”
Poppy gives her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s really only been himself
again the past couple of months.”
 “Since the birthday party, actually,” Violet adds. “Last year he didn’t
date at all. He was like a monk. Worse than he was after that fake
pregnancy.”
“Fake pregnancy?” I remember seeing something about that in one of
the many unpleasant articles I ran across when I looked him up after I
found out he’d lied about his job.
“Oh yeah, like a couple years after he came to Chicago, he had this
woman who was obsessed with him to the point that she faked a
pregnancy. She even took plaster casts of her pregnant sister’s belly and
pretended she was expecting. She was all over social media with it until
Rookie got his lawyer involved.”
“Has anything like that happened since?” I can’t imagine how I
would deal with that.
“Nah. Rookie’s been on the straight path for a long while, so no crazy
bunny business since then. He was celibate for a good year after that went
down.”
“She was really crazy,” Sunny adds.
“Crazier than me, even,” Violet says. “Anyway, Rookie settled right
down after that. And then when Alex retired, he stepped into the role of
captain, and he’s been pretty grounded ever since. It’s hard to get in
trouble when all your friends have kids and wives.”
These are all the things I need to hear, I realize. It confirms again
that the man I met in Alaska and the one who’s come back into my life
recently aren’t different at all. It’s just his job that’s not what I thought it
was. That one omission doesn’t change who he is as a whole, and it
doesn’t diminish the connection we had before or what we’re trying to
build now. As I sit with these women and get to know him through them, I
find myself growing more confident that I can handle this part of his life.
The more I get to know him outside of our little cosmos, the more I want
to make this work. And it will be a whole lot easier for both of us if I
move in with him.

The transition from having my own apartment to moving into RJ’s house
takes place gradually, over the course of the next several weeks. I run into
Walter again in the elevator, and he’s sure to tell me, three times, that he’s
on his way over to his girlfriend’s place.
 Exhibition games start—those are a lot more crowded than practice
—but I’ve discovered that I don’t have to enter the arena the same way
everyone else does. I have the option to sit behind the bench—or up in one
of the private boxes.
The other wives, specifically Sunny, Poppy, Violet, Charlene, and
Lily, take me under their wing and act almost like my personal
bodyguards. I learn how to deal with the media—at first they’re very
interested in me and Kody.
RJ gives an exclusive interview explaining how we met, fell in love,
and then, by the most unfortunate of circumstances, lost touch. It’s all
made to sound very romantic, and he paints a picture of me that I don’t
recognize but like all the same. He calls me brave and strong and brilliant,
and I love him even more for it.
When the regular season begins, I discover how difficult it is to be
without him. But at least when he’s away I have Kody.
During his first series of away games we have a warm spell in
Chicago, and with it comes a storm. I’ve come a long way in the past year
with the help of regular therapy, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to appreciate
the beauty of a thunderstorm the way I once did as a child.
I pull all the curtains closed so I don’t have to watch the lightning
and thunder, change into one of RJ’s flannel shirts so I’m surrounded by
his smell, and check on Kody. He’s sleeping peacefully.
I turn on his lullaby soundtrack and settle into the glider in his room,
breathing through the anxiety, reminding myself that we’re safe at home.
After a few minutes my phone buzzes in my breast pocket. I slip out of
Kody’s room to answer the video call.
“Hey, baby, I just saw the weather—you all right?” Worry creases his
forehead.
“I’m okay—congratulations on winning the game tonight.” I try not
to flinch at the rumble of thunder.
“Thanks. I wish I was there with you.” He runs a hand through his
wet hair. Based on the background, he’s in his hotel room.
“Me too, but Kody’s sleeping peacefully, and I’m wrapped in you, so
I’ll be fine,” I assure him as I move the phone over my torso. When I
return to my face, his expression has shifted from worry to hunger.
“Is that my shirt?”
 “Mmm. It’s almost like you’re here with me when I can smell you.” I
sniff the collar, where his cologne is the strongest.
“I should start bringing something of yours to away games—maybe
one of your nightshirts.”
“Pretty sure that would raise a few questions with your roomie.”
“Hmm. Good point.”
“Speaking of, where is your roommate?”
“At the bar. I wanted to call you, maybe see if you need a sensory
distraction.” He settles on his bed, bare chest coming into view, a towel
wrapped around his waist.
“That might be a bit tough considering we’re in different states.” I
climb up onto our bed.
“Or it might be fun?” He cocks a brow.
“Are you suggesting phone sex?”
“Mmm. That sounds naughty, which I like, but we can also call it
sensory exploration research.” He tugs at the edge of the towel. “What do
you think, Lainey, should we give it a shot? See if it’s an effective calming
strategy?”
I smile and pop the first button on the flannel shirt. “I don’t see the
harm in trying.”
By the time we’re done, the storm is long over, we’re both relaxed,
and I can definitely say it’s an effective calming exercise.

Although Kody and I miss RJ when he’s away, I have Eden and the new
friends I’ve made to keep the anxiety at bay. I’ve never been much of one
for social media, so I’m pretty safe from all the terrible things people post.
I’ve also been warned by the girls to avoid reading the comments like
the plague. Well, Violet said I should avoid it like a herpes-covered dick,
but I get what she means. It’s rather disturbing how much people seem to
love fabricating horrible stories and dragging up RJ’s less-than-sunshiny
past.
We persevere, though, and while I don’t think I’ll ever truly be
comfortable in a hockey arena surrounded by thousands of RJ’s adoring
fans, I love watching him play and giving Kody experiences I never had
when I was young.
 Charlene tells me she has these great calming candies she’ll be happy
to share with me when we go to games, once I’m finished breastfeeding.
For now I just drink copious quantities of chamomile tea and collect RJ’s
kisses like they’re a protective and soothing balm for my ridiculous
worries.
While there’s lots of change, including Kody learning how to crawl
before Christmas, one thing remains the same. I miss my family. They’ve
been to visit twice more since the beginning of the season.
Kody and I flew to Seattle for Christmas, in part because RJ had
games out west just before the holidays. His family flew up to Seattle to
celebrate as well, so I was able to get to know them better. He’s
particularly close with his sister, Stevie. The two of them took Kody and
Max, his nephew, shopping one afternoon, which was super sweet. She
made RJ wear a baseball cap—not Chicago inspired—and told him if he
made a scene she’d leave him with both the kids.
I learned a lot about RJ in those few days. He’s an incredible older
brother to Stevie, and he takes the role quite seriously. And in a lot of ways
he seems to want to fill the absence of his father for her. He and his
brother Kyle have a great friendship. They share good-natured ribbing, and
I get to hear all about what RJ was like as a teenager, so focused on hockey
he didn’t have time for girls—or anything, really.
He’s also definitely a mama’s boy in the most endearing way. It’s
clear in the way they accepted me so willingly and graciously into their
family that they adore him, and I feel very much like I’ve gained another
sister and brother—and a second mother.
He only had three days off before he had to leave for another away-
game stretch, so his family went back to LA and I stayed put and enjoyed
some time with my parents and siblings.
