by Zoe Lee
This time, he knew better than to push away Jesse’s question.
He blew out a breath like a tired stallion.
“I’m just missing Daisy, is all.”
Jesse leaned over and took a clean shot, sinking one. Surveying the table and the rounding it to reach the cue ball, she snorted. “That’s it?”
“What?” Dunk almost stuttered.
“Daisy’s busy, so you’re moping, that’s all?” She shook her head and sank another ball, then stood up and pointed at Dunk. “Come on, Coach. She’s not out of the game. She’s taking care of her brother.”
Dunk crossed his arms defensively. “And I’m not mad about that.”
“So you’re just horny,” Jesse retorted, crossing her arms right back.
“No!” Dunk reared back at the yeah, right look she shot at him. “I mean, yeah, I miss that, too, but I miss her. I got used to being with her.”
“I know this is where I’m supposed to say poor baby in all sincerity,” Jesse said, moving to stand next to Dunk, pool game put aside for now. “But this is a bullshit pity party, Dunk. That girl is crazy about you. Like, she probably farts hearts that say Mrs. Daisy McCoy.”
Daisy McCoy.
The name shot through him, resonating with certainty.
“I’m allowed to have a day where I throw myself a pity party,” Dunk said to Jesse, jaw locked with tension. He’d said something like that to Leda that night, too, something about how he was allowed to have a bad day. “I’m allowed to be in a crappy mood. I’m allowed to miss my girl.”
“Dunk.” Jesse laughed, but it was an expression of exasperation. She dragged one hand through her hair, fucking up her loose braid. “She’s caught up. Have you even told her that you miss her?”
His blank face gave him away.
“Jesus, Dunk, she’s your girlfriend, not one of your no-strings fun things. Don’t you know that women like to know how you feel?”
“But I thought I’m not supposed to be whining about missing her?” Dunk asked, completely confused now. “I thought it’s a bullshit pity party.”
Jesse rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t mean call her and tell her that you miss her and that you’re horny. I meant call her and tell her that…” She gave up and shrugged, her mouth twisting. “Never mind. I know shit about relationships. I’m lucky if I get to have sex with a woman who’s not wondering what it’s like or something. I’ve literally never been on a date.”
Jesse was a damn great friend; here she was, talking about emotional shit even though she hated it, to help him out. So he was horrified that he’d upset her, and feeling guilty because she was right, about everything.
He didn’t like arguments that were along the lines of at least you’re not that guy, he has it way worse than you, so be grateful for what you’ve got and don’t complain. He was being whiny instead of proactive. He should have been asking Daisy how he could help. Conor’s injuries wouldn’t last forever. Soon they’d be back to normal.
Just like that, his pity party broke up.
“Excuse you,” he said after he’d stood there with his mouth hanging open like a caveman for a second too long. “I took you out.”
“Milkshakes at the diner when I was fourteen don’t count, Dunk,” Jesse said dryly, but her mouth twitched in amusement.
“Uh, yes it does,” Dunk argued.
When she rolled her eyes, he grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the table, where everyone else was eating a shitload of fries and arguing about mountains versus beaches for vacations.
“Y’all,” he said loudly, “Jesse here maintains that sharing milkshakes at the diner does not count as a date.”
“Was the invitation explicit that it was a date?” Chase, a lawyer, asked.
“Yep,” Dunk confirmed promptly.
Jesse groaned and covered her face in her hands.
“Are you talking about Jesse’s freshman year of high school?” Munn asked incredulously.
“What about freshman year?” Chase, who had grown up in California, wanted to know. “Wait… did you two go on a date?”
“It was amazing,” Dunk rhapsodized, fists pressed against his heart. “I got the Oreo, because it’s the best, and Jesse got the brownie one.”
Chase’s mouth fell open in fascination and Jesse dropped into her chair as she mumbled, “Why do you even remember that?”
