Page 27 of Bite Your Tongue

“No, ma’am,” I answer, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

Instantly, I’m met with her look of disappointment because her life mission is to get me and my brother to settle down before we’re thirty—though I don’t know why it really matters.

It’s been a while since I’ve been photographed with a random puck bunny. For a lot of the women who beg to come home with me for the night, that’s what they want—they’re looking for the paparazzi to snap their photo. Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way after sleeping with more women than I even care to think about. But ever since a certain nurse used me to get back at her ex and then blew my mind the night before she left for Charleston last week, I have no interest in sleeping with anyone else.

“Figures,” she grumbles. “One day, baby boy, a woman is going to knock you right on your ass, and you’ll wonder how you ever lived without her.” She lifts her iced tea to her lips and takes a sip. “I, for one, am hoping for a front-row seat when it happens.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur because I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s already happened.

I’ve been knocked on my fucking ass and then left behind like a damn toothbrush you leave at a motel when you check out the next morning. Saylor took what she wanted, and all she wanted was a few nights of bliss before riding off into the sunset, never looking back.

Today is my first official day of working at my new job, and I’m unusually nervous. I’ve been a nurse for under two years, and though I did travel around Maine a bit to work, the bulk of my time was spent at the Portland hospital. This is new and different. It doesn’t matter that I have the same job title; there are new coworkers, and it’s a faster pace here too.

I’m afraid of screwing up.

“So, what’s your story?” Molly, the nurse I’m shadowing today, says as we walk down the hallway. “And don’t tell me you don’t have one. You came here all the way from Maine.”

My throat basically closes, and my brain stops working because how am I going to answer that? I can’t exactly say,So, here’s the thing. I dated this awful guy, and he taped us having sex and showed some of his—and my brother’s—teammates. So then I got drunk and applied for a job in South Carolina to escape my life. Oh, and don’t worry, Molly; I’m not cool enough to be a porn star. I just didn’t know I was being recorded.

Yeah, I somehow don’t think any of that would go over well. I hate to lie, so instead, I just keep things surface level.

“I needed a change of scenery,” I say, shrugging. “I applied for the job, not expecting to even hear back, given I don’t have an extensive résumé because I’m still fairly new to this, and anyway … here I am.”

I don’t think she intentionally eyes me over like I’m a suspect in a crime, but she does nonetheless.

Finally, she smiles. “Any reason why you applied for a job here, in Charleston, over anywhere else?”

I relax because that is a question I can comfortably respond to. “Oh, yes.” I nod quickly. “I’m obsessed with the showSouthern Charm, so I’m pretty determined to become best friends with some of the cast.”

She bursts out laughing. “Hey, I’m more of aReal Housewivessort of girl, but I love the honesty.”

As we carry on with our rounds, I breathe a little easier. Something as small as Molly liking the same kind of shows as me reminds me that I’m not all alone here just because I’m the new girl. And soon, this place might even feel like home.

I hope.

Ihappily sit wedged in between my Sharks family, my heart full because it feels so good to be back around this group of women and sweet Amelia.

When I found out that my brother’s team was traveling to Florida for a game this weekend and that Gemma and the other wives and girlfriends I loved were coming, too, I knew since I already had the weekend off, I just had to join. All I did was mention to Smith that I was probably going to come out to it, and before I knew it, he had my plane ticket booked and sent me an address to where we’d be staying.

Making me feel even worse for screwing his best friend.

Multiple times.

I’ve been in South Carolina for weeks now, and as much as I like it, I really do miss being around this group so much—even though I worry that some of these people might have seen that video of me. I have FOMO every time someone posts a picture on Instagram of them all together at team events or games, so I knew I just had to crash this party.

It’s been great too. I got to stay in a house with Gemma, Paige, and Poppy and even had the pleasure of hanging out with Maci and Amelia for a bit before the game. The best part of it all is that we haven’t had to be around the boys, though that’s going to change tonight because everyone is going to an exclusive club. I’d be lying to myself if I said I haven’t thought about Ryder since the last time we hooked up. How could I not think about a manwho made me orgasm that many times? It’s just not possible, so I’ve given myself some slack. It’s just his beautiful penis and the way he operates it, not because I have feelings or anything—I’m sure of it.

If I was going to be here later tonight, I’d probably worry about falling into another one of his traps and letting him take me home. Luckily, I have to catch a red-eye back home tonight to work a shift tomorrow afternoon. My plan is to go to the club for an hour, tops. Have one, maybe two drinks, and then Uber off into the night to the airport.

Get in. Get out. No beautiful penises or delicious tongues involved. It’s a foolproof plan that even I can’t screw up.

“I’m so glad you came this weekend,” Gemma says, leaning her head against mine.

“Me too,” I say, gazing out at the ice. “You seem good, Gem.”

“I’m doing okay,” she says, her tone warm and hopeful. “Your brother—despite still being the asshole that I know he is—has been incredibly helpful and patient.” She pauses. “I’m very grateful for that.”

I knew Smith was the one she should live with because he’d take care of her. After all, he loves her more than anything or anyone else on this planet, but it’s nice to hear it from her lips.

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