“I’ve been watching a lot more of this hockey,” my dad says from his
spot in the recliner. He has a sleeping Kody cradled in his arms—he’s so
big now, already wearing twelve-month clothing when his birthday is still
months away. He’s going to be like his dad, I think.
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” RJ’s team is playing in Colorado tonight, and
he’s already scored two goals and an assist. He’s an incredible player, one
of the best in the league, and that’s not just bias talking—his stats prove it.
“Did you know there’s going to be a hockey team in Seattle next
year?” My dad adjusts Kody. I’m sure his arm is pins and needles, since
he’s been holding him like that for an hour. “They have something called
an expansion draft.”
I nod. “They take a player from every team in the league. Apparently
the same thing happened a while back with Vegas.” RJ hasn’t made much
mention of it, but the girls have been talking about it a lot, because they
can only keep a certain number of players safe from the draft.
“It’s too bad Rook has a no-trade clause—I’m pretty sure he’d be a
top pick for any new team. There’s also some talk that Alex Waters is
looking at coaching, and those two are friends, aren’t they?”
I give him a look. “How do you know all this?”
He lifts his shoulder in what’s supposed to be a dismissive shrug.
“Your boyfriend and I had some late-night chats while he was here.
Besides, you’re my baby, Lainey, and you’re living with a big-shot hockey
player, so sue me if I want to be in the know about everything.”
“So you’ve become an internet stalker—is that it?”
“I think you call it research.”
I laugh, and Kody stretches in his arms, smacking his lips. I check
the time. I should probably put him to bed for the night, but I don’t want to
take him from my dad just yet.
“We miss you, Lainey, that’s all. I know you’ve made friends out in
Chicago, and that’s wonderful. We don’t want to stifle you, but any
opportunity I see to have you closer rather than farther away and I’m
going to make mention of it. Your mother is a worrier—and I’m sure that
wasn’t always the most helpful when you were growing up, especially
after what happened in college. If you’d been in that classroom when that
boy lost his sanity . . .” My dad clears his throat and smooths out Kody’s
hair, his voice just a whisper. “We might not have you—or this little
miracle.”
I push up out of the chair and hug him as best I can, considering he’s
stretched out in a recliner—which RJ bought for him since he loved the
one at his place in Chicago so much—and holding a nearly twenty-pound
baby in his arms.
“We just love you so much, Lainey, and maybe we loved you a little
too hard, but we were just so scared of losing you.” He sniffs into my
shoulder.
I hug him like that, awkwardly, absorbing his love and his honesty,
because in all the years since that tragedy happened, it’s really the first
time he’s expressed how he felt about it. “I love you too, Dad. I know you
were just trying to keep me safe, but I can’t live my life being afraid of
things that are outside of my control.”
I release him so I can see his face. His eyes have that telltale shine to
them, like he’s fighting his emotions but losing. I sit on the side table next
to his chair, and he grips my hand in his. “Rook is a good match for you.
You’re so much more . . . confident with him. Or maybe you always were,
and he just brings that out in you better than we could.”
“Dad—”
“I’m not being self-deprecating. I’m just reflective these days. I have
ten grandchildren, and only one of my children doesn’t live within a ten-
minute drive. It gets a man to thinking, is all.”
I laugh a little at that. “The youngest is always the wildest, or so I’ve
heard. I’m just sowing my oats.”
“If you’re my wild one, I think we’ve done all right.” He gives my
hand a squeeze, and his expression turns serious. “That man worships the
ground you walk on, and he feels an extraordinary amount of guilt for his
mistakes—he’ll do just about anything to make you happy.”
“I know.” I see it in everything he does for me and Kody. I feel it in
his love.
“You might try to take advantage of that weakness, Lainey.” He gives
me a wink, and I laugh.
Kody squawks, so I take him from my dad and press my lips to his
temple. “And your grandpa wonders where I get my sass.”
 CHAPTER 27
SHOTS, SH-SH-SH-SHOTS

Rook

I pick up Lainey and Kody at the airport in the afternoon on New Year’s
Eve. As soon as they’re through the arrival gate, I’m all over her. “I
missed you so fucking much.” She doesn’t even have time to give me
trouble for swearing in front of Kody, because I cover her mouth with
mine and kiss the hell out of her.
The flash and click of phone cameras reminds me that we’re not in
the privacy of our own home or bedroom, as does Kody’s annoyed squawk
at being ignored. I release Lainey and give her a sheepish grin. “To be
continued. I’m so glad you’re home.”
I free Kody from his stroller and lift him into my arms. “How’s my
favorite little man? You take good care of Mommy for me while you were
away?” I lay a noisy kiss on his cheek and tickle his tummy, making him
laugh. Then I pull Lainey back in for another kiss, this time without all the
tongue. “God, I love you. That was too long to be away from you.”
“You’ve been gone longer with away games,” Lainey points out.
“Yeah, but the house felt empty. It isn’t home anymore without you
two in it.” It’s the first time since she and Kody moved in that they haven’t
been home to greet me after an away series, and I finally understand why
my teammates are always so antsy when we hit the landing strip in
Chicago.
I strap Kody to my chest and take Lainey’s bag so we can head to the
valet, where a car is waiting to take us home. I didn’t want the distraction
of driving. Once we’re all buckled in and on the freeway heading home, I
stretch my arm across the back of the seat so I can play with the end of her
braid. “Did you have a good visit with your parents?”
Lainey smiles softly. “It was great to be with them over the holidays.
I think we all needed that, but it’s good to be home. I’m more settled when
we’re all together.”
I kiss her temple. “I get that. It’s how I feel every time I step through
the door after being away—like I’m whole again.”
Once we’re home and Lainey’s suitcase is unpacked, we put Kody
down for a nap and I spend the free time showing Lainey how much I
missed every single inch of her. She’s stretched out beside me, legs tangled
with mine, head on my chest, following the dips and ridges on my
stomach.
“This is our first New Year’s Eve together.”
She lifts her head and rests her chin on my pec. “I didn’t even think
to plan anything, with the flight home. I guess we’ll be having a quiet
night in, huh?”
“Well, actually, I have a proposition for you.” I’m nervous, aware
that what I’m about to propose might take some convincing. The team has
been doing well this season, and we don’t have a game until the second—
which means we can go out tonight, if I can convince her it’s a good idea.
“Oh? What kind of proposition?”
“So Randy thought it would be fun to go out tonight, and Alex has
some connections at the Velvet Room, so he rented out one of the private
rooms there for a party tonight.”
“What’s the Velvet Room?”
“It’s a bar.” I barrel on, hoping to erase the brief flash of panic on her
face. “Most of my teammates are going, and all the girls will be there—
Sunny, Poppy, Lily, Violet, and Charlene. Like I said, we’ll have a private
room once we’re in there, so it’ll be people you know and not a bunch of
random strangers.”
“What about Kody?” Lainey worries her bottom lip.
