Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiouslyandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,organizations,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
BehindtheNet?2023byStephanieArcher.Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicormechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,withoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthor,exceptfortheuseofbriefquotationsinabookreview.
978-1-7390431-0-0ForBryan,Alanna,Sarah,Helen,andAnthea,
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CHAPTER1JAMIE
Theleftwingerskatestowardthenetandslapshotsthepuckatme.There’sathwapofthepuckinmyglove,andmybloodflareswithcompetitionandsatisfaction.
“Streichershutout,”mynewteammatecallsashebreezespast,andItossthepuckontotheicewithaquicknod.ThefansbackinNewYorkusedtochantthatduringgames.WhenIwontheVezinaTrophylastyear,awardedtothebestgoalieintheNHL,theyreferenceditinthespeechaboutmyperformance.
Nearthebench,thecoacheswatch,makenotes,anddiscusstheteam’sperformance.Apuckgetspastmeandmyguttightens.Theheadcoach’sgazeflickstome,expressionindiscernible.
Twoweeksago,IsignedasafreeagentbelowmyvaluesothatIcouldplayfortheVancouverStorm.Afterthepanicattackthatcausedhercaraccident,mymominsistedshewasfine,butIknowthatifshekeptthemfromme,itmustbegettingworse.Nowthattheteamhassignedmeforalowerprice,I’manasset.TheycouldtrademeformoremoneyandIwouldn’thaveanysayinthematter.I’mlikeahousetheyjustgotadealon,andiftheydecidetobuysomethingbetter,they’llsellme.
Worryflowsthroughme.Mymom’sdealtwithdepressionandanxietyforyears,eversincemydadpassedinaself-inflicteddrunkdrivingincidentwhenIwasababy,butwhileIwasn’tlooking,itturnedintosomethingsomuchworse.
LeavingVancouverisn’tanoption,andI’mnotgivingupthesportIlove,sothisseasonneedstogowell.Ineedtoplaymybestandmaintainmytopstatussotheydon’ttrademe.Thisyear,Ineedtofocus.
Theplayersrundrillsaspracticecontinues,andIreferencewhatIknowaboutthemfrompreviousgames.I’veplayedagainsttheVancouverStorminthepast,andIrecognizetheirfaces,butIdon’tknowtheseguyslikemyoldteam.IplayedforNewYorkforsevenyears,sinceIwasnineteen.Idon’tknowthesecoaches,andthiscityhasn’tfeltlikehomesinceIleftforthejuniors,butVancouveriswhereIneedtoberightnow.
Somethingstrainsinmychest.It’sonlythefirstdayoftrainingcamp,butI’veneverfeltmorepressuretoplaymybest.
Thewhistleblows,andIskatetowardthebenchwiththeotherplayers.
“Lookingsharpoutthere,boys,”thecoachsaysaswegatheraroundthebench.
Attheendoflastseason,oneoftheworstintheStorm’shistory,TateWardmadeheadlinesafterhewasannouncedasthenewheadcoach.Theguy’sinhislatethirties,notmucholderthansomeofVancouver’splayers,andhehadapromisingcareerasaforwardintheleagueuntilakneeinjuryendedit.Hecoachedcollegehockeyuntillastyear,andfromwhatI’vereadinhockeynews,thefansareskeptical.Headcoachesarenormallyolder,withmoreexperiencecoachingattheprolevel.
Wardglancesatme,andundermygoaliemask,myjawtightens.
“Wehavealotofworktodooverthenextfewseasons,”hesays,surveyingthegroupofplayers.“Wefinishedlastyearnearthebottomoftheleague.”
Theairfeelsheavyasplayersshiftontheirskates,bracingthemselves.Thisisthepartwherealotofcoacheswouldpointoutplayers’flawsandweaknesses.Whattheteamfuckeduponlastyear.Thisiswherehe’lltellusthatlosingisnotanoption.
Anddon’tIfuckingknowit.
“Nowheretogobutup,”Wardsaysinstead,crookingagrinatus.“Hittheshowersandrestup.Seeyoutomorrow.”
Theplayersheadofftheice,andIpullmymaskoffwithafrown.I’msurethispleasant,supportivefacadeofWard’swillendassoonastheseasonstartsinafewweeksandthepressurebecomesreal.
“Streicher,”WardcallsasIheaddownthehalltothedressingroom.Heheadsovertomeandwaitsastheremainingplayersshuffledownthehall,givingthemnodsofacknowledgment.“Howareyousettlingin?”
Inod.“Fine.”MyapartmentisfilledwithboxesthatIdon’thavetimetounpack.“Thankyou,uh,forsettinguptheapartment.Andthemovers.”
TensiongathersinmyshouldermusclesandIdragahandthroughmyhair.Ihateacceptinghelpfromothers.
Wardwavesmeoff.“It’sourjobtohelpplayerssettlein.Alotofplayersaskforanassistant,actually.Theycanhelpyouunpack,getyousetupwithmeals,getyourcarserviced,walkyourdog,whatever.”
“Idon’thaveadog.”
Hechuckles.“YouknowwhatImean.We’reheretoprovideyouwithwhateveryouneedsoyoucanfocusontheice.Anythingyouneed,justletusknow.”
Idon’tneedhelpfocusingontheice.I’verefinedmylifedowntothetwothingsthatmatter—hockeyandmymom.
“Youbet,”Isay,knowingfullwellI’mnotgoingtoaskforanything.
I’vealwaysbeentheguywhotakescareofhimself.That’snotabouttochange.
Wardlowershisvoice.“Ifyourmomneedsanyhelp,wecanprovidethat,too.”
WhenIrequestedatradetoVancouver,hewastheonewhocalledmetoaskwhy.Itoldhimeverything.He’stheonlyonewhoknowsaboutmymom.
Anxietyspikesinme,andthisiswhyIshouldn’thaveopenedmyfuckingmouth.Nowpeoplewanttogetinvolved.Everyinstinctinmybodyrevolts,andmyshouldershitch.
Myschedulethisyearwillbegrueling.Eighty-twogames,halfathomeinVancouverandhalfaway,withteampractices,trainingwiththegoaliecoach,andmyownworkouts.Ontopofthat,I’llhavesessionswithmyphysio,massagetherapist,sportspsychologist,andpersonaltrainer.
Somethingflaresinmychest,amixofcompetitionandanticipation.I’vebeencompetingathockeysinceIwasfiveyearsold,andIthriveonachallenge.Pressurefuelsme.Yearsoftraininghavemademeintoapersonwholovestopushmylimitsandwin.
Thisyear?Betweenhowstubbornmymomisandhowintensemyschedulewillbe?It’sgoingtobeafuckingchallenge.
NothingIcan’thandle,though,aslongasIstayfocused.
“We’regood.”Mywordsareclipped.“Thankyou.”
It’salwaysjustbeenmeandmymom.I’vegotithandled.Ialwayshave.
***
AfterIshowerandchange,Ileavethearenatograblunchandheadhomeforanapbeforehittingthegym.I’mwalkingthroughanalleyfromthearenatothestreetwhenanoisebythedumpstersstopsme.
Afluffybrowndog’sbuttisstickingoutofabox.AsIwalkpast,thedogliftsitsheadoutoftheboxandlooksatme.There’smacaroniandcheesealloveritssnout.
Thedogwagsitstailatme,andIstareback.Hereyesareadeepbrown,brightwithexcitement.Herbreedishardtotell.She’sfortyorfiftypounds,maybeamixbetweenaLabandaspaniel.Oneofherearsisshorterthantheother
Thedogtakesastepforward,andItakeastepback.
“Noway,”Itellit.
Thedogflopstotheground,rollsovertoexposeherbelly,andwaits,tailsweepingbackandforthoverthepavementassheasksforbellyrubs.
Where’sherowner?Iglanceupanddownthealley,butwe’realone.MynosewrinklesasIstudyher.Nocollar,andamongthemacaroni,hersnoutisdirtyandgreasy.Herfuristoolong,fallingintohereyes,andeventhoughsheneedsahaircut,Icanseehowskinnysheis.
There’satwistingfeelinginmychestthatIdon’tlike.
“Don’teatthat,”Itellher,frowningasInodatthegarbage.“You’llgetsick.”
Herpinktongueflopsoutthesideofhermouth.
“Gohome.”
Mywordscomeoutstern,butshe’sstillwaitingforbellyrubs.
Myheartstrains,butIshovethefeelingsaway.No.Thisisn’tmyproblem.Idon’tdodistractions.Idon’tevendate,forfuck’ssake,becauseIknowfromexperiencethatpeoplewantmorethanIcangivethem.
Ican’tleaveherhere,though.Shecouldgethitbyacarorinjuredbyacoyote.Shecouldeatsomethingthatcouldmakehersick.
TheSPCAwilltakeher.Ipullmyphoneoutand,aftersomeGoogling,callthenearestlocation.
“There’sadogbehindthearenadowntown,”Itellthewomanwhensheanswers.There’sonlyonearenaindowntownVancouver,soshe’llknowwhereImean.Therearedogsbarkinginthebackgroundonherend.“Cansomeonecomepickherup?”
Thewomanlaughs.“Honey,wearesounderstaffed.You’llhavetodropheroffatoneofourlocations.”
Sheliststhelocationsthatareacceptingdogsbeforehangingup.Theonesnearbyareallfull,soI’llhavetodriveacouplehoursoutsidethecitytodropheroff.Istareatthephone,browfurrowed,beforeIlookdownatthedog.
