Thirty-One
Oli
Coach worked our asses off today. We have more free time in the summer, that’s for darn sure, but the strengthening coaches the team hires are brutal. I’m just lucky I’m not dealing with any injuries. Nils hurt his knee in the playoffs, and he hasn’t been able to train. Word is the managers are talking about reducing his salary next season, which fucking sucks. Knock on wood, I’ve been lucky in that sense.
I’m driving down the street heading home when I realize I haven’t spoken to Sloane since yesterday. I try not to allow the thought that I haven’t spoken to her in twenty-four hours bother me because it’s fucking crazy that I need to hear her voice right now. This isn’t me, but as much as I try to fight my feelings for her, they linger like snow in winter. Just yesterday, my therapist brought to my attention that I keep trying to fight my feelings for Sloane instead of giving in and seeing where the wind will blow. She thinks I’ve still got hang-ups with commitment, and in a way, she’s right. I still get bad dreams at night about the accident, and I still wake up thinking it’s better to be on my own. No worries, no responsibilities. Thing is, I crave Sloane like air. I love spending time with her, talking to her. But I also want her in my bed. When I’m with her, my hang-ups fade away. Now I just need to figure out a way of getting over my demons for good. My therapist seems to think I’ve made progress.
I dial Sloane’s number and she picks up after one ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Shorty. What’s up?” I ask.
She remains quiet, yet I hear her breathing. A few seconds later she speaks. “Not much, just on a soap opera tangent before work,” she explains, her voice sounding tired.
“You’ve been on a soap opera tangent all week,” I say. “Man, I just worked my ass off the last two hours, and you sound more out of it than me. You feeling okay?”
“Yeah . . . I’m good.” She yawns into the phone.
“Can I pick you up for a bite to eat?”
Silence.
“Sloane?”
“Yes . . . sorry, I’m here. Just exhausted. I’m going to hang out at home.” She yawns loudly this time.
“You’ve been exhausted every day this week. You aren’t avoiding me, are you?”
“No.” Her response is quick. Too quick.
“Okay . . . do you want me to give you a ride to Flynn’s tomorrow for the Fourth of July shindig she’s throwing?” I ask while wondering why she sounds so withdrawn. Maybe she’s had enough of me and my issues.
“Tomorrow?” she asks, a little dazed. I hear something fall in the background—maybe a glass.
“Shit!” she snaps.
“You okay there?”
“I just spilled a glass of water. Everything is fine.” I hear her blow out a puff of air followed by some moving around. “Thanks for offering to give me a ride, but I asked Sierra to come along too so I feel like I should ride with her,” she says, and I don’t know why but it feels like she’s brushing me off.
“Yeah, sure, okay,” I say, and I know that my voice doesn’t hide my disappointment, but I’m also not big on sharing my feelings out loud either.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her voice is quiet and seems a little withdrawn.
I should call her on it, but I don’t. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
The line goes dead.
Fuck! I think I’m losing her.
Thirty-Two
Sloane
Fourth of July
I usually love the Fourth of July. We always made a big deal of it back home. Daddy would hold a yearly barbeque in our backyard, and as the day turned to night, he would light fireworks. As I get ready to head over to Flynn’s for the party, my mind is spiraling into my past.
I try hard to refocus myself. I slip on a red bikini and cover it with a blue wrap dress that has a little white sash, thinking I look very patriotic. When I glance in the mirror in my walk-in closet though, nothing helps. I’m jolted back ten years. I don’t know why my mind is going there—to that day. Now . . . why now? It’s been so long.
I know the answer to this question, as much as I try to fight it. The reason I’m off balance, scared. I haven’t seen Oli since I found out I was pregnant. Knowing I’m going to see him today makes my emotions resemble a cyclone and makes me think of him . . . not Oli, but the other boy I loved—the boy who stole my breath away. I want to fight my thoughts because thinking of Parker Hayes is too painful. I can’t go there, and yet pictures from the past snap through my mind, threatening to break what little resolve I have left.
