Chapter Nineteen
ARCHER
“This has been the longest five-day series ever.” Jack rolls onto his back, fingers interlaced across his chest as he stares up at the hotel ceiling.
Ordinarily, I share a hotel room with Sawyer, but the new GM has come in and immediately shaken things up, including the comfortable routines we got ourselves into. I can’t say he’s made himself popular with the team or Coach Morgan, especially since our preseason friendlies have largely been wins.
We’ve rolled Boston over twice, and I’ve played well, securing two shutouts. Jensen Jones is due to start with the coaching staff when we head back to New York tomorrow, and I’m hopeful that with his added input, I can make this my best NHL season yet.
Jack’s right though; despite the successful preseason away series, this has been the longest time ever. Only made longer by having to hide my phone and text Darcy in secret.
And I feel shitty for it. Secret sex in the closet is exciting, fun, and so fucking hot. But replying to messages when her brother takes a shower is not what I want for our friendship.
It irks me because I look around and see all the other guys on our team video-calling and messaging their wives and partners while I’m stealing a quick text from my girl like it’s a drug hit, feeling ashamed when I do it.
Hell, I’m pretty sure I caught the back end of Jack and Kendra’s phone sex when I walked into the hotel room the other day, having finished a gym session earlier than expected.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Jack sits up on his bed, pulling out his phone and typing something—no doubt to his wife.
I study him with envy. “Do what?”
Finishing up, he sets his cell phone on the bed. “With Abbie. It’s hard enough, being married and trying to fit around soccer and hockey schedules, let alone what you have to do. I mean, when was the last time you saw her?”
It’s hard to look at him. Fuck me , I hate lying.
I roll onto my back, crossing my ankles over and trying to look relaxed. In reality, I’m anything but. “With her work schedule and everything, it’s hard to see her. But we try and make it work.”
“I dunno, man.” Jack shakes his head. “That’s a whole lot of long distance.” He reaches over to our shared nightstand, picking up his water glass and taking a couple of sips. “Still, I guess you have July and August to spend time together.”
My brows crease with confusion, and he must notice.
“That’s when kindergarten teachers get their summer break, no?”
Remembering that is, in fact, the make-believe job I gave my entirely fictional girlfriend, I clear my throat and nod in agreement. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll have to make the most of that time. Just sucks, having to wait out the year.”
“At least away games in Dallas will work.”
I don’t reply, choosing to close my eyes instead.
“I guess I’m shocked, is all. I never expected you to be a one-woman guy.”
Keeping my eyes closed, I will away this painful conversation. That said, every twinge of discomfort is my own making.
I sit up and grab my phone, which is face down on the nightstand. Anything to busy my hands and mind since the tension rolling off me must be noticeable. “Things change, Jack. I’m not getting any younger, and hookups don’t carry the same appeal anymore.”
“I get that,” Jack replies before falling silent.
Please be it, please be it, please be it.
He opens his mouth, and my heart sinks.
“Do you think Abbie’s the one then?” His face lights up, probably on my behalf. “I knew with Kendra, and I get the feeling it’s the same for you with Abbie.”
Puffing out a doubtful breath since the woman doesn’t even exist, I can’t help the laugh that follows. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “You’ve been different these past few weeks. Quieter, maybe even subdued. You’ve been heading home earlier on nights out, and I assumed it was so you could call your girl.”
Nope. So I could bone your sister.
When I finally pluck up the courage to look at my friend, he’s waiting for me to speak. The guy is happy for me, and here I am, keeping multiple secrets, which I know, in the end, will tear our friendship apart. Possibly even the team.
Since that night at the dinner, Sawyer hasn’t spoken about Darcy with me again.
He said his piece, and he was likely right.
However things end with Darcy, whether I make her my girl or not— who am I kidding?
Of course I’m making her mine —Jack is going to be pissed.
And the longer I let the lies and deceit go on, the deeper the damage will get.
I can hear the words I want to say as they echo in my brain. I’ve got feelings for your sister, and you need to know we’re sleeping together. They’re right there, dancing in the space between our hotel beds, screaming at me in the silence that’s descended on our conversation.
It’s obvious Jack can tell something isn’t right. The guy isn’t an idiot.
Still, the early nights, the elusive behavior, and not hooking up with other women—all my actions are explainable with Abbie. Darcy doesn’t want Jack to know all her private business. The problem is, she doesn’t want him to know because she sees us as fun and nothing more.
My hand curls around my phone, growing frustration threatening to crush it.
“I-is everything okay, buddy?”
Jack’s question breaks the spiraling thoughts, and I sit back, pushing my head into the plush headboard.
“I’m good. It’s just been a series.”
Grabbing his phone, Jack stands and rests a hand on my shoulder.
“Tell me about it. I’m going to head out for a walk; I can’t seem to shake the lactic acid buildup from last night.
” He squeezes his palm and smiles at me.
“Also, it’ll give you some time to call Abbie.
I guess she’ll be finished with school about now. ”
All I can do is smile back because telling Jack and breaking Darcy’s confidence is not an option. She’d never forgive me, and I’d likely lose her forever.
When he throws on a jacket and steps out of the hotel room, I unlock my phone and bring up the text chat with Darcy. We haven’t spoken today, and I know that’s because she’s at work.
I fucking miss her and hate even more that I don’t know when we’ll next meet up.
Sitting up on the bed, I curl my biceps and take a picture, sending it to her.
Doll: Was this supposed to impress me?
I burst out laughing.
Me: Brat. Yes, it absolutely was.
Doll: The visual only winds me up. I like to feel it.
Me: Funny you should say that since that’s why I was texting. When can I see you again?
Doll: You’re insatiable—you know that?
Me: Yes. Tomorrow night? We land back from Boston at lunchtime.
Doll: No can do.
Me: Girls’ night?
Doll: Chess club.
Fuck me. This girl and her brains.
Me: I have a confession.
Doll: Go on.
Me: When you were sick, I snooped a little bit and found your sudoku book.
Doll: Oh, well, that would explain why it wasn’t where I’d left it.
Doll: Did you try to solve one?
Me: Bahaha! Baby, I got an F in math. I couldn’t solve it, even with the answers you had written down.
Doll: Sudoku isn’t centered around maths; it involves the application of logic and deduction. I can teach you sometime if you’d like.
Me: Is that your kind of foreplay?
Doll: Problem-solving is my favorite thing.
I huff a laugh out into the empty hotel room. I wonder if she’ll be any good at fixing my broken heart when she shatters it into a million pieces.
Me: Sure, if you’ve got the patience of a saint, then go ahead and teach me how it works.
Doll: Okay, this is such fun! We can start at the beginner level and progress from there.
I don’t need to ask her to send me a picture to know how big her excitable grin is right now.
Me: How about I pick you up from chess club? Unless you think I’ll cramp your style?
Doll: And do what afterward?
Me: I thought you were supposed to be smart …
Doll: Fair point. Chess club is at Franklin Park and finishes at eight. Just stay in your car or something, and I’ll meet you outside.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I guess this can only go one of two ways …
Me: What if I took you out for dinner?
Doll: Are you kidding? You’ll be recognized, and our cover will be blown.
Me: I have that issue figured out.
Me: Let me take you out. Spoil you a little.
It’s five minutes, two anxious bathroom breaks, and one attempt to delete the message later when Darcy finally replies.
Doll: You’ve got yourself a deal, Thigh Boy.
Don’t dance in the hotel room, Archer.
Me: Perfect. Stay pretty, A, x.