Shejumpstoherfeet,stillstaringatme,wagginghertail.It’slikeshethinksI’mgoingtogiveheratreatorsomething.There’sanannoyingpullinmychest.
“What?”Iaskthedog,andhertailwagsharder.Somethinginmychestwarms,andIswallowpastathickthroat.
Ican’tjustleaveherhere.
Inthebackofmybrain,therigorous,disciplinedpartofmescoffs.Whataboutmyinsaneschedule?Ican’thandleafuckingdog.Ican’tevenhandlehavingagirlfriendwithoutfuckingeverythingup.Isureasshitcan’ttakecareofadog.I’mtravelinghalftheseason.
ButIcan’tjustleaveherhere.
Hertailiswaggingagain,andshe’slookingupatmewiththosebrowneyes.I’lltakehertoashelter,butI’mnotgoingtokeepher.
***
Thatevening,I’msittinginmycaroutsidetheshelter,surveyingthesmallbutwell-maintainedbuilding.Icanhearbarkingfrominside.There’safenced-infieldbesidethebuildingwithdogtoysandsomeplasticequipment,likeataplayground.
Inthepassengerseat,thedogstaresoutthewindow,curious.Irolldownthewindowandlethersniff.
Afterscouringlostdogadsonline,Ifoundahighlyratedfarmthattakesinstraysandplacesthemwithnewowners.Theyvettheirownerscarefully,andthedogsarewelltakencareof.
ThisisthebestshelterIcouldfind.Idrovethreehourstogethere.
Mygazesweepsovertheplace,andIswallowpasttheknotinmythroat.Ipictureleavingherhere,andaweightformsinmygut.
Thedoglooksatmeandpants,hertonguehangingout.
“Ican’tkeepyou,”Itellher.
Shestandsupandtriestoclimbintomylap,andIsigh.ShekepttryingtodothiswhileIwasdriving.Shecrawlsintomylapandrestsherheadonthearmrest.
Fuck.IfIknewhowhardthiswouldbe,Iwouldn’thavetakenhertobeginwith.
That’salie.NowaywasIleavingherinsomedirtyalley.
IrunthroughthereasonsIcan’tkeepher.I’veneverevenhadadog.Ihavenoideahowtotakecareofone.Mymomisdealingwithsomeseriousmentalhealthstrugglesandneedsme,whethershecanadmititornot.Ineedtofocusonhockey.Aftermyex,Erin,andIbrokeupwhenwewerenineteen,Idon’tdocommitments.Thisdogisamajorcommitment,andIwouldneedtoworkmydemandingschedulearoundher.
Andyet,hesitationrisesinme.Istudythebuilding,lookingforflaws.Thereareafewweedsinthegarden.Theoutsidetrimneedsnewpaint.Inthefield,thereareacoupleholesthatdogshaveprobablydug.Ican’thandleadog,butIcan’tleaveherhere.
Thisplaceisn’tgoodenoughforher.
Irubthebridgeofmynose,knowingmymindisalreadymadeup.Fuck.
“Hey.”
Herheadpopsupandshelooksupatme,bright-eyed.Myhearttugs.
“Youwanttolivewithme?”Iaskher,andshecontinuestostareatmewiththatcutelook.“Oh.Youwantatreat.”
Shewigglesupandjumpsoffmylapintothepassengerseat,waiting.IreachovertothebackseatandopenthebagoftreatsIboughtforher,givingherafew,watchingasshecrunchesthemup.
Mymindismadeup,andIignorethelittlevoiceinmyheadtellingmethisisn’tagoodidea.Iwatchasthedogcurlsintoaballinthepassengerseatandgoestosleep.Ihavethemoneytobringanassistantonthisyear,andthedogwillbewellcaredfor.
Onmyphone,IscrollthroughmycontactsuntilIfindwhoI’mlookingfor.
“Streicher,”Wardanswers.
“Hi.”Irubmyjawasthatbadfeelingsnakesthroughmygutagain.“Ichangedmymind.I’mgoingtoneedanassistant.”CHAPTER2PIPPA
MyhearthammerswhileIstandoutsideJamieStreicher’sapartmentbuilding.
ThelasttimeIsawhiminperson,IhadjustspilledablueSlurpeeallovermywhitet-shirtinthehighschoolcafeteria.Hiscoldlookofdisinterestreplaysinmyhead,hisgreeneyesflickingovermebeforeturningbacktohisconversationwiththerestofthehot,popularjocks.
NowI’mgoingtobehisassistant.
Hewasalwaysanasshole,butgod,hewassogorgeous,eventhen.Thickdarkhair,alwaysjustalittlemessyfromplayinghockey.Sharpjawline,strongnose.Broad,strongshoulders,andtall.Sotall.Unfairlydarklashes.Heneverhitthatawkwardteenagerphasethatseemedtospanmyentireteens.Hissilent,intimidating,grumpythingbothunnervedandfascinatedme,alongwitheveryothergirlandhalftheguysinschool.
Ohgod.Idraginadeepbreathandenterthenumberonthekeypadoutside.Hebuzzesmeupwithoutanswering.Intheelevator,mystomachwobblesonthewaytothepenthouse.
I’mnotthatdorkybandgirlanymore.I’magrownwoman.It’sbeeneightyears.Idon’thaveateenagecrushontheguyanymore.
Ineedthisjob.I’mbrokeandcrashingonmysister’scouch.IquitmyterriblejobatBarry’sHotDogHutwithzeronoticeafteraweek.EvenifIwantedtogoback—whichIdon’t,IonlytookthatjobasanemergencywaytopaybillsandhelpHazeloutwithrent—they’dneverrehireme.
Besides,there’snowayheremembersme.Ourhighschoolwashuge.Iwasthedorkymusicgirl,alwayshangingwiththebandkids,andhewasahothockeyplayer.I’mtwoyearsyounger,sowedidn’tevenhaveclassestogetherorfriendsincommon.He’soneofthebestgoaliesintheNHL,withthelooksofafreakinggod.Thefactthathe’sknownfornotdoingrelationshipsseemstomakepeopleevenmoreferal.Lastyear,someonethrewpantiesontheiceforhim—itwasalloverthesportshighlights.
Heisn’tgoingtorememberme.
IwatchthenumberclimbhigherasIapproachhisfloor.
He’llbebusywithpracticesandtraining.Iwon’tseehim.
AndIreally,reallyneedthisjob.I’mdonewiththemusicindustryanditsfamousassholes.Iwenttoschoolformarketing,andit’stimetopursuethatpath.TheonlyVancouverjobpostingsinmarketingrequireatleastfiveyears’experience,soIwouldn’tevenbeconsidered.AccordingtomysisterHazel,whoworksasaphysiotherapistfortheVancouverStorm,amarketingjobwiththeteamisopeningupsoon.Theypreferinternalhires,shesaid.
Thisassistantjobismywayin.It’stemporary.IfIprovemyselfinthatjob,that’smyfootinthedoortothemarketingjobwiththeteam.
Theelevatoropensonthetopfloor,andIwalktohisdoor,takingadeep,calmingbreath.Itdoesn’twork,andmyheartpoundsagainstthefrontwallofmychest.
Needthisjob,Iremindmyself.
Iknock,thedoorswingsopen,andmypulsestumbleslikeit’sdrunkoncheapcider.
He’ssomuchhottergrownup.Andinperson?It’sactuallyunfair.
Hisframefillsthedoorway.He’safoottallerthanme,andevenunderhislong-sleevedworkoutshirt,hisbodyisperfection.Thethinfabricstretchesoverhisbroadshoulders.I’mvaguelyawareofadogbarkingandracingaroundtheapartmentbehindhim,butmygazefollowshismovementashepropsahandonthedoorframe.Hissleevesarepushedup,andmygazelingersonhisforearm.
JamieStreicher’sforearmscouldgetawomanpregnant.
I’mstaring.Ijerkmygazeuptohisface.
Ugh.Mystomachsinks.ThatteencrushIhadyearsagoburstsbackintomylifelikeacomet,thrillingthroughme.Hiseyesarestillthedeepest,richestgreen,likealltheshadesofanold-growthforest.Mystomachtumbles.
“Hi,”Ibreathebeforeclearingmythroat.Myfaceburns.“Hi.”Myvoiceisstrongerthistime,andIfakeabrightsmile.“I’mPippa,yournewassistant.”Ismoothahandovermyponytail.
There’sabeatwherehisfeaturesareblankbeforehiseyessharpenandhisexpressionslidestoaglower.
Mythoughtsscatterintheairlikeconfetti.Words?Idon’tknowthem.Couldn’teventellyouone.Hishairisthick,short,andcurlingalittle.Damp,likehejustgotoutoftheshower,andIwanttorunmyfingersthroughit.
Hisgazelingersonme,turningmorehostilebythesecond,beforehesighslikeI’minconveniencinghim.Thisishowheseemedinhighschool—surly,irritated,grouchy.Notthatweeverinteracted.
“Great.”Hesaysthewordlikeacurse,likeI’mthelastpersonhewantstosee.Heturnsandwalksintotheapartment.
Iknewhewouldn’trememberme.
Iholdbackahumorlesslaughofembarrassmentanddisbelief.Idon’tknowwhyI’msurprisedbyhisattitude.IfI’velearnedonethingfrommyex,Zach,andhiscrew,it’sthatgorgeous,famouspeopleareallowedtobecompleteassholes.Theworldletsthemgetawaywithit.
