Chapter 39
Kieran
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
want to tell me what has my best friend so depressed?
is this how it felt when I ignored you?
KIERAN
yes
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
it sucks
KIERAN
I know
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
want to talk about it?
KIERAN
I don’t think I’d be able to get the words out
Have you ever done something and immediately regretted it? Because I have. I’ve regretted what I said to Layla every day for the past three weeks.
I’ve regretted it on the days I come home and find her singing with Emmy in the kitchen, trying and failing not to burn food.
I’ve regretted it in the moments when she’s near and my fingers itch to touch her.
I’ve regretted it when I lie awake and want to call her and tell her to come back, and most importantly, I regret it in the moments where I find her and Emmy curled up in the library room.
Because she belongs here.
At first, I was waiting. Every single charged moment of teasing, banter, and flirting, I would wait with baited breath that the tension would snap between us. That Layla would throw her arms around me and say that she thinks I’m good enough and that she cares for me, but that never happened.
Maybe I’m not good enough after all.
I haven’t slept since that night, and if I do, it’s plagued by dreams replaying the moment in the library over and over—Layla begging for me and my dumbass pulling back and saying no.
It was that fucking kiss.
I avoided kissing her because I knew it would be my ruining, but it felt so good. More than good, it was heaven on earth.
It was everything I ever dreamed about.
It was like coming home.
I’ve never had a loving, stable, safe home before.
And the thought of finding my home, only to lose it…I wouldn’t be able to survive that type of loss. I wouldn’t be able to survive losing her.
Grayson’s stare is searing a hole in the side of my head.
I know he’s concerned, more than concerned—they all are. A throat clears from the table somewhere but I don’t care.
For some reason, the more I drink, the more I can’t take my eyes off my phone.
Is it weird that what I miss the most is Layla texting me chapters to read?
And no, it’s not just about the sex scenes.
She has no idea but I’d read the entire book every time.
For fuck’s sake I read her favorite book and annotated it.
I see her staring at the damn thing almost as much as I stare at her.
It showed me what she loved. She would light up from within, her cheeks glowing, her smile wide, when I talked about it with her. Every time I watched the shock flicker across her face when I’d mention something from one of the books was addicting.
I miss feeling close to her.
A balled-up paper napkin hits me square in the forehead. The glare I send Irving has his smile faltering.
“The fuck did you do that for?” I growl.
“You were zoning out.”
Johnson shakes his head. “Let the man be depressed, Irving.”
He looks genuinely hurt. “Why would we ever let him be sad? I don’t want him to be sad.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “I’m fine, Irving.”
“That’s a lie,” O’Connor mumbles around his beer bottle, his eyes never leaving the TV screen above our heads.
We found a bar to celebrate tonight’s win and yet for some reason, the celebrations are less rowdy than normal. I’m not sure if it’s Seattle, or maybe I really am bringing the mood down, but only half the team seems to be excited.
It’s a testament that Irving is sitting across from me and not in the bathroom stall with a puck bunny.
“Wanna talk about it?” Ellington offers.
I slump back in my chair. “Look guys, I appreciate it, and I get it, I’m not as charming and quick-witted as usual.” That earns a round of chuckles. “But I’m fine. Just need a good night’s sleep.”
Grayson’s brow quirks. “A good night’s sleep?”
“Yes, Cap, a good night’s rest.”
“For three weeks?” Valenti says dryly.
Frowning, all I have to do is raise my brow at him. He of all people shouldn’t be pushing me right now. If he wants me to talk about my woman problems, I’ll have no qualms forcing him to do the same.
He just shakes his head, a twitch in his lips.
Yeah, that’s what I thought, fucker.
Now my grin truly is smug.
O’Connor places his beer bottle down on the table. “Well then, I’m off to call Cindy. I miss my girl.”
Grayson slaps down a wad of bills, covering the table. “Same here, boys, I promised Bella I’d FaceTime her.”
Irving’s jaw unhinges. “You are both so pussy whipped.”
“Fuck yeah I am,” Grayson says like it’s a badge of honor.
O’Connor drops down over the back of the booth. “It’s okay, one day you will be loved.” He pulls back with a smirk before Irving can hit him.
“I am loved by many!” Irving calls to his retreating form, genuine indignation in his tone.
Grayson laughs as he comes to a stop beside me. “You good?” he asks quietly.
A measly thumbs-up is all I can muster. “Promise.”
He slaps my shoulder, squeezing. “Call me if you need anything.”
“And interrupt your FaceTime?” I say slowly, knowingly. I can’t help but shudder. “I was already traumatized walking in, I don’t need to interrupt again.”
Grayson’s cheeks flush all the way down to his neck and he’s quick to make a beeline for the exit, mumbling over his own words.
