Chapter 5
TALLY
“Ineed shots!” I set the emergency credit card courtesy of my dad on the bar top. We’re at the Watering Hole, and my good-decisions button has been flipped to the off position. “Who wants to do one with me?”
Dred wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. She is not a shots girl.
“I could,” Rix offers.
“Same,” Hammer agrees.
“Just one,” Hemi hedges.
“Lemon drops?” I suggest.
I get nods of approval and order six.
No one comments, but Hemi purses her lips, and Dred makes her are-you-sure-that’s-a-good-idea? face.
“Thanks for coming out.” I clink my glass against theirs and down mine, then follow with the remaining two.
I raise my hand to order more, but Hammer pulls it down. “Maybe give it a minute.”
“And have a glass of soda.” Dred hands me a cola.
I grudgingly accept it. I’ve already had two margaritas. My initial disbelief from dinner has morphed into simmering rage, and I need out of my head.
That makes me doubly appreciative that my Babes dropped everything to be here. I love my Tilton friends, but Fee has lost both of her parents, so crying about mine getting a divorce feels insensitive.
“I know this isn’t about me, but my parents’ timing was terrible.” The high of my performance followed by the low of their divorce is a real shock. They probably didn’t want to fake it through the holidays.
“I’m really sorry, Tally.” Hammer gives me a side hug.
“I don’t even know how to process this. Plus, finals begin next week, and then it’s Christmas.
I don’t even know what that will look like this year.
I can’t imagine I’ll feel like celebrating.
” I’m suddenly buried under the stress of all the unknowns.
“Let’s talk about something else.” I need to get off the merry-go-round of what-ifs and oh-nos.
“How about we plan our New Year’s party?” Hemi suggests.
“Connor may have already taken care of this.” Dred rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
“Oooh! Party at Grace Manor?” Rix is obsessed with the chef’s kitchen there.
“Well, we are having a party at a Grace property.” Dred fiddles with the bracelets on her wrist. “I might have mentioned doing something in Huntsville this year, and Connor may or may not have bought the lodge on the lake—not rented out the rooms, bought the entire place.”
“I didn’t know it was for sale,” Hemi says.
“It wasn’t.” Dred sips her soda.
“Seems like something he would do for you,” Essie muses.
“He’s ridiculous,” Dred replies.
“He’s obsessed.” How amazing would it be to have someone love me the way Connor loves Dred? But nothing is guaranteed. Anyone can fall out of love. My parents just proved that.
“He really is.” She smiles softly. “Will you come? Or do you have plans with Fee and Cammie? They could also come. Lord knows there’s enough room.”
“Tilton has a tournament that weekend, and Cammie and Fee are driving up with the guys.” I haven’t made the commitment to tag along, though I’ve been invited.
As much as I love my Tilton friends, spending New Year’s with a bunch of guys who want to make the pros is a recipe for disappointment and frustration.
The last thing I want is to drunkenly sleep with one of Chase’s teammates.
Tristan’s youngest brother Brody and I often find ourselves huddled together at such events, trying to avoid the nonsense that comes with our Terror affiliations.
Fee occasionally falls into this category, too, because her sister Lexi is an assistant coach for the Terror and is married to their former goalie, Roman, who is also Hammer’s dad.
But the attention is new for Fee, so she has a higher tolerance than me and Brody.
The bell over the door tinkles, and a gust of cold wind blows in with the Terror boys.
“I told Dallas what was going on and he gathered the rest of the troops,” Hemi explains.
“They all came?”
“We want to support you,” Hemi says gently.
My heart stutters when Flip appears, dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. He removes his toque and runs his hand through his thick, dark hair. It feels like a year has passed, instead of just hours, since he gave me flowers.
The girls greet their significant others, and I sneakily order another shot while I’m hidden behind Hemi and Dallas.
Flip ends up two stools down, and the woman beside him immediately starts chatting with him.
It happens all the time. Usually I let it roll off me, but not tonight.
My parents’ marriage is ending, my family is broken, my idea of love has been shattered, and I don’t even know how to process the betrayal I feel over my mom leaving me on the outside of this with everyone else.
My life is spinning out of control and some random woman is flirting with Flip.
His gaze finds mine, and I realize I’ve been staring. The woman’s back is to me, so she can’t see us making eye contact over her shoulder. He arches a concerned brow. I arch a defiant one in return.
I shoot my shot, maintaining eye contact. She puts her hand on his arm, dragging his attention back to her. Which, of course, pisses me off. Irrationally.
I push away from the bar, doing my best to walk a straight line to Flip. Based on my slight wobble, the shots are catching up to me. This explains why I don’t adjust course and head for the bathroom, instead of proceeding toward the star of my fantasies.
“Hi.” Now that I’m standing in front of him, I don’t know what to do.
He turns away from the woman flirting with him, and she shoots me a “I was here first” look. She has no idea.
