Page 67 of The Rebound Plan

I dream of rough, heavy bodies and being called names.

I wake up sweaty, my pyjamas twisted around my body, my legs fighting the sheet. Max is already out of bed, and I have the suite to myself.

It’s still early.

My hands shake as I grab for my phone, as if my husband is going to send me a status update on our threesome from last night via text message.

Nothing.

And then, like someone downstairs can sense that I’m awake, there’s a text message from Russ of all people.

Russ: Breakfast is on. Your husband is down here showing me game tape.

A perfectly normal message. So normal it’s saying more than just the words on the screen.

I exhale wildly.

Oh.

Okay.

I mean, it’s not. There’s so, so much that’s still not okay.

But right now,this moment, there’s some fragile peace that has been negotiated between teammates, and that’s all that matters.

I reply with a thumbs up.

And then I delete the perfectly normal message before I get out of bed and race into the shower.

With my face and hair done, and the rest of the house starting to wake up, I feel as prepared as I’m going to be to go downstairs and face the music.

I bump into Roan and Malik in the hallway. They look rumpled, but they’re dressed for golf.

“Good morning,” I say smoothly. Mask on.

They follow me into the kitchen. Russ is at the stove, his back to me, looking extra big and broad this morning in a faded t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and board shorts. Max is at the island, watching video on his phone. He doesn’t look up.

And for a second, it feels like last night didn’t happen.

But then Russ goes still, and turns. From across the kitchen, his gaze is sharp and searching. He doesn’t look at me long, just a second, but that’s all it takes for me to remember his hot gaze staring up from between my legs.

“Look at this,” Max says, shoving his phone at Roan. I pivot and force my attention on their conversation. “He was never appreciated enough. Look at that slap shot.”

“Who is this?”

Malik crowds in. “Craig Roslin. He still hasn’t been signed, eh?”

“He will be. Someone will get hurt in training camp and he’ll sign a one year deal, come in as a trusted veteran.” Max rounds the island and takes me in his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not sure,” I murmur as he hugs me. “Still waking up.”

“Rusty, are you going to make my wife some breakfast?” He sounds so casual as he says it, but I hear the edge.

I hold my breath as I wait for Russ to sayyeah, I already texted her about it. But he just nods, his gaze polite but distant. “Breakfast for everyone, coming up.”

I turn my attention fully to Max. My heart is hammering in my chest. “Have you been up for a while?”

“Yeah. I went for a run. Woke up Rusty, apparently.” He squeezes me tighter, bringing his mouth to my ear. “He slept in the garage last night. He must be feeling guilty.”

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