Page 69 of One More Time

“Snot alcohol. Punches and goal posts hurt.”

“You have a concussion!” I gritted my teeth. “Why did you play today? That’s fucking dangerous, Tyler.”

He shrugged lazily. “Hads points to proves.”

His slur did nothing to ease my concerns. Again: concussion or booze?

“And what if you got hit again? What if you had permanent damage? You feel like leaving your brother with no one?” I growled.

Even in his drunken state, he stiffened. “Worst brother ever,” is what I thought he said. I bit back a curse—that wasn’t what I intended by scolding him.

“You’re not the worst. Stupid maybe, but not the worst.” I stripped him down to his boxers and tucked him under the blanket, holding his head up so he could have the water. “Drink, baby.”

He did and gagged on the first mouthful. “Bleh, that’s fucking rank.”

“You will thank me tomorrow. Sleep now.”

He frowned the most adorable little frown, “One more time.”

My dick threatened to rise but I told it off, because the way he said those three words had me thinking he wanted to fuck me goodbye.

One, he was way too drunk. Two, if we did fuck again, I’d want him to remember every touch. I didn’t think he was ready to hear those three magic words, nor was I ready to be rejected by the only person I’d ever said them to. So, I’d make damn sure to show him how much I loved him.

“Sure, baby. Let me get changed,” I lied, knowing if I waited long enough, he would pass out. After a shower—a cold one—and pulling on clean underwear, I found Tyler curled up with my pillow as if he were chasing my scent. The sight both melted and broke my heart. Because the next morning all of that could be gone.

His auburn hair flopped over his eyes, his long lashes fluttering against his skin. Little grunts and murmurs escaped him before he tightened his grip on the pillow. Some might call me a creep for watching him sleep like that, and maybe I was, but Tyler rarely let his guard down. To most, he was an overachiever, a golden retriever with a bulldog edge. But in truth, there were so many more layers to him.

I noticed things about him that no one else did: the way he pressed his forefinger into the skin of his thumbnail, which was always red and raw. He gnawed at his cheek and lip when he was deep in thought—which was often. If he was made to stand still, his leg would bounce to some internal rhythm—like he was counting the steps he could be taking. When he was focused on the ice, he mumbled to himself inaudibly— a ritual he kept hidden from most.

I lived for the moments when he sat beneath me, eyes ablaze with lust, his mouth slack and free from the day’s worries. He moaned without a second thought, clinging to my body like a lifeline. If he spent all his time in a world filled with stress and heartache, I was his relief, his breath of fresh air. No one had ever made me feel so strong, so… worth it.

Chapter thirty-seven

Tyler

Ihad dreams of someone waking me up through the night. The husky voice reminded me to drink water and asked me over and over how my head felt. Then, once I took a drink of the disgusting bubbly water, the voice would soothe me back to sleep. The warm, cedar smell washed over me, sending me deeper into unconsciousness. I woke up thirsty as hell, but remarkably, my headache was dull compared to the night before.

I shifted my head on the pillow, only to notice the pillow was hard, and had skin—soft skin that was bathed in that smell I’d been clinging to in my dirty clothes for weeks. An involuntary murmur of pleasure left my lips. A hand threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp and making me almost purr.

“That’s nice,” I whispered.

“How are you feeling?” Hunter’s quiet murmur tickled my hair.

“Surprisingly okay.” My hand began tracing lines over the planes on his stomach. I was fighting the urge to cringe as the events from the night before played on a blooper reel in my mind. But I remembered every little word he said—and I wanted to know if he meant them.

“Good, how much do you remember?”

I could have lied. That was my chance at an out, but I didn’t want it. “Everything until I laid down, then it’s a bit blurry.”

He huffed against my hair, letting me know his lips were close enough to kiss if he wanted to.

“I am sorry—for everything, Ty.” The words infused themselves into my hair, lulling me into a sense of comfort.

“Why’d you hit Zane?”

I felt the rise and fall of his chest as he readied himself to tell me, my chest tightened in anticipation.

“So he’d hate me.”

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