Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Jason
Here’s the thing: when you’re at the Thanksgiving table the day after the best sex of your life, surrounded by her friends and family, things get… messy. And confusing.
Because my night with Amelia blows every other experience I’ve had out of the water. Every past partner, even my ex-wife… none of them hold a candle to her.
And I don’t know if that’s because it can’t happen again, or if we really are that explosive together, but either way, we can’t do it again.
It pisses me the fuck off. I spent years being miserable in a dead-end marriage.
Years telling myself I would see my commitments through, no matter how they made me feel.
Then Harper served me with divorce papers. She had the courage to take the step I couldn’t. And I’m so fucking grateful for that, every single day.
But I can’t keep putting my life on hold.
I want Amelia. She wants me. Why can’t we make a go of this? Why should a little thing like our jobs get in the way of us being happy together?
Tyler invited me for the holiday in good faith. He probably didn’t expect me to go and sleep with his sister. But the connection we shared… It’s worth the awkwardness today.
Amelia snuck out of my bed around dawn. She wasn’t trying to wake me, but I’m a light sleeper, and when I lost the warmth against my back was gone, it startled me.
I’m not sure how we got into that position again, with me as the little spoon, considering we fell asleep in the other direction, but I have to admit I liked it.
We don’t know each other well, but I feel safe with her. I trust her.
From the safety of my bed, I watched as she entered her own room. She waved, undressed, and climbed into bed. I fell back asleep with a smile on my face.
When I woke up again, her room was empty, and there was a single text on my phone. Don’t make this weird. The same thing she said before she got in the car. Before she came home with me and irrevocably changed my life.
I’m doing my fucking best.
She’s wearing a simple red dress, the material clinging to her curves. Her dark hair is pulled back with a white sequined bow. It should look silly, like a little girl playing dress up, but there’s no denying Amelia is all woman. There’s nothing innocent about her, especially not after last night.
When I show up at her door, she blinks, but lets me in without questioning my presence.
Inside, Andrews is on the sofa across from Brandon and another man. Austin Anderson. He’s a pitcher for the Bulldogs, and a damn good one, too. We met two or three previous times at a charity function or golf tournament.
Over the next hour, two more baseball players arrived with their partners. Holcomb I’ve met before, Jackson I haven’t. I’m the lone hockey player, but I don’t feel left out. Andrews and I are polite, maybe even friendly, and Brandon is nothing but welcoming.
As we sit at the table, I maneuver my way casually through the crowd until I can sit next to Amelia.
But I didn’t think about how torturous it would be to sit beside her all afternoon while not being able to touch her.
Tyler sits at the head of the table, Brandon beside him, and Ainsley in a high chair between them. She’s too young for solids, but she can sit with us.
There’s no blessing over the food, and we don’t go around the table forcing people to say what they’re thankful for. That’s always my least favorite part of the day. It never feels genuine; it’s always coerced, especially given the origination of the holiday.
Tyler outdid himself. The turkey is beautiful, carved to perfection, and the table is groaning under the weight of the sides.
Beside me, Amelia sets her hand on my arm. “Jase—” She snaps her mouth shut.
Andrews blinks at her. “What did you just say?”
She shakes her head. “McKittrick. Will you pass the potatoes?”
“No. You were about to call him something else.” His eyes narrow. “Since when are you two on a first-name basis?”
I doubt he’d like the real answer.
But I pass her the potatoes, holding the bowl as she scoops some onto her plate.
“Last night, he introduced himself to that guy as Jason. I guess it stuck.” Her face flushes. “I get why you didn’t want him to know your last name or what you do.”
“What guy?” Ty asks, his voice sharp.
“At the bar. I tried to hit on a guy, and it didn’t go well,” she says. Her cheeks are definitely red now. “McKittrick stepped in and saved me. The dude was a total dud.”
“Sorry, babe,” Andrews says, clucking his tongue. “We’ll find someone else for you.”
My stomach churns at the idea of Amelia and yet another guy. I want her to be with me—and only me.
“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine,” she says. “Besides, we’re about to leave on a five day road trip.”
Five days. We’ll be together for five days. Five nights in hotels.
Five nights surrounded by the entire team and all of our support staff.
Fuck.
“What do you do?” Anderson asks. He’s the only other single and presumably straight male at the table. The other two ball players brought partners. Of course, he’s interested in her. Who wouldn’t be?
“I’m a physical therapist for the Grizzlies,” she says.
He lets out a low whistle. “Impressive job, keeping those guys in line.”
The hairs on the back of my neck raise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Anderson shakes his head. “You guys play a physical, demanding sport. Our PTs and athletic trainers are so busy, and we have minimal contact. I can’t imagine what it takes to maintain peak condition for the entirety of a season.”
“Yes, yes, hockey is the superior sport,” Andrews says flippantly. He was a goaltender until he busted his knee. He played a few games in the big leagues, but spent most of his time in the minors before he got injured.
I wonder if that’s how he met Tyler and Amelia. I’ve always wanted to know, but never asked.
“But have you seen the baseball pants?” he continues. “I should have figured out I was queer when I spent more time looking at the players’ asses than at their swings.”
“How do you think I snagged this one?” Brandon says, hitching his thumb toward his husband. “It’s the ass.”
“Hockey butts are better,” Amelia says, matter of fact.
My chest swells with heat. I knew she was checking me out.
“How do you know what hockey players’ butts look like?” Tyler demands.
She blinks. “It’s literally my job. I see them and touch them all day long.”
Sagging with disappointment, I do my best to keep my expression clear. Even if it’s her job, I don’t want to be lumped in with the rest of the guys. I know nothing inappropriate is going on with the rest of the team.
But it only serves to highlight how inappropriate it is for us to be together.
If the three straight baseball players are put off by the conversation, they don’t show it.
“It’s the forearms for me,” says Holcomb’s wife. He’s a shortstop. “I could watch the forearms all day.”
Holcomb flushes. “Babe.”
“What? You’re hot. Flaunt it while you’ve still got it.”
Amelia reaches for the wine bottle, topping off her glass, and then offering it to me. I shake my head. I’ve already had two, and I have a matinee game tomorrow. I already know I’ll regret eating such a heavy meal, despite how delicious it is.
Settling back in my chair, my hand falls to my full stomach. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Brandon laughs. “Well, what’s the alternative, you sit in your apartment and watch us having fun without you?”
My face flushes. It’s the truth. I would have eaten one of Tyler’s prepared meals with the football game on in the background, desperately wishing I could join them.
It’s not being alone. That doesn’t bother me. It’s them.
Her.
The love the Owen siblings share is tangible. Brandon slots into their family so perfectly that I can’t imagine him not being part of their dynamic. Even Andrews, despite being Tyler’s ex, fits in so seamlessly.
I don’t have that. I’m not close to my parents or my siblings. They’re proud of me, but they have their own lives, spouses, kids, and jobs, and I have… hockey.
But lately, I’ve started to think about what comes next.
When I don’t have hockey anymore, what will I be left with?
An empty condo, a busted knee, and virtually no friends.
Sure, I have my teammates—for now. But once I’m done, they may not want to hang out.
When I’m not their captain, will they still have time for me?
What will I do when I don’t have hockey to define me anymore? Who will I be? The entire world is open to me. I can do anything. And it’s overwhelming as fuck.
For now, I still have this season. I don’t have to figure it out right this minute. I can worry about it later.