14. Alexei
There’s something incredibly gratifying about fucking a woman until she can’t string a sentence together then falling asleep with her in your arms.
Being awake first is always my favorite part because I can let myself pretend for a moment that we can have a future together. I know from experience the longer I wait to leave, the harder it will be to go. I need to open my eyes and rush out, but like an idiot, I keep my eyes closed, basking in Emily’s warmth. I don’t know if it was the mind-blowing sex or the instant connection we all felt with her or some combination of the two, but she’s harder for me to leave than anyone else.
She hums low in her throat and presses even closer to me.
Her voice seems more gravelly than last night. Maybe I should talk to the guys about getting a humidifier in here?
Her short hair tickles my nose. I shift my head away and trace my hands across her broad shoulders and down her firm, muscular chest.
Wait.
My eyes jerk open and I’m treated to the sight of short auburn hair just a few inches from my face. It’s not breasts I’m cupping in my hands but pecs.
“What the fuck!” I shout, flying up into a sitting position.
Ian glances up at me, squeaks like a broken dog toy, and recoils so hard from me that he manages to launch himself clear of the bed and onto the floor.
It’s only after I hear the thump of Ian hitting the floor that I register Oliver is sitting in the corner of the room howling with laughter. His face is blotchy red and there are actual tears running down his face. If I didn’t want to punch him right now, I might be worried he was having some kind of fit with the way he’s wheezing.
“This is better than I could have ever imagined,” he says between bursts of laughter. “I just wish I hadn’t left my phone downstairs last night. I could have cherished this moment forever.”
“Laugh it up, Chuckles,” I spit, “but she was next to me when we fell asleep. She left.”
That sobers him up immediately.
“She could be downstairs,” Ian says hopefully. “None of us has left the room yet.”
I look around the room for any sign of her just in case I’m wrong, and there’s nothing. All my bold talk last night about seeing where things go, taking care of her, and not letting her get away crumble in her absence. As soon as she leaves, I become a coward again.
Still, I pull out my phone in some deluded hope that she might have texted.
Nothing.
A pit forms in my stomach.
She’s probably regretting last night and wants to distance herself.
Why are you disappointed? I scold myself. No connection means no attachment, and no attachment means no risk. This is a good thing.
“Her shoes and jacket are gone,” I say, stepping into my role as Captain Wet Blanket.
It deeply unnerves me that I’m disappointed by Emily being gone when I wake up. Usually, it’s a relief. I can’t stand the “How did you sleep” song and dance routine.
If things are a quick hookup after a game, I always leave her place before she’s up to avoid having to talk at all. On the rare occasions we’ve found someone who appeals to all three of us, I’d give the shortest answer possible until she stopped bothering to ask me.
There was a time when I cared about having breakfast together and how they slept. I used to look for a companion instead of just a warm body. Those were days when I waited on the edge of my seat wondering if she’d want to see me again because it meant I might get to find someone who fit me as well as my parents fit each other. That was when I’d text my mom after a few months of dating that if things kept going well, I might have a date for their holiday party.
I was younger, naive, and convinced of my own immortality then.
Everything changed after that idiot stole my family from me with one bad decision. I didn’t even get to take my rage out on him. The lucky bastard died at the scene.
His son didn’t have to run between triage rooms in the E.R. as their loved ones faded out of existence.
His son didn”t have to hear his parents screaming themselves hoarse as they cried out for each other.
His son didn”t have to choose which parent to sit with once his surrogate brother finally found where they were.
His son didn”t have to make life-changing medical decisions to try to save him.
After that, it seemed pointless to make any new connections because I knew they”d be viciously ripped away from me. I’ve had enough heartache for a lifetime. I don’t need any more.
So many people have tried to cozy up to me over the years for various reasons. Most of the time, it was to get their fifteen minutes of fame.
The only people who managed to weasel their way into my world were Oliver and Ian. Oliver because he was already there and stubbornly refused to leave, and Ian because… well, I knew what it was like to be in a place so dark you forget what the light looks like. I don’t like that Emily is already someone I miss. If she has this strong a hold on me already, it will be absolute hell trying to forget her when she leaves us.
Part of me wants to do everything I can to stop or stall or end this connection I feel with her, and yet, the larger part of me can only think about texting her. The internal struggle is too much to deal with right now, so I do what I always do—focus on something I can control.
Getting dressed is a manageable task. I find my boxers and pants easily enough, but no matter where I look, I can’t find my shirt.
“Where the hell is my shirt?” I growl. “For that matter, where the hell are your shirts?”
Oliver shrugs.
I scowl when I catch Ian smiling as he’s tugging on his pants.
“What?” I snap.