Parker was my best friend from the first day I walked into kindergarten class. I had girlfriends, but they weren’t the same. That spot was held by Parker. Sweet, quiet, charming Parker with his glistening blue eyes and heart of gold.
I hold my stomach and take a few steps backward until my knees connect with my mattress. I lie back on the bed. Why now? This isn’t a good time to think about him. I never allow myself to think of him. I can’t, especially before I have to leave to see Oli.
As much as I fight to keep my thoughts at bay, my memories barge through. That video camera in my head won’t stop rolling.
Parker and me, we were the real deal. Everyone in my hometown put money on the fact that we would marry one day. He promised he’d be my husband in kindergarten, he gave me my first kiss in sixth grade, and my first French kiss in eighth grade. He was the last person I spoke to on the phone at night, and the first I thought of when I awoke in the morning. He was everything. We planned to sleep together at prom; we applied to Columbia together. He was my person. When my aunt passed away from cancer and Mom left, I held it together because of Parker. He promised me the world, and yet I failed him.
I make a run to the bathroom in time to empty the contents of my stomach. As the harsh burn crawls its way up my throat, I lift my head and walk over to the sink to swallow some cool water and ease the acrid taste in my mouth. A quick glance in the mirror tells me I look exhausted, worn out, emotionally drained. I walk back over to the bed needing a few more minutes to rest.
I wish I could tuck thoughts of Parker back into the tiny pocket of my brain where I’ve kept them for so long, private and safe, but I can’t, and the reason is crystal clear. Parker was my everything for most of my life, then he was gone. I couldn’t sleep with anyone. Hence my long-standing virgin status. My virginity belonged to Parker; my soul belonged to Parker. My mom was right—I had wanted Oli because he was unattainable to me. He wouldn’t want me, he wouldn’t settle down, and the fantasy of him kept me going for so long. Then I got to know him and my heart fell for him, yet I couldn’t help feeling like I had cheated on Parker.
The thought is maddening because I was so damn angry with Parker for leaving me. I thought we shared everything, and yet he kept the darkest part of his soul away from me. I feel cheated. He was supposed to father my children, be my husband. But he left me—he made a choice when not in his right mind, and left me.
Loneliness had become me until Oli slithered his way under my skin, into my heart. It was push-and-pull with him. I wanted him; he pulled away. That made me want him more. Then he had to go and be all sweet and take care of me. He probably wasn’t trying to break down my defenses, but I became defenseless nonetheless. I even craved the broken parts of him, wanted to make him feel whole again.
I knew loss. I knew what loss did to a person’s insides. The sadness doesn’t truly ever go away. It’s a cherished place occupied by that special person. I know Oli is shocked from the sudden loss of his parents. It’s the reason I can’t push him into something he isn’t ready for. He lost his support system. His father was his best friend, life supporter, center of encouragement—that loss is a shock to the system, and a part of him will never be the same again. Pushing Oli into something he isn’t ready for is the wrong thing to do. He’s a good man and will want to do right by me, but, hell, I don’t want him to do right. I want him to choose me because I’m the greatest love of his life not som
e freaking obligation.
So how do I tell him about the pregnancy without cornering him? I can’t. I need to put things off for a little while longer. Take time to get my head on straight and figure things out. I also can’t mess with his therapy; he’s moving forward, sharing things he never would have shared even a couple months ago. Finding out about the baby could ruin that progress.
Luckily, I’m not showing. I can hide my pregnancy from the Russell twins a little longer, even though I know it’s wrong because they are family. But there was room in my heart for another love, those twins have a special place in my heart, my soul, that makes them a part of me.
A lone tear slips down my cheek as I stand up from the bed. My life feels like a fucking mess, yet something about this baby growing in my stomach makes me feel at peace. I walk back over to the mirror. I take a tissue to swipe at my damp eyes. A moment later, my phone alerts me to a text message. Sierra is downstairs waiting for me. I give myself one last look-over in the mirror. Game time, Sloane. Just behave like everything is normal. Nothing has changed.
