Chapter 51 Everett
EVERETT
Monroe: Do you have a girlfriend?
Rett: Yes, her name is Bea. Keep your hands off.
Monroe:
My very short exchange with Monroe continues to play on repeat as I ride the elevator toward my apartment a little while later.
There was no context; this is Monroe we’re talking about. It could be anything.
But the second I walk into my apartment and I’m met with laughter, understanding suddenly hits.
“Oh, you motherfucker. That was me you just shot,” Bea squeals.
“Sorry, sorry. Stay on your side of the warehouse,” Monroe counters.
“Or just remember what I look like,” Bea deadpans, making me snort as sounds of gunshots ring through the air.
I know what they’re doing, but I don’t allow myself to believe it until I walk deeper into my apartment and see it with my own eyes.
But there, in my living room, is our rookie and my girl battling it out on CoD.
They’re both so focused on their game that they’re completely unaware I’ve joined them.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Monroe bellows as a body hits the floor. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, I saw that,” Bea confirms. “Nice shot.”
Monroe beams at her praise as his character goes running off.
“Oh shit, cover me,” he barks as shots come his way.
I watch in awe as Bea appears and takes down the guy who was going for Monroe with the ease of someone who’s been playing their whole life.
“You play CoD?” I blurt.
The sound of my voice startles both of them. Monroe drops his controller, and Bea shrieks as she turns to look at me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Now I’m dead,” Monroe mutters dejectedly.
“When did you get home?” Bea asks, ignoring the screen and fully focusing on me.
“Few minutes ago. You play CoD?” I repeat.
Her cheeks burn, and she bites on her lower lip as if she’s embarrassed. “A little, yeah.”
“A little? You’re better than Monroe.”
“Hey,” the rookie complains now that he’s recovered his controller.
“It’s true and you know it,” I state, looking between the two of them.
“Yeah, fine. She’s better than me,” he huffs.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Bea promises.
“We all know he’s shit already,” I tease. But the truth is, he’s not the worst player among us. As much as I might hate it, that award belongs to me.
Monroe raises a brow, aware that he’s better than me but too afraid to point it out.
“Whatcha doing here, Rook?” I ask as I turn my back on them and pull a bottle of water from the fridge.
I swear I feel his nerves from here. I shake my head, wondering when he’s going to get over the fact that we’re teammates, friends even. He can lose the whole hero worship now. I’m no better than him. Hell, if anything, I’m worse.
“I…uh…I needed…I wondered if you wanted to hang out.”
“So you just turned up at my front door?”
Why am I such an asshole?
He rubs the back of his neck as I gulp down some water.
“Uh…yeah. I was out already, and I just thought…I can go. If you guys want a night alone,” he offers in a rush before pushing to his feet.
I keep my gaze on him, taking in his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes.
“No, it’s okay. You can hang out. Isn’t that right, Everett?”
My jaw tenses as Bea’s sweet voice floats around me.
“Yeah,” I force out.
Did I want to come home and hang out with Bea alone? Yes, I absolutely did.
But it’s probably better this way.
Ever since she banned me from touching her, unless we’re in public, all I can do is think about the ways I want to do just that.
When we’re on the couch, and she’s just wearing an oversized shirt, I can’t stop thinking about wrapping my hand around her thigh, feeling how warm her skin is, how soft it is.
I want to reach out and tuck the loose lock of hair behind her ear, watch her shudder when my fingers brush over that sweet spot just an inch below her lobe.
And fuck, I’m desperate to wrap my hand around the back of her neck, drag her body on top of me, and kiss the living daylights out of her before laying her out beneath me, spreading her thighs, and finally discovering what she’s wearing beneath that shirt.
But I can’t do any of that, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
I’ve never held back before. I’ve never followed the rules.
I’m more of a take-what-you-want-and-fuck-the-consequences kind of guy. Exactly the reason we ended up here in the first place, I guess.
But as much as I respect Bea and the boundaries she’s put in place, fucking hell, I want her.
“What did you want for dinner?” I ask after I’ve drained my water. Any hope I had that the coolness of it would dampen the fire burning inside me is shattered the second Bea meets my eyes and smiles.
“I don’t mind. Hayden, are you hungry?”
I can’t help but snort a laugh.
“Did you really just ask a professional hockey player if he’s hungry?”
Her cheeks burn all over again.
“Good point. Hayden, would you like to stay for dinner? Everett’s ordering in.”
Monroe looks between us. He wants to say no because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. But deep down, he really wants to stay. “I…um…I don’t…”
“It’s fine. Any requests?”
“Anything. I’m easy.”
“So I’ve heard, but I haven’t seen the evidence.”
“Unlike you, Mr. Fuckboy Donnelly,” Bea quips before slamming her lips shut and nervously glancing at Monroe.
We might not be out in public right now, but in front of everyone, our relationship needs to look real. The more people who know the truth, the more chance we have of fucking up. Or at least, that’s what we agreed on the other night.
Parker and Linc know the truth. So do Sienna and Hailee. But that’s it. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re the real deal.
“Oh shit, bro. Bea’s got your number,” Monroe laughs.
“Well, it’s not hard,” Bea replies, her shoulders relaxing. “I feel like there are two things the world knows about Everett Donnelly.” She lifts her hand and holds up one finger. “One: He’s a beast on the ice.”