I’m shaking with laughter as we watch our six foot four captain high-tail it out of the bar.
Ellington leans forward. “What the hell did you say to him?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Blowing out a breath, Ellington looks around the bar. “Where the hell did all the bunnies go?”
At that, Irving’s eyes snap open. “What the fuck?”
Johnson’s grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “The rookies beat your senior asses to it.”
“Senior my ass, old man,” Ellington chides. “You’ve got eight years on me. How’s your creaky knees?”
“Eight years of experience in all areas and I’m proud of it.”
“I don’t think the bunnies like your saggy balls,” Irving says earnestly. “It’s why they flock to me.”
“You get my sloppy seconds.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
Ellington throws his hands in the air. “Fuck this, I’m heading to another bar.”
Before he can even stand, Irving is getting up, his chair falling back. “I’m coming too.”
Ellington pulls a face that makes Irving pause and raise his hands in surrender. “I swear it won’t happen again.”
Johnson leans forward, hooked and interested. “What won’t happen again?”
Ellington turns slightly pale as he points an accusatory finger at Irving. “Don’t say a fucking word.”
Valenti sits there, wide-eyed.
“Shit, even you don’t know?” I ask him.
Johnson rubs his hands together. “Ooh, if your little bestie over here doesn’t know it’s got to be good.”
Irving makes a show of smacking his lips closed, pressing hard. But Johnson stares him down, and every second that passes, Irving’s cheeks flush redder, a stark contrast to his mop of blond hair.
He looks like he’s going to explode.
Ellington steps forward. “Irving, I swear to god—”
“We kissed!” he blurts out, his chest heaving with the revelation.
Johnson throws his head back, laughing, as my and Valenti’s jaws unhinge in unison.
Ellington pinches the bridge of his nose in clear frustration. “Fucking Irving.”
“I’m sorry,” Irving mutters. “Did you not see his face? The dude is scary. He does the whole Darth Vadar stare like he’s my dad and will ground me.”
“You’re a grown-ass dude.”
“Who you kissed.”
Ellington snaps his head in Johnson’s direction. “First of all, I know for a fact you’ve been with men so shut your trap. And secondly”—he points an accusatory finger around the table—“there’s nothing wrong with kissing men.”
“Nah, nothing at all,” I say, finally working away the shock from my beer-muddled mind. “It’s just—”
“It’s Irving,” Valenti finishes.
“I know,” Ellington sighs.
“Hey! I’m a great kisser.”
Jack Lewis, with his impeccable timing, swaggers up to the table, already rolling his eyes. “Why the fuck is Irving declaring his sexual prowess again? Who challenged him?”
“Apparently Ellington,” Valenti mutters into his beer bottle. He suddenly chokes on his sip of beer as Ellington clips him on the back of the head, and the table bursts into a round of laughter.
“What the fuck did I miss?” Lewis asks, taking a seat.
“Ellington and Irving kissed,” Johnson pipes up.
Lewis bursts into a coughing fit before getting himself under control, grinning. “I can totally see it.”
“You can’t see shit,” Ellington argues. “It was during a threesome. Both our eyes were closed and we didn’t realize.”
Irving sighs contentedly. “Fuck, she was beautiful.”
Ellington smirks. “Must say, was totally worth kissing this piece of shit to be with her.”
“I am not a piece of shit.”
“You’ve pulled more pranks than goals.”
Irving’s eyes widen. “I fucking have not!”
Johnson whips out his phone. “I can pull up stats of both.”
“Oh, I’m fucking sat for this conversation,” Lewis snorts.
The chatter and banter of the table drown out as my phone vibrates in my hands. I’m ashamed to admit how quickly I pick it up, my heart skipping a beat the second I see Layla’s contact flash across my screen.
MY FUTURE WIFE
*photo attachment*
have one very proud IceHawks cheerleader over here
Biting the inside of my cheek to stop the smile that wants to spread free, I open the photo and immediately download it. It’s a selfie, Layla holding the phone out with Emmy sitting next to her, nestled in bed, her dimples on full display as she beams up at the camera.
Both of them are wearing my jersey.
My girls.
My fucking girls.
My heart aches.
Suddenly, I feel wrong. I’m not in the right city, not in the right state, not in the right place. I should be home, with them.
The ache is a persistent, bone-deep craving that I know I need to answer.
It could be the alcohol coursing through my veins or it could be that it’s been three weeks since I’ve been able to touch Layla but suddenly everything feels wrong and I know there’s only one thing to do to make it right.
I stand, the table falling quiet at my sudden movement. “I’m out. See you guys back in Colorado.”
Valenti only smirks. “See you later, Ashford.”
I don’t stick around to explain anything. I can hear the mumbled questions, but I don’t care.
Pulling out my phone, I order an Uber, and then a flight.