I take a deep breath and exhale, then I grab my purse and cell and walk out the door.
Myles and Flynn went all out. There’s a huge balloon arch of red, white, and blue as we enter the backyard. Luke Bryan's sultry voice comes through the various speakers set up around the backyard. There’s a table about a mile long covered in food. Myles is manning the barbeque. The large, picturesque backyard is filled with friends, most of whom I recognize as Myles’s teammates. Everyone is smiling, drinking beer, or swimming, and there are kids running around. I want to enjoy myself, relax. I really do but I’m wound up so tight.
“Everything okay?” Sierra asks, giving me a sidelong glance as we enter the backyard. I haven’t confided in her about the baby. I can’t actually bring myself to say those words out loud to anyone.
I force a smile and let out a small puff of air. “Yes. Just feeling a little off.” I shrug. “Come on. This looks like one heck of a party.” Just as I say the words Flynn comes walking up to us, pushing a double-carrier stroller in front of her.
“Sloane,” she screams, and wraps both arms tightly around my neck. I hug her back, trying to hide the fact that contact with her makes me feel like my emotions are about to explode out of me like a fire hydrant spraying water. Flynn is my person. Seeing her makes me want to spill the beans. I can’t do that. I have to zip my mouth shut.
“It’s so good to see you.” I smile, pulling away from her embrace to peek inside the stroller. The twins are asleep. “They’ve grown so much.”
“I know. It’s crazy how fast they grow.” Her attention turns to Sierra. “So glad you could make it.” She leans in to give her a hug. “Come make yourself comfortable. There are still a few loungers by the pool. You can sit and soak up the sun.” She smiles. “I forget what it’s like to suntan; babies can’t be in the sun. I’m under that huge tent over there.” She points to a massive-size tent that has been pitched in her backyard. It looks like it could hold a wedding party. I assume Myles ordered that for the babies.
“Nice.” Sierra nods, taking in the lavish view. “Thanks so much for inviting me. I’m going to try to act normal around these guys, but it may be hard not to swoon.” She bats her eyelashes. Sierra is a huge hockey fan. She follows some of these guys on Twitter.
“Oh! You can swoon all you want; trust me, I do.” Flynn winks. “Did you see Nils, the Swedish player? He’s single.” Flynn tilts her chin to the sexy, tatted up hockey player. He looks like trouble is his middle name.
“Yeah, no. Not my type.” Sierra’s face turns serious, and her tone carries an edge to it. Flynn and I eye each other for a brief moment, clearly wondering how Sierra wouldn’t like Nils. He’s hotter than hell. If I wasn’t so in love with Oli, I would for sure be crushing on him.
“Really? You don’t think Nils is hot?” I ask, a little flabbergasted. I can’t help myself though; the guy is sex on a stick.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t say he isn’t hot. I just said he isn’t for me.”
“I hear ya. His man-whoring ways can be a little much,” Flynn says, clearly trying to brush off the suggestion. “Even though Myles was no better before we met. You could be the girl to finally tame the wild beast.”
“There’d be no taming him.” Sierra lets out a puff of air. “That man is all beast. There are no rules when it comes to him, trust me.”
Flynn eyes me again, and her brows raise. I think we are both wondering the same thing. How does Sierra know Nils? Have their paths crossed already?
“Have you met Nils?” I ask, because heck, I’m a curious one.
“Sort of. Let’s just say I wouldn’t want him even if he was the last man on Earth.” Sierra shrugs as if she said the sky is blue.
“Ouch,” Flynn snickers. “I know Nils has burned some roads along the way.”
“Not of interest to me,” Sierra responds, and I suddenly feel like the tension in the conversation has climaxed and we need to diffuse it.
“Okay, yeah, uh . . . I’m starved, and I wouldn’t mind soaking up some sun.” I grin, attempting to redirect the conversation and end the awkward moment.
“Come on, girly.” Flynn takes Sierra by the hand and pushes her stroller with the other. “Come sit and relax on a lounger; the barbeque should be ready soon. And you can take a swim and relax.”