Flip tips his head, furrow deepening as he settles a single finger under my chin. The woman behind him frowns at the intimate contact.
“How many of me are in front of you?”
Triumph emboldens me and I blink a couple of times to bring him into focus. “Just one.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Phillip.” I drag a fingertip between his eyes to smooth the furrow.
“What’s going on here, Tally?”
For some reason, I go with blunt honesty. I must have drunk my filter to death. “I’m jealous. I hate the way that woman was touching you, and I want it to be me.”
Everything about him softens. “Talls.”
The woman who was chatting him up has moved to her friends, her irritation clear in her rigid stance. I climb into Flip’s lap and drape an arm over his shoulder. I don’t even mind the fresh disapproval slanting his brow, because his attention is on me.
“How drunk are you?” His hand settles between my shoulder blades. I finger the silky strands at the nape of his neck, encouraged by the fact that he hasn’t moved me off his lap.
“Not that drunk.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause you’re sitting in my lap, Talls.” His fingers slip under my hair and flex against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. Something shifts between us, and suddenly I’m hot all over.
“I feel safe with you. Everything is falling apart. I want us to be okay.” I follow the neck of his T-shirt with a single finger.
Flip folds my roaming hand in his. It feels good to have him touch me like this, to have his focus on me. “How about I get you some water?”
I don’t like that he’s treating me like a child, even if I’m behaving that way. “How about you stop acting like my daddy, Phillip?”
“I’m trying to help you make good choices, kitten.” The dark look on his face, his gravelly tone, and the surprise term of endearment all send a thrill through me.
So I keep pushing. “What if I don’t want to make good choices?”
His nostrils flare. “You’re a problem tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m supposed to protect you from guys like me,” he whispers. The DJ cues up a song I like, and another great alcohol-fueled idea forms.
I slide off Flip’s lap and move to stand between his legs. He doesn’t stop me as I run my hands up his thick thighs. “Then I guess you have to come dance with me.”
“Haven’t you had enough dancing tonight?”
“Never.” I bat my lashes and push my lips out in a pout. “Pretty please?”
His gaze moves over me on a slow sweep. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Fine. I’ll ask Quinn or Kellan. I bet they’d like to dance with me.”
He shakes his head. “Not if they know what’s good for them.”
A shiver skitters down my spine as he slides off his chair. The front of his body brushes mine as he rises to his full height, fingers skimming the length of my arm. It feels intentionally intimate. “You’ll be my bodyguard?”
“I’ll keep the worst of the wolves away.”
He lets me pull him to the dance floor, which is rarely used for its intended purpose. It’s mostly full of our friends standing around, chatting. Dred arches a brow at us, but I don’t care. All I want is to stay inside this little bubble with Flip and nothing else matters.
The DJ at the Watering Hole usually sucks, but I can dance to anything.
I spin to face Flip, which on any other day I would manage with grace. But the shots finally hit me, and the room spins too. I trip over my own feet, falling into a set of arms.
“Whoa, hey.” Quinn Romero rights me, hands on my hips.
“Sorry.” I pat his chest. “I’m a little tis-pee. Tippy. Tipsy.” I close an eye so there’s only one of him and hold my fingers apart.
“That you are.” A dimple appears high on Quinn’s freckled cheek.
His eyes are a warm seafoam green, and his jaw is angular.
“How are you single?” I blurt.
He laughs. “Oh, you’re really drunk, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. But seriously, you’re gorgeous, and you’re nice, so you should totally have a girlfriend.” The room is spinning in earnest now, so I clutch his bicep to stay upright. “Prolly time to go home,” I mumble.
Quinn’s expression softens. “I can take you. I was getting ready to leave anyway.”
“No.” A strong arm snakes around my waist, and I stumble back into Flip’s hard chest. “I’ve got her.”
“I’m fine.” My stomach roils dangerously, as reality sets in. “I’ll just take an Uber.” I don’t want to throw up on Flip, or in his car, and I’m worried both options are possible with the way the world has turned into a tilt-a-whirl.
All the things I’ve done tonight in the name of sidelining the shitstorm that is my life tumble down in a hailstorm of embarrassment. I sat in Flip’s lap, and he let me. He let me pull him onto the dance floor. He called me kitten.
Does he feel sorry for me?
Is he placating me?
I’m confused and angry and sad and mortified and growing drunker by the second.
“You’re not taking an Uber,” he growls.
I look up at his beautiful face and wish I could see inside his head to understand his motives, but I’m too scattered and messy. Flip bends and slides his arm under my legs, lifting me off the ground. I’m all muscle and heavier than I look, but he holds me like I weigh nothing.
“What are you doing?” I drop my forehead to his shoulder and close my eyes to stop the merry-go-round as he crosses the room.
“Taking care of you.” He carries me out of the Watering Hole and into the cold December night.