“I’ve already made arrangements for that. Miller’s offered to have all
the kids come over to his place. Kristen’s agreed to help, and Lance and
Miller’s nannies are going to hang out and have a little celebration.”
“They’ll have all four of Miller’s kids, Lance’s son, and Kody?”
 “And Robbie, Violet and Alex’s son. Don’t worry, they’ve got it
covered. It’ll be a fun night for everyone. What do you say?”
Lainey’s fingers go to her mouth. “Will I need to dress up?”
“Yeah, but I’ve already got that covered. I picked up a couple of
dresses in your size that you can try on. Vi and the girls have someone
coming over to do hair and makeup, and they’ve already reserved you a
space.” I check the clock: she’s supposed to be at Sunny’s in a couple of
hours if she agrees to go.
“All the girls will be there?”
“Yup, all of them.”
“I’ve never gone out on New Year’s Eve before.”
“No time like the present to try something new, right?” I cross my
fingers that it’s something she’s willing to give a shot.
“Okay.” She nods, resolved at first, before she hits me with one of her
heart-melting smiles. “We can go out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kiss her—enthusiastically—and it looks like it’s going to turn into a
whole lot more until she realizes we’re under time constraints. Parts of me
are disappointed, but the rest of me is excited that she’s excited, so I’m
willing to delay the gratification.
An hour later Lainey is freshly showered, wearing a loose button-
down shirt and jeans, and loaded down with a pile of dresses. I added them
to her wardrobe this week with the help of Stevie’s online shopping skills.
I drop her off at Sunny and Miller’s place so she can get her hair and
nails done with the girls. Violet greets us at the front door and holds up a
hand when I try to come inside with Kody. “Babies and boyfriends are to
head around the back. This is an adult-beaver-only zone. We’ll see you in a
few hours.” And with that she closes the door in my face.
I drop Kody off around the back of the house where Miller’s brood,
Poppy and Lance’s kid, and Violet and Alex’s son are all hanging out with
three nannies to support them. I hang out with the guys for an hour, have a
beer, then go home and get ready myself.
At seven thirty all the babies are put to sleep in their various cribs
and playpens, and the bigger kids are snuggled up in Sunny and Miller’s
little movie theater with popcorn and spill-proof cups of juice, so we head
out for dinner.
 We have a private room in an exclusive restaurant, so we don’t have
to worry about fans. Lainey looks fantastic in her slinky black dress, hair
styled in a complicated series of braids that wrap around her head like a
crown. I’ve seen her in plenty of dresses at this point but never quite this
done up, and I can’t take my eyes off her—or keep my hands off her either.
I’m relieved that she seems to be managing just fine, relaxed and
comfortable around these women now that she’s had a few months to get
to know them. I’ve tried to ease her into my life slowly, giving her the
opportunity to face some of her big fears in her own time.
After dinner we pile into the waiting limos and head to the bar.
Lainey’s cheeks are flushed from wine at dinner, and she snuggles into my
side. “This is fun. I’m glad you convinced me to go out tonight.”
I press my lips to her temple. “Me too.”
A lot of the guys are probably at the club already, since Ballistic sent
the invite to the entire team. Even so, we’re a big group, and we draw
attention. People recognize us as we’re ushered past the line of people
waiting to get in, and a low murmur of excitement follows us.
Lainey glues herself to my side, clutching my arm tightly as we enter
the nightclub. Pounding bass greets us, and we walk down the dark, narrow
hallway leading to the bar and the dance floor. There are several floors,
and the room we’ve rented is up a level. Lainey says something I don’t
quite catch. I lean down as we keep moving, the bass growing louder.
We step out from the hallway into the main club, lights flashing to
accompany the throbbing beat. Lainey’s grip on my arm tightens even
more, and I worry that this is just too much for her. That the hypothetical
was much more reasonable than the reality of this situation. She’s already
had a long day, flying home with a baby, and now she’s way outside her
comfort zone with this. I don’t think I should have pushed her into this.
She can handle the pub just fine, but it took a few times before she was
comfortable even there. When she comes to games they generally sit in the
box rather than in the regular seats because it’s not as overwhelming, and
this . . . well, this is a million times worse than that.
It’s loud, there are people packed into every inch of the dance floor,
and it’s slow moving through the throng of bodies toward the stairs that
will get us to the second floor. I’m about to explain this to Lainey so she
doesn’t start to panic, when all of a sudden the music is eclipsed by the
sound of screaming.
 Between one breath and the next we’re completely swarmed by
Chicago fans. We’ve been having an amazing season so far this year, and
publicity has been high, so going out can be an issue—but this is over the
top, even for us. I’m assuming it has to do with the flowing alcohol and
the celebratory atmosphere.
I attempt to put a protective arm around Lainey’s shoulder to keep
her safe, but she’s not attached to my biceps anymore. Instead Violet,
Charlene, and Lily form a protective semicircle around her and move her
away from the screaming, clamoring fans.
Poppy and Sunny squeeze by me. “We’ve got her, don’t worry.”
As they move through the crowd I catch a glimpse of Lainey, craning
to look over her shoulder as the girls usher her away. Her fingers are at her
mouth, eyes wide with panic. She says something to one of the girls, face
etched with concern, before she’s swallowed by the sea of bodies.
Lance claps me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Rookie, they’ll take care
of her.”
“But she hates crowds. I should’ve fucking known better. We haven’t
been in here for more than two minutes.” My phone is in her purse, so I
can’t even message her to find out where she is.
“The girls have all been through this before—they’ll manage. Now
smile and take some selfies with yer fans.”
Dressed-up women and sweaty guys surround us. Arms wrap around
my waist and camera phones flash in my face as more and more people
realize there’s something going on that they want to be a part of. People
push and shove each other out of the way. Two guys in the middle of the
crowd bump chests like they’re thinking about having a go at each other,
while the rest of the drunken fans skirt around them.
Alex yells at everyone to calm down and take it easy as the horde of
fans continues to grow. Security seems to have finally found their way to
the fringe of the ever-expanding crowd, and they move people out of the
way, trying to clear the congestion.
Four girls make that weird duck face and snap a million selfies with
our group behind them and their flashes on, blinding us all collectively.
I blink through the dots in my vision in time to see paramedics rush
by, heading in the same direction the girls went. I have no idea how long
we’ve been stuck here, signing napkins and taking pictures.
 “What the fuck is going on?” I ask Alex, who’s standing right beside
me.
“I dunno.”
“What if something happened to Lainey? What if she’s having a
panic attack?” I can feel my own chest tighten at the thought of her having
one without me there to help calm her.
“Let me check Violet’s messages.”
Security finally breaks through the crowd and makes a path for us,
giving us an out. I try to head in the direction the paramedics went, but
I’m too big to get through the crowd without hurting people.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I run my hands through my hair, my own anxiety
ratcheting up. I turn and grab Alex by the lapels of his suit jacket. “What if
she’s not okay? What if the goddamn paramedics are here for her? This
was so fucking stupid. We should’ve stayed in tonight. Now she’s going to
be totally overwhelmed. What if she decides this is too much? What if she
can’t handle this part of my life? Shit. I can’t even handle it right now!”
