Page 12 of Playoff
I pulled up my jeans. “I need to go.”
His forehead creased. “Aren’t you avoiding your problems till tomorrow?”
If only. “I wish I could. I need to be rested for them anyway.” If I stayed, I was going to take my turn going down on him, and I wouldn’t be getting much sleep. There were other ways to use that equipment.
He paused. Was he going to ask for my name? Or my number? It was tempting. The sex had been stellar. But with everything going on right now, I needed to become “Jessica Johnson, the reliable one” again. I wasn’t the kind of woman who was free to sleep with a man whose name she didn't even know. A woman who taunted and flirted and made demands during sex. That woman was going back into quarantine now.
My phone buzzed and I quickly shut it off. By the time I was dressed and standing at the door, I was under control again. I took a mental snapshot of the hottie with the buzzed hair and swollen lips from our encounter, tattoos unfortunately hidden. I wouldn't see this man again, and no one would know what I’d done tonight. The responsible Jessica smiled. “Thank you. This was exactly what I needed. I hope it worked for you?”
He smirked. “I was definitely not thinking about tomorrow while we were in bed, I promise you. Look, it’s getting late. Can I book you a ride?”
I held up my phone. “I already called. But thanks. I appreciate the concern.” I should just leave, but I kept talking. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but what you did tonight should give you good karma for whatever happens tomorrow.”
“Same to you.” He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, maybe ask for my number, so I strode to the door without looking back and headed for the elevator and my ride.
It was late when I opened the door to the condo I shared with Justin. The place was nicer than anything I could have afforded on my salary since housing costs in Toronto were so high. But it wasn't as nice as, say, Cooper’s penthouse or Deek’s sprawling home in Bridlewood. Despite the fact that Justin was making a lot of money, we were careful. We’d learned the hard way that money didn’t always last. The Denbrowskis had fled the country with ours. This place was good enough. We each had a main bedroom with en suite, and there was an extra room that functioned as an office/guest room. We were close enough to the waterfront that there were views of Lake Ontario through the large windows, and the kitchen was generous for Justin’s cooking and my baking. It wasn’t far from the Blaze practice and game arenas so Justin had a quick commute, and my office was a streetcar ride away.
We'd made it our home, a place we felt safe. A refuge from anything else we’d been through.
I was as quiet as I could be letting myself in. If Justin had come back while I was out, and he should have, he'd be sleeping. He’d played a game just a few hours ago, and while practice skate in the morning was optional, Justin would be there. I tiptoed down the hallway to the living room, the bedrooms just beyond.
I jumped when the light came on. Justin was sprawled on the couch, blinking as he woke up.
"Why are you still up?" He didn't monitor the nights I stayed out. They weren’t frequent, and had been less so lately. We’d had a don’t ask, don’t judge policy ever since we were teenagers avoiding curfew.
He sat up. "Figured I owed you an apology."
"What for?"
"I took off from Top Shelf and left you there. I should have waited for you."
I sat down beside him. "I'm a big girl, Jus. I was fine. Fitch would have given me a lift if I’d stayed. I saw you'd left and headed home myself."
He squinted at the microwave clock in the kitchen. "By way of Niagara?"
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t that late. Niagara would be what, a five-hour round trip at the best of times? "I stopped at another bar. One without any sports headlines. Mrs. Garvin died today."
Justin wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "I'm sorry, Jess. I know she was special."
I sniffed. "It's silly. She was just a client, but…" I could feel the tears threatening.
"But you care. And she cared about you."
She had. We'd spent time not just talking about finance and investments, but books and ideas. Another sniff. And another. Soon I was crying on my brother's shoulder while he reached for a box of tissues and let me dampen his shirt.
I finally stopped, straightening up and blowing my nose.
"Better?"
I nodded.
"You didn't spend all that time at a bar, did you? You smell like—" He broke off, but I knew what he meant. I needed a shower.
I sighed. "No. A guy sat down beside me."
"Really?"
I shoved him. "I'm not a troll."
