Chapter 69 Lincoln
LINCOLN
“Don’t,” I bark the second Rett looks like he’s going to follow Parker.
Pain rips through my chest as I think about what I just said.
I didn’t mean any of it.
I don’t want her looking for another apartment and moving out. I just said what I had to say in the moment.
The only place Parker belongs is right here with me.
It doesn’t escape my attention that I probably should have said just that.
Fuck the consequences. We should have been honest.
“The fuck?” Rett snaps back. “She’s my fucking sister.”
“And she’s my…” Girlfriend. “Roommate. Just give her some time to calm down.”
“Since when did you become her keeper?”
“I’m not. I just know she needs a moment.” His eyes narrow as he studies me, hopefully thinking about the times when we were younger, when she lost her shit and needed to vanish. If I got the chance, I’d go after her. But it wasn’t always possible. If I could go now, I’d be there in a heartbeat.
You only promised not to hurt her a few hours ago, and now look…
I shake that thought from my head.
We agreed to keep this between us for now. When we’re ready, we’ll tell the world…Rett…but that time isn’t now. Especially the night before a game. The team needs me not to be lying in a hospital bed because Everett Donnelly put me there before we even stepped foot on the ice.
Rett’s shoulders bunch around his ears as he looks back toward my guest bedroom with concern etched into his expression.
He cares a lot about Parker. He never intends to hurt her, and he also doesn’t mean to make it worse once he has, but he has this way of riling her up. He always says the wrong thing, and the whole situation spirals. He’s better out here.
“So, what the fuck are you doing here already?” I ask, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge and passing him one as I make my way to the couch.
It fucking kills me to do it, but what other choice do I have?
“I took an early flight.”
“Your coach approved that?”
“Well, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,” he snarks.
I shake my head, muttering, “Asshole.”
“Honestly,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious edge, “they were glad to be rid of me for the night.”
I frown, not liking a single word that just fell from his lips.
“I think Coach is hoping that a night with my family might help.”
“Help how?” I ask, concern for my best friend growing.
Sure, we’ve slipped further and further apart in the time he’s been up in Seattle, but we still talk regularly.
“You haven’t been online much then?”
“Uh…” Honestly, between work and Parker, there hasn’t been much time for anything else. Plus, I know that the media is full of bullshit fake news, and the less I read it the better. “No. Why? What have you done?”
He shrugs. “Just…you know, being me.”
I groan because I do know him.
When things aren’t going his way, or life is a bit dull for whatever reason, he always goes out and finds the excitement—much to the delight of the media, and the dismay of the PR Director over in the Bandits’ front office.
“The season is going to shit. We don’t stand a chance of making the playoffs and…I’m fucking over it, you know. Losing is not the same buzz as winning.”
“Rett,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face and rubbing my jaw. “You gotta learn to take the rough with the smooth, man.”
“Don’t. You sound like my therapist.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m right?” I point out. “You need to get your ass in line and focus on your job.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
I stare at my best friend. Together, we might be a bit of a nightmare, but it’s not a secret that he’s the worst. Maybe if it weren’t for him and his wild ways, I would have been brave enough to fight for Parker all those years ago.
Rett’s always had stars in his eyes despite having Clark in the background, trying to keep him tethered to the ground.
He lives for the fame, the girls, the parties.
He also lives for the drama.
I swear, if there aren’t at least five stories about him circling online, he gets the jitters that he’s going to be forgotten.
Fuck knows where it all comes from. He grew up in one of the most stable homes I know—if you ignore Clark travelling for work. His parents are solid. They’ve given him everything he could possibly want. He’s got the career of his dreams, but for some reason, it’s just not enough.
“You know they’ll trade you if you do too much damage,” I point out.
I’m pretty sure the words are unnecessary, but I say them regardless. He needs to hear them. Maybe they’ll hit differently coming from my mouth.
He just shrugs, making it look like he doesn’t give a shit, which I know is far from the truth.
He loves Seattle, and he loves his team. He’s worked too fucking hard there not to. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how valuable a player is on the ice if their behavior off it is hurting the franchise.
Conversation turns to tomorrow night’s game before we dive into the Vipers’ season so far and their chances for the cup this year. Despite Rett being a Bandit, the Vipers are his team. We were wearing green and white before we even knew what it meant.
He follows our season just as closely as he does his own.
He’s never voiced it, but I know for a few seasons at least, he was bitter as fuck that I managed to find a place on the Vipers’ roster and he didn’t.
Maybe one day there will be a place for him.
I know Coach respects him as a player. How could you not?