“Thanks that sounds perfect, actually.” Sierra smiles. I remain quiet, wondering what went down between Nils and Sierra and when. I pretty much met her when she moved to town, and she never mentioned dating someone from Oli’s team.
Flynn pauses in front of two loungers that aren’t being occupied. “Pop a squat and relax, ladies.” She smiles while rocking the stroller back and forth.
“Thanks.” I grin as I climb onto the lounger without removing my cover-up. Sierra lifts her dress over her head. She’s looks like a movie star with her curvaceous, voluptuous body.
“I’ll catch you two a little later,” Flynn says, squinting against the sun. “Babies need a bottle. I’ll be in the tent over there.” She points. “If you need anything just come on over.”
“Thanks, schnookums. I’ll be over to smother your babies in a few minutes,” I reply.
“There’s lots of food in the tent too.” She grins, knowing I enjoy my food.
“Ah, a woman who knows my heart’s content,” I chime. Flynn laughs, rolls her eyes at my idiocy, and walks away.
My earlier nerves about coming here seem to have dissipated and I feel happy to just spend time with my best friend and her family. That is until a smoking-hot hockey player with honey-colored eyes, bronze skin, and muscles that go on for days, comes straight for me. My breath hitches, my cheeks warm, and my heartbeat picks up just enough for me to feel my blood flowing.
“Hey, Shorty, did you just get here?” Oli looks me over like he’s checking if I’m okay, as if he’s expecting something should be wrong because I’ve been avoiding him.
I aim for a sincere smile. “Everything is perfect. You?”
He shakes his head and takes a seat on the edge of my lounger. “We need to talk. I want to know why you’ve been ditching me all week,” he says, grabbing a towel from the empty lounger next to mine. He pats himself dry. My eyes follow his movements and land on the dark trail of hair that leads to a very fine . . . I swallow hard and internally chastise myself for going there right now. Must be my damn hormones out of whack.
Nope. Not it. This reaction has unfortunately been common to me for a decade. Only now, I have first-hand knowledge about his goods and my rating is full stars. My mind drifts to sex in the pool or hot tub. My thighs press together as I remind myself he’s in therapy and we shouldn’t rush things. Especially now that the stork has delivered an unexpected gift.
I give Sierra a sideways glance to see that, as I suspected, she’s uncomfortable by the conversation.
“Oli, you remember Sierra,” I say, trying to redirect the conversation while hoping he drop
s the subject altogether.
He blinks then turns to Sierra as if he didn’t realize she was there. “My apologies. Of course.” He extends his hand to shake hers.
“Nice to see you again, Oli.” Sierra smiles, sounding a little breathless. I can’t say I blame her. These guys feel larger than life.
“Russell. Where did you go? We’re starting the game,” Dave calls from the pool.
“Give me a minute,” Oli hollers and waves him off.
“Fuck no. Get your ass in here,” Nils scoffs. I give Sierra another quick glance to see her roll her eyes when Nils speaks. Now I’m definitely curious. “We need to kick their ass,” Nils continues with that sexy Swedish accent of his.
“Sorry, ladies, duty calls. Can’t abandon my team.” Oli winks, standing up from the edge of my chair. He places his palm on my thigh, then whispers, “We need to talk, yeah?”
“Okay, later,” I reply just to appease him. He struts off, and my eyes drop to his fine ass. Of course, he can’t abandon his team; he’s an all-around nice guy, a team player who does what’s right. Gah! I feel like I can’t sit still.
“Sierra, I’m going over to the tent to see Flynn. Wanna join me?”
“Nah.” She shrugs. “I’m thinking a dip in the pool sounds fun.” She giggles. “I mean. look at them. Seven NHL hockey players all in one pool. I can’t resist.” She raises and lowers her brows.
I lean over to her so my lips are close to her ear. “Do you know, Nils? I mean . . . have you met him before?”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “I did, a long time ago. Let’s just say I won’t go barking up that tree again.”
Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone) Page 22