Time seems to move too quickly and too slowly. I have no idea how
long it’s been since the paramedics came through. They could’ve gone out
a back way with her.
Alex claps me on the back of the neck. “Take a breath, man. It’s not
always gonna be like this. The girls are with her, and they’re not going to
let her go anywhere without you. Violet says they’re not in the bathroom
anymore.”
“Where the hell are they?”
“It looks like they’re in the private room now.”
My throat feels tight as I follow the security detail—which we
probably should’ve had right from the start—up to the second floor. The
private room overlooks the dance floor and is full of my teammates. I
frantically scan the room for Lainey, but it’s dark, and everyone is freaking
bigger than she is. I finally spot Violet in her red dress and beeline for her.
“Where’s Lainey? Is she okay?”
“She’s right over—” Violet thumbs over her shoulder, and I don’t
even wait until she’s finished speaking before I head in the direction she
pointed.
I find Lainey in the corner over by the bar, flanked on either side by
Sunny and Poppy. I grab her and pull her against my chest. “I’m so fucking
sorry. We can go home. I didn’t think it was going to be so intense. I’m so
sorry.”
She’s rigid in my arms, and I’m terrified that I’ve fucked this all up,
that it’s too much too soon and that I’ve undone all the progress we’ve
made with one stupid decision. She puts a hand on my chest and pushes, so
I reluctantly release my hold on her and step back. My anxiety is through
the roof, and I finally have some inkling as to how she must feel when
things get totally out of control for her, because I feel like everything is
out of control for me.
“Take a breath.” Her warm, soft hand smooths up my chest.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Let’s go home. We’ll use a back exit.”
“RJ, I’m fine.” She settles a palm on my cheek, and I cover it with
my hand, keeping her connected to me.
“But we were swarmed.” I run my free hand down her arm and search
her face and any other exposed skin for marks or bruises or any other sign
that she’s been harmed in some way. “And then I couldn’t see where you’d
gone and you have my phone and there were so many fucking people and I
didn’t know where you were.” Jesus. I think I’m losing it right now.
“Hey, hey.” Lainey takes my face in both her hands. “Deep breath,
baby. I’m here, and I’m fine.” She wraps her arms around my neck. “Looks
like my big teddy bear needs some safety cuddles.”
I pull her against me, not really caring if I look weak or like an idiot,
because she’s right. I need her—to feel her and know she’s safe and here. I
bury my face against her neck and work on calming the hell down. “I
thought this was going to be too much for you, and then you’d leave me.”
She keeps her arms draped over my shoulders but leans back, forcing
me to lift my head. “Why would I leave you over something like this?”
I keep my arms locked around her waist so she can’t go anywhere,
not that it seems like she’s planning to. “I just . . . I thought it would be too
much like what happened when you were in college, and then you’d decide
you couldn’t handle it, or me, or my life, and then you’d say forget it.”
She fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. “You do realize
how completely irrational that is, right?”
I actually didn’t realize that at all until she pointed it out just now. “I
panicked,” I say meekly.
“I panic all the time, and you still love me, don’t you?”
“You’re way more chill than you used to be.”
 “That’s because I have you and your safety cuddles and Kody and all
of these amazing people who love and support me. It’s going to take a hell
of a lot more than a swarm of fans to get rid of me, RJ.” She tips her chin
up, looking for a kiss.
I drop my head and steal a long one. “I love you,” I tell her when I
finally come back up for air.
“I love you too. Now, let’s do some shots.”
 CHAPTER 28
QUESTIONS

Rook
Three months later

Every time I open my underwear drawer I break out in nervous sweats. It

makes me respect my girlfriend, the mother of my child, and future wife
even more, because a lot of things make her feel this way and she always
powers through.
“So, are we planning a wedding or what?” my sister asks.
“I haven’t asked y—”
A loud bang interrupts me, like something metal hitting the floor.
“Did you finally propose?” my mother yells enthusiastically. I spot her as
an indistinct blur moving around in the kitchen.
I give my sister a look—she could’ve warned me that our mom was
listening in. She gives me her I’m sorry face, but it’s not very convincing.
“He hasn’t asked yet, Mom,” Stevie supplies for me.
“Oh. And here I was getting all excited for nothing,” she calls out.
“You two could try getting excited about the fact that playoffs are
coming up soon and Chicago is currently number one.”
Stevie rolls her eyes. “I’ve been shopping for my disguise just in case
Mom and I end up needing to come visit for the finals this year.”
There’s noise in the background, and my mom asks something I don’t
catch.
Stevie smirks at whatever she said. “Mom wants to know what’s the
holdup on the marriage proposal—and frankly, so do I. You’ve had that
ring for months now.”
Awesome—now both of them are getting on my ass about this. “I’m
waiting for the right time.”
“And when will that be? When you knock her up again?” My mom’s
sass is second only to Violet’s.
Stevie snickers. “Nice burn, Mom.”
“I don’t think the two of you living together out there in LA is good
for you.”
“Don’t try to change the subject.” My mom’s face appears beside
Stevie’s, and she pins me with a look. “And Stevie is probably moving in
with her boyfriend at the end of the summer, so I’m going to enjoy what’s
probably going to be the last time I have a fun roommate.”
“Whoa. What? Moving in with your boyfriend? What the hell? Why
don’t I know about this?” Stevie usually tells me everything, even the stuff
I probably don’t want to know.
“Because I don’t actually know if it’s going to happen.” Stevie pokes
our mom in the shoulder. “I need to know what my summer plans are
going to be, and you need to stop dragging your ass, because I’m banking
on a short engagement so you and Lainey can get busy making more
babies for me to love.”
“You realize that this is a super uncomfortable conversation to have
with my mom and sister, right?”
“You tried to have the sex talk with me two years ago, like I was still
fifteen, so this is payback. Stop waffling and just ask her, dammit.”
“I’m not waffling. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to ask
her. And I want to make sure she’s ready.”
Stevie arches her brow. “You have a baby together, you live together,
the last time we visited she was talking about how she thinks it would be
best to have kids close together. I’m pretty damn sure she’s ready.”
“I’d like to have more grandchildren,” Mom adds. “And it would be
great if you could have a wedding before you give me another one. I’d also
like to request a granddaughter if at all possible.”
“First, let’s get him to propose, Mom.” Stevie grins evilly as Mom
wanders back to the kitchen. “Look, Lainey doesn’t need some big grand
gesture. She just needs you to ask so she can say yes, and then we can start
planning, and you two can have more babies or whatever. I say go with
simple. Maybe do that thing where they put the ring in the bottom of a
champagne glass or something.”
“What if she chokes on it, though?” Mom asks.
“It was just a suggestion.” Stevie slaps her thighs. “What’s the thing
that’s most symbolic of your relationship?”
“Kody.” That’s a no-brainer.
“So include him somehow. He’s the reason you’re together, so make
him part of it.”