JamieStreicherisnodifferent.
Itaketheopendoorasasigntofollowhim.Thedogsprintstomyfeetandjumpsonme.She’swearingapinkcollar,andIloveherimmediately.
“Down,”hecommandsinasternvoicethatmakesthebackofmyneckprickle.Thedogignoreshim,hoppingontomylegsandwagginghertailhard.
“Hi,doggy.”Icrouchdownandlaughasshetriestogivemekisses.
She’sfullofgoofy,wildenergy,doingtheselittletippy-tapswithherpawsonthefloorashertailwagssoharditmightfalloff.HerbuttwigglesinthecutestwayasIscratchthespotabovehertail.
I’minlove.
Jamieclearshisthroatwithdisapproval.EmbarrassmentflickersinmychestbutIshoveitaway.I’mheretohelphimwithhisdog;what’shisproblem?WhenIstraightenup,myfacefeelswarm.
Also,hisapartment?It’soneofthenicestplacesI’veeverbeeninside.It’soneofthenicestplacesI’veeverseen.Floor-to-ceilingwindowsspantwostoriesandoverlookthewaterandNorthShoreMountains,fillingtheopen-conceptlivingroomandkitchenwithlight.Thekitchenissparklingandspacious,andeventhoughthelivingroomisclutteredwithmovingboxesanddogtoys,theenormoussectionalsofalookssocomfyandwelcoming.Therearestairs,whichIassumeleadtothebedrooms.Throughthewindows,IcanseeNorthVancouverandthemountains.Evenonastormydayintheworstoftherainy,bleakVancouverwinter,theviewwillbespectacular.
Ibetthisplacehasahugebathtub.
“What’shername?”IaskJamieasIpetthedog.She’sleaningagainstme,clearlylovingallthisattention.
Hisjawticksandthewayhestaresatmemakesmystomachdip.Hisgreeneyesaresosharpandpiercing,andIwonderifthisguyhaseversmiled.“Idon’tknow.”
Onthefloornearthecouch,there’sagiantfluffydogbed,andaboutahundredcolorfultoysarescatteredthroughoutthelivingroom.Awaterbowlandemptyfoodbowlsitonthefloorinthekitchen,andonthecounter,there’sagiantbagoftreats,half-empty.ThedogrunsovertooneofthetoysbeforebringingittoJamie’sfeetandlookingupathim,wagginghertail.
“Ihavetogotothearena,solet’sgetthisoverwith,”Jamiesays,likeI’mwastinghistime.Hestalkspastme,andashepasses,hisscentwhooshesupmynose.
Myeyespracticallycross.Hesmellsincredible.It’sthatun-pin-downablescentofmen’sdeodorant—sharp,spicy,bold,fresh,andclean,allatthesametime.ThescentisprobablycalledAvalancheorHurricaneorsomethingpowerfulandunstoppable.Iwanttoputmyfaceinhisshirtandhuff.I’dprobablypassout.
Ashemovesaroundthekitchen,showingmewherethedog’sfoodis,I’mstruckbythewayhemoveswithpowerandgrace.Hisbackmusclesrippleunderhisshirt.Hisshouldersaresobroad.He’sso,sofreakingtall.
Irealizehestillhasn’tevenintroducedhimself.ThisissomethingfamouspeopledidonZach’stourwhentheycamebackstage,liketheyexpectyoutoknowwhotheyare.
“Allourcommunicationwillbethroughemailortext,”Jamiesays.“Walkthedog,feedthedog,keepheroutoftrouble.I’vealreadytakenhertothevetandforgrooming.”Heglancesatheragain.
Iofferhimareassuringsmile.“Icanhandleallofthat.”
“Good.”Histoneissharp.
Wow.Mr.Personality,righthere.Iswallowwithdifficulty.He’ssobossy.Ashiverrollsoverme,andmyskintingles.Ibethe’sbossyinbed,too.
“Becauseit’syourjob,”headds.
AsickfeelingmovesupmythroatbutIshoveitdown.I’mnotsixteenanymore.Iknowbetter,andIknowhistype.AfterZach,Iknownottofallforguyslikethis—famousguys.Guyswithanego.Guyswhothinktheycandowhatevertheywantwithoutconsequences.
Guyswhowilljustgettiredofmeandcastmeaside.
“Ongamedays,Ihaveanapafterlunch,”hesaysoverhisshoulderasIfollowhimupstairs.“Ineedtotalsilence.”
Ittakesallofmywillpowernottosalutehimandsay,sir,yes,sir!Somethingtellsmehewouldn’tlaugh.“I’lltakeheroutonalongwalkduringthattime.”
Hegrunts.That’sprobablyhisversionofcryingtearsofjoy.
Intheupstairshallway,hestopsatanopendoorway.Theroomisemptyexceptforahandfuloflargeboxesandamattresswrappedinplastic.
“Thiswillbemyroom?”Iask.
Hefrowns,andmystomachsquirms.
“Imean,thiswillbetheroomwhereIsleepwhenyou’reaway?”Iclarifysohedoesn’tthinkI’mtryingtomoveinfulltimeorsomething.“WhenI’mtakingcareofthedog.”
Hefoldshisarms.“Yes.”
Thewayhestaresatme,it’smakingmystomachdotippy-tapslikethedog’spawsonthefloor.Mynervousreactionistosmileagain,andhisfrownlinesdeepen.
“Great.”Myvoiceispracticallyachirp.
Hetiltshischintothebathroomdownthehall.“Youcanusethatbathroom.Ihavemyownensuite.”
Hiseyeslingeronme,andItrynottoshiftundertheweightofhisgaze.Thisguydoesnotlikeme,butI’mgoingtoturnthataroundonceherealizeshowmucheasierIcanmakehislife.Besides,he’llneverevenseeme.
Losingthisjobisnotanoption.CHAPTER3JAMIE
PippaHartleyisstandinginmylivingroom,playingwiththedog,andIcan’tbreathe.WhenIopenedthedoor,IthoughtIwashallucinating.
Herhairislonger.Sameshysmile,samesparklingblue-grayeyesthatmakemeforgetmyownname.Samesoft,musicalvoicethatI’dstraintohearbackinhighschoolwhileshewastalkingandlaughingwiththeotherbandkids.
Grownup,though,she’sfuckinggorgeous.Aknockout.Frecklesoverhernoseandcheekbonesfromthesummersunandstrandsofgoldinhercaramelhairthat’sneitherbrownnorblond.Althoughherbraceswerecutebackinhighschool,hersmiletodaynearlystoppedmyheart.
I’mPippa,shesaidatthedoor,likeshedidn’trememberme.Idon’tknowwhythatmademesodisappointed.
“Doyouwantmetohelpyouunpack?”sheasks,playingtug-of-warwiththedog.“OrIcangetgroceriesormealprepforyou.”
Iwatchtheprettycurveofhermouthasshespeaks.Herlipsaresoft-looking,theperfectshadeofpink.Theyalwayshavebeen.
Fuck.
“No.”ThewordcomesoutharsherthanImean,butI’mrattled.
Ican’tfuckingthinkaroundPippaHartley.It’salwaysbeenlikethis.
Inaninstant,mymindisbackinthathallwayoutsidetheschoolmusicroom,listeningasshesang.Shehadthemostbeautiful,captivating,spellbindingvoiceI’deverheard—sweet,butwhenshehitcertainnotes,raspy.Strong,butatcertainparts,soft.Alwayscontrolled.Pippaknewexactlyhowtousehervoice.Sheneversanginpublic,though.ItwasalwaysthatfuckingZachguysinging,andshe’dplayguitarashisbackup.
Iwonderifshestillsings.
Iwonderifshe’sstillwithhim,andmynostrilsflare.Overthesummer,Isawhisstupid,punchablefaceonabillboardandnearlydroveoffthehighway.Thatguyistheopeneronatour?Hecouldbarelyplaytheguitar.Hisvoicewasaverage.
NotlikePippa.She’stalented.
Eightyearslater,Istillthinkaboutthatmomentinthehallwayallthetime.Idon’tknowwhy—itdoesn’tmatter.
ThedogshakesthetoywhilePippaholdson,andshelaughs.
Ineedtogetoutofhere.
“Ihavetogotopractice.”Isnatchmykeysoffthecounterandhaulmybagovermyshoulder.
“Bye,”shecallsasIstepthroughthedoor.
***
Afterpracticethatafternoon,I’mabouttoopenthefrontdoorwhenanoiseinmyapartmentstopsmewithmyhandonthedoorhandle.
Singing.FleetwoodMacplaysinsidemyapartment.Overthetune,hervoiceringsout,clear,bright,andmelodic.Shehitsallthenotes,butthere’ssomethingspecialtothewayshesingsit.SomethinguniquelyPippa.
Ican’tmove.IfIgoinside,she’llstopsinging.
Alarmrattlesthroughme,becausethisisexactlywhatIshouldn’tbedoing.ShewassupposedtoleavebeforeIgothome.
Ican’thavePippaaroundthisyear.It’sonlybeenafewhours,andshe’salreadygotteninsidemyhead.
WhenIopenthedoor,mynewassistantisunpackingthekitchenboxes,reachinguptosetaglassontheshelf,leaningforwardonthecounter,givingmeaclearviewofherincredibleass.
Irritationtightensinmychest.ThisisthelastthingIneed.
