Page 161 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“Depending on when they started to date,” I voice.

There’s nothing much I can say because I dated at a young age. Admittedly, not at an age that was approved of, but I felt like I had some sort of control over my actions and how far things went in the romantic department.

At least until I was more confident with the idea of safe sex.

“So, she’s gonna make us have social handles or something?”

“Something like that. It seems like a lot of people don’t realize team nurses can be female. They’re under the impression the position was connections only, and you had to be at least forty and male.”

“Damn.” I shake my head. “We’re really behind on the times.”

“That’s how it feels like.” She walks around me and whistles. “Now, girl, back on you. Who’s been clapping them ass cheeks ‘cause I KNOW you’re getting some good loving from someone.”

“You’re so loud!!” I hiss and elbow her. “I tried to cover most of them, but puck. There’s too many.”

“You look like you went to war,” she concludes with a knowledgeable smirk as she whispers in my ear. “And came out a champion in the bedroom.”

“Ugh. Shut up!” I laugh.

She giggles and puts an arm around my shoulder to lead me to the weights section.

“Now, who is it?” She talks a bit quieter as we pause near a set of lockers. “Who gave you the loving you deserved after the hectic week you’ve had?”

“You already made up your mind about who it is.” I know my bestie. Doesn’t matter whose name comes out of my mouth. She’ll emphasize it’s the man she’s chosen in her mind.

“Maddox.”

“It amazes me that you’ve been in his corner from day one.”

“I see Daddy material in him,” she acknowledges, making me choke on my own saliva. “Don’t lie and say he doesn’t have a Daddy complex? He’s a man who will tell your dad in his face he’s bringing you back home when he feels like it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Meaning it happened?” She’s clapping her hands. “When? Where? How did it go down?”

“It didn’t exactly happen like that,” I admit while my cheeks are feeling hot with the topic. “The night we met at the club, he came over and stayed.”

“Annnnnddddd?” she drawls out and waves her hands in suspense.

“And he woke up first to my dad knocking on the attic door, calling for me.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Pucking,” I correct and run my hands through my hair so I can put it up in a ponytail. “Yup. He opened the door, told him he stayed over, and that I was sleeping, and somehow didn’t die.”

“Was he naked?” She just has to know.

“No,” I mutter and quietly add, “he was wearing boxers.”

“New folded boxers from the bottom drawer in your dresser, where you keep all the sweaters you stole from Maddox,” she summarizes and shakes her head. “Oh, your dad approves of Maddox.”

“How are you even confident about that?” I ask and add, “I didn’t steal all those sweaters. They were given to me.”

“Involuntary donation,” she corrects herself with a smug look. “And, of course, he approves of him. He didn’t kill him for obviously sleeping with his daughter and wearing newly folded boxers, not the ones he obviously wore from the previous night, which was flung on the floor.”

“He… wouldn’t know that,” I counter, but Mack shakes her head.

“Men may be oblivious to when we change our hair, wear different outfits, or try to find anything in the household, but they know the difference between folded boxers on the body and wrinkled ones from the night before. Trust me.”

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