Page 52 of Easton

“I’m married,” I say to back her off.

“Aww.” She purses her full lips into a pout. “Why are the good ones always taken?”

I ready to stand, sure that I’ve staved her off, but then the puck bunny chick throws her arms around me.

As I turn to say, “What the fuck?” she plants a big sloppy kiss on my lips.

Fuck.

I jerk away and stand up swiftly, but I swear I see a flash go off. There may have been one when she kissed me too. It’s hard to tell, as a lot of the guys have been taking pictures with their phones all night long.

Still, double fuck.

Even though my teammates know it was nothing, I don’t want that moment immortalized.

But what can I do?

Check everyone’s phones and make them delete pictures?

I don’t think so.

Sighing, I walk away, as I’m done with this shit. Lennox can make sure the girl gets out to her Uber. All I want to do right now is get the fuck out of this club and put an end to this night.

Easton is due to come home from the Bears’ three-game road trip very late tonight. I’m kind of excited. No, I am excited. I can’t help it—I always miss him when he’s away.

I probably won’t wait up, though. I’ll just see him tomorrow.

But today should fly by, seeing as Madison is coming over to spend the afternoon.

In fact, the doorbell just rang.

I rush to the entry hall to let her in, greeting her with a big smile. But she doesn’t look too happy.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my grin faltering.

“We have to talk,” she replies as I step back and she walks in. Holding up her phone, she adds, “I need to show you something.”

“Okay.” I place my hand over my heart. “Good God, you’re scaring me.”

Madison blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. It’s not life-and-death, so don’t be scared. But it is bad. I mean, maybe it looks worse than it is. I don’t know.” She shrugs. “In any case, it’s something I think you should see. And it’s better if I show it to you as opposed to you seeing it online or something.”

“Okay, this is weird,” I mutter.

“It is,” she agrees. “You’ll see.”

I suggest we head into the living room. I want to be sitting down when I view this something “weird” that has my friend soconcerned.

Once we’re seated on the sofa, Madison says, “So, it’s about Easton.”

What could she know about him that I don’t? We’ve texted and talked several times while he’s been away, and he’s not once mentioned anything out of the ordinary.

I reply with a level “Okay.”

“Um, did he tell you he and some teammates went out to a club in Los Angeles?”

“Yes,” I reply. “It was right after their first game on the road. He said he played cards and won a little bit of cash.” I laugh. “Of course, he lost it the next day.”

Madison, twisting to face me more fully, questions in a serious tone, “He didn’t mention anything else about that night?”

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