Mygazesweepsaroundtheapartment.Mostoftheboxesareunpacked.She’ssetupmylivingroom,andthephotoofmymomandmesitsonthebookshelf.She’sarrangedthelivingroomfurnituredifferentlythanmyapartmentbackinNewYork.TheEameschairfacesthewindows,overlookingthecitylightsinNorthVancouver,acrossthewater.Thedogissleepingonthecouch,curledupinaball.
Ifoldmyarmsovermychest,feelingamixofreliefandconfusion.Theapartmentlooksnice.Itfeelslikeahome.Iwasdreadingunpacking,butnowit’salmostdone.
Idon’tevenmindthatthedogisonthefurniture.
Hersingingstopsandsheglancesoverhershoulder.“Oh,hi.”Shegaspsandlooksatherphoneonthecounterbeforehereyesdarttomine.“Sorry.Ididn’trealizewhattimeitwas.”Shedustsherhandsoffandwalkstothedoor.“Howwaspractice?”sheaskswhilepullinghersneakerson.
Thesweet,curiouswaysheasksmakesmychestfeelfunny.Warmandliquid.Idon’tlikeit.IhavetheweirdurgetotellherhownervousIamaboutthisseason.
“Fine,”Isayinstead,andhereyeswidenatmysharptone.Fuck.See?Thisiswhythisisn’tgoingtowork.Icaretoomuchaboutwhatshethinks.
“DaisyandIwentforatwo-hourwalkaroundStanleyPark,andthenIspentmostoftheeveningtraininghertodotricks.”
Myeyebrowspulltogether.“Daisy?”
Sheshrugs,smilingoveratthedogonthecouch.“Sheneedsaname.”Shepicksherbagup.“Itookheroutanhourago,soyoudon’tneedto.”
Itrytosaysomethinglikethanks,butit’sjustalownoiseofacknowledgmentinmythroat.
Shesmoothsadelicatehandoverherponytail,blinkstwice,andgivesmethatbrightsmilefrombefore,theoneIthoughtaboutduringmyentirepractice.
Hercheeksaregoingpinkandshelooksembarrassed.“I’llgetoutofyourhair.”Sheloopsthestrapofherbagoverhershoulderandgivesmeanotherquick,shysmile.“I’llbeheretomorrowmorningafteryouleaveforpractice.Goodnight,Jamie.”
Mygazedropstoherprettylips,andI’mtongue-tied.SheprobablythinksI’vebeenhitintheheadwiththepucktoomanytimes.
SheleavesandIstandthere,staringatthedoor.
MaybeIdon’thaveto—
Icrushthethought,likeslappingamosquitooffmyarm.Pippahastogo.IknowfrommymomandfromtheonerelationshipIattemptedinmyfirstyearintheNHLthatiftherearetoomanyballsintheair,I’mgoingtodropone.Ialwaysdo.
Thesecondsheleaves,IpullmyphoneoutandcallWard.
“Streicher,”heanswers.
“Coach.”Irakemyhandthroughmyhair.“Ineedanewassistant.”CHAPTER4PIPPA
“You’relettingmego?”Irepeatintomyphonethenextmorning,blinkingatnothing.I’matHazel’sfrontdoor,puttingmyshoesontoleaveforJamie’splace.Mymindreels,andmyforeheadwrinklesinconfusion.“Idon’tunderstand.”
Thewomanintheteam’sofficesighs.“Don’ttakeitpersonally.Theseguyscanbesoparticular.”
Mystomachsinks.Firedafteroneday.Thisisn’tgoingtolookgoodwhenIapplyforthemarketingjobwiththeteam.
IreallythoughtIkilledityesterday.Iunpackedmostofhisthings,andDaisywasniceandtiredbythetimehegothome.Itwasactuallyfun,walkingherandplayingmusicintheapartmentwhileshefollowedmearound.
Panicstartstobleedthroughmythoughts.Shit.Ineedmoneynow.IneedtomoveoutofHazel’stinystudio.Ican’tgobacktotheHotDogHut—Igagatjustthememoryofthecreepywaytheownerlookedatme.NottomentionthewayIsmelledaftermyshifts.
Fired.Myparentsaregoingtoflipout.AfterwastingmylifefollowingZacharoundontourfortwoyears,theydesperatelywantmetohaveacareerinmarketing—whatIwenttoschoolfor.They’reobsessedwithmehavingastable,consistentjob.Adeskjob.Somethingwithbenefits.Somethingnotinthemusicindustry.Theyworkedreallyhardtopayformyeducation.Myparentsaren’trichoranything,andtheysacrificedalotformeandHazeltohavewhattheydidn’t.
Iwantthemtobeproudofme.
Ithankthewoman,hangup,andstareatthefloor.Realityhitsme,andmyshoulderssink.Thissucks.
Besideme,thedooropensandslamsintome.Iscrambletomoveoutoftheway,buttripoveroneofmymovingboxes,landingflatonmyass.
“Sorry!”Hazel’seyesarewideasshehelpsmeup.“Areyouokay?”
Irubmyarm,wincing.“I’mfine.Ishouldn’thavebeenstandinginfrontofthedoor.”
HerapartmentisatinystudiobecauseVancouverisexpensiveashell.HencewhyIneedthisjobifI’mgoingtomoveout.
“How’ditgoyesterday?”Sheheadstothecornerwiththekitchenandpullsoutsmoothieingredients.
WhenIgothomelastnight,shewasteachingayogaclass.Outsideofworkingasaphysiofortheteam,teachingyogaisHazel’struepassion.Shehadanearlymorningclasstodaybeforework.
IfillherinonthedisappointingnewsIjustreceived,andherjawdrops.“Andtheydidn’tevensaywhy?”
“Nope.”Aprickleofragepokesmebetweenmyribs,andmystomachtenses.“Hewasarealdick,though.Barelysaidtwowordstomethewholetime.Hejustdidthissmoldery,gloweringthingwithhiseyes.”Inarrowmyeyesandgrunt
Hazelraisesadarkeyebrow.Herhairisdarkerthanmine,achocolatebrownagainstmydishwaterblond.“Doyouthinkheremembersyou?”
“No.Notatall.”Islipmyshoesoffandsettheminthefronthallcloset.“Hedidn’tevenintroducehimself.”
Shemakesafacefromthekitchenarea.“Rude.”
“Right?”IshakemyheadasIflopbackdownontothecouch.“Sorude.Like,Iknowhe’sahot,richcelebrity,butI’mstillaperson,youknow?”
“Totally.”Hazel’snoddingvehemently,ponytailbouncing.“You’reaperson.Youdeserverespect.”
“Respect?”Isputter.“Hedoesn’tknowthatword.HetreatedmelikeIwasafleawhobelongsinthegarbage.”
Hazelbaresherteeth.“Ihatehim.Hockeyplayers.”Hereyesnarrow.“They’retheworst.”
Hazeldatedahockeyplayerinuniversity,buthecheatedonher.Itwasawholething.Idon’tbringitup.
“Theworst,”Iecho,foldingmyarmsovermychest.Myfoottapsastaccatorhythmonthefloor,andknotsforminmystomach.Ididgreatyesterday,andI’mperfectforthisjob.
AfterZach,myconfidencetookahit,butnowthis?Waytokickagirlwhenshe’sdown.
Mymindflashesbacktoamonthago,intheairport,waitingformyflighthome.ThetourmanagerhadarrangedmyUber,whichIthoughtwouldtakemetothemeetingspotforthetourbussowecouldalltraveltothenextlocation.Instead,itwenttotheairport,andwhenIstartedphoningpeopleinconfusion,nooneanswered.
Finally,Zachcalledmeback.
“Ah,shit,”hesaid.“Didshealreadysendyoutotheairport?Iwasgoingtotalktoyoufirst.”
Hedumpedmeoverthephone.Hesaidweweredifferentpeoplenow,thatweweren’tteenagersanymore,andthathewantedtoseewhohewasapartfromme.Wedatedforeightyears,sincegradeten,andhehadhisemployeesendmeaway.
Whenhewasofferedthetourinourlastyearofuniversity,hearrangedformetoworkonit,assistingthetourcoordinatorsowedidn’thavetodolongdistance.Whenhewasstuckonasong,weworkedthroughit,meonmyguitar,helpinghimwithlyrics.Iputmywholelifeonholdtofollowhimaroundwhilehelivedouthisdreams.
Myfaceburns,thinkingabouthowIcriedintheairportbathroom,feelingsolostandalone.Sounwanted,likeabagoftrashonthesideoftheroad.
GuyslikeZachandJamie?Theythinktheworldrevolvesaroundthem.Theythinktheycandisposeofpeopleaftertheyloseinterest.Shamesurgesinmystomach,followedimmediatelybyfury.
I’msosickofbeingthatgirl,theonewhogetsdisposedof.
Isitupstraight,feelingfiredup.“I’mgoingtoconfronthim.”
“Um.”Hazel’seyesgowide,handspausedontheblender.“Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea.”
MypulseracesattheideaoftellingoffJamieStreicher.I’msickofgettingsteppedonbymen.
“You’realwayssayingthatIneedtotelltheuniversewhatIwant,”ItellHazel.
“Yeah,theuniverse.Nothim.He’llprobablycallthepolice.”
“Hewon’tcallthepolice.”Ipicturehimphysicallyremovingmefromhishome,throwingmeoverhisshoulder.Aweirdtwingehitsmebetweenthelegs.Oh.Ilikethatidea.
Whatever.Notthepoint.He’skingoftheassholes,butIneedthisjob.
