Page 21 of Knotted Laces

Which is why I drop my towel—knowing they’ll look away, that they’ll give me a second to think—and start getting dressed. I take a breath, think fast, and ask, “What have you two got going on our days off?”

“Gym,” Rome says. “But mostly recovery and Chrissy’s got a climb she wants to try, so I’m on kitten duty,” he adds. “Unless you want to come over and scoop those litter boxes?”

“No thanks,” I mutter. “Though Icanemploy my feather toy skills.”

King snorts.

I yank down my sweatshirt as I turn to him and continue with Operation Distraction. “What are you and Rory up to?”

“Recovery too,” he says. “Just not at home.”

I lift my brows.

“I’m taking her to the coast for the day,” he says, softening in a way I’ve only ever seen him do with the woman he loves. “She’s never been down to Carmel. Can you believe that? We’ll go, soak up the beach for a few hours and eat some good food, and then I’m going to fuck her while listening to the ocean from our hotel room.”

My mouth twitches. “King Bang strikes again?”

He socks me, albeit not that hard. Mostly because Kingston Bang has been known around the league as King Bang for as long as I can remember—the infamous womanizer who’s finally succumbed to love.

He’s heard the nickname far too often to truly be bothered by it.

“Then it’ll be like that one”—he nods to Rome—”gym, fuel up, recover, and get ready to win the next game.”

“What hotel are you taking her to?” I ask.

He tells us and then Rome asks about restaurants, and pretty soon the distraction of their women means that I’m able to finish getting dressed without an inquisition, able to get in my car, drive home, and walk into my quiet house without further delay.

I grab my post-game snack, and head for the den.

I just want to kill some fucking monsters, want to focus on anything except the game, on anything but the secrets that have been tearing me up, on anything except the news I got this morning. The final news—no more chances, no more changes, no more tests to be run.

That’s that.

Now I just…need to deal with it.

Put it behind me.

Buck up and move on.

Which would be a little easier if it was something I didn’t realize I wanted until too late.

I pick up the controller, start logging in to my game.

Then realize it’s fucking late, we have a playoff game that can end our season in three days, and…

I’m using my toys to soothe me.

Like a child.

“Jesus, man,” I mutter, dropping the controller and pushing up from the couch. I just need to cut the crap, go the fuck to sleep, and wake up with a better mindset.

Easy. Done.

Sure it is.

But it’s something for me to focus on as I head upstairs, eat my snack, and then climb into bed.

Something for me to cling to as my dreams are filled with…

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