Page 117 of Blindside Sinner

Other than that, though, everything is swimming along like the tide. He brings me breakfast in bed. We watch movies—cheesy kung fu movies from the 80s, mostly, but every now and then, I cajole him into watching a Julia Roberts rom com in exchange for sexual favors to be named later. It’s all just… good. Easy.

I want it to last forever.

I get dressed and ready, then drive to Monroe’s to pick her up. She’s waiting outside in a cable-knit sweater and a pair ofleggings under her winter coat. She’s got a pair of knee-high boots and a purse slung across her shoulder.

“Hey, girl.” She slides into the seat and we hug before I shift into drive and head to Cassie’s. “How are things with the hockey hottie?”

“He’s… good.”

“Good enough you’re not even bragging? Probably because you know I haven’t gotten any in so long that my vagina is angry.”

“Angry?”

“Wouldn’t yours be? Of course not—because you have the hockey hottie ready to pound his puck into your goal at your convenience. But, for the rest of us, the dating pool is shallow. Now, drive like the wind—I need a mimosa. Preferably an IV drip of them hooked right into my veins.”

Cassie’s house is near the Space Needle. Traffic is insane this morning, so we sit for a few minutes with Monroe reading me headlines from her news app. But there isn’t anything particularly worthy until she gets to sports headlines.

“The Seattle Wave are entering negotiations with…” She quiets. “Oh. If Beck gets traded, are you moving with him?”

Gets traded?I never thought of that, but this contract negotiation could be a bigger thing that I’ve given it credit for. “Does it say he might get traded?”

“Says his contract is up and the salary cap could be an issue with keeping him in Seattle.” She pauses and reads silently. “Apparently, a lot of other teams are hovering.” She reads a bit more. “Phoenix, Denver, Portland.”

The good mood from this morning is withering on the vine. I can feel my pulse in my neck.Beck. Moving.I’ve never even considered it, really. That’s the surest sign yet of how far gone I am. Things are so perfect that I kinda forgot that they haven’t always been that way.

Worse, I kinda forgot that they won’t always be that way.

Sooner or later, the world will intervene. And if the history of my life is anything to go by, it’ll be a nasty shock when it does.

Roe looks at me. “You know, Slo, probably it’s nothing. He can get his contract worked out. No worries.”

“Yeah. No worries.”

That, of course, doesn’t quiet my mind or calm the churning in my stomach. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, the truth is, I’m not as worried about losing the job as I am about losing Beckett Daniels.

I mean, yeah, my life is dependent on this job, because this job is the only thing keeping the Bloodhound at bay.

But I can’t stop thinking of Beck.

What would I do without that laugh? Without those kisses? Without him flexing at me in the mirror and miming goofy retorts to the bad kung fu movie dialogue and waking me up with his tongue between my thighs?

I don’t know. I really don’t fucking know.

I want so badly to call him, just so I can hear his baritone rumble reassure me that yes, of course everything will work out, everything will be fine. My fingers are itching to scoop up the phone and dial his number.

But I resist.

I’m here with my friend and we’re going to have a good day. Beck has his own things to work out, and hopefully, he’s working it out so he can stay in Seattle. Because if he goes…

No. I’m not thinking that way. This is going to work out for us.

It has to.

We pick up Cassie from her apartment, then I spend the rest of the day pushing doubts out while the girls and I shop. We hit all the stores, and by the end of the day, I’m exhausted.

I drop off Monroe and Cassie and head home, trunk full of clothes and gifts and a pair of ridiculously expensive silk boxers for Beck’s upcoming birthday that I think will look great on him. They’ll look great off him, too, actually.

By the time I pull through the gate out front, I’m looking forward to seeing Beck. Doubts, schmouts. He’s solid.We’resolid.

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