Page 44 of One More Time

As I looked at him, truly studied him, I wondered if anyone could stay mad at that face. He resembled a golden retriever, with big brown, mopey eyes that made anger difficult to sustain. “I want to say it’s fine, and we’re cool. I’m over being mad at you, but when I share things with you, I need you to keep them private. I get to tell my own story.”

“I know, trust me. It was a douche canoe move, and it won’t happen again. It was just a friendly rib at each other. I thought I could do that with your family, but I was sorely mistaken. I regretted it instantly. A big mouth is good for one thing and one thing only. So, I’m sorry.”

Even in one of the most serious moments we’d ever shared, he made me laugh. “We’re good. But I don’t need to hear about your big mouth; you keep that all for Eric.”

“Oh, and he loves it. I have so much I want to talk to you about! It’s been eating me up.”

“It’s barely been two days,” I laughed. “What else could have happened since then?”

Turns out: a lot.

And just like that, we were okay. I listened to the saga of Cal and Eric, finding relief in the fact that hearing about his very normal problems distracted me from my own… even if it was only a little bit.

Chapter twenty-three

Hunter

It’s the day before an away game, and I was eager to get away from campus.

Let’s be real: I was eager to spend the night in a hotel with Tyler.

It had been weeks since we’d been together, and I was starting to go mad. But every time I even thought about bringing someone else home, my stomach leapt into my throat.

With winter break coming up, the parties were constant and we only had a few games left. Puck bunnies were coming after me left and right, so I was spoiled for choice. But all I could think about were those blue-green eyes that peered up at me through dark, dense lashes as I drove into him. I couldn’t stop picturing the way his mouth parted when I did something he loved, or how he somehow topped from the bottom.

He might be a baby gay, but he damn sure knew how to play the game.

I groaned, pressing a palm to my erection that raged at the mere thought of him. Seemed Little Hunter was only wired to stand at attention for one person now. How rude.

“You seriously need to corner Riley and just have sex already, I have never seen you this wound up.” Kinsley slipped into the booth in front of me and I readied a smart remark to throw back, only to stop dead in my tracks. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose irritated. Without a second thought, I bolted out of my side of the booth and slid in next to her to get a closer look. She pulled away, feigning interest in the menu I knew she had memorized.

“Did something happen? Is it Kelsey?”

She shook her head, lip quivering as the emotional wall she’d erected crumbled. She knew better than to attempt that around me: we’d grown up together and I knew her inside and out—no pun intended. I wrapped my arms around her, guiding her head to the crook of my neck. Instantly, her shoulders shook and her tears stained my skin. I held her until she settled, but my own stomach churned with worry.

“Kins, please—you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not Kelsey; we’re fine.”

“Then what is it? I doubt school would do this to you and I just brought you a period pack two weeks ago so I know you’re not pregnant.”

“No, you’re not going to be an uncle anytime soon.” I huffed a weak laugh, though she still hadn’t revealed the real reason she was upset. I could count on my hands the number of times she had broken down in our entire friendship. Each instance was one I’d rather not relive, and right then, she was giving me serious déjà vu. “Kins…”

“He’s getting out. Good behavior.”

My body went rigid, my arms instinctively tightening around her.

“No, he isn’t.”

“Yes, he is. His lawyer called to warn me that he’s going back to the house.”

“I won’t let him go free.”

Kinsley pulled away, looking at me as if I’d grown a second head. Maybe I had lost it, but that man couldn’t be anywhere near her, and I’d do anything to ensure that.

“Hunt, he’s on parole. He’ll be monitored, and if anything happens to him, they’ll know.”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite myself. She just assumed I’d resort to murder. She didn’t even care about ethics—she only cared about me getting caught.

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