Page 12 of The Triple Play

I knew I was quick to get attached, but this was a record even for me. I had a history of falling too fast, of entering flings and getting myself hurt, or worse, hurting other people. But I liked to think I had a good relationship with my exes and past one-night-stands. I wasn’t the worst person in the world, as far as I knew. But that didn’t mean I didn’t like to have fun — I’d had my fair share of flames that followed the team, and I never turned down a good time when it landed in my lap — and that’s what I’d hoped for tonight.

Somehow, stupidly, I could feel myself slipping into that too-easy mindset of thinking something more could come of it, though. This felt different.

I liked the way shetalked. Sure, she’d been nervous at first, but she didn’t get overly flustered with me and Xavi running our mouths. No, she gave it right back a couple of times, and that just made it so much worse. I liked the way she’d looked up at me, as if she hadn’t quite decided if she was impressed or disappointed that I had the balls to speak to her like that. And yeah, she was fuckinggorgeous, but that was almost less important. Almost.

Fuck.

I sighed, massaging my jaw with my fingers, and tore my gaze away from myself. It didn’t matter. She had a boyfriend, one she would reluctantly ask for autographs for. That didn’t mean I’d stop thinking about her, even if I should. But it did mean that I should probably stop standing in the goddamn bathroom like an idiot trying to gather himself.

I pushed off the sink and used my shoulder to swing the door open, the sound of Smokey’s pouring back in, but before I could get more than a foot out of the bathroom, a body slammed right into my side.

Her body.

Annie hit me with enough force to rock me back a step, which was honestly kind of impressive, and I barely got my hands on her shoulders before she could stumble.

“Whoa—” I started, but then I looked down, and Jesus fucking Christ almighty, Annie looked like she needed a hug.

She looked up at me, her blue eyes blowing wide and rimmed with tears, the veins in her whites sticking out like sore thumbs. Her cheeks were that maddening shade of pink again, her lips parted, her hands trembling as she held them in front of her, already retracted from where they’d automatically landed on my side.

My stomach dropped. “Shit. Annie, are you okay?”

She sucked in a breath as she blinked away the tears, her eyes focusing in on me. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her legs taking a cautious, clumsy step backward. “I didn’t—” She cut herself off as she glanced back over her shoulder to the closed swinging door that separated us from the rest of Smokey’s, and I could only imagine she was half expecting Cole and Xavi to walk through — them or anyone else from the bar.

To my left, directly opposite, was a door labeledStaff Only. “Come on,” I murmured, keeping my grasp on her shoulders firm. I pulled her toward the staff door and pushed it open with my shoulder, assuming she must have been heading that way anyway to get away from the crowd, and she didn’t protest or hesitate. “Let’s get you some fresh air, sweetheart.”

The staff area’s hallway was fairly tight, but I kept her with me as I navigated through to the door clearly markedEXIT. I hesitated — it was definitely a fire door, and I didn’t want the alarms going off if I pushed it open, but the schedule taped to it outlining trash duties led me to believe that the alarms for this door were disabled. I used my hip to activate the push-bar and the slight chill of the night air swept in, blowing the hair back from her face. God, she looked like a wreck.

A very attractive wreck.

I kept my hands on her as I led her outside, letting the door shut behind us and stepping out into the alley behind Smokey’s. The pavement glistened in the low light from the earlier rain, the neon glow from the Smokey’s Bar sign flickering against the damp brick walls down at the exit of the alleyway. A handful of guys stood beneath the sign, some hundred or so feet away, laughing loudly and drunkenly as they smoked, the faint scent of cigarettes wafting our direction, but their sounds were mostly outdone by the muffled thud of music coming from inside Smokey’s.

I settled her against the wall, taking a step back from her to give her a little space. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, almost retreating, her breathing still a little uneven and sniffly. Tension rolled off her in waves, and she looked as though she was trying to hold herself together with nothing but sticks and scotch tape. Definitely not okay.

“Hey,” I said softly, trying not to spook her as I dipped my head slightly, bringing myself closer to her height to catch her gaze. “What happened?”

She shook her head, her fingers digging into her arms as if that would somehow keep her from falling apart. It was weird, seeing her like this — I didn’t know her very well outside of a few flirtatious words when she’d served us in the past, and although I knew she was obviously a full person with thoughts and feelings and a life, it was still a far cry from the customer-service front she put on behind the bar.

I exhaled roughly through my nose and lifted a hand to her face, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear with a feather-light touch. She stilled almost immediately, her breath hitching, but she didn’t flinch. “Annie,” I said quietly, letting her name hang in the air for a moment. “Talk to me. Come on, you won’t feel any better by just clinging to yourself like a koala.”

Her lips parted like she might actually speak again, but then she hesitated, pressing them together and huffing out a breath through her nostrils. “It’s stupid,” she rasped, the words a little broken.

My lips scrunched a little at the side, my head tilting slightly. “Doesn’t seem stupid if it’s got you crying.”

A weak, breathless laugh escaped her lips, but there wasn’t a hint of humor in it — just pure exhaustion and irritation. I didn’t push her, didn’t say anything, just let the silence hang between us, nothing but the distant sound of drunken cackling and the cars on the road, trying to let her know that she could take her time and that I was happy to be patient.

But I stilled when she finally spoke.

“Elliot saw your number,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t move, didn’t change my expression despite my desperate need to. “He wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

I bit back my urge to either laugh at his clearly fragile masculinity or curse in irritation that he obviously did something because of it to make her cry. “In what way?”

Her tongue poked at her cheek as she turned her gaze from me, looking somewhere behind me, off into the middle distance. I shook the thought away of exactly what else I wanted poking the inside of her cheek. “He said I was embarrassing myself. That I was acting like I’msomebodywhen I’m just a bartender who sings a few songs. That I’d let it go to my head.”

My jaw clenched hard enough that I momentarily worried I’d crack a fucking tooth.

Iwantedto punch him, wanted to get him out on the ice so I could throw him against the boards. What a goddamndick.

“Jesus,” I muttered, exhaling sharply and rolling my shoulders back to keep some of the anger from bleeding into my voice. “He actually said that?”

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