Page 1 of In Too Deep

“If there’s something Ineed to know about, something that could call into question your ethics or professionalism, I need you to tell me now,” Dee says slowly.

I take a deep breath in and out, giving myself time to think, but not for too long. I could spill everything, tell my boss about how I’ve gotten involved with two, maybe three, players on the roster. About how I’ve hooked up with one of them on a trip paid for by the company. It would be the right thing to do. But I could be forced to choose between them and this incredible chance to get everything I’ve dreamed of. And the idea of losing either in favor of the other drags on my lungs like razor wire.

“Nope, nothing I can think of.”

I groan as I pull up to my garage, shutting off the engine as the door closes automatically behind me. With a thump, my forehead hits the steering wheel, my stomach twisted into knots that would make a Boy Scout master proud.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. But seeing Dee’s shoulders drop with relief choked me into silence. Then he started talking about his plan to train me under the radar, and all the things he was excited to teach me, and it became harder and harder to take my stupid lie back.

“I’m so fucking screwed,” I mumble into the silence of my car. My eyes burn with tears I’ve been holding back since I left the New Orleans Mystic compound.

It seems like God, or whoever the fuck is in charge of my “luck,” decides to torture me further, as my phone rings with an incoming call. It’s still connected to my car’s infotainment system, so Eli’s name and picture light up the screen on my dash like a firework on New Year’s Eve. I consider letting him go to voicemail, but I know better, even after only a few months of knowing him. If he wants to talk, he won’t stop calling until I respond. So, with a shaky finger, I press the answer icon and brace myself.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate traveling to Arizona?” Eli starts, not even bothering with a greeting.

His softly accented voice makes my chest ache strangely as he sets off in a rant about how much he dislikes Arizona, my heart fluttering even if it’s only been a few days since the last time we were together. But it only makes the guilty knots tighten. I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to tell the boys about the shitshow I’ve found myself in the center of.

Not thinking seems to be the theme of the day.

“We’re delayed a day because of a dust storm, but then it’s just two more games until we can start our Christmas break,” Eli finishes, pausing pointedly.

I thump my head against my steering wheel again. Fuck, that’s right. We’ve got a home-and-home with Buffalo approaching, where we travel to them and then they come to us. Then it’s the weekend, and then it’s the team’s Christmas break, which wassupposed to be five uninterrupted days of time spent with Elijah, Oliver, and Spencer. We weren’t going anywhere special, but it would be time for us to really get to know each other and figure out how we’re going to move forward with our relationships, such as they are.

To think I was actually looking forward to this break. Now I’d rather run around naked in a bayou, covered in gator bait.

“Tori? Are you there? Does this place not even have proper signal, too?” Eli grumbles.

I jump in my seat, realizing I’ve been silent for the last few minutes.

“Yeah…” My voice cracks slightly and makes me cringe. I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I can’t wait either.”

And yet another lie to pile on top of the mountain I’ve made. I’m on a fucking roll.

Eli pauses, and I silently pray that he doesn’t push. I'm incredibly delicate, like spun sugar, and I don't know what will happen if he pushes me. I let out a sigh of relief as he turns the conversation away from any probing questions.

“I can’t wait to give you your present. You’re gonna love it, I promise,” Eli gushes.

Despite the roiling boil happening in my belly, I find myself smiling. I can practically picture him vibrating with excitement, a wide smile pulling at his cheeks until the gap where his left incisor should be is showing. There’s a lift to his words, and I know he wants me to ask him what he got for me. Like he has ever since he purchased his gift. I have my little packages for the boys tucked away in a tote bag in the back of one of my closets, hidden from nosy hockey players who have no patience.

“I’m sure I will,” I hedge, words full of genuine warmth for the first time since I left Dee’s side.

“It won’t be the only thing I give you this weekend,” Eli murmurs, tone dropping a full octave.

I gasp, his words spearing me right between my thighs and making me squirm for an entirely different reason. Thankfully, a shout comes from Eli’s side of the line, Logan from the sound of his accent.

“Oh, shit. Gotta go, sunshine. Lo — Look after yourself for us.” He stumbles over his words.

I sit up straight as my brain goes into overdrive, muttering a farewell just as he hangs up. He didn’t just... No, I’m just imagining things. He didn’t almost say he loves me, right? And why is my heart doing little happy skips at the thought?

Shuffling my way into my living room, I throw myself onto the couch without even taking off my light jacket. It’s times like now that I wish I had friends outside the hockey world. I’ve never needed someone unbiased more than I do right now. Someone who won’t try to pressure me into doing what’s best for my team and my career.

Because I know what that advice will lead to. The best thing for the team would be to end whatever the fuck I’ve gotten myself into with Spencer Black, Elijah Jokinson, and Oliver Astrauckas, the three star forwards for the New Orleans Mystic. Three alphas who helped me through my pseudo-heat when we were trapped together in their house during Hurricane Terry. Three alphas who my fucked-up instincts have latched onto despite all my efforts to not develop feelings.

And that’s saying nothing about the intense chemistry I have with the new, hot-as-sin head coach, Logan McQueen. But one crisis at a time. Logan hasn’t seen me naked, unlike the others. And if I was smart, he never would. But my fucking ovaries are staging a full-scale rebellion, demanding I climb his hunky ass like a tree. My whole body seems to be fighting me, ever since I came out of the pseudo-heat.

A lightning bolt of clarity hits me, and I sit up suddenly. Maybe there’s something wrong with my meds, whether that be my heatblockers or mood stabilizers, or even the hormone replacements I’m taking. I fumble for my phone and dial my doctor’s office, my leg bouncing as the line rings and rings. But then, at last, the receptionist answers. And just for once, something seems to go my way, as they had a last-minute cancellation, and I can see the doctor this afternoon if I hurry. I take the appointment, grabbing my keys and phone again and rushing out to my car as I hang up.

My stomach settles as I back out of my garage, speeding off toward my doctor’s office. I have a plan, and someone who can hopefully give me some insight into what the fuck I can do to fix this.

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