Dunk took his seat next to her again and frowned. “What do you mean? I remember all my dates. I had a good time, even if it was obvious you weren’t into me. Like… in more than just a hey-this-dude-isn’t-for-me kind of way. Good thing I’m secure in my manhood, because that would’ve messed up your average insecure teenage boy brain.”
“You do not remember all of your dates,” Aden argued.
“Do you mean dates as in, anytime you’re out with a woman, or dates as in an official ‘Would you like to go out?’ kind of date?” Chase asked.
Scratching his stubble, his frown only getting bigger, Dunk looked between them, then glanced over at Munn helplessly. “All of them,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“That’s…” Chase started to explain, but then trailed off.
“That’s actually sweet, Dunk,” Tristan commented.
“Y’all have forgotten dates?” Dunk sputtered in total horror.
Everyone shrugged, and then Chase scoffed, “I definitely don’t remember who ate what on every date I’ve been on.” Aden scowled at the mere mention of her on dates and she reached to take his hand without needing to look to find it. “And you, I mean… you go on a lot of dates.”
“Yeah, and all of them were meaningful,” Dunk said, still feeling like he was missing something, or like they thought he was crazy or weird.
“You really do love all of the women, don’t you?” Chase almost cooed, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “Daisy’s a lucky woman, really.”
“Hmm,” Dunk said, his elbows landing on the table as he cupped his pint and raised it up to take a deep swallow while the conversation moved on.
Dunk was still in a bit of a weird mood, the lingering frustration and anger mixed with the perspective Jesse had provided.
But he joined in the jokes and jibes a little more as the beers flowed, although he stayed away from the pool table, not needing more real talk.
When last call had come and gone, Tristan corralled everyone into his truck to take them all home since he was the designated driver.
Dunk sat in the truck bed with Munn and Jesse, his arms stretched along the side, the early June weather beautiful and breezy even so late at night. He tipped his head back and watched the stars, clouds gliding below them to change their design momentarily. He shouted out goodbyes to everyone as they were dropped off, then jumped over the bed onto the ground when it was his turn. He high-fived Tristan through his open window and stumbled inside, already tugging his cell out of his pants.
It was really late, but as soon he was out of the truck, all of that loneliness crept back up on him. He had enough brain cells left not to call Daisy, but he was still buzzed enough to text her.
Night, darlin’. I miss you.
He said hello to Tugger and took him out, stripped, chugged a few glasses of water, pissed, and dropped onto his bed on top of the covers.
As he blew out a gust of air, his cell buzzed delicately with an incoming call.
“Daisy Rhys,” he burbled.
“It’s two-thirty in the morning, Dunk,” she whispered at a very restrained, low volume.
He sighed again and closed his eyes, the bed lazily spinning, carrying him with it. “I know, but I just… had to say hi. I miss you.”
She made a quiet noise, but he was too buzzed to figure it out. “I miss you too,” she whispered. “But you can’t wake me up like this. I was just up at one giving Conor his meds and we’re waking up at six for his physio appointment at eight tomorrow. I need sleep.”
“But you’re always busy,” Dunk
whispered back.
“This isn’t being busy, Dunk,” she whispered sharply. “This is taking care of my brother because I’m the one who can right now. I—”
“I’m sorry,” Dunk interrupted, the words ripped out of his throat, hoarse and urgent. “I—that isn’t what I wanted to tell you.”
Exhaling, Daisy said, “Okay.”
Guilt rode him hard because, no matter how shallow or easy-going or whatever he seemed to people, Dunk didn’t made demands on people. Not on their time and not on their feelings. He hadn’t lied to her, but it wasn’t like him at all to tell her that he missed her while she was busy. It was how he felt, but he normally would never have said it because his feelings put a burden on her, made demands on her. Forced her to choose between him and something else. And he knew he’d lose.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Not about this. I just… I just miss you.”
There was a silence and Dunk held his breath.
When the silence stretched on a little bit more, he couldn’t help but babble on some more. “And I wanted… I just wanted you to know that.”
