Page 43 of Power Play

Now I definitely know why she filled up my drink.

“No, Cassie. I won’t be talking to my brother anytime soon. I know for some godforsaken reason you have a soft spot for him, but I don’t care. He’s spent years trying to control me and has manipulated my mom into thinking he’s right. I have nothing to say to him until he pulls his head directly from his ass. Now. Next subject, please.”

Cassie looks a mix between sad and embarrassed, which isn’t surprising, she’s known my family for a very long time. She’s seen this issue play out before.

“Alright, then let’s get back to the good stuff. Tell me about his cock!”

And with that, we are back on even ground, and we spend the rest of lunch bullshitting and getting drunk, while I do my best not to think about how I had the best sex of my life only for him to turn out to be a huge asshole.

13

REX

It doesn’t matter who I’m with or what I’m doing; I can’t stop thinking about the look on Sawyer’s face when I told her to get out.

It’s been five days, and that’s all I can think about. It wasn’t even that she was mad. Fuck, that would have been easier to handle. No, she looked disappointed and shocked, like she thought it was out of character for me and I had crushed her.

Which is exactly why all week I’ve avoided, like a coward.

Monday came, and I continued dropping off and picking up Rory like the asshole I am, still refusing to go inside. It’s embarrassing that, as a grown ass man, I can’t face a woman just because I’m attracted to her. Like I’m in junior high or something.

This is exactly why it’s best I just avoid her. I need to put some distance between me and her magic pussy.

Thankfully, this week is busy with hockey, so I’ll be able to keep my mind off of her. We have another game tonight, meaning I’ll be without Rory, so right now, I’m getting some quality time in with her doing what we love most—making breakfast and eating together.

Our kitchen is a disaster with pancake ingredients all over the counters, flour scattered on the floor, and of course, all over the two of us.

“Daddy! Chocolate chips! Chocolate chips!” Rory yells.

“Sweetheart, we already added some. Keep stirring.”

Putting the whisk down, she rests her hands under her chin and flashes me her widest smile, batting her eyelashes. “More chocolate! Pleeeeeaseeee, dadddddy!”

How can I say no to that?

“You’ve been spending too much time with Auntie Lala, you’re laying it on thick,” I chuckle, reaching for the chocolate chips and measuring cup. I scoop some out and hand them to her. “Here you go, sweetie. Make sure you mix them all in!”

“Thank you, daddy! You’re the best daddy ever! Thank you, thank you!!!”

Rory starts to mix the pancake mix, only splashing it on the counter a bit. When we first started making breakfast together, the kitchen would be a complete disaster. Rory would end up needing a bath after, with batter in her hair and all over her and the kitchen. She’s come a long way in terms of patience, and she loves eating what we make.

She still lets me do the actual cooking part, but soon, I’ll start letting her help with that too. While I cook the pancakes, Rory brings the syrup and butter over to the table, helping me set the table.

“Daddy, is the pancakes done yet?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’m finishing up the last one. Have a seat. I’ll bring them over,” I say, nodding towards the table.

“Thank you, daddy!”

There are days when I miss playing hockey and the lifestyle that came with it. Puck bunnies were everywhere, just waiting to warm your bed for the night, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take advantage of that. But I wouldn’t trade these memories for anything. Rory is the best thing to ever happen to me, and undoubtedly the reason I was able to pull myself out of the dark place I had been in years ago.

As we sit down together and devour our chocolate chip pancakes, Rory chats about her last visit with her aunt and her plans with grandma tonight. She’s a smart kid and knows just how lucky she is to have so many people who love her.

“I do ballet this week?” Rory asks, a mouthful of pancakes garbling her words.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful, Rory. You know that, sweetie. But, yes, you have ballet on Thursday.”

Rory chews quickly, washing everything down with her orange juice before answering again.

---