“That’s actually a great idea.” Simon and I have had similar
conversations over the past few months. I asked him back at Christmas for
permission to marry Lainey, and since then he’s been on me about when
I’m popping the question. He’s also mentioned the expansion draft quite a
few times, and often those two conversations happen at the same time.
Stevie smiles and bats her lashes. “See? Not just a pretty face.”
“You’ve always been more than a pretty face, Stevie.”
“So are you, RJ.”
We all laugh, and I promise to call when I’ve popped the question,
which hopefully will be tonight.
I end the call and exhale a long, slow breath. I’ve put off this
conversation long enough. Lainey’s contract with the aquarium is up in
three weeks. It’s already March, and playoffs are around the corner. And
after that the expansion draft picks will happen.
One of our team members will go to Seattle. If Lainey agrees with
my plan, it’ll be me.
I’ve just finished getting dressed and styling my hair when I hear the
alarm buzz downstairs, signaling Lainey is home. I find her in the front
entryway, trying to get Kody out of his snowsuit before he takes off down
the hall. He’s definitely my son. He has two speeds: fast and faster. He was
crawling by six months, standing by eight, and walking by nine. Now he’s
bumbling around like a drunken, miniature frat boy. He’s also in the 99th
percentile for height and weight, meaning he’s going to be a big boy, just
like me.
“Da!” he yells. He starts flailing, batting at Lainey’s hands, when he
sees me. I’m not sure if he’s actually calling me Dad or if he’s just making
noise because he can, but I’m going to pretend it’s the former.
Lainey raises her hands in defeat, and he rolls over, then pushes
himself to a stand. He looks like an overstuffed marshmallow, his arms
sticking straight out as he bumble-weaves over to me. I crouch down and
put my arms out, ready to catch him. He makes it halfway before he falls,
but he doesn’t give up. He pushes back up unsteadily and stumbles the last
few steps into my arms. “Good job, little man!”
I lift him into the air and make airplane sounds. He giggles and
squeals. I tuck him under my arm like a snowsuit-covered football and
close the distance between myself and Lainey.
She has one arm out of her jacket and one still in. I slide my fingers
into her hair, tip her head back, and kiss her—with tongue—while Kody
wriggles and laughs under my arm.
I release her and take a step back. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” She arches a brow and shrugs the rest of the way out
of her jacket. I set Kody down on the mat and help him out of his
snowsuit. Once he’s free, he plunks himself down on the floor and starts
going through the contents of Lainey’s purse, which would be fine if he
didn’t try to shove everything into his mouth like it’s food.
“Give that to Mommy.” Lainey plucks a lip balm from his chubby
fingers. He yells his displeasure until she replaces it with a soft hockey
puck. It immediately goes in his mouth.
“He must be teething again.”
“He’s chewing on everything these days—like a little beaver, aren’t
you?” Lainey picks him up and tickles his side, heading for the living
room, which has slowly been overtaken by his toys.
We’re in the process of trying to divide the space so the whole thing
doesn’t look like some kind of toddler amusement park.
Lainey sets him down in front of one of his educational toys that
lights up and flashes . . . and plays annoying music, but he loves it and it
keeps him entertained while we make dinner, so we deal with the noise.
“How was your afternoon at the spa?” Lainey went with some of the
other wives. She deserves the break, because she moms it hard-core most
of the time.
It’s been baby steps all the way: getting her used to worrying less
about finances, infusing her into my life and my world, acclimating to the
media attention. I don’t think that’s something she’ll ever be particularly
comfortable with, but she seems to be handling it well, as long as I don’t
throw too much at her at once.
 She holds her hands out and wiggles her fingers. They’re painted
Chicago colors.
I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips. “I like these.”
“I bet you do.” She steps into me, lowering her voice. “And I bet you
can’t wait to see what they look like when they’re wrapped around your
cock later.”
I can feel my eyebrows trying to hit the ceiling. She’s certainly not
wrong, but Lainey generally isn’t quite so boldly explicit. She bites her
lip, and her cheeks flush pink. I smirk and say nothing, waiting.
“Violet told me to say that,” she blurts.
“That sounds about right. You can tell Violet thanks for the hours of
discomfort I face as a result, since I have to wait until Kody’s in bed to
have that experience.”
She makes a face and looks over her shoulder to where Kody is
happily playing, not getting into trouble. “We could put him in his room
for ten minutes.”
I laugh. “I think I’ll take the prolonged anticipation, but I appreciate
your thoughtfulness. Maybe we can get him into bed a little early tonight.”
“I’d like that.” She smooths her hands down my chest with a soft
sigh, then steps back, aware if we keep touching and teasing each other
we’re setting ourselves up for quick and dirty later, and that’s not part of
my plan for tonight.
Lainey and I fall into our usual dinner routine, which means she tells
me what to do and I do it while simultaneously getting all up in her
personal space.
She stands in front of the fridge, bending to grab something from the
crisper, so I take the opportunity for what it is and move in behind her.
When she rights herself and steps back, she collides with my chest. I take
the bag of carrots from her and kiss her neck. Lainey relaxes against me,
tilting her head to the side, so I kiss all the way to her earlobe before I toss
the carrots on the counter.
When she opens a cupboard to get a measuring cup, I step in and grab
it for her. We move around each other, stealing kisses and furtive touches
the entire time. Dinner prep is our foreplay.
“How was your meeting with your agent this afternoon?” Lainey asks
as she sets the frying pan on the burner and brushes by me so she can get
to the spice cupboard.
 I pause in my carrot-chopping mission. “Good. I have something I
want to discuss with you.”
She sets the ground ginger on the counter and turns to face me. “That
sounds serious.”
I tug on her apron—team themed—and pull her closer. “It’s not
serious bad. I just have some options I want to run by you.”
“Okay.” She glances over at Kody. He’s chewing on a book. It’s meant
to be chewed on, so she refocuses on me.
“So we’ve talked about the Seattle expansion draft . . .”
She nods. “A lot of the girls are speculating who they’re going to
keep safe. You have a no-trade clause, which makes you one of the nine.”
“That’s right, unless I opt to waive the no-trade clause for the
expansion draft.”
Lainey’s eyebrows pull together. “But why would you do that? You’re
team captain, and you love it here.”
“My contract expires in two years—I’ll be traded eventually. I talked
to my agent, and if I waive the clause, Seattle will pick me up.”
Lainey chews her bottom lip. “Is that what you want?”
I pull her lip free from her teeth. “We would be closer to your
family.”
She flattens her palm against my chest. “But these guys are like your
family. You have years with them.”
I cover her hand with mine. “They’re not my partner, though—you
are.”
She nods slowly. “I’m just getting used to everything here. If you’re
traded, we’d have to move at the end of the season, wouldn’t we?”
“The timing would be good, though. Your contract with the aquarium
is up soon. I’m sure they’d be happy to renew, but I also know you want to
work on your PhD. And being in Seattle would make it a lot easier to see
your family.”
