25. Shannon
CHAPTER 25
SHANNON
Adrenaline carries us upstairs before anyone gets into the house.
“Well that was…” Max shakes his head as I close the door quietly behind me and then lean against the door, covering myself with the towel and nothing else. “You used to do that a lot?”
“Not a lot.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Max?—”
He closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “It’s fine. I forgive you.”
Stunned, I blink my eyes open just in time to see him turn and head to the bathroom. He closes the door and then I hear the shower turn on.
Heart in my throat, I yank on clothes and crawl into bed, curling into a tight ball around one of Russ’s soft pillows.
Downstairs, the young players have brought the party home. I strain to hear Russ’s voice, to know that he hasn’t been caught out, but there’s nothing discernible.
And then fatigue rolls over me, and close my eyes, letting it pull me under.
I dream of rough, heavy bodies and being called names.
I wake up sweaty, my pyjamas twisted around my body, my legs fighting the sheet. Max is already out of bed, and I have the suite to myself.
It’s still early.
My hands shake as I grab for my phone, as if my husband is going to send me a status update on our threesome from last night via text message.
Nothing.
And then, like someone downstairs can sense that I’m awake, there’s a text message from Russ of all people.
Russ: Breakfast is on. Your husband is down here showing me game tape.
A perfectly normal message. So normal it’s saying more than just the words on the screen.
I exhale wildly.
Oh.
Okay.
I mean, it’s not. There’s so, so much that’s still not okay.
But right now, this moment , there’s some fragile peace that has been negotiated between teammates, and that’s all that matters.
I reply with a thumbs up.
And then I delete the perfectly normal message before I get out of bed and race into the shower.
With my face and hair done, and the rest of the house starting to wake up, I feel as prepared as I’m going to be to go downstairs and face the music.
I bump into Roan and Malik in the hallway. They look rumpled, but they’re dressed for golf.
“Good morning,” I say smoothly. Mask on.
They follow me into the kitchen. Russ is at the stove, his back to me, looking extra big and broad this morning in a faded t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and board shorts. Max is at the island, watching video on his phone. He doesn’t look up.
And for a second, it feels like last night didn’t happen.
But then Russ goes still, and turns. From across the kitchen, his gaze is sharp and searching. He doesn’t look at me long, just a second, but that’s all it takes for me to remember his hot gaze staring up from between my legs.
“Look at this,” Max says, shoving his phone at Roan. I pivot and force my attention on their conversation. “He was never appreciated enough. Look at that slap shot.”
“Who is this?”
Malik crowds in. “Craig Roslin. He still hasn’t been signed, eh?”
“He will be. Someone will get hurt in training camp and he’ll sign a one year deal, come in as a trusted veteran.” Max rounds the island and takes me in his arms. “How’d you sleep?”
“Not sure,” I murmur as he hugs me. “Still waking up.”
“Rusty, are you going to make my wife some breakfast?” He sounds so casual as he says it, but I hear the edge.
I hold my breath as I wait for Russ to say yeah, I already texted her about it . But he just nods, his gaze polite but distant. “Breakfast for everyone, coming up.”
I turn my attention fully to Max. My heart is hammering in my chest. “Have you been up for a while?”
“Yeah. I went for a run. Woke up Rusty, apparently.” He squeezes me tighter, bringing his mouth to my ear. “He slept in the garage last night. He must be feeling guilty.”
Shame slams into me as a bedroom door opens above us, and footsteps come running down the staircase.
“Good morning!” Emery says brightly. “Is everyone golfing?”
“I should pack.” I pat Max on the chest and force myself to make eye contact with him. “We’ll head out after your golf game?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He twists as he hears Malik say something about the flex of the hockey stick in the videos they’re still looking at.
Suddenly it’s just me and Emery standing together at this end of the island.
She gives me a friendly smile before sliding past. “What’s for breakfast, Russell?”
He hesitates for a beat before answering. “Turkey sausage, fried mushrooms, and eggs to order.”
“Need help?”
“Nah. Are you coming golfing with us this morning?”
She slides a glance back at me. “Might stay here and go for a final swim in the lake. How does that sound, Shannon?”
Like fair and just punishment.
“How many of us are golfing this morning?” Malik asks.
Max does a quick count. “We’ll take two cars. I’ll take Russ in mine, and you can drive everyone else.”
I force myself not to react, not to tense up, but what the fuck?
Russ doesn’t react, either. He just serves everyone breakfast, as if nothing happened last night at all.
His cleaning lady arrives as the guys are getting ready to head out the door, so I take that opportunity to escape upstairs and start packing.
Through the front window of our suite, I watch most of the guys pile into Malik’s SUV, and then Max leads Russ to our car.
Max gets into the driver’s seat with his usual restless speed. Russ moves slower, his shoulders rolling back and his face tipping up to the sky for a moment before he slides into my side, disappearing from view.
I pull out our suitcases, prepared to fold everything very, very carefully, just to delay the inevitable swim with the girls.
“Hey, Shannon?” Emery calls from downstairs.
I smooth my hands over the top of my folded clothes, take a deep breath, and lift my voice. “I’m upstairs.”
Her footsteps fly in my direction, then she rounds the corner. “Can you take this back to Harper? She left it behind.”
She holds out her hand, and a black bikini—my bikini, I’m pretty damn sure—swings from her fingers.
“Umm…” A dull roar starts in my ears. “Where—yes, I can?—”
I snatch the two small pieces from her and fling them toward my suitcase.
She smiles broadly. “Good. The cleaning lady found it in the suite above the garage when she was collecting the laundry, and I wasn’t sure how Rusty would feel about being on bikini delivery duty.”
Heat pools low in my belly. I can picture Russ returning that to me in private. The tiny scraps of fabric dangling off his fingers in a very different way.
You left this on my terrace.
“He’d manage.” The two words sound strangled. “But I can… Thanks.”
She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I have to go find my own swimsuit now. See you down at the lake?”
“Yep.”
She disappears and I turn, sitting on the edge of the bed, my fingers twisting together.
I can’t exactly text Harper and say, hey if anyone asks, I gave you back a bikini that isn’t yours . And I can’t text Russ while he’s a hostage passenger with my husband on the way to golf and be like, hey your girlfriend found my bikini but phew, she thinks it’s Harper’s, so go along.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The only thing to do is hope nobody ever brings it up again.
A swim. A lay out in the sun. Then a long, awkward car ride home where my husband won’t have a room full of teammates to perform in front of. And on the other side of that?
I don’t know what comes next. But I know it won’t be anything like what my life has been up to this point for the last eight years. I blew that to smithereens last night, and the fallout will come as soon as we leave—or maybe it’s already begun, with Russ hostage in Max’s car.