“You don’t find it odd that we had a house guest last night and now all three of us just so happen to be missing our shirts?” He shakes his head at my dumbfounded expression. “I might not have Oliver’s problem-solving skills, but I do know a good bit about feelings. Taking a shirt or a hoodie from someone you like is one of the oldest tricks in the book.”
My brows knit closer together. “Why would she want a dirty shirt?”
Oliver scoffs. “Damn, Alexei, you should probably ask the wizard for a heart and a brain if you can’t figure that one out.”
“Nice.” Ian grins.
“She likes us, you idiot,” Oliver says.
“I’ve had plenty of women in my bed, and not one of them ever took an article of clothing from me,” I protest.
“Because you kick them out before the bed has a chance to get warm or you race out of there like you’ve just robbed the place. And they call me a playboy.” Oliver rolls his eyes.
He leaves the room shaking his head and grumbling halfheartedly about the tabloid rumors that always seem to follow him.
Ian shrugs. “This one might stick around for a while. Accept it.”
How are they so nonchalant about this? Don’t they get that the best things always crash and burn at the end? Honestly, I’m surprised our friendship hasn’t done that already… stubborn assholes.
What do I even say to her? Hey, noticed you left here with my clothes. Does this mean you like me?
Fuck, when did I turn back into a middle schooler?
Ian sighs. “Just text her already.”
“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking?” I grumble.
“Because once you get past the moat, the dragon, and the forty-foot walls you’ve built to keep everyone out, you’re a pretty easy guy to read,” Ian says, quirking his mouth up into a half smile.
I try to glare at him but it’s spoiled by a small smile.
His half smile turns into full on gloating when I pull out my phone and open our group chat.
Alexei - You left. Why?
Oliver - Yeah, where did you go, Shirt Thief? Are you off to sell your spoils on the seedy side of the internet? If I don’t get a percentage, I’ll be pressing charges.
Ian - Are you okay? Did something upset you?
Emily - Good morning to you too, Sleepyheads.
Emily - I woke up early and was missing my baby. Went home. Took her to breakfast. French Toast, if you’re wondering.
Emily - Everything’s fine, Ian. You’re a sweetheart for asking. Looking forward to a repeat of last night sometime soon.
Oliver - Answer the question, Criminal.
Emily - If you recall, SOMEONE destroyed my dress last night and I wasn’t about to walk out of there buck naked.
Oliver - One of our shirts would have functioned perfectly well as a mini dress or whatever you’re calling them now. You took all three… could it be you’re feeling sentimental?
Emily - No!
Oliver - Liar.
Ian - As much as I hate to side with Oliver, I think he’s got you on this one.
Emily - … okay, fine. I could’ve done with just the one shirt, but I didn’t want anyone to feel left out. Happy?
Oliver - That is really fucking cute.
Emily - On second thought, maybe I will sell them all online. I can use the proceeds to do something nice for my parents since they’ve been helping me so much lately. I feel like I’m taking advantage of them.
Alexei - How about a hockey game? It’s family fun day tomorrow. Do your parents like hockey?
Emily - Does a bear shit in the woods?
Alexei - I’m assuming that’s a yes. Come to the game tomorrow. Bring your parents. Bring Audrey.
Emily - There’s no way I can afford last-minute tickets for all of us. Maybe we’ll all come see you play next family fun day? Send me the event calendar for the team and I’ll see what I can do.
Oliver - You’re joking, right?
Alexei - Do you want to go? Yes or no?
Emily - I can barely swing a ticket for myself, much less my parents and Audrey. I can’t this time. I really am sorry.
Alexei - You didn’t answer my question, Kitten. Do you want to go or not?
Emily - Yes, but I can’t. Tomorrow’s just not enough time.
Alexei - Do you think your family will have a good time if they come? It wouldn’t be too loud for Audrey?
Emily - I think they would. Like I said, if you give me more notice next time, we can come. The horse is dead. Stop beating it.
Alexei - We’ve got a team box. You have seats. I’ll send a car for you around 1. When I said we’d take care of you, I meant it.
Emily - We”ll see. Have a good practice.
For the longest time, logic has been in the driver”s seat. Use pretty words to get what you want, then leave before they get close enough to hurt you. Basically everything my parents never wanted for me.
Since Emily burst into my life, it”s been harder to stick to those resolutions. My heart seems to have taken me hostage because every opportunity I’m given to push her back to an arm’s length away or further, I end up using to draw her in closer.
I look at my phone.
No new texts and two hours to go until practice.
I can”t control whether I get a text, but I can control what time practice starts, at least for me. So after I stuff down some breakfast, I”m going to go to the stadium early and do some of the more complex drills out on the ice.
Right now, I’ll do anything to take my mind off Emily and the fact that I don”t know whether I”m more afraid that she won”t come tomorrow or that she will.
I refuse to dwell on it because I have a feeling the answer will scare the shit out of me.