Understanding hits her, and she crosses her arms. It would be cute if
she didn’t look so irritated. “That can’t be the reason you waive your no-
trade clause. I won’t take you away from your family so I can be closer to
mine.”
“You miss them.”
“We can’t jeopardize your career and everything you’ve worked this
hard for just so it’s easier for me to see my family until you get traded
again.”
I pick her up and set her on the counter. “First of all, going to Seattle
won’t jeopardize anything. And this isn’t just about my career or me
anymore, Lainey. This is about what’s best for you and me and Kody, the
three of us together. And if being closer to your family would be better for
you, then it automatically makes it better for Kody and me.”
“You’d have to leave all these people you care about.”
“Not all of them.” I curl my hands over her knees. “Alex and Violet
are going to Seattle.”
“They are?”
“This isn’t public yet, but they’re signing him as the head coach. He
knows the general manager of the team personally. They want me. Players
get traded all the time, Lainey—people come and go. A lot of contracts are
up in the next year or so. If you say yes to this, my agent is ready to make
a call. He’s already been in talks with the owner in Seattle. They want to
sign me for five years, and they’re offering an extra million a year as
incentive—but money aside, it would be a good move for us as a family.”
“How long have you been thinking about this?”
I part her legs and step between them so I can get a little closer. “A
while.”
“It’s a big change, RJ.” She links her hands behind my neck, fingers
sliding into the hair at my nape.
“Only for one of us. You’re the one who’s had to deal with the most
change between us. Look, Lainey, those six weeks we had in Alaska were
the best I’d had in my entire life, and the year that followed was dark
without you. Having you back, falling in love with you all over again, and
Kody for the first time, it’s made me a better man.” I clasp my hands
behind her back so I can feel anchored.
“I want us to do this together. Make decisions together, figure out life
and how to parent and how to get our kid to eat green things. I want to love
you. I want to get razzed by your brothers at Christmas dinners. We’ll be
closer to both of our families, since mine is on the West Coast too. It
makes the most sense, doesn’t it? If you want to stay here, then the no-
trade clause stays in effect—but if you want Seattle, then I lift the clause
and we go.”
“You’re sure?” She bites her lip.
“Positive. Whadya say?”
 “I say . . . let’s go to Seattle and start a new team.”
Lainey pulls me in for a kiss that lasts until Kody comes up behind
me and hugs my leg, reminding me that we have a few hours before we
can celebrate this decision privately.
I pick him up. “We’re going on a new adventure, little man.”
He pats both of my cheeks and grins, as if he understands. Lainey
gets him a piece of frozen fruit stuffed inside a little mesh bag to chew on
while I help get his dinner ready.
After we eat, I decide if we’re celebrating one thing, we might as
well celebrate two. Lainey’s agreed to move to Seattle, so I’m pretty
confident that means we’re in it for the long haul.
“I’ll take Kody up and get him ready for bed.” I kiss the top of her
head.
She drops a tea bag in her mug and looks up at me. “I can do that.”
“I’ve got it. You enjoy your tea—we’ll be down in a few to say good
night.”
She smiles up at me. “Thanks.”
I take him upstairs, change him into his jammies, and make a stop in
our bedroom. “I need your help tonight, little man, okay?”
“Da!” He shoves his fingers in his mouth.
I slip my hand under a pair of socks and find the box. Closing the
drawer with my hip, I take a deep breath. I’ve practiced this a million
times over the past couple of months, what I’m going to say, how I’m
going to do this. But my family is right—I don’t need a grand gesture,
because that’s not what Lainey likes.
She likes simple and thoughtful.
I flip the box over between my fingers and take Kody back
downstairs. Lainey’s tucked into the corner of the couch, reading a
magazine.
I set Kody on the floor and hold up the small box, tied with a white
ribbon. “Can you give this to Mommy?”
I pass it to him, not sure if handing something like this over to an
eleven-month-old is actually a good idea or not. The first thing he tries to
do is shove it in his mouth.
I pull it away from his mouth. “Take it to Mommy.”
I point at Lainey, and he bumbles his way over to her, holding the box
in one fist. “Ma!” I follow behind him and make sure he doesn’t try to eat
it again.
She sets the magazine on the table and uncrosses her legs. Sitting
forward, she holds out her arms, ready to catch him if he falls. “Hi, baby,
you look like you’re ready for bed. Do you want Mommy to come up and
tuck you in?”
He waves the box around in her face, and her gaze shifts from Kody
to me. She tips her head in silent question.
“Give the box to Mommy.” I drop down in front of her and help
steady Kody’s hand—sort of, since mine is shaking too.
“What’s this? My birthday isn’t for another two months.”
“It’s not a birthday present. Go ahead and open it.” I set Kody on my
knee.
There’s a wet spot on the box and some teeth marks, but that’s par for
the course around here these days.
The ribbon unfurls as Lainey tugs the end. I kiss the top of Kody’s
head as she opens the lid, my stomach in knots, my palms sweaty. She
withdraws the tiny velvet box inside.
“RJ?” Her eyes are wide and already hazy with the promise of tears. I
love that about her, that I can see her emotions play out on her face as she
experiences them.
Kody grabs for the pale-blue box, so I give him the pieces and set
him on the floor. He plops down beside me—not the best wingman, but he
isn’t even a year, so I can cut him some slack. He slaps the two pieces
together and squeals with delight.
“Let me.” I turn the velvet box toward her and flip it open. The light
on the side table hits the diamond, making it glint and throw prisms on the
floor, which Kody tries to catch, giggling happily.
“Oh!” Lainey’s hand flutters to her mouth, and she seems caught
somewhere between laughter and tears.
“I love you, Lainey—both of you, so much. I thought those weeks in
Alaska with you were the best of my life, but I was wrong. Every day with
you beside me is better than the last, and I promise I’ll spend the rest of
my life loving you—all you have to do is say yes. Marry me?”
The sound that comes out of her is definitely half laugh and half sob.
“Yes. A million times yes. I love you, and I can’t imagine my life without
you and Kody.”
 I slip the ring out of its cushioned home and slide it onto her finger.
Lainey throws her arms around me and kisses my neck, my cheek, and
then finally my lips, whispering I love you over and over.
Kody uses my knee to pull himself to a stand, shouting, “Ma!”
We both laugh, and I know that—despite the lack of romance—this is
exactly the kind of proposal that works for us, because Kody is part of
every single equation.
We take him up to bed. When he sees the ring on Lainey’s finger, he
tries to pry it off, and when that doesn’t work, he tries to put her hand in
his mouth.
Lainey holds his favorite teddy bear in front of him as a distraction.
He grabs for it and cuddles it to his chest. We kiss him good night, put on
his music, and turn on the night-light before we leave his room.
“This is beautiful. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself,”
Lainey says as we uncork a bottle of champagne so we can have our own
private celebration.
I debate whether or not I should take the credit for it. “Remember
when I took Stevie shopping over the holidays?”
“She needed something for some kind of event, but you came back
empty handed.”
“I may have lied about that.”