Hazelbarksalaugh.“Thisishowyouenduponthefrontpageofthenewspaper.LocalHockeyStarAccostedbyInsaneStalker.”
“I’mnotgoingtostalkhim.I’mgoingtogetmyjobback.”
Maybeshe’srightandgoinginwithgunsblazingisn’tthebestapproach.Sheturnsbacktothecountertomakehersmoothie,andwhensheopensthecupboard,IspotthemuffintinIusedlastweek.
Anideahitsme.Hazel’sright—ifIshowupanddemandmyjobback,he’llthinkI’mapsycho.
IfIshowupwithcupcakes,though,I’lljustbereinforcingwhatagreatassistantI’dbe.Noonecallsthepoliceonsomeonewhobringscupcakes.
WhenItellHazelmyplan,shelaughs.“I’llkeepmyphoneonincaseIneedtobailyouout.”
Twohourslater,thecupcakesarecooledanddecorated.Ontheoutside,they’reperfectlyiced,toppedwithfun,colorfulsprinkles.Thesecupcakesarefilledwithmyrage,though.IreallybeattheshitoutofthebatterwhileImadethem,pouringallmyfrustrationfromZachandJamieandmycrappylifesituationintoit.
FromthescheduleJamiegaveme,Iknowhe’llbehomeintenminutes,soIpackthecupcakesintoacontainerandgetreadytoleave.
HazelgrinsatmeasIslipmyshoeson.“Goget’em,tiger.”
OnthewalktoJamie’sapartment,itstartstorain.IforgotthatVancouver’sweathercanturnonadime,soI’mnotwearingmycoatwiththehood.Atastoplight,Ichewmylip,wonderingifIshouldturnbackandgetmyotherjacket.
No.Icanalreadyfeelthehesitationwaveringinmystomach.IfIturnback,Iwon’tgothroughwiththis.
Ineedthatjob.Ineedthemoney.IneedtogiveHazelspaceattheapartment,andIneedaninwiththeteamsoIcangetthemarketingjobandmoveonwithmylife.Thisishappening.
I’mgettingmyjobback.CHAPTER5JAMIE
I’mtryingtonap,butIcan’tstopthinkingaboutmyprettyassistant.
Ex-assistant.
Fuck.Istareoutthewindowsofmybedroom,whereit’spouringraintomatchmymood.I’vebeenthinkingaboutherallday.WhydoIcare?She’llgetsnappedupbysomeoneelseinaheartbeat.
Anuglyfeelingspikesinmychest.Ihatetheideaofhersettingupsomeotherguy’sapartment,smilingforhimandsinginginhiskitchen.
There’saknockatmyfrontdoor,andIfrown.Iwasn’texpectinganyone.WhenIreachthedoor,Daisyisalreadythere,sniffingunderitandwagginghertail.
Iopenitandfreeze.
MascararunsdownPippa’sface.She’sbeencrying?Painshocksmychest,buthereyesareclearandherhairissoaked,bangsstickingtoherforehead,andmychestmusclesease.Atthesightofme,shestraightensup,nostrilsflaring.Inthebackofmymind,Inoticehowcutethatis.
“Hi,”shesays,andthelongcolumnofherthroatworks.Sheblinks.
She’snervous.She’sholdingaplasticcontainer.Therearecupcakesinside
Ifrownagain.“How’dyougetupstairs?”Sheneedsakeyortobebuzzedin.
Shewavesmeoff.“Theguysfromyesterdayrememberedme,andIgavethemcupcakes.”
Ofcoursetheyletherup.Thiswomancouldtalkacopintohandingoverhisgun.Allshe’dhavetodoissmileandflickherponytail,andhe’dbelike,youwantthebullets,too?There’saweird,funnypressureinmychest,andforthefirsttimeinsolong,Ifeeltheurgetosmile.
Sheshovesthecontainerintomyhands.“Theseareforyou.”
Iraisemyeyebrows,staringatthemthroughtheclearplasticlid.“Ihaven’thadacupcakeinoveradecade.”
Hereyesbugout.“What?That’ssosad.”Shecatchesherreflectioninthemirrorbehindme,whichshemusthavehungyesterday.“Ohmygod.”Shewipesafingerunderhereyetocleanupthemakeup.“IsthiswhatIlooklike?Jesus.”
ShedoesknowthatIfiredher,right?
Sheturnsbacktomeandtakesadeepbreath.“Ididagoodjobyesterday.”
Ihesitate.She’snotwrong.
“No.”Hercheeksareflushed.“Agreatjob.Icanhandleeverythingyouthrowatme,noproblem.Andyoudidn’tevenintroduceyourself.”Hermouthtightens.“Whodoyouthinkyouare,RyanGosling?Youcanjustfiremelikeadickhead?”
IknowRyanGosling.ImethimatsomeNHLpartylastyearthattheteamhadtogoto.He’saniceguy.Waynicerthanme.
Isthathertype?Myjawtenses.Idon’tlikethatidea.
“Dickhead,”Irepeat.
“Sorry.”Shewinces.“I’maperson,youknow.Ideservetobetreatedwithrespect.”
Hereyebrowspinchtogetherandsheblinksrapidly,lookinglikeakickedpuppy.Oh,fuck.Myheartsinks.Ihatethisfeeling.Ihateherfeelinglikethis,andIespeciallyhateknowingthatIdidthat.
She’sright.Iwasanassholeyesterday.Ididn’tmeantobe,though.Idon’tknowhowtobenormalaroundher.SheshoweduplookinglikeaDisneyprincess,andIcouldbarelysaytwowordstoher.
ShepointsatDaisy,who’swaitingbyherfeet,gazingupatPippawithadoration.“IgetalonggreatwithDaisy.I’msorryIwasstillherelastnight.Ilosttrackoftime,anditwon’thappenagain.Ipromiseyou’llneverhavetoseeme.”Hervoicewavers.“I’lldowhateverittakestogetmyjobback.”
Theairthickenswithtension,andwebothstareateachother.Isshe…?Inmyhead,imagesappearofustangledupinbed.She’sbeneathme,headtippedback,eyesclosed,withanexpressionofpleasureonherfaceasIthrustintoher.
I’mgoingtobethinkingaboutthatlaterwithmyhandaroundmycock,andIhatemyselfforthat.
“That’snotwhatImeant,”shesaysquickly,cheeksflushingadeepershadeofpink.“Isaidthatweird.Ijustmean,Ireallyneedthisjob,sowhateverIdidthatmadeyouthinkI’mnotagoodfit,pleaseletmeknow.”
There’snowayIcantellherthetruth—thatshe’sthegirlIwasobsessedwithfortwoyearsinhighschool.Andeverythingshesaid?She’sright.Ilikethewayshesetupmyapartment.ShetiredDaisyoutyesterdaymorethanIcouldhave.Icanalreadytellthisdogneedsatonofmentalstimulationaswellasphysicalexercise.Deepdown,Itrustherwiththisdog.
Ishouldlettheteamfindmeanotherassistant.Pippa’sproblemsarenotmyproblems.Ihaveenoughonmyplate.
JustlikeattheshelterwithDaisy,Iignorethathesitation.ThewayPippa’slookingatmenow,withamixofdeterminationandworry,herheadheldhighlikethat?Itgetsmerightinthemiddleofmychest.
Istareather,studyingherface.Eventhoughshelookslikeadrownedrat,hereyesstillsparkle.Hercheeksareflushed,sofulloflifeandvibrancy,andmychestfeelsweird,likeIhaveheartburn.
Iraiseaneyebrowather.“Youcallmeadickhead,andthenyouaskforyourjobback?”
Sheshifts,wincing.“Yes,Idid.”Sheflattensherlips,lookingupatmewithaguiltyexpression,andthedeterminationinhereyesplucksatamuscleinmychest.“Sorry.”
Ilikethisgirl.She’sscrappy.Ittookalotofgutsforhertoshowupandcallmeadickhead.Noonetalkstomelikethat.
Ican’tscrewheroverlikethis.I’llfindawaytofocusthisyear.Ialwaysdo.I’vehadyearstopracticediscipline.Thisyear,I’lljusthavetopracticeharder.
Ican’tfireher,butIcankeepheratarm’slength.
Ifoldmyarmsovermychest,shiftingonmyfeetagainstthedoorframe.Thebackofmyneckfeelswarm.“Okay.”
Shelightsup,andforamoment,I’mterrifiedshe’sgoingtothrowherarmsaroundmyneck.“Really?”
Terrifiedorexcited.Idon’tknow.
“Don’tkeepanythinghere,”Iaddquickly.
Sheclaps,andthatrilesDaisyup.Shestartszoomingaroundtheapartment.Pippabeamsatme,smilestretchingwideacrossherface,andIfeellikeI’mabouttobesick.
“Thankyou.”Sheclutchesherhandstogether.“Ipromise,I’llbegreat.”
That’snottheproblem.
“Ihavetraining,”Itellher.It’snotforanhour,butI’mnotgoingtositaroundtheapartment,staringather.
She’salreadytakingherjacketoff.“Noproblem.I’vegoteverythingundercontrolhere.Needanygroceries?”
Ipullonmyshoesandhesitate.Idoneedgroceries.
Atwhatevermyexpressionis,shenods.“Icangetthem.Whatdoyouliketoeat?”
“Uh.”Thedieticianfortheteamhasdetailedmealplansforeveryplayer,butIdon’twanttorelyonPippamorethanIneedto.“Idon’tknow.Stuff.”
