Page 30 of In Too Deep

Tori answers the door before we can even knock, looking as beautiful as she always does in her work clothes. Her seafoam-green skirt has enough volume at the hem to accentuate her waist, and the off-white blouse she’s tucked into does incredible things for her tits. I step inside first, pulling her into a hug and kissing her temple. She smells delicious, though there’s a little touch of artificial scent-blocking soap, like she showered earlier, around the edges of her sweet tea and magnolias. That doesn’t sit right with me.

“That was a tough one,” she comments into my chest.

I nod, not sure what to say. I let her go when she starts to pull away, toeing my shoes off onto the mat just inside the door before I shuffle to the couch and flop down in a heap.

“What did the doctor say?” Tori asks from behind me, and Oli sighs.

Spencer joins me in the living room, taking one of the armchairs rather than fighting me for a place on the couch. Olihas Tori by the hand when he sits down on the other, a little tension arising as he tries to pull her down into his lap, but she plants her feet and gives him a warning look.

“Fractured orbital, which is why I look like I went ten rounds with Ivan Drago. But my shoulders and back are fine, just sore. I’ll be allowed to skate in a week or two to keep my skills up, but nothing strenuous for a while,” Oli explains.

I chuckle ironically. He’s not kidding about the state of his face. The goose egg from yesterday is gone, but the left side of his face is molted purple, blue, and green, focused mostly around his cheekbone. I guess he should be lucky he didn’t herniate a disc or dislocate his shoulder from the initial impact. Tori sighs and gives in, curling onto Oli’s lap with her bare feet hanging over one of the arms.

“Anders got suspended for that hit, by the way.” I share the news I learned through the locker room grapevine earlier today.

“Fucking good. Goons like that are a dying breed, and maybe it’ll be a lesson for the next guy,” Spencer fires back, surprisingly heated.

“You’re never going to get rid of the enforcers completely. Hell, why do you think we still have Ozzy on the roster?” Tori replies, laughing.

We all share a chuckle at that. Zemgus Ozolins might be the biggest teddy bear on the team, but he does have a mean streak when he’s provoked.

“Are we ordering food? I’m fucking starving,” I groan, flopping my head backward dramatically.

“I’ve got a pizza set to arrive soon. I hope that’s okay,” Tori says, unusually hesitant.

I sit up slightly, my brow furrowing as I take in her face. Avoiding eye contact, she looks at her lap and occasionally glances over Oli’s shoulder toward the front window.

“Is something wrong, princess?” Oli asks gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Shrugging, she tries to get up from his lap. But he takes hold of her waist and keeps her still, ducking his head to try to meet her gaze. I move to the edge of the cushions, ready to spring into action to fix whatever is distressing our girl. Spencer is quiet, observing everything carefully. There’s several more heartbeats of silence, and I’m about to push the matter, when movement from the street catches my eye. A car pulling up to park on the curb in front of the house. Oli notices me looking and turns to check it out himself, letting his guard down enough for Tori to slip away, rushing to her window and pulling back the sheer curtain ever-so-slightly.

“Is that the pizza?” Spencer asks.

Tori doesn’t answer, going to the door and anxiously smoothing her skirt until there’s a hard knock on the wood. The door opens to the left, blocking our view of the new arrival at first. But then my jaw drops as Coach McQueen steps across the threshold, one hand loosening his tie. He looks at the three of us in turn, and my pulse starts hammering. What the fuck is he doing here?

And then my jaw hits the floor when he grabs Tori’s hand and kisses her knuckles gently, the normally stern lines of his face softening for just a moment as he looks down at her.

“What the fuck is going on?” Oli roars, getting to his feet and clenching his fists at his side.

As Coach and Tori break apart, my chest is a roiling pot of emotions, though I’m not willing to jump to conclusions just yet. Her glare is ice cold as she steps away from Logan and crosses her arms over her chest. Coach closes the door and looks around before he removes his shoes, leaving them next to ours beside the door.

“Tori?” Spencer asks, an edge to his voice.

She sighs and runs her fingers through her loose curls, moving over to the kitchen and putting the breakfast bar between us and her. Logan’s remained by the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he keeps surveying his surroundings.

“He knows,” she says simply.

My blood turns to ice, and I stare at Logan with true fear washing over me. I thought we were so careful. But then I remember the picture I sent him instead of Oliver, and I swallow the hard lump in my throat.

“Doesn’t explain why he just waltzed in here and started manhandling you,” Oli snarls. The parts of his face not covered in bruises flush an angry red.

Tori rolls her eyes, a deserved gesture to Oli’s overreaction, but she doesn’t answer right away, looking down at the counter. Her shoulders are slumped, and I swear I can see her shaking. My alpha instinct perks up, and I get to my feet and start toward her. Maybe it’s because of how I was raised, but whatever is going on between her and Logan doesn’t bother me half as much as the way she’s on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay, sunshine. Just talk to us, please,” I say, stopping at the transition of the hardwood to the kitchen tile. Not crowding her, but putting myself between her and everyone else.

She looks up at me, a little ember of hope in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Eli. It’s been... all season, we’ve sort of... and then this morning...”

Her words come out in half-finished sentences, but I can fill in the gaps just fine. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t noticed the insane chemistry between Tori and Logan, and I’m not entirely surprised that it finally came to a head. But her guilt tastes like burnt tea on my tongue, and it makes my heart hurt. Tori’s hardly had a real relationship in her life, let alone a polyamorous one, and would have no idea how to navigate a situation like this. We should have talked more about what it would meanto bring other people into this, and that’s on me. If I had known the depths of her feelings, I would have made a point to discuss it further so she wouldn’t be standing here, bracing for what probably feels to her, like the inevitable implosion of our relationships.

---