Page 18 of Same Time Next Year

“I sprained it on my teammate’s face.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” He looks genuinely perplexed. “Why?”

Hockey players. I swear to God. “You must have hit him pretty hard if you sprained your wrist punching him.”

“I apologized afterward.” Sumner rolls a shoulder. “I haven’t been in a great mood lately.”

“Oh? Why?”

SUMNER

Why?she asks me.

Britta wants to knowwhyI’ve been in a dark mood while she’s standing there in a criminally short dress and cowboy boots. How is everything in the world not canceled right now? Are people still traveling, going to work, and eating in restaurants when my wife looksthis hot?

It has always been hard to be around her without making my feelings obvious.

But being away from her has been even worse.

It’s a vicious paradox that has literally gotten me injured. Inside and out.

I missed the sight of her so fucking badly today that I came here as soon as I dropped off my bag at the house and rushed through a shower. Now all I see are surfaces. Places where I could set her ass down, kneel in front of her, and get my tongue between those thighs.

I’mobsessedwith eating her out. And I’ve never even gotten the opportunity.

Yet I’ve thought about it day and night for the last two months. Spreading her legs open and spitting on it, rubbing my face against all that softness, and gobbling her up like dessert. I swear to God, I wouldn’t even ask to fuck her. I wouldn’t dare be that greedy. I could die happy if she just let me kiss and lap at her cunt while she squirms around and pulls my hair.

“Sumner?” she asks, glancing back at me. “Your bad mood.”

“Oh, right.”Can you not see that I’m starving to death for you? Can’t you tell I missed you so horribly that my family couldn’t even make me smile?That might be a little too heavy for our first face-to-face conversation in two months, so I opt for a different truth. “I guess I’m worried that we’ve gone through all of this for my green card, and I won’t get called up to the pros. I know I’m only twenty-seven, but there’s always this feeling like ... I don’t know. Time is running out.”

Britta stops in front of me with a handful of mail I’m assuming is mine. “It’s going to happen, Sum.”

“Yeah?”Let me hold you.“How do you know?”

“I know I don’t ... don’t go to the games, but I’ve watched them on public access. And I’ve been working in Sluggers long enough to know that the kind of faith your teammates have in you is extremely rare. Okay? It’s not typical. Neither are you.”

“Thanks, wife.”

It just slips out. Probably because I’ve been calling her that in my head since leaving. It helped me feel closer to her, instead of twenty-five hundred miles away.

She blinks slowly over the wordwife, and something I’ve never seen before in her eyes gives them sort of a melted quality. The toe of one cowboy boot turns inward, one knee pressing into the other, her tits rising and falling on a big breath. Holy shit. Does shelikebeing called my wife? At this very moment, it’s probably better if I don’t know. Because thanks to my sprained wrist, I haven’t jacked off in three days, and if Britta enjoys being called my wife, I’m going to do something embarrassing, like hump the arm of her couch.

“You ever decide to come to a game, you sit in the family section, Britta. Where I can keep an eye on you. Okay? I know facing your father will be scary, but you’ll never be alone as long as I’m in the building.”

Whatever I saw in her eyes flees as soon as I utter the wordfamily. “Those seats are for parents. Grandparents. Do they ever ... make it to your games?”

“Not this season. Not in a while. My grandmother ... passed away two years ago.” A nail hammers its way into my throat. “She was the one who bought me my first stick. Taught me how to play and signed me up for my first league. Somehow it doesn’t seem right when they come to the games without her, you know?” I smile at the vision that pops into my head—a woman with a short cap of white hair, arms crossed high on her chest. “She used to wear this red plaid hat toevery game. You know, those hunter-style caps with the ear flaps? I could see it out of the corner of my eye during every game growing up.” I shake my head. “I miss seeing that hat in the stands.”

Britta surprises me by taking a hesitant step in my direction.

Another one.

And then she slowly lays her cheek in the center of my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

---