Page 147 of Naughty & Nice

Any fleeting concern I may have had that Hendrix wouldn’t be enough on his own was obliterated that first night.

He is everything.

More than everything.

But that being said, it doesn’t stop my mind from wandering.

We haven’t heard from Wilder since the incident outside the team’s house.

I’ve tried to prompt Hendrix to message him, but he’s still pissed at him for what he said about me.

I get it. I’m mad too, but I think there’s more to it than Wilder just being an asshole.

He was hurting while we were away, that much was obvious. At least to me. He opened up, even if it was just a little bit.

Us returning home affected him in a way that I don’t think Hendrix understands.

Hell, I’m not entirely sure I understand either. But I do enough to let go of the anger.

Wilder is… complex. He hides his feelings behind his humor and partying. Everyone thinks he’s a gives-no-shits kind of guy, but that’s far from the truth.

He’s a little bit broken by the past, just like Hendrix and me.

We get it. We lived the same bullshit lives. But Hendrix and I have each other.

Sure, Wilder has us. He has his twin.

But it’s not the same. Not when he drowns his feelings and issues with alcohol and loses himself with jersey chasers.

Something bitter sloshes in my stomach as I think about him being with someone else.

But it’s something that I’m going to need to get used to.

If Instagram is anything to go by—yes, I’ve looked—then he went straight back to his old ways.

For the briefest of moments, I wondered if he’d slow down. But it was a silly thought.

He’s spent more than enough time taking it slow with us.

Heavy footsteps head my way, dragging my head away from his twin in favor of focusing solely on him.

“Everything okay?” Hendrix asks when he finds me sitting on my bed with my book in my lap, obviously abandoned.

Thankfully, I finished the one I was reading at Christmas before we left. I’m not sure I’d have been able to carry on with it now.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to be off why-choose books for a while, if I’m being honest.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m spending it with my favorite person in the world. What could possibly be wrong?” I ask, smiling up at Hendrix.

“Well, when you put it like that...” he says with a smirk playing on his lips.

He stalks closer, passing me the mug he’s carrying.

“Where’s yours?” I ask, eagerly taking it. My mouth waters at the sight of the whipped cream and melting marshmallows before me.

“I don’t have one. I’m too busy.”

I raise a brow. “Doing what, exactly?”

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