Shenods,smiling.“Great.Icantotallygetthat.”
Ipullthedooropen.Ineedtogetoutofhere.
“Wait,”shesays,handingmethecupcakes.“Takethesewithyou.Youcangivethemtotheteamorwhatever.”
Igiveherastrangelook.IfIshowupwithcupcakes,I’llneverheartheendofit.Nevertheless,Itakethem.Ican’tseethatlookofdisappointmentonherfaceagain.
Onthestreetoutside,Iopenthecontainerandshoveoneintomymouth.Myeyesrollbackinmyheadasthesugarhitsmytongue,andInearlymoaninecstasy.
It’sthebestfuckingthingI’veevertasted.CHAPTER6PIPPA
“Ican’tbelievethecupcakesworked,”Hazelsaysaswewalkalongthemountainpath.
It’sbeentwoweekssinceIconfrontedJamie,butbetweenmetakingcareofDaisyandHazel’sphysiojobandyogaclasses,we’vehardlyseeneachother.Todayisourfirstchancetocatchup.
Daisysniffssomethinginthebushesbeforeboundingahead.WespentthemorningdoingrecalltraininguntilHazelandIfeltconfidentlettingherofftheleashonaleash-optionaltrailinNorthVancouver.Asweascendedthetrailintothemountains,thetemperaturedropped,butthesunisout,theforestissereneandpeaceful,wehavewarmjacketson,andDaisy’shavingthetimeofherlife.
IthinkbacktowhenIconfrontedJamie.Helookedlikehewasgoingtothrowmeout,orworse,calltheteamandruinmychancesforafuturejob.
Buthedidn’t.WhenIsaidIdeservetobetreatedwithrespect,healmostlooked…remorseful.
“Idon’tthinkitwasthecupcakes,”Imuse.
Ihaven’tseenhimsinceheleftforpracticethatdaybecausehe’sbeenbusywithtraining,andsincetheseasonstartedafewdaysago,he’sbeentraveling.Hisapartmentislikesomethingoutofadesignmagazine,andsometimes,asIgazeoutthewindowsatthemountains,itfeelslikeI’mstayinginavacationhome,totallyseparatefrommyreallife.Theapartmentisalwaysfilledwithlight,sothisweek,Iboughtafewplantstomakeitfeelmorepersonal.
Theapartmentisgorgeous,andyetit’skindoflonely,justmeandDaisy.I’veneverlivedalone.Inuniversity,Ialwayshadatleastfourroommates,andthenonZach’stours,therewerealwayspeoplearound.Therewasalwayssomeonetochatandlaughwith.
IneedtomakemorefriendsinVancouver.Allmyfriendsareinthemusicindustry.
Mystomachsinks.IneedtomakenewfriendsbecauseI’mdonewithmusic.
SomethingIsaidtoJamiehasreplayedinmyheadconstantlysincethatconversationwithhim.I’lldowhateverittakes
Icringe.“IaccidentallyinsinuatedIwouldsleepwithhimtokeepmyjob.”Hazelsquawkswithlaughter,andIgroan.“Iclarifiedrightaway.Butstill.Awkward.”
“Hashefiguredoutyouwenttothesamehighschoolyet?”Hazel’soneyearolderthanme,oneyearyoungerthanhim.
“Definitelynot.Haveyouworkedwithhimyet?”
“Nope.”Sheslidesaglancetome.“Areyougoingtobringitup?”
“Hell,no.Howawkwardwouldthatbe?He’llwanttoknowwhyIdidn’tsayanythingthefirsttimeImethim.”
“Well,itwon’tmattersoonenough.Emmasetamat-leavedate,sothey’reputtingthepaperworktogetherfortheinternaljobposting.”
Right,themarketingjob.MystomachtwingeswithnervesandInodeagerly.Itfeelsabitforced.“Great.”
“They’llprobablystartinterviewinginDecemberorthenewyear.”
“That’sgood.Thatgivesmeenoughtimewiththeteamtoprovemyself.”
“Yep.”Hazelraiseshereyebrow.“Andthenwecanbothworkstable,responsiblejobsfortherestofourlives,foreverandever.”Hervoicetakesonanairy,sarcastictone.
Igiveheraflatlook.Hazel’sdreamistoopenherownyogaandphysiostudio,aplacewherepeopleofallbodytypesandsizesfeelcomfortable,butourparentswouldchokeiftheyheardthat.
Risky,they’dsay.
Istareatmyshoesaswewalk.“Imean,they’renotwrong.Havingastablejobdoesmakelifeeasier.”
Shebreathesoutsomethingthatsoundslikefuck.“Yeah,butthey’re,like,obsessedwithit.”
“Theywantthebestforus.”
Ourparentsdidn’tgrowuppoor,buttheywerebothfromlow-incomefamilies.Ourdadwasamechanic,andourmomwasaballetdanceruntilshedidn’tmakeitintoaballetcompany.Thenshestartedherowndancestudio.ShetaughtballetuntiltheyretiredtoasmalltownintheinteriorofBritishColumbiaafewyearsago.Althoughshewasanamazingteacher,Ithinkitservedasareminderofwhatshehadn’taccomplished.Growingup,whenI’dmakecommentsaboutpursuingmusic,she’duseherselfasanexampleofwhyIshouldn’t.
Failureisreallyhard,shealwayssays.Setyourselfupforsuccessinstead
Theywantustolivecomfortable,happylives,andtomydad,thatmeanshavingajobwithabiweeklypaycheckandbenefits.Tomymom,thatmeanssomethingthatwon’tbetoodisappointingifitdoesn’tgowell.LikeHazel’sphysiojob.Likethismarketinggig.
Notanythinginthemusicindustry.That’swhyIstudiedmarketinginuniversitywithamusicminor.Iwantedtomajorinmusic,buttheytalkedmeoutofit.
Theywereright,itturnedout.Themusicindustryisbrutal.IrememberplayingasongIwroteforZach,andhowheandhismanagerlaughedafter.Zachsaiditwascute
Mystomachclencheswithshame.Ithinkaboutthatmomentandmyhearthurts.I’mnottoughenoughtowithstandthat.
Hazelturnstome.“DoesDadkeepaskingyouaboutStreicher?”
Ontopofourparentswantingustohavesolidjobs,ourdadloveshockey,andhe’salifelongVancouverStormfan.He’sthrilledthatwebothnowworkfortheteam.WhenhefoundoutaguyfromourhighschoolwastradedtoVancouver,helosthismindwithexcitement.
Igroan.“Yes.”
Welaugh,andDaisysprintsaheadtogreetayellowLabcomingdownthepath.
“She’ssuchagooddog,”Hazelsays,linkingherarmthroughmine.
IsmileatDaisy.“Yeah,sheis.Ilovethatpartofmyjob.”
Wewalk,watchingthedogs,sayinghellototheownersaswepassthem,andenjoyingthetimeintheforest.Ariverflowsthroughthetrees,rushingovertherocks.Thereareclearingsalongthepathwithshoreline,andDaisydartsinandoutofthewaterbeforereturningtothepath.
“Youhaven’ttouchedyourguitarsinceyougothome.”
Mythroatconstricts,andIswallowwithdifficulty.“I’vebeenbusy.”
That’salie,andsheknowsit.Myentirelife,songswouldfloatintomyhead.ZachandIwouldhangout,andI’dgoofaroundontheguitar,andwhenIhitacertaincomboofchords,thesongwouldshowupinmyhead.Itwaslikeopeningadoor.Like,oh,thereyouare.
SinceZachdumpedme,nothing.Deadsilence.
OurbootscrunchalongthepathandIpicturemyguitarsittingaloneinHazel’sapartment,waitingforme.Aweirdguiltmovesthroughme,likeI’mneglectingit.Iboughtthatguitarbackinhighschool.It’snotthenicestormostexpensiveguitar—farfromit—butIloveit,nonetheless.
AndnowI’mavoidingit.
EverytimeIthinkaboutplayingmyguitar,IthinkaboutZacharrangingtohavemesenttotheairport.IthinkaboutallthetimesIplayedguitarwhileZachandIworkedonlyrics.IthinkabouthimlaughingatthesongIwrote.
Hazel’smouthtwiststotheside,apinchformingbetweenhereyebrows.“DoesthishaveanythingtodowithHerpes?”
Ichokeoutalaugh.That’swhatshecallsZach.“Wecan’tcallhimthat.”
“ItelleveryoneIknowthathehasit.”
Mychestshakeswithlaughter.“Herpesisforever.”
Shenarrowshereyesandtapsherlip.“Right,andZachislonggone.Let’scallhimChlamydiainstead.”Herexpressionsobers.“So,doesithaveanythingtodowithhim?”
IleandowntogiveDaisyascratchasshetrotsbesideme.“Probably.”
Hazel’squiet,andthereareprobablyahundredthingsshewantstosay.SheneverlikedZach,evenbackinhighschool.
“Iwishyouknewyouwerethefuckingbest.”Shesaysitquietly.Amuscleinherjawticks.“Iwishyouknewhowtalentedyouare.You’dbeunstoppable.”
Whensheusesthatquiet,seriousvoice,itmakesmefeellikecrying,andIdon’tknowwhy.Wewalkinsilencewithonlythesoundoftheriverrushingbesidethepath.
“Well,”sheshrugs,“you’lljusthavetomeditatehimoutofyourhead.”
“Herpes,”Isayinacommercialvoice,likeI’msellingspapackages.“Meditateitaway!”
