19. Connor
CONNOR
Since our chat, Grace’s been giving me shit about my impersonal emails to Eden. “Just because you can’t pursue anything doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be friendly,” she said a couple of days ago. “Clients want to feel that connection to you when they’re handing their lives over to you.”
Little does she know how hard it’s been to maintain my distance. The bland words have served as essential armor when all I fucking want to do is drive to Anderson House to see her.
I need the protection. Otherwise I might do something…stupid.
Like when I’m alone in the shower and imagine pulling on a ponytail of honey-colored hair while a certain soft, dark pink mouth circles my dick.
Shit, too late.
So yeah, I’m avoiding being vulnerable. As best I can, anyway. I will see her today—when we all watch the Waves game together.
It’ll be like a teaser, a small sip. An edging, again.
I can’t find the will to retract my plan to attend, and I already told Milo I wouldn’t go to the brunch. I’ll allow myself these three hours with her. We’ll be surrounded by family and friends, so nothing can happen anyway.
When I walk into the suite, I immediately spot Grace and Rawley’s girlfriend, Avery—but not Eden or her family yet.
“Connor, come sit by me,” Avery instructs as I approach them. She and I have gotten to know each other well with me staying with Rawley, and we appreciate each other’s snarky side.
“Actually,” Grace says to her, “Connor has someone else coming who he may want to sit with.”
Jesus. Not helpful. She must believe I’m going to play by the company rules, or she wouldn’t have let that slip.
“Grace, remind me never to tell you another secret.”
She looks sheepish. “Sorry.”
“Wait, what’s the story?” Avery asks.
I reply so my sister doesn’t. “No story. Del Larsson’s family is going to be in the box, and I brought Eden into the firm as a new client, so I’ll probably entertain her.” I give Grace a pointed look to not say more.
Before Avery can poke around further, a little girl squeals, “Emma! It’s me!”
I turn, and there’s Eden with her stepmom and stepsister, the owner of the voice in question. She races down the steps to where Emma is sitting, and they jump up and down.
“I never ever thought I would see you again.”
“Me either.”
“Sheesh,” Eden says to Tina, in an amused tone. “That’s Johnson’s niece. You’d think they were long-lost friends instead of only playing together once.”
“Welcome to girlhood.” Tina laughs before looking up at me. “Hi, Connor.”
I take two steps closer to them. “Hi, good to see you again.”
“Let me go introduce myself to Emma’s mom,” Tina says to excuse herself.
Still standing, Eden puts her hand on the back of the seat next to her. “This is a nice setup.”
With the others scattered, I can finally drink her in.
She looks so herself, all sporty Florida ease.
Her hair is in a ponytail—I try not to think about the images from my shower—with a few soft tendrils loose around her face.
She’s wearing a well-worn Waves T-shirt, likely purchased during her dad’s playing days, and white shorts.
Talk, Connor. “Johnson’s had this box for years. There’s a great junk food selection, if you’re hungry?”
She giggles. “I shouldn’t indulge in season, but show me what you got.”
I bring her to the back part of the suite where there are high tables and bar stools, and a long countertop loaded with heated silver trays.
“It’s your usual suspects—hot dogs, fries, chicken tenders. And the chocolate chip cookies are addictive. You can’t have just one.”
She moans. “Are they warm?”
Unable to resist, I lean in and whisper, “So warm.”
“Dang it, I’m trying one.”
She grabs a cookie before claiming a table, and I join her after snagging us two waters.
“Okay, I’m going in,” she says, picking up the cookie.
She takes a bite, the cookie so soft it breaks apart easily as she holds it. Her eyes roll back like she’s in heaven, as she savors the taste.
The only problem? The look on her face is what I imagined on that Fourth of July night, when she came on my fingers. The memory makes my dick twitch.
Calm the fuck down. Time and place.
She interrupts my visions of that night. “What do they put in these things?”
“So good, right? Have another one.”
She shrugs. “I think I must.”
“I’ll get it for you. And one for myself.”
When I come back, she’s finishing the first cookie. As pure pleasure filters across her face, I feel the tug of a thought—I want to give her more of that.
“Okay, this second one is my limit,” she declares. “This is not a nutritionally sound decision.”
“I told you, they’re addictive.”
We polish off the cookies, and I notice she’s got some chocolate on her bottom lip as she starts to stand.
“Wait, stay still.” She pauses as asked, and I reach out with my right thumb. “Just let me get this.” I rub her lip back and forth to get the chocolate off, cupping underneath her chin.
“Oh,” she gasps softly.