Finally Daisy spoke, her words soft and hushed as they floated into the air between Dunk’s pillow and his ear. “You don’t say what you want very often.”
“No,” he pushed out.
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me anything you want,” she admitted.
“Really?” he asked reflexively, in total shock. “Usually that’s my line.”
“It’s not a line,” she hiss-whispered back, fire lighting up the words.
Suddenly heat flared and Dunk groaned, rolling his hips against the pillow he hugged on his side. “Shit, Daisy,” he mumbled, “don’t you know how much I want you? How much I want with you?”
“Last day of school, I swear I’ll come to you,” Daisy promised. “I’ll, I’ll work something out so it’s just you and me, the whole weekend.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Dunk said, snaking his hand into his briefs. He didn’t bother to hide his rough, choppy breaths as he squeezed and stroked, slow and just this side of too hard. “Since I can’t hold you.”
Daisy let out a tiny gasp.
“Send me a picture when you’re done,” she ordered in a rush, and then hung up while Dunk’s mind was still blanked out.
He cursed and rolled onto his back, shoving his briefs down his thick thighs. His body shuddered so hard that his bed frame creaked with every stroke and twist, every curse he mumbled out through clenched teeth. There was nothing but Daisy in his mind, nothing but her he was imagining; Daisy seated on him, Daisy’s short nails digging into his pecs, Daisy’s heat around him, Daisy’s smell, Daisy’s whimpers while she—
Dunk’s upper body curled off the bed as he came, sweating and shaking and sucking in air like he’d been drowning.
He’d never sent a picture of himself before, but he didn’t hesitate to do what Daisy had asked, flipping his camera and clicking a picture. He captioned it Your wish is my command and sent it, then passed the hell out.
Chapter 13
Daisy
Karen and Stephanie walked into MCH’s cafeteria and joined Daisy at one of the tables, where she was eating a dry banana nut muffin.
“Hey, Florence Nightingale,” Stephanie greeted her cheerfully.
Daisy grimaced and picked at her muffin.
Stephanie and Karen deflated and Karen asked carefully, “Are you okay?”
“Conor’s mad at me,” Daisy admitted, finally giving up on the muffin. “I spent the weekend with Dunk and I talked about it with Conor before. I asked him if it was okay, I got someone to cover for me. I told him to call me if he needed anything. And then Dunk and I had the best time, but—”
“Hold it,” Stephanie interrupted, her eyes lit up gleefully. “Don’t skip the fun stuff.”
Daisy tried to hold onto her dejected expression, but the weekend with Dunk had been so good. Like… so good. She lost control and her face exploded into a beam that could’ve powered the whole county.
“Oh, wow,” Karen breathed.
“Girls, I don’t want to make this sound like this is a good idea. But that whole absence makes the heart grow fonder thing is so true.”
“I don’t think it was your heart that grew fonder,” Stephanie said dryly.
Karen giggled, covering her face in secondhand embarrassment.
Raising one eyebrow, Daisy folded her hands primly on the table. She was all set to give them some clever answer about how Dunk was more than just some spectacular sex. But then his voice coming through the line in the middle of the night last week echoed in her head. Shit, Daisy, don’t you know how much I want you? How much I want with you?
“He’s so open,” she blurted out.
“What do you mean?” Stephanie asked almost gently.
Daisy swallowed and said quietly, “With Tyler, you know, he needed me so much. His mom… y’all remember what that was like, she expected so much from him. It messed him up so bad. He would dig in his heels when he thought he figured out what he wanted and what he liked. He got so stubborn with wanting to be his own man, or whatever. There wasn’t much space for me to grow, or to want to try new things with him.”
Karen leaned over and squeezed her hand. “And Dunk?”
“He’s just… happy,” Daisy said helplessly, shrugging. “If I want something, all I have to do is ask. If I want to… try something, he’s game.”
Daisy Rhys! I’m shocked! You want to do it doggy style?
In a flash, Daisy flushed brutally hot with the memory of the way Dunk had flailed and fallen off the bed in feigned disbelief.