“Chlamydia,”shecorrects,andwelaugh.“Seriously.Meditatethatguythefuckoutofyourmind.”
Herbrash,no-bullshitapproachtowellnesshasmesmiling.
Shechuckles.“Andifmeditationdoesn’twork,youneedtogetlaid.”
Myfaceheats.
“Thebestwaytogetoversomeoneistogetlaid.Especially—”sheputsextraemphasisontheword,turningtomeandstaringhard“—whenyou’veonlysleptwithoneguyinyourentirelife.”
Isquirm,tuckingmyhandsinmyjacketpockets.Yep.It’strue.IlostmyvirginitytoZachandhaven’thookedupwithanyoneelse.
Anotherflickerofshameburnsinmystomach.Thatwasprobablypartofthereasonhewantedtomoveon,becauseIcan’t—
Ican’t,uh,getthere.Ican’thaveanorgasmwithaguy.IadmittedoncetoHazelthateverytimeZachandIslepttogether,Ifakedit.Ididitonce,andhewassohappyandrelieved.IthinkhethoughtitwashisfaultthatIcouldn’tgetthere.AndthenIjustkeptfakingit.Ikepttellingmyself,thiswillbethelasttime,becauseit’slying.Butintheend,Iwasn’thurtinganyone,soIkeptdoingit.IfIcouldn’tcome,itstressedhimout,whichstressedmeout.Itwasjusteasiertofakeit.
Theideaofsleepingwithsomeonenewisdaunting.I’venevergoneonaformaldate,andI’veneverbeenonadatingapp.ZachandIhadbeenfriendssincegradeeightbandclassandwegotcloserandcloser.Untilonedayneartheendofgradeten,heheldmyhandandIlethim.Thenhestartedcallingmehisgirlfriend.Everyonearoundusactedlikeitwasnosurprise,soIdidn’tmakeabigdealofit.
Overtheyears,Ijustgotsweptawayinhiscurrent,Iguess.Ifrown,notsurehowIfeelaboutthat.Ican’timaginebeingasfamiliarwithsomeoneelseasIwaswithZach.
Especiallywithmylittleissue.I’llhavetofakeitalloveragainforsomeonenew.
Hazelgivesmeaflatlook,likemyworriesarewrittenallovermyface.“What?”
“Ican’t—”Iwavemyhandaroundintheair.“Youknow.”
Shesnortsandcopiesmygesture,overexaggerated.Iletoutanervouslaugh.
“Orgasm?”sheprompts.
Imakeastranglednoise.“Yes.It’sjustmybody.AndnowIhavetotellawholenewpersonaboutit?”
Shesighs,herheadfallingback.“It’snotyourbody.YourcoochieknewZachwasacolossalloser.”
“Stoptalkingaboutmycoochie.”
“Yourcoochiewantsaction!”sheshoutsattheforest,andIsputterwithlaughter,tryingtocoverhermouth.“Giveyourcoochiewhatshewants!”
Acouplepassesusandwesmileatthem.Myfaceisbrightred.Whenthey’regone,wedissolveintogigglesagain.
HazelthrowsastickforDaisy,andDaisytakesoffafterit.Fortherestofthewalk,Hazeltellsmeabouthersnootycoworkersattheyogastudio,andbythetimewereturntohercar,myfacehurtsfromlaughing.Daisy’scoatedinalayerofmudfromrunningthroughpuddles,butshehasthatexhausted,happydoglookonherlittleface.
“Comeon,”Isaytoher,gesturingtothetowel-coveredbackseat.“Jumpup.”
Shestaresatmebeforeshelaunchesintoafull-bodyshake,tossingmudanddirtypuddlewateralloverme.Ithrowmyhandsup,butit’stoolate.
Ontheothersideofthecar,Hazel’slaughingherassoff.Shetakesaphotoofmeandsmilesattheresult.
Igiveherastrainedsmile.“Themudisinmyhair,isn’tit?”
“Yep.”Shegrins.
***
Anhourlater,Daisy’scleanandcurleduponthecouchinthelivingroomwhileI’mintheshower,washingthedirtoutofmyhair.Jamiewon’tbehomeuntillaterthisafternoon,soI’msingingaColdplaysong.IsingitthewayIwouldhaverecordedit,softinsomepartsandrawinothers.
Thebathroomacousticsareamazing,andthere’ssomethingaboutthehotwaterrunningdownmyskinandthesmellofmyconditionerthatmakesmefeellikethisismyownlittleworld,allbymyself,wherenoonecantouchme.
Ifinishthesong,turnoffthewater,andtowel-drymyhairbeforeIwrapitaroundmeandstepoutofthebathroomtocheckonDaisy.
JamieStreicherisstandinginhislivingroom,staringatmeinmytowel.CHAPTER7JAMIE
Mybrainisn’tworking.
That’stheonlyexplanationforwhyI’mjuststandinghere,staringatanalmost-nakedPippainatinytowel.Herwethaircascadesaroundhershoulders,andabovethetowelsheclutchestoherchest,mygazesnagsonhercleavage.Frecklesdotacrosshercollarbone,justlikeonherface.
Shewassingingintheshower,anditwasthesweetestsoundI’deverheard.Icouldn’tmove.
Somethingrushesinmyblood—arousal.Attraction.SparksskitterdownmyspineasItakeinherlegs.Herskinlookssosoft.
WhetherIwanttobeornot,I’mstillsoattractedtothisgirl.
Herfaceisgoingbrightred.Hertoenailsarepaintedmintgreen.Whyisthatsofuckingcute?Istareatherbottomlip.Wasitalwayssoplushlikethat?Bloodhurriestomycock,andIturnaround.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Idemand.ItcomesoutharsherthanImean.
“Daisygotmudalloverme,andIdidn’trealizeyou’dbehomesoearly—”
“It’sfine.”Shewasn’tsupposedtobeherewhenIgothome.ThiscanonlyworkifIneverseeher.
WhothefuckamIfooling?Itisn’tworking.I’vebeenthinkingaboutherfortwoweeks,wonderingwhatsheandDaisyweredoing.She’sbeensendingmedailyemailswithupdates,andeventhoughIneverrespond,Ilookforwardtothem.Iwaitforthem,refreshingmyemailwhileI’msittingonaplaneorbetweentrainingsessions.
IthoughtifIdidn’tseeher,shecouldn’tdistractme.Iwassowrong.Imakeafrustratednoiseinmythroatandheadtothedoor.
“Icanbeoutofhererightaway,”shecallsafterme.
“I’llbebackatfour.”That’sthetimeIwasscheduledtobehome,butoneofmytrainershadtoreschedule.Iyankmybootsonanddon’tlookback.
Intheelevator,Iclosemyeyesandblowoutalongbreathinapatheticattempttocentermyself.Myphonebuzzesinmybackpocket,andwhenIpullitout,Iseeaphotoofmeandmymomflashingacrossthescreenwithherincomingcall.
It’sthereminderIneed.Icanbarelyhandlehockeyplustakingcareofmymom,letalonelosingmyheadoversomegirl.It’snotworthit.
“Hey,Mom,”Ianswer.CHAPTER8PIPPA
JamieleavesandIstareatthedoor,stunned.
He’ssuchadick.He’stheonewhowashomeearly.Iwasjustfollowingtheschedulehegaveme.
IheaduptotheroomwhereIstaywhenhe’sawaysoIcangetchangedandgetoutofhere.Idon’tevenbotherblow-dryingmyhair.Ijustthrowmyclotheson,headdownstairstogiveDaisyakissontheheadgoodbye,andlockup.
Hazel’steachinganonlineyogaclassfromhomeuntilthisevening,andI’mtryingtogiveherspace,soIheadtothecoffeeshopdownstairstowritemydailyupdate.Jamieneveraskedforthem,butI’mtryingtodoagoodjob.
IhaveatextfromHazelfromearlierintheafternoon.ImisseditwhileIwasintheshower.
Whatthefuckisthis?sheasks,andIopenthelinkshesent.
Mystomachdropsthroughthefloorwhenthevideostarts.IscrambletoconnectmyheadphonesasZachplaysarecentshow,smilingatthewomanbesidehimonstage.ShelooksaboutthesameageasmeandZach,withlong,wavyplatinumhair.Herclothesarestylishandbohemian,andshe’ssmilingandsingingalongsideZachwhilehesmilesbackather.
Shelookslikeshebelongsonstage.She’ssocomfortableupthere,soflawlessandcharismatic.
Myheadphonesconnect,andmyjawdrops.They’resingingasongthatZachandIwrotetogether.Imean,Ididn’tgetwritingcreditsbecausewejustplayedaroundwiththetuneononeofouroffdays,butstill.
Ididn’tjustgetdumped—Igotreplaced.Byanewer,shiniermodel.MyeyesstingandIblinkthetearsaway.
Youdon’thaveit,ZachsaidtomeoncewhenIfloatedtheideaoftryingtowritemyownalbum.I’vealwayswantedto.Beinginthespotlightisreallyhard,hetoldme,likehewasprotectingmefromit.
Hewasn’talwayslikethat.Ormaybehewas,anditjustsurfacedmoreinthepastcouplemonths.Whenthingsweregood,whenZachturnedhischarismaonandshonehislightonme?Itmademefeelsospecialandwarm.Whenitwasjustus,we’dlaughsohard.Heknewmebetterthananyone.Hissmilemademefeellikeamillionbucks.
