Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
cameron
Kennedy Caplan is a blanket hog.
Her post-orgasm snooze on my lap where she curled against me, soft and pliant and still, was apparently a cruel trick designed to lull me into a false sense of security.
She spent most the night burrowed under the comforter like she was preparing for hibernation, taking approximately 75 percent of the blanket with her.
Even when she relocated herself, her body sprawled over mine, her head on my chest, I was still only left with a strip of fabric approximately six inches wide. She’s under the impression that blankets are a single-player resource.
I should be miserable. I should be mentally composing an excuse to leave, planning my escape, regretting every decision that led to spending the night.
Instead, I’m lying here watching her sleep, studying the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the small furrow between her brows as she dreams, the way her fingers are curled into my chest like she’s holding on.
And the truly alarming part?
I don’t want to leave.
Even with my numb arm and the stolen blankets and the high probability of frostbite, since her apartment is freezing.
It’s early morning when my stomach grumbles and refuses to be ignored, so I quietly slip out of bed and wander to the kitchen.
It took me so long to get through the media circus last night that by the time I showered, changed, and finally left the arena, my main concern was getting to Kennedy, not eating a balanced meal.
A single receipt sits on the counter, verifying her declaration that she bought condoms in a variety of sizes.
But she also purchased gluten-free bagels.
I comb my fingers through my hair, throat going dry.
She did that for me. My chest tightens as I find them, and I can’t help but smile as I toast one, then smother it in cream cheese.
I set it on a small plate, then make my way back to bed.
Probably not the most considerate thing to eat in another person’s bed, but I don’t like the idea of Kennedy waking up and thinking I bailed on her.
What I knew after the Copper Lantern was confirmed yesterday: one night with Kennedy isn’t nearly enough. She’s addicting—her smiles, her laughter, her moans, her cover stealing, her freckles.
I’m scrolling on my phone, reading articles that analyze my shitty goalkeeping from last night’s game, when she finally stirs. She blinks slowly and stares at me for a solid ten seconds before asking, “Be so fucking for real, Cameron. Are you eating breakfast in my bed?”
“Yes?” I say through a mouthful of bagel. Thankfully, the plate in my lap catches any crumbs that drop from my mouth.
“That’s—you know what?” She sighs, burying her face in her pillow. “I’m too tired to care.”
“You’re tired?” I let out a sardonic laugh. “I’m the one who got left out in the elements all night with nothing more than a corner of that ridiculously pink comforter to warm me.”
She smirks and rubs her legs together like a cricket. “I’ve heard more than once that I steal the covers.”
“Would’ve been nice to know.”
“Would you have left?”
I take a bite of my bagel, waiting until I’ve chewed and swallowed to answer. “No, but I would’ve grabbed one of your million throw blankets if I had prior warning.”
“Hmm.” She twists onto her side, tucking her hands under her cheek. “I’m surprised you’re still here, to be honest. I figured you’d sneak out at the crack of dawn and leave a cryptic note behind.”
“That was the plan.” I wink so she knows it was absolutely never the plan. “But then I saw you bought gluten-free bagels and changed my mind.”
Her lips curl up lazily. “Figured you need to carb-load after expending all that energy.”
“Sweetheart, I could’ve gone about five more rounds last night if you hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly.”
Laughing, she snuggles deeper into her pillow. “I meant after the game, but good to know where your priorities lie. How do you feel?”
I kick up a brow. “About what?”
“Take your pick,” she says, voice still raspy from sleep. “Your conniving weasel ex, yesterday’s game… me rocking your world.”
The chuckle comes unbidden as I consider my answer. There’s a lot to unpack regarding last night, although I can’t say I’m at all disappointed by the outcome.
“Pissed and confused about Gigi,” I admit, zeroing in on the plate in my lap. “If she’s trying to get on my good side, I don’t know why she thought giving you the jersey that belonged to the guy she cheated with was a good idea.”
“I don’t think there was much thinking on her part.
She saw an opportunity and took it.” Kennedy shifts to face me more fully, her blue eyes swimming with concern.
“Did you beat the guy up after you found out? Because if seeing me in his jersey was a trigger, I can’t imagine how seeing him in person would affect you.
You don’t have to answer if you don’t want but—”
“But you’ll politely back off and never ask again?” I guess with a smirk because that’s not her MO.
“I was going to say that I can be very persuasive and I’m extremely nosy, so you might as well just tell me and save us both time.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “I didn’t know about it until after Linden got traded to New York, which is probably for the best.” The bitterness surfaces like it always has, though it’s faded. More like a memory than a feeling.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” I stare at the ceiling as parts of that conversation float through my mind.
“The worst part wasn’t even the cheating, really.
Yeah, that sucked, obviously, but it was how she told me.
She acted like she was doing me a favor by being honest, as if telling me that it was over between them would make me want to rebuild whatever the fuck we had. ”
“What’d you do?”
