Page 28 of Spite Crush

“I was so fucking hoping you were going to say that.” I reached out and grabbed him by his waist, pulling him into my chest before crashing my mouth over his.

His arms wound around my neck, holding me tightly as he kissed me back.

The situation was impossible. Two ridiculously famous men, forced by circumstance to keep our wants and our needs secret from a world that had no business knowing about any of it in the first place.

So if we were to be miserable, if we were to hide in shadow and lie to everyone about everything…we may as well do it together.

“We’ll figure this out,” I promised him. “I don’t know how, but we will.”

“Okay.” He gave me a soft smile. “I guess for now though I should get going.”

“I’ll call you?”

“You’d better,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Break a leg tonight.”

He nodded before turning and walking away.

I wanted to believe what I’d said, that we’d find a way to figure things out between us. But we were headed into a brutal playoff season, one that we desperately needed to be a partof, which required a huge win in Las Vegas, not to mention strategic losses from two other teams in the league. And he was on a tour that was unlikely to continue to coincide with our travel schedule.

But maybe that was better. I wasn’t promising him that we’d magically become a couple. The odds of both of us overcoming our issues to make an actual relationship work were astronomical.

However, that didn’t mean we couldn’t find a way to become some version of friends. Preferably aversion that didn’t require things like pants.

Then again, maybe I was kidding myself.

Chapter Eleven

~Kellen~

“So now we have to keep another one of Kellen’s secrets?” Ford asked coldly. “He’s a God damned basket case and now he’s fucking the hockey player? Fantastic.”

We were sitting in the green room of the arena and Craig had just advised the band on what the party line was going to be regarding my meeting with Zak the night before.

He figured if the press had photos of me there, they probablyhad pictures of Tim and Ford as well, since they’d come along with me. And he wanted to be sure that we all had the same statement if anyone should ask.

That we were all there to clear the air and call a truce with Zak Dempsey.

“You know, Kellen,” Ford said, glaring at me. “If you’re trying to destroy everything we’ve worked for, why don’t you just come out and say that? Because this is getting exhausting.”

“You know what’s exhausting?” I shot back, my heart beating so hard and fast in my chest I was having a hard time even catching my breath. “Carrying this whole band on my back in the first place.”

“Okay, let’s just stop,” Craig said, getting to his feet and moving to physically stand between me and the guys.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Princess Charming to fall into yet another panic attack before yet another show,” Ford snapped.

It was interesting that neither the drummer nor the bassist had bothered to argue about the fact that I was the backbone of the band. Not that they really could have. I write the music and the lyrics for every single song. I compile the albums and I was without a doubt the face of the band. I could do all of this without them, but they’d have nothing without me.

Which was something to think about. Later. When I wasn’t definitely on the verge of the panic attack Ford was accusing me of having.

“Kellen,” Craig said softly. “Why don’t you go down to the locker room and cool off for a few minutes.”

I wasn’t sure if he could see that I was getting agitated, or if he was just used to me melting down, but I appreciated that he was the one to suggest it rather than waiting until I couldn’t hide that I needed it.

As I brushed past him toward the door he murmured something and it wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall toward the locker rooms that it registered.

“Good for you.”

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