This does not help the situation with my dick, but I ignore it. “All set.”
“Thanks.”
As she turns toward the field, I sneak my thumb into my mouth and suck the taste of her with the chocolate.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My discipline needs some work.
“I’ve never met Avery,” Eden says as she steps down into the other part of the suite.
I adjust my shorts subtly. “She’ll love you. I’ll make the introductions.”
We take two seats behind Grace and Avery, and they both turn around.
“Avery, this is Eden,” I say.
“Hey,” Avery replies, a smile broadening on her face. “Nice to meet you. Grace was telling me all about you just now.”
I swivel to my sister. What does that mean? Did she tell Avery more about my situation with Eden?
Grace shakes her head as she catches my eye. Confirmation that she did not betray my confidences.
“Well, I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been to some Surge games with my dad over the years.”
“Ah, yes, we’re both part of the second-generation athlete club.” Avery’s dad is Boston NBA legend Paul Parker. “Come to a game anytime. This one”—she points to me—“knows how to reach me for tickets.” She smirks in my direction.
“I can definitely hook you up,” I say to Eden, winking. Shit, Avery’s playfulness is contagious. Would Eden and I end up going together then? I’m trying to keep my distance but…
Eden’s too distracted by Avery to wonder about such questions, it seems. “I saw your sister when UConn played the Tolliver team last year. Is she liking Tampa?”
Remy, Avery’s little sister, was drafted by the Tampa WNBA team in April after finishing her senior season at UConn. She became their starting point guard by the end of her rookie season last month.
“She loves it. Especially the St. Pete nightlife.” Avery chuckles. “My brother Dylan and cousin Wells are playing for the NBA team there, of course, so that helps the transition. Remy and Wells were best friends growing up.”
“Nice.”
“Do you know where you want to end up next year?” She looks at Grace and me, in succession. “Sorry, these guys probably know the answer.”
I’m actually interested in how Eden answers this, knowing she’s been in conflict over her future.
“I just want to play, which means finding a club that needs a striker. That’s harder than you’d expect.”
“Yeah, riding the bench sucks,” Avery says, her eyes glazing over.
“Los Angeles or Phoenix would be cool because they’re closeish to where I grew up, or Florida of course. But mainly, I want to start.”
“The NWSL keeps expanding too,” adds Grace. “So you never know what’s going to emerge as an option.”
The crowd explodes around us as the stadium rocks with cheers. Our heads crane to the jumbotron where there’s a replay of Landon tackling the opposition’s running back, who fumbles. Landon’s fellow linebacker, Manny, picks it up and runs the ball to the other end for a Waves touchdown.
“Woohoo,” Grace says when the replay is done, clapping.
Jeremy nails the extra point, and the Waves are up 14–0.
“We love a low-stress game,” Avery says under her breath. “Keep it up, boys.”
Grace focuses back on my seat neighbor. “So, Eden, you should tell Avery about…”
Not for the first time, I’m grateful for Grace’s social skills. Seeing Eden connect with Avery and Grace with ease calms me. The three of them end up talking as much as watching the game.
Which turns into a runaway win for the Waves. We’re up 28–7 with three minutes to go, after our running back bolts in for a touchdown.
“I think that’s going to do it,” I say.
Eden grins at me. “Glad I got the invite up here for a win.”
“Grace deserves the credit, not me. I’m not the one who invited you.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize they’re wrong. Too dry, too cold. Her big blue eyes look confused, and…hurt? Fuck.
I’m about to apologize when her phone pings. She lifts it, and I can see the message that’s popped up on her screen.
JAKE: Hey, we’re throwing a party at Hockey House on Thursday, if you want to come?
Who the hell is Jake? Hockey?
A small smile reaches her face, and she cocks her head like she’s deciding how to respond. Then I see her type out four letters. S-U-R-E.
Now I’m not only feeling annoyed I was an asshole earlier, but also fighting the discomfort growing in my gut.
Another ping indicates this Jake has responded, and—yeah, no shame—I angle my neck to peek.
JAKE: Could I take you out to dinner beforehand? Maybe around 7?
Eden reads the message right at the same time as me, because she crinkles her brow as my own unease skyrockets.
Are they dating? I don’t think so. Otherwise, why would she seem displeased? Maybe she has a conflict?
She gives a little shake of her head, like she’s talking to herself, and then finally she tucks the phone in her lap and swipes away the message without replying.
Jake. Tolliver hockey. I make a mental note to Google that combo later.
Grace glances over to me and then tilts her head. “What’s that expression? You look stressed.”
Because I am.