“I figured it was just an excuse for the two of you to get some time
together.”
“Well, there was that too. But really I wanted her help picking out the
ring. It was between that one and another one.”
“You’re so sneaky.” She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls my
mouth down to hers. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding on to this for
months!”
“I was just waiting for the right time to ask. I wanted to make sure
you were ready.”
“Still, that’s a long time to hold on to that. And I can’t believe Stevie
never said anything.”
I laugh. “She knows better.”
Lainey bites her lip, a coy smile turning up the corner of her mouth.
“You know, if we’re being completely honest with each other, I have
something I should probably tell you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
 “Remember that time you taught me to drive when we were in
Alaska?”
“Of course.” I had a hard-on the entire time. Lainey behind the wheel
of a pickup is sexy as hell.
“So, I told you I didn’t have a license, not that I didn’t know how to
drive.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I used to drive my dad’s pickup all the time. I just never bothered to
get a license, because I didn’t like freeway driving—and you were so
excited about teaching me, so I didn’t want to ruin it for you, or me,
really.”
I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tight against me. “Now
who’s the sneaky one?”
“It was a little white lie.”
“I guess that means we’re even, doesn’t it?” I drop a kiss at the edge
of her jaw.
“Mmm. A lie for a lie. I think we’re all done with those, aren’t we?”
“Definitely. But this one served a purpose. Are you ready for a little
private celebration, future Mrs. Bowman?”
“Very ready.”
I spend the next hour showing Lainey with actions, and words,
exactly how much I love her, and that I never want to be without her, ever
again.
 EPILOGUE
LIFE IN TRAINING

Rook
Four months later

Lainey’s fingers are in my hair, tugging gently as her hips move in tandem
with my tongue. Tomorrow I’m making her my wife in the same location I
fell in love with her: Kodiak Island. So tonight we’re having a little
precelebration.
Well, actually, in about an hour Lainey’s parents and my mom are
coming over so Lainey can have a night with her girlfriends, and I’m
going out with the guys. Bar options are limited out here, so we’re going
to have a campfire and drink some beers at one of the cabins down the
road. It’s the same place Lainey first stayed, except I bought it, demoed
the cabin, and had a brand-new one built. It might be a little overkill, but I
wasn’t sure my family’s four-bedroom cabin was going to be enough for
us—and I’m planning to spend a good part of my summers here, so I
might as well have room for my extended family and friends. The new
cabin has eight bedrooms, eight baths, two kitchens, two great rooms, and
a massive dining room. It also has a guesthouse with three bedrooms.
Lainey’s family and my family both fit there. Our friends from
Chicago and a few of the guys from Seattle that I’m already close with
have rented out the majority of one of the lodges not too far down the
road. The move to Seattle has been good for Lainey and me, and while I’ll
miss the guys in Chicago, having Alex as my coach and Lainey’s family
close by has been amazing. Even better, my sister is moving to Seattle for
a job, so we’ll each have family close by.
I’m already getting settled in with my new team, and most of the
guys are great. Apart from a couple of pains in my ass, it’s been a pretty
smooth transition. Being captain of a brand-new team is daunting, but it’s
also inspiring. It was a position I almost didn’t get, thanks to some hotshot
named Bishop Winslow, but in the end it worked out for me. But more
importantly, Lainey is happy in Seattle, and so is Kody.
And right now, based on the little whimpers and moans of
encouragement, my almost wife is definitely happy.
One of Lainey’s hands disappears from my hair to grab a pillow,
which means she’s about to come and she wants to muffle the sound
because she’s afraid she’ll wake Kody. She’s not particularly loud in bed,
but I’d like to finish what we’ve started without interruptions, so I don’t
stop her.
Thirty seconds later her inner thighs clamp against my head,
blocking out all sound apart from the rush of blood in my ears as she
comes. As soon as her legs relax again, I kiss my way up her body and
settle between her thighs, easing inside.
“The next time I make love to you, you’ll be my wife.”
“You’re a sexy fiancé, but you’re going to be an even sexier
husband.” She pulls my mouth down to hers, licking inside on a low moan
—partly because I’m filling her up, but also because she loves kissing me
after I’ve gone down on her. For as sweet and sheltered as Lainey once
was, she’s an adventure in and out of the bedroom, especially these days.
I move over her, matching the roll of her hips as I cradle the back of
her head.
“I’m so glad you came back to me,” I say against her lips.
“We came back to each other.”
We kiss and cling and moan into each other’s mouths. Lainey does
that thing with her tongue that always amps me up, and I shift her right
leg, tucking her knee against my ribs so I can hit the spot that makes her
whimper my name and dig her nails into the back of my neck.
“I love you so much.” I push up on my forearm, aware that she’s
close to coming again, and I want to watch it happen, because the next
time it does she’ll officially be mine forever.
 She touches my cheek, eyes soft and full of need. “And I love you.”
Her soft gasp is followed by “Oh God” and my name. It isn’t until the
stiffness in her body eases and her hips stop jerking into mine that I
change the tempo, moving faster, chasing my own orgasm.
She drags her nails down my back. “Let me finish you on top.”
I love it when she says things like that. I don’t know what it is about
the phrasing, but it intimates a possessiveness that sets me off. I roll onto
my back, taking her with me. She splays her hands out on my chest and
rides me, hips moving in a figure eight, keeping me deep for several beats
before she rises up and her ass settles on my thighs, breasts bouncing, long
hair swaying down her back.
She leans down, back arching, nipples brushing my chest. “You’re so
beautiful.” She bites my bottom lip. “And you’re all mine.” She grinds
over me, hard and steady, squeezing me from the inside. “Every part of
you is mine, just like every part of me is yours.”
I grab her by the hips, sit up, and wrap her legs around my waist,
lifting and lowering her, faster, harder, until her mouth drops open. “I’m
right here,” she whispers against my lips. “Come with me.”
This time we fall through the clouds one right after the other.
We stay wrapped in each other, kissing, hands caressing, for long
minutes. At least until both of our phones start going off. Now that we
have Kody, I upgraded the service.
We grab them, clear our throats at the same time, and laugh against
each other’s shoulders as we answer our respective calls.
I can’t hear the conversation on Lainey’s end, but based on her
responses I’m pretty sure the questions are the same.
“She’s yours forever as of tomorrow—you can survive without her
for one night.”
My brother has a point—we’re leaving for Hawaii in two days for a
weeklong trip. The grandparents are going to take care of Kody and enjoy
Alaska and the cabin.
“I’ll be ready to go in fifteen minutes,” I tell Kyle before I end the
call.
Lainey lifts off, and I groan at the cold air that’s nothing like her
warm, wet softness.
She presses a kiss to my lips. “Less than twenty-four hours and you
get to have me again.”
 “Forever.”
“And ever.”
We change into jeans and matching plaid shirts, because we are
totally that couple. They also say Groom to Be and Bride to Be on the
back. I open the window to let in a little fresh air and to help get rid of the
freshly fucked scent in our bedroom.
Lainey absently runs a brush through her hair, grinning devilishly as
the curtains flutter with a cool breeze. She’s about to make a pithy
comment, based on her expression. At least until something white skitters
out from under the bed and across the floor. She yelps and clambers up
onto the unmade bed. It’s unnecessary, since it’s just a piece of paper, not a
mouse—which I’ve discovered she’s fine with when they’re outside, but
not so much in the cabin. I bend to pick it up, recognizing Lainey’s distinct
handwriting. It’s dated the day after I left Alaska, two years ago.

RJ,
A storm took out the power and the phone lines
were all down until this morning. I waited as long as
I could to hear from you. Even if you don’t get this for
another year, know that this isn’t where I want us to
end, so if you feel the same way please call me.
Yours,
Lainey

“It was here the entire time.” It must’ve fallen on the floor and ended
up under the bed.
“What was?”
I hold it out to her, and she takes it, her smile soft and sad as she
realizes what it is.
She places a gentle hand on my cheek. “We made it back to each
other—that’s all that matters now.”
I pull her into my arms, grateful that fate found a way to bring us
back together. We stay that way for a long while, just holding each other,
until static brings the baby monitor to life. We both look at it at the same
time. Kody sleeps through the night most of the time, so we don’t need it
like we used to—but the little dots are jumping all over the place,
signaling sound, so she turns it up.
 “What’s he doing?”
We can hear him babbling in his room—but there’s another sound, a
whoosh-clunk, like maybe he’s hitting the side of his crib with something.
“I hope he hasn’t managed to get out of his crib—I’m so not ready
for that.” Lainey turns on the video monitor.
He’s only fifteen months old, but he’s done everything early—and I
mean everything. From his physical capabilities to words, this kid has hit
the genetic jackpot. He’s got his mother’s incredible brain and
determination and my size and athleticism. He’s going to have the world in
the palm of his hand, especially with a mom like Lainey to keep him in
line.
“Oh my God, you need to see this.” She motions me over and turns
the video monitor so I can see.
Kody is still in his crib. At one end is his teddy bear with the
Bowman jersey—it goes with him everywhere—and Kody is standing at
the opposite end, holding the little hockey stick I bought him, playing with
the puck, shooting it down to the teddy. We watch him shoot, toddle down
to his bear and pick it up, then move back to the other end and do it all
over again.
“He wouldn’t let it go when I put him to bed, wanted to sleep with it.
Now I guess we know why.”
“Pretty sure this one is following in his daddy’s footsteps.” She tips
her head back so she can aim her smile at me.
I slip my arm around her waist and splay my hand out over her flat
belly. “Maybe he needs a little brother or sister to play with.”
“I’ll stop taking my pill so we can start filling up the bedrooms as
soon as I’m Mrs. Rook James Bowman.”

Lainey

I can’t stop smiling, or crying, and we haven’t even said our vows yet.
Thank God for waterproof mascara.
Eden hands me yet another tissue, and RJ takes my hand in his,
giving it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes are full of the same emotion as
mine, but he manages not to let his leak out.
 We watch as RJ’s sister, Stevie, guides Kody, who is our ring bearer,
down the aisle to us. It’s a small wedding, just our immediate family and
close friends. Well, as small as it can be with seven brothers and sisters on
my side and a few of RJ’s current teammates from Seattle, as well as the
ones we’ve stayed close with from Chicago. Having people stare at me
makes me anxious, but I’ve learned how to manage it this year.
Kody looks adorable in his tiny little black tux, bumbling happily
toward us with a big grin on his face. Eden tries to take the pillow with the
rings, but he clutches it to his chest and yells, “Mine!”
It takes some gentle coaxing from me and RJ to get Kody to let us
claim the rings. Then, when our mothers try to lead him to the chairs in the
front row, he calls out, “Mama! Dada!” and reaches for us.
“It’s all right—all my vows today include Kody.” RJ scoops him up,
and I flank him, wrapping my arm around Kody as well.
He keeps playing with the flowers in my hair while the minister has
us say our vows, and he pokes RJ in the nose more than once when he
sniffles. And when the minister says, “You may kiss the bride,” Kody
presses a warm palm against each of our cheeks. We follow our own kiss
with a big sloppy one on both of his cheeks. His giggles of pure joy set off
a chain reaction in the guests.
Kody is the reason I ended up in Chicago; he’s the reason I gave RJ a
second chance. He showed me what real love looks like, the unconditional
kind and the forgiving kind, and the kind that transcends time and distance
and leads two hearts back to each other.
My heart is stronger for having been broken and healed by the man
who gave me my greatest love. And from here, we get to watch it grow
together.
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Sebastian and Kidlet, thank you for being such an amazing support system,
for loving me, and for giving me the opportunity to follow my dreams. I’m
so very lucky to have both of you.
Kimberly, you’re far more than an agent. Thank you so much for the
time, care, and energy you put into helping me make sure this was the best
possible book and for helping find the perfect home for this story. It’s an
honor to work with you and call you my friend.
Lauren, Lindsey, and the entire Montlake crew, thank you for making
this such an amazing, fulfilling experience from concept to publication. It
has been an absolute joy to bring this project to fruition, and I can’t wait
for the next one.
Deb, there really aren’t words for how much I love you. Thank you
for always being there and for making my world a better place with your
friendship.
Leigh, thank you for always having words of encouragement when I
need them the most and for being such a fabulous, inspiring friend.
Huge love to my family for being my biggest fans and cheerleaders.
Sometimes I’m mortified that you read my words, Mom, but thank you for
being so proud. I’m so lucky to have your love.
Sarah P., everything is always so seamless with you. You’re far more
than a PA: you’re a friend, and I couldn’t do it without you. Hustlers, your
positivity and excitement are so infectious—thank you so much for all
your love and support.
Endless love to Nina for all the time and energy and insane
organization it requires to help launch a book.
Jenn, Sarah, Brooke, and the team at SBPR, thank you for being so
amazing and for making sure things run smoothly when I can’t. I love that
you’re part of my tribe.
 Gel and Sarah, you do such beautiful graphic work—thank you for
sharing your talent with me.
Readers, bloggers, and bookstagrammers: thanks for being so
passionate about the written word and about sharing your love of reading
and stories, for getting excited with me, and for sharing that excitement
with this amazing community.
Thank you to my author friends in this community who are always
such cheerleaders for each other. I am so fortunate to be part of such an
incredible group of entrepreneurs. Deb, Leigh, Tijan, Kellie, Ruth, Erika,
Susi: You inspire me with your passion and dedication and your continued
unwavering support. I adore all of you. To my real-life friends who know
what I do and get it—Marine, Julie, Kathrine, Laurie, and Jo—thank you
for reminding me that there’s a world outside my head and making sure I
come up for air every once in a while.
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2018 Sebastian Lohnghorn

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Helena Hunting lives on
the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two
moderately intolerant cats. Helena writes everything from contemporary
romance with all the feels to romantic comedies that will have you
laughing until you cry.