Pride swells in my chest. I fucking love that she came to watch my games and got involved in a game she had no idea about.
“Two: He never turns a woman down.” That previous pride shrivels and dies. “That’s all changed now, though, hasn’t it, baby?”
I force a smile. “Sure has. Since I found you, I’m a one-woman guy.”
Bea beams at me, completely unaware that I’m dying inside because of how painfully true that statement is.
I know I told her that I haven’t been with anyone else since I was with her, but I don’t think she believed me. It hurt, and it was a stark reminder that our relationship is going to come with a whole heap of questions.
As Bea just pointed out, Everett Donnelly has never been a one-woman guy, so what changed? Why Bea? And why now, when my world continues to spin out of control?
Is anyone going to believe this? Or are we fooling ourselves to think we can make any of this work?
“Yeah, you’re the only woman I see, sweetheart. Excuse me, I need to shower. I’ll order pizza,” I shoot over my shoulder when I remember that I was meant to be doing something.
I slam my bedroom door a little harder than necessary, but I can’t help myself; my entire body is coiled with tension.
I don’t know what I need more—to throw my fist into some asshole’s face, or sink my dick inside Bea.
Wait, no. I know exactly what I need more. The problem is, I’m not fucking allowed.
I pace back and forth for a few minutes, alternating between combing my fingers angrily through my hair and clenching my fists at my sides.
I need to figure out a way to get a grip on myself. We’ve barely started this arrangement and I’m already spinning out of control.
Being with Bea usually relaxes me, quiets all my demons, but add Monroe into the mix and—
“Fuuuuuuck,” I bellow, hoping like hell they’re too engrossed in their game again to hear me.
That thought is shattered a few seconds later when there’s a knock at my door.
I plan to ignore it. Ignore her. But Bea takes matters into her own hands by pushing my door open and poking her head inside.
“Are you ok—Everett?” she questions when her eyes find me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice thick. “I’ll be out in a bit. Go back to your game.”
But despite my words, she does the opposite and slips fully into my room, closing the door behind her.
My heart thuds harder because…there is a woman in my bedroom.
No. Not just any woman.
Bea is in my room. The woman who has been tormenting me for weeks now. The only woman I can think about. The one who seems to have ruined me for any other when I was so adamant it wasn’t possible.
“Hey,” she says softly, bravely walking closer. “What’s going on? Has something happened?”
Yeah, something has fucking happened. I came home to find you playing my Xbox with one of my teammates.
And not just one of teammates—one that would be a much better partner and future father.
Sure, Monroe might be young, but he seems to have his shit in much better order than me, even with whatever he’s dealing with right now.
I track her movements as she closes the space between us.
I want to stop her, hold my hands up and keep the distance.
But when my arms lift, they don’t even attempt to. Instead, I pull her into me and wrap myself around her.
Bea’s breath catches, shocked by my sudden need to touch her.
I’ve been so good at stopping myself. But right here, right now, I can’t. I’m not strong enough.
And as if she knows I need more, her arms wrap around my waist, holding me tight as she presses her cheek against my chest.
Dropping my face into her hair, I breathe her in, letting her sweet scent fill my senses, and force my muscles to relax.
“Everything is okay,” she whispers. “I’m right here.”
A lump crawls up my throat.
How does she know?
“Did you have a good day?” she asks after a couple of seconds.
I missed you.
“It was okay.”
“Are you…mad I let Hayden in?” she asks hesitantly. “Is that what this is about?”
“No, Monroe needs a friend right now.”
“Yeah, I got that. I just…I should have asked first. This is your place, and even though he’s your teammate, I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“It’s your place too; as long as you stay here, you can invite whoever you want over. Well, maybe not Hailee; she hates me.”
Bea laughs, her small body shaking against mine.
“Understandable, really. You make her life a lot harder than it needs to be.”
Finally, she pulls her face from my chest and looks up at me.
Her kind eyes stare into mine, and I have to fight to keep myself under control.
I don’t know what I want more—to tell her all my secrets and give her the darkest parts of me, or to kiss her.
She slides her hand up my chest before cupping my cheek.
“When you came in just now,” she starts, “were you feeling a little jealous, maybe?”
Goddamn it.
“What? No, of course not. Of you and Monroe?” Of him learning something about you before me?
Never.
“Okay, good, because you know I’m not interested in anyone else, right? My life is complicated enough right now.” I think it’s meant to be a joke, but it falls a little flat as all those feelings come flooding back at the thought of her being with someone else.
“You deserve someone like him. Monroe is good people. He’s caring and loyal, and he doesn’t take life too seriously.
He doesn’t go through women like they’re going out of fashion.
He says he wants to, but I’ve yet to see him with anyone.
I think he wants a real relationship, not a fleeting encounter. He’d be good for you.”
“That’s good to know. But the only man I need right now is you, Everett.”
I scoff, but she doesn’t let me argue. Instead, she presses her fingers to my lips, trapping the words inside my mouth.
“Go shower, then we’ll eat pizza, and I’ll kick your ass on CoD.”
My brows shoot up. “Oh, will you now?”
“Monroe said you’re not very good. So yes, I think I will.”
“He’s just a kid; what does he know?” I tease.
“Exactly,” she says, smiling as she steps away, taking her warmth with her.
The urge to pull her back to me is strong, but I resist.
For now, at least.