Page 79 of Last Boy

My lips form into a flat line before I nod toward Hudson, who is staring Beckett down as he struts away and heads toward the house. “Ask him. He got to be the hot bodyguard, per usual, and I got…this.” I look down at myself. “I wanted to be a Charlie’s Angel or something.”

His expression hardens, his jaw ticcing under his skin. “Did you just call Hudson hot?”

“Uh, no?” I bite my lip. “Well, maybe. But not like…that.” I wave toward him. “He is hot.” I fix my eyes on Walker again, resting my hands on his abdomen. “But you, Mr. James, are hotter.”

“I kind of want to go set him on fire, just so you can’t look at him,” he grumbles. “Now, I’m annoyed.”

I poke my lip out, patting his stomach. “My poor baby. Are your feelings hurt?” I raise a brow. “Need I remind you that I am Betty fucking Crocker right now, and you were just standing up next to a goddamn supermodel-looking creature who had the nerve to hug you?” I shake my head, removing one hand and putting it on my hip. “Yeah, that’s right. I saw.”

“I knew you saw,” he teases. “I could see your eyes bugging out and your face turning red.”

“Well, of course it was red; she’s seen your freaking wiener.” I scoff. “What do you want me to do, cartwheels and clap with excitement? No. I want to punch her in the face and maybe pull her extensions out.”

Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me closer, rocking us slowly. “So feisty, baby. So damn feisty.”

Looking down at me, he kisses my forehead. “Let’s go home, Poppyseed. This has been the longest few days of my life, and I finally feel like I can breathe again.”

Pushing my lips to his, I kiss him. Our lips smack together, but before we can get carried away—which always seems so easy to do—I pull back and smirk. “We can go home. But we’re taking the cake.”

22

Walker

It’s been a week since the Bay Sharks called to offer me a spot on their ice.

That phone call should have been the best call of my life. It should have trumped everything and anything I’d ever accomplished. It should be an easy decision.

Keyword: should.

But truthfully, I’m at a fucking loss. Everything in my life finally feels like it’s coming together. I’ve not only gotten out of Sunset Drive, but also out from under the control of my dipshit uncle. I get to stop and see Jake a few times a week, which I always love. The boys on the team respect me and look at me as a true leader. But most of all, Poppy and I have finally worked our shit out and are in a good place. And now, what? I’m going to move to Maine. Start over, all by myself, and leave her here?

I can’t do that.

I don’t want to do that.

“Earth to James,” Watson drawls from the other end of the bench. “You sleeping over there or what?”

“Up too late with his newfound love, I suppose,” Hunter chimes in, winking at me. “Happy for you, man. But I’m mostly happy for Poppy. Because before you came along, she was fucking scary.”

“She was not scary,” I scoff. “She was just…going through some shit.”

“He’s like a dang ghost these days,” Elias says, closing his locker. “Only time we see him is when he sneaks by with her behind him, going to his room.”

“Hey, if he’s happy, I’m happy.” Nixon shrugs. “Who the fuck wants to play video games with us all the time when they could be spending time with a pretty little thing like her?” He gently punches my shoulder. “You do you, buddy.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, giving him a small grin before I pull my jersey over my head.

I haven’t even told my teammates about the offer yet. Mostly because I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say when I call them back. Shit, some of these guys are seniors, just waiting for their call, knowing at this point, it won’t happen. I don’t want to make them feel worse about that.

After all, I know what it’s like to want something so bad that it fucking hurts.

“James,” Coach calls, coming into the locker room. “When you’re done in here, come to my office.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod, instantly nervous as hell because it’s LaConte. And to be honest, he fucking scares me.

“What’d you do now, rookie?” Link says, tipping his chin up.

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “I hope nothing.”

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