Inthevideo,hesmilesatherthewayheusedtosmileatme,andmychestaches.Myeyeswellupagain,atearfalls,andIwipeitawayfast.
Heneveraskedmetocomeoutonstagewithhim.Notonce.
Thissucks.
I’msittinginacoffeeshopwithahundredandtwenty-threedollarsinmybankaccount,livingonHazel’scouchwhenJamie’sintown,andmyexismovingon.
Throughtheglass,mygazelockswithJamie’s.Seriously?It’sliketheuniversekeepsfindingtheworsttimepossibleformetorunintohim.
Iputmyheaddown,hopingtheglareontheglasshidesme.IfIjustpretendIdidn’tseehim,maybehe’llgoaway—
Nope.Ipeekoverathim.He’satthecoffeeshopdoor.He’sopeningit.Shit.Maybehe’sjustgettingacoffee.
Nope.He’sheadingtowardme.CHAPTER9JAMIE
She’ssittingatatablebesidethewindow,wipingathereyes,tryingtohidehertears.Alarmshootsthroughme,andmyprotectiveinstinctsflare.Inashot,I’minside,infrontofher.
Iglareather.“IsthisbecauseIsawyouinyourtowel?”
Shefranticallywipesthetearsaway,blinkingrapidly.“No.”Shelaughsatherself,butitfeelshollow.“Thatdidn’tevenregisteronmylistofembarrassingexperiences.”Sheclearsherthroatandforcesasmile.“I’mfine.”
Mychesthurts,watchingherlikethis.Ihatethis.
“Tellmewhyyou’recrying.”Icrossmyarms.
“I’mfine,”shesaysagain,notmeetingmyeye.Shereachesforherphoneandherbaglikeshe’sabouttogetup.
Ileanoverher,settingmyhandsonthetable.I’mbeinganintimidatingjackass,butIneedtoknowwhyshe’scryingsoIcanfixit.
“Tellme.”Myvoiceislow,andherbreathcatches.
SheslidesherphoneacrossthetablebeforehittingPlay.Onthescreen,thatfuckingZachHansonguyshedatedinhighschoolissingingonstagebesideawoman.
IraiseaneyebrowatPippa.
Hereyesflashwithanger.“Hedumpedmelastmonthandnowhe’sonstagewithsomeonenew.”Afreshwaveoftearsspillsover.Iwanttokillthatguyformakingherfeellikethis.
Iglancebackatthevideo,atthatstupidasshole’sface.Sotheywerestilltogetheruntilrecently.Hewasscrawnyinhighschool,andnow,Ican’tmakeouthisbuildunderhisjacket,buthestilllookssmall.I’mstronger,Ibet.
“Stopcrying,”Idemand.
“I’mtrying.”Shetakesashakybreath.“Everythingistotallyshitrightnow.Hehasthisshinynewmuse,andI’maloserlivingonmysister’scouchandbeggingformyjobback.”Anothertearrollsdownherface.
MyhandliftsandIcatchmyselfjustintime.Whatthefuck?WasIjustabouttowipehertearaway?Isitdownacrossfromher.MykneebouncesasIfigureoutwhattodoaboutthis.
Ihatethatguy.Ihatehimsofuckingmuch.Hehasasoft,squishy,punchableface.Goaliesalmostnevergetintofights,butifthatguywereontheiceatmygametomorrow,Iwouldn’thesitate.
Mythoughtssnagonwhatshesaidaboutlivingonhersister’scouch.
“Sogetyourownplace,”Itellher.
Whenshelooksatme,she’sirritated.Good.Atleastit’shelpingwiththecrying.Angryisbetterthansad.Ican’thandleasadPippa.
“Vancouver’sexpensive.IwanttofindsomethingclosetoyourplacesoIcangetovertherequicklyifyouneedme.”
Inthebackofmymind,Ilikethewayshesaysifyouneedme.Afunnypricklemovesovermyskin,andIfrownharder.
“Youshouldgohome.”
“Ican’t.”Herfacecrumples,andIpanic.Hersister’steachinganonlineyogaclass,sheexplains.“WhyamIeventalkingtoyouaboutthis?I’mokay.Ijustneedtocrythisout.”
Ihateeverythingaboutthis.Everyprotectiveinstinctinmybodysurgeswiththeneedtomakethingsbetterforher.
“Moveinwithme.”
Westareateachother.Idon’tknowwherethefuckthatcamefrom.I’mnotsupposedtobespendingmoretimewithher;I’msupposedtobeavoidingher.
Livingwithherisn’tkeepingheratarm’slength.
She’sstoppedcrying,though.That’ssomething.She’sstaringatmewithaconfusedlook.
Theideaofherlivinginmyapartmenteasessomethinginmychest.
“It’llbeeasieronDaisy.”I’mscrambling.
IrememberhersingingwhenIgothome,andmyheartthumpsharder.Ifshe’slivingwithme,maybeI’llhearhersingagain.
Acrossthetable,she’schewingherlipwithanuncertainexpression.“Idon’tknow.”
Mypulseispickingup.Ipictureherinmyapartment,lyingonthecouch,readingabookwithDaisyatherfeet.Playingherguitarlikesheusedtowithherfriendsbackinhighschool.Mychestwarms.Ilikethatimage.
Idon’tcareifthisisabadidea.Ican’tletitgo.Besides,I’mbusywithhockeyandvisitingmymominNorthVan.Iwon’tevenseeher.
AndIwon’tbeworryingabouther,sothat’ssomething.
“Youcan’tbecryinginpublic,”Itellher.Again,myvoicecomesoutsharpandstern.Jackass.“It’sunprofessional.You’llmoveintomorrow.”
Iwatchherforanysignthatshedoesn’twanttodothis,anyfearorrepulsion.Butinstead,sheletsoutalongbreathandherfacerelaxeslikeshe’srelieved.
Myheartlifts.
Thecornerofhermouthcurvesup,andhereyessoften.“Okay.”Shenods.“Thankyou,Jamie.”
Somethingsparksdownmyspine.Ilikethewayshesaysmyname,sweetlikethat.Ilikethewayshe’slookingatmerightnow,likeshelikesme.
Ijerkanodatherandstandup.
“Tomorrow,”Irepeat.
Shenods,wipinghersmearedmascaraoff.“Tomorrow.”
AsIheadupstairs,mypulseraceslikeI’minthemiddleofagame.Ijustthrewawrenchintothewell-oiledmachinethatismylife.Pippaisintoxicatinglypretty,andaroundher,mymindblanks,butIfeelatwingeofexcitedanticipationthatIhaven’texperiencedinalongtime.CHAPTER10JAMIE
Thatevening,justbeforesunset,IparkinthedrivewayofasuburbanhomeinNorthVancouver,bagofGreekfoodsittinginthepassengerseat.There’saninformaldinnerfortheplayerstonight,aget-to-know-youtypeofthingforthenewguys,butIignoredtheinvite.Fromthebackseat,Daisywagshertail,curiousandexcited.Itakeadeepbreath.
Ican’tfuckingbelieveItoldPippatomoveinwithme.Withherwatchingthedog,though,I’llhavelotsoftimetokeepaneyeonmymom.
Fromthebackseat,Daisyleansherheadonmyshoulder,sniffingme,andIsendheraside-longglance.Aweirdfeelinggrowsinmychest.
AmI…startingtolikethisdog?Ifrownather,andshepantsandwagshertail.Isnort.
“Comeon.”Igetoutofthecar,letDaisyout,andwalkuptothesmallhome.
Thehouseismodest—firmlymiddleclass.ItriedtobuymymomsomethingbiggerwhenIwentpro,butsherefused.Shesaidshedidn’twanttoleavetheneighborhoodshe’dlivedinforyears.Thatshelikedtheneighborsanddidn’twanttomakenewfriends.
AsInearthefrontdoor,movementontheroofcatchesmyeyeandmyheartstops.
Mymomisontheroof,wearingthickgardeninggloves.Shewaveswithabigsmile.“Hi,honey.”
Bloodbeatsinmyears.Shecan’tbeupthere.Mymindraces,picturingherhavingapanicattackupontheroof,slippingandfalling,crackingherheadopenonthepavement.
“Whatareyoudoingupthere?”Idemand.Daisybarksupatmymom,wagginghertail.
Mymomgrinswideatme.“Cleaningthegutters.”
“Getdown.Now.”I’musingmyfirmestvoice.“It’sgettingdarkout.”
“Icanseejustfine.I’mjustfinishingup,anyway.”Shechucklesanddropsafistfulofleavesonme.Theyflutterdowntomyfeet,andDaisyjumpsandtriestobiteone.
“Jamie,honey?Whosedogisthat?”
IraiseaneyebrowatDaisy,who’ssittingwithhertailsweepingbackandforthonthepavement.Thecornerofmymouthtwitchesashereyeswiden.Shethinksshe’sgettingatreat.
Maybealittlepartofmeisstartingtolikethisdog.
“Mine,”Itellmymom.“Igotadog.”
Mymomlightsup,clapping.“Youdid?Oh,Jamie,that’sgreat.That’sexactlywhatyouneed.”
“Canyoupleasegetdown?”I’mfeelingtwitchywithherupontheroof,sohigh.“I’llhiresomeonetodothis.”
“Stoptreatingmelikeachild.I’mnotincapableoflivingmylife.”
Irritationrisesinmygut.Irritationandsomethingelse,somethingangrier.Ihatethatshepretendsshe’sfinewhenshe’snot.She’salwaysbