Page 120 of A Major Puck Up

“Come on, big guy,” I say, going with a flirty tone to mask my concern.

With a heavy breath, he tries again, and this time he manages to sit up and brace himself with a hand on the bed on either side of him. I grasp one hand and tug on the cuff of his jacket’s sleeve, then do the same to the other side. As I angle in and work the buttons of his shirt loose, he studies me, his attention fixed on my face.

“Hi,” I say rather awkwardly. I work as quickly as I can. We’re too close, and I can only handle so much.

As his bare chest comes into view, I have to bite back a groan. With both hands, I push his shirt over his shoulders, and then I undo the buttons at his wrist. That’s when the bracelets he always wears come into view. Friendship bracelets he made with Finn and Winnie. They were obsessed with them last year, and his eyes had lit up when he recounted how thrilled Winnie was when her uncles proudly wore her creations. All four Langfield brothers wear them.

The ache in my chest grows stronger at the memories and loss—of the intimacy we used to share; I used to know everything about him—as I adjust them and read each one.

Best Uncle.

Boston Bolts.

Vivi Girl.

Peaches.

I hold my breath as I read and reread the word and examine the orange and white beads. My mind trips over the letters, as if certain I’m not reading them right. As if those seven letters put together in that order could spell anything else.

“Pay attention to the little things. He still keeps a piece of you close to him. He’s not over you.” Sara’s words echo in my brain as I thumb the beads, rolling them. What he cares about most is represented here. His team, his status as an uncle, his daughter…and me.

Trembling at the thought, I look up, unsure of whether he’ll be wearing an angry expression or something wholly different, but his eyes are closed and his brows are pinched in physical pain. He’s oblivious to what I’ve found.

My pulse thrums at this new information. It’s hard to tamp down on the elation that rushes through me. Because, though I’m still worried about him, I’m no longer worried about us.

He’s not over us. He hasn’t given up on us.

And there’s no way in hell I’ll give up on him.

FORTY-ONE

GAVIN

My head pounds and feels like it’s underwater. I deserve to be tortured this way after what I put Millie through.

She steps out of the bathroom, cast in light from the doorway, wearing a ribbed pink cropped tank that exposes the curves of her stomach and a matching pair of light pink pajama pants that sway as she moves. The sight of her sucks all the air from my lungs, making the sensations plaguing me that much stronger.

“Come on, Coach. Bath is ready.” The worry in her tone as she approaches me makes me want to tell her to leave. I’ve been so horrible to her, yet she’s here, taking care of me. I’m such an asshole.

Her wild, curly hair is pulled back in a messy bun, with loose strands framing her face, and like an idiot, I reach for one and tug on it gently like I used to. When we were in bed. Or when she was playing the piano, focused and writing a song. Her eyes would glint like she knew I was a schoolboy just after some attention. I’d pull her hair, and then she’d press her lips to mine or tear off her top and grace me with the sight of her gorgeous tits. Inevitably, she’d end up riding my cock, teasing me while I made her come at least three times.

Despite how close to death I feel, my cock goes rock hard at just the memory.

Millie holds out her hand, but with a grunt, I ignore it and push off the bed and onto my feet. It takes far too much effort, but I keep myself from swaying, even though I immediately feel dizzy.

The soft, defeated sigh Millie releases sends a similar feeling through me. I wish I knew how to act around her. I wish I knew how to stop hurting her.

This is a losing situation.

She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want a family with me. To be tied down. Why won’t she just give up on us already?

If she keeps pushing herself toward me, I’m liable to grab hold of her, and the moment that happens, I won’t let go.

I can’t do that again. I can’t get lost in the devastation. Vivi needs me.

The bathroom is all white and blinding, making my head throb with more force.

Clad in only my black slacks, I lean against the wall with a grunt, staring at the bubbling bath through slitted eyes. Damn, it looks enticing. With a grunt, I work my belt buckle, pushing away my concerns about Millie seeing me naked. She’s right. We’re both adults, and she’s seen everything.

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