He’s one of the best defensemen in the league.
He just comes with a lot of baggage and drama, and Coach isn’t down for that.
I should know; he’s ripped me a new one a few times when I’ve got carried away on a night out in the past.
“I guess you’re staying here tonight?” I ask when Rett begins yawning.
“That was my plan. Although I wasn’t expecting you to already have a house guest.”
“It’s Parker,” I say. “She’s always been as welcome here as you.”
He studies me, a small frown between his brows.
“I thought you hated each other.”
A laugh tumbles free. “Rett, I’ve never hated your sister.”
“Right. Well, good, because she’s awesome.”
I nod, terrified that if I open my mouth, I’ll say too much and give myself away.
Before I risk doing any more damage, Parker and I need to come up with a game plan. And before we can do that, I really need to apologize.
“I guess I’ll take your box room then,” he mutters, getting to his feet.
“Oh, hardly,” I scoff. There isn’t a single room in this place that can be compared to a box. “See you in the morning.”
“Yeah,” he agrees as he walks off.
As he stops to pick up the small carry-on he abandoned in my hallway when he first arrived, he looks back over his shoulder. “Thank you for looking out for her. You were right earlier. I’d have fucking killed you if you didn’t.”
I smile in acceptance, knowing that he’s probably going to kill me anyway.
Watching the seconds tick around on the clock, I wait.
And wait.
There is only one bedroom I want to spend tonight in, and I need to make sure Rett is staying put before I even attempt to slip into her room.
I shouldn’t. I should be good and go to my own room.
But I can’t.
Not only am I addicted to sleeping beside her, but I need to talk to her about earlier.
She looked utterly defeated as she marched from the room with her shoulders slumped and her head down.
I did that.
It fucking kills me.
With my patience withering, I push to my feet, abandon my empty bottle in the kitchen, and after making a stop in my bathroom, I silently slip into Parker’s bedroom.
The fact that she’s fully closed the door wrecks me. She’s actively choosing to embrace her fear in order to put a physical wall up between us.
I guess I should be grateful there isn’t a lock on the door because, if there was, I have no doubt she’d have used it.
The room is silent as I make my nightly journey around the bed.
It annoys me that she sleeps closest to the door.
Not because it’s my preferred side, but because there’s a caveman inside me that wants to have that side so I can protect her.
I’m not sure what from, but it feels right.
Just one of many things I never used to consider before that are now a big part of my life.
Her breathing is shallow and even. I hate that she’s fallen asleep with my words spinning around in her head.
Gently, I lift the sheets and slip under. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to groan loudly as the heat from her body hits mine.
“Linc,” she mumbles as I wrap myself around her like I have done every night we’ve slept together.
I know she’s asleep; she’s too pliant, too relaxed.
The second the fog lifts and reality comes back, her entire body stiffens.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“Go back to sleep, pretty girl,” I whisper.
She jerks in my hold, attempting to get away.
“You need to leave.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Linc,” she argues, still trying to free herself. “I’m only here temporarily, remember? I’m moving out.”
“Fuck that, babe. You’re not going anywhere.
I’m sorry,” I say, rolling her onto her back so I can gaze down at her.
“I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just…
fuck. I was panicking. Rett was standing there, and I was rocking a semi.
I didn’t…fuck, Parker. I wasn’t expecting to find him standing there, watching us. I didn’t know what to do.”
She falls silent for so long that if I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s fallen back to sleep. “Do you want to tell him?” she finally asks softly.
“Babe,” I sigh, pressing my forehead to hers and staring into her eyes. “I want to tell the world, not just your brother. But I don’t want to rush into it just because he’s turned up. We do this our way, yeah?”
She nods, but even in the dark, I can sense that she’s holding back.
“What is it, babe? You can tell me anything.”
“I…uh…I’ve told Casey.”
A laugh erupts.
“Why is that funny?” she asks, almost sounding offended.
“Because I assumed that she’s known this whole time. You tell her everything.”
She shakes her head. “I only told her tonight. I needed to talk to someone and…you were busy.”
“You’d have chosen me over Casey?” I ask, my mind blown.
“Hearing you say all of that, making out like I wasn’t important, hurt,” she explains, ignoring my question. “I freaked out. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” I say, cupping her jaw and kissing the tip of her nose. “You have nothing to apologize for. After the game tomorrow, we’ll tell him. Just don’t have too much to drink because you might need to drive me to the ER.”
“He was angry earlier,” she muses.
“Yeah, but I can handle Rett, babe. For you, I’ll handle anything.”