The serious mood broke and all three of them busted out laughing, getting dirty looks from the hospital staff and visitors eating nearby.
“Y’all, this weekend, it was three days of just us.”
Stephanie cupped her face in one hand and sighed dreamily. “Let me guess, it was all ordering in and licking all of his muscles?”
“And chocolate sauce and lingerie modeling,” Daisy giggled.
I haven’t seen you in a month, because thirty minutes at the cafe doesn’t count. I haven’t had blue balls like this since my injury. So we have three days and I figure I’m going to fulfill every fantasy you have. What’s first?
“But now I’m back in the real world,” she sighed, shaking off those memories because she had to pick Conor up in less than an hour.
Stephanie frowned sympathetically. “But it’s not forever, right?”
“Right, but Conor’s so mad right now,” Daisy said in a small voice.
“But not at you,” Stephanie reminded her firmly. “He’s frustrated at the situation. He’s lived on his own for fifteen years, Daisy.”
“I know, but…”
“The timing sucks,” Karen said, laying out there what everyone was thinking. “I mean, there’s no good time for an accident,” she backpedaled hastily, a guilty look creasing her face. “But you and Dunk were just starting to get settled into your relationship, and you were just barely settled into your job and living on your own.”
“It’s okay to be mad, too,” Stephanie added.
Daisy’s eyes filled up with tears. “It’s not okay, though.”
“Yes, it is,” Stephanie reiterated firmly.
“And he’s going to be on his feet again in no time,” Karen said.
All of them froze at the poor word choice, and then Daisy laughed again, a little wet from the tears stuck in her throat. “Karen, oh my god,” she managed. “That was like a Dunk-level awkward pun!”
“Don’t tell Conor I said that,” she pleaded.
“Okay,” Stephanie said seriously, clapping. “You’re stressed and tired, and you and your brother are driving each other a little nuts. You had this great sex-a-thon with Dunk and now you’re cranky. It’ll be fine.”
Daisy breathed in, trying to believe what Stephanie was saying was true, not just know it was true. But
it was hard. She was tired and stressed, and she hated fighting with Conor when she knew it was the situation and not her that was causing all of the tension. And three solid days and nights with Dunk had brought them closer together, given them the space to soak each other up, but there had been this desperation in her during the quiet moments. He hadn’t told her again that he missed her or that he was upset that she was so busy, but it was there in the way he’d touched her and demanded that she tell him every damn thing she’d ever wanted.
“It’s almost ten,” Stephanie sighed. “We’d better head out so that you can pick Conor up in a few after his appointment is done.”
They all stood up and hugged in a group, their arms around each other’s necks choking them all, but they didn’t care. They’d been friends since they were little girls and they’d been there for puberty and overbearing parents and all of the melodramatic, painful moments in between. They knew when Daisy needed a big hug to remind her that everything would turn out alright, no matter how it felt right now.
“Thanks, y’all,” Daisy sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face and straightening her dress and sweater so that she looked put together again.
Their support and reassurance got her through the rest of the day with Conor, who was still in the leg cast for another two or three weeks, depending on what the orthopedic surgeon said, and was going stir-crazy.
But the patience and calm they gave her ran out when she was eating a quick dinner with Dunk on Wednesday while Shane was with Conor.
“We’re having a picnic barbeque thing at Tristan’s Saturday,” he told her around a bite of curly fries. “It’s all day. You could duck over for an hour, couldn’t you? You can bring Conor too, if he wants.”
“I’m sorry, but Conor’s not up to that yet,” she told him.
Dunk stopped eating. “He’s not?”
Both of his eyebrows rose, disappearing under the longer hair he wore on top. School was done, but summer football camp hadn’t started yet, and he seemed to go longer between shaves and haircuts. He should’ve looked unkempt and shaggy, but he looked like he’d just gotten out of her bed. It didn’t help her hang onto her patience, when all she wanted was to jump him and work out all of her stress and impatience on him.