“Broke up with her on the spot.” I massage my jaw, wincing at the memory of her screaming and the way she flipped from apologetic to vicious in a heartbeat. “She didn’t take it well.”
Kennedy cuddles deeper under the covers. “She cheated and made herself the victim?”
“Classic Gigi.” The words come out harder than I intend. “A few weeks after I ended things, I found out she moved to New York to be with Linden.”
The silence stretches between us.
She blinks up at me, studying my face. “So when she told you she wanted to work through things…”
“She was hedging her bets,” I finish. “In case things with Linden didn’t pan out in New York. She figured she’d keep me around as backup. I was her safety net.”
“That’s so fucked up.” Her indignant frown on my behalf is cute. “How long were you together?”
“Two years.” Two years of my life wasted on a woman who was planning her exit strategy while sleeping in my bed. The woman who then had the audacity to act like I was the asshole for refusing to forgive her.
“And now she’s back.”
My gut churns. “Now she’s back.”
I don’t tell her about Logan’s hunch about why she’s back. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Whatever Gigi and I had, whatever I thought we had, died the moment she confessed to cheating. Before that, if I’m being truly honest.
What I have now, with Kennedy, is different. Real, even if it’s technically fake.
My lips quirk up, my mood brightening a little. “He’s never won a game against me, and then he got traded to Kansas.”
Kennedy perks up at this. I knew my petty queen would love that small bit of information. “I didn’t even know Kansas had a hockey team.”
“AHL,” I admit with a satisfied grin. “He got sent down.”
A deliciously evil laugh rolls out of her. “See? I’m not the only devious one in this relationship.”
If she realizes she forgot to add the fake part, she doesn’t backtrack.
And I don’t comment on it.
“If I’d known about the Kansas thing,” she says with a wistful sigh, “I probably wouldn’t have done what I did.”
I freeze, caught halfway between being scared and intrigued. “What’d you do?”
“Some light stalking.” She shrugs in a way that’s anything but sheepish. “Which may have led to finding his personal email address. Which I may have potentially used to sign up for a bunch of erectile disfunction help forums.”
I stare at her for a beat. Then another. “You did what?”
She grins against her pillow, which is the least offensive shade of pink in this room. “Approximately fifteen forums… and a few newsletter subscriptions. And maybe a couple of those spam sites that sell ‘male enhancement’ pills.”
A laugh builds deep in my chest, making me feel lighter than I have in a long time.
She simply shrugs again, like this is perfectly reasonable. “I figured his inbox could suffer a little.”
“A little? Kennedy, that’s—” Another laugh works its way out or me, making it hard to finish the sentence. “That’s diabolical.”
“Thank you.” She grins, looking genuinely pleased with herself.
“How did you even find his personal email?”
“I told you. Light stalking.” She waves dismissively. “He has a public Venmo. People are shockingly careless about their digital footprint, and his email is literally his full name at Gmail. Not exactly Fort Knox–level security.”
“And you just… signed him up for stuff?”
“Not just stuff. Very specific stuff designed to be maximally annoying and embarrassing.” She leans forward, a deviously sexy smile on her lips.
“I made sure to check all the boxes that say ‘yes, share my information with partners.’ So now he’s probably getting emails about low testosterone, premature ejaculation, penis pumps—”
“Holy shit,” I say through a wheezing laugh.
“And my personal favorite, a support group for men with performance anxiety.” She’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. “The newsletters are daily.”
“You’re evil.”
“I prefer ‘proportionately responsive.’” But she’s laughing now, too. “Come on, you have to admit it’s a little funny.”
“It’s fucking hilarious.” I roll over, covering her body with mine.
She squeaks but doesn’t move or wiggle away. We’re face to face now, smiling at each other like idiots. The moment is significant, but I can’t quite articulate why.
Maybe it’s the easy intimacy. The laughter mixed with the lingering heat between us, the way she’s looking at me like I’m more than just a hookup. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted and everything I convinced myself wasn’t worth hoping for.
“Your vindictiveness is quite the turn-on.”
She smiles, no doubt noticing just how turned on I am.
“Good to know.” She rolls her hips, brushing against my hard length. “And here I thought you’d be grumpy after I apparently stole all the covers.”
I can’t help but smile. “Easy fix. I’ll just buy you a second comforter like the Scandinavians do.”
She giggles, the sound light and airy, and snakes her arms around my neck. “You plan on spending more time in my bed, Cameron Davies?”
“I told you we weren’t done,” I remind her. “Did you think I just meant last night?”
The corners of her lips quirk up and her eyes flash as she wraps her legs around my torso. “Adding sex to the mix is a bad idea.”
I rock against her, and as her warmth seeps into me, I groan. “Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
“We’re going to do it, anyway, though.”
“Yeah. We are.”
God help us both.