Page 81 of Imperfect Player

“I’m not talking about the sex. The sex was hot and amazing, but the look in your eyes during it? That wasn’t you.” She rolls over in the bed, her hand reaching up and touching my cheek. “Talk to me, Ethan.”

The lie I told her about my parents is still fresh in my mind. I want to be honest, but I’m scared. Fucking terrified that she won’t like the real me. The imperfections and flaws that come with me.

“Just a bad day. It’s nothing. Really.”

I get out of bed and slide into my boxers needing to put space between us.

“That wasn’t nothing. You were drinking when you don’t drink. You were void of emotion when . . . ”

“When what?”

She sighs, and when I look back at her I can see the worry lines etched on her face.

“When normally I can take one look at you and see how you feel about me. I won’t push, but . . . nothing you can tell me is going to make me think less of you. I’m just worried about you. I want to be there for you if you need me.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. She’s worried about me. No one has ever worried about me before.

“I’m okay, I swear.” Or at least I will be. For her sake. “Have to admit, it’s kind of nice knowing someone is worried about me. I’ve never had that before.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, sunshine. Now, is this how we want to spend the last couple hours before I head to Denver? Because I think there is definitely something better we could be doing with our time.”

“Such as?”

I step out of my boxers and climb on top of her.

“Such as me, buried inside of you.”

Chapter 23

Ethan

The wheels are up on the plane to Denver.

It’s a four-game series this go round which means I’ll be spending more time away from Everly. It sucks, but it does mean less of an opportunity to run into someone else. Someone I don’t want to deal with or think about.

My eyes are closed, my ear buds in, as I try to process the last twenty-four hours.

As much as I hate the man and what he did to me, and the shitstorm the memories create in my head, I can’t help but focus on Ben. My brother.

Brother.

A sibling?

Fuck me.

Admittedly, it hurts. The idea that while he walked away from me, abandoned me, he went along and had another kid. One that he kept. One that he deemed worthy enough to love and raise.

The question of what I did to make them not want me returns. The few quick sips of whiskey I took before I boarded the plane are lessening the effect the thoughts have on me.

Maddox plops down in the seat next to me.

“You were late today,” he says.

“Astute observation.”

“You’re never late. Not since . . . ”

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