Page 77 of Face Off
He plays with the hem of his oversized shirt I’m wearing, lifting it up over my head to reveal my bare breasts. “Oh yeah. Then what is this supposed to be?”
He leans forward and captures my right nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the nipple before nipping at the hardened nub. My back arches as I moan out in pleasure, grinding down on his hardened length strained by his boxers.
Fuck.
Focus, Hayley. This isn’t about pleasure right now. It’s about telling Brooks the truth. The truth you’ve been trying to tell him since the finals started. The truth you should have told him a while ago.
Pushing my hands to his bare chest, I push him slowly away. “Brooks, we really need to talk.”
He groans out is frustration, falling back on the pillow. “Fuck, Hayley. We’ve barely had time for each other and with the little time I have right now, you wanna talk.”
“We were supposed to talk in Arizona.”
“You’re right,” he says, releasing a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. Things have been crazy all week.”
Crazy. More like insane.
I climb off his lap and sit up with my head against the headboard. This is it. Time to come clean. My mouth opens and closes a few times as I struggle with the words on the tip of my tongue. My name is Hayley Richards. Yet nothing comes out. I swallow the large lump in my throat, hoping it comes out, when the sound of Camden’s voice echoes on the other side of the bedroom door.
Can anything go right for me? I pull on Brooks’ oversized shirt before calling Cam to come in. I glance to Brooks who has an impassive look on his face. I know I pissed him off. I ruined a moment because I need to talk to him, talking that never happened. Once again.
I choke back my own frustration as I focus on the door Camden so quietly opens. It’s fine. I’ll tell him after they win the series tonight. But then I destroy his celebrating. Agh… why does this have to be so fucking difficult?
“Hey, Mom,” Cam says, plopping down on the foot of the bed. “Can I bring Bash with me to the game tonight?”
“Did you ask his parents?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the p at the end as if I’m dumb for even asking the question. “They said if you were okay with it, then they were okay with it. Mom, seriously.”
Okay, when did my little boy start acting like a bothered teenager? “Okay. It’s fine by me.”
“Sweeett,” he says, jumping up from the bed, running out of room mumbling things a mile per minute.
I roll over and look at Brooks, a lazy smile toying at his lips as he pulls me up toward him. His lips connecting with mine just as his phone pings from the nightstand. We both release a collective groan as he reaches for it, queuing up the text messages to see who it is.
“Shit. Coach wants us to come to the rink early,” he says as if the morning isn’t already ruined until now. “Got some last-minute game footage to review.” Another message pings on his phone as he shifts, sitting himself on the side of the bed. “And looks like I’m picking Halloway up now.”
He gets out of bed, heading straight to the bathroom to quickly do his morning routine before heading to the walk-in closet, emerging shortly after in a pair of low-riding running shorts and a Skipjacks tee. My hands ache to hold him, pull him back into bed. Talk to him about the secret eating me from the inside out. But I know now is not the time. It’s like the universe is telling me to wait.
I’ve waited long enough though.
Sensing my disappointment again, he kneels back on the bed, crawling back toward me. “Hey, I promise we’ll talk,” he says, brushing his lips against my forehead before pulling back from me. “I love you.”
I nod, plastering on a weak smile as he climbs off the bed, exiting the room. I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Pulling my toothbrush out of the holder, I squeeze a generous glob on the bristle. The quiet hum from the brush moving along my teeth fills the silent room as my mind wanders with the what ifs.
My name is Hayley Richards.
It shouldn’t be that hard to say, right? Yet I’ve struggled with that reality since the beginning of our relationship. And ifI tell him now, would he accept who I am? That I’ve hidden the truth from him, or would he walk away from me without ever looking back?
I know I shouldn’t be thinking like that. That Brooks could be genuine. Like me for me regardless of who my family is and the fact that I hid it. Yet I’m terrified that my world is going to come crashing down the moment I say the words. That he’s going to walk away from not only me but Camden, leaving not only one heart broken, but two.
The buzzing of my cell phone on the nightstand pulls me from the full-on panic attack I’m about to have. Spitting the leftover toothpaste from my mouth into the sink with a quick swoosh of water, I shuffle back to the bedroom. My hand clutching tightly around the phone as I read the text message.
Boyce: Can we meet? I think we need to talk.
My stomach clutches tightly as a knot forms. I reread the message over and over again, fuming as my anger builds. He’s been in town for two days, and now he wants to meet. To talk. Yeah, screw that.
Hayley: Talk? I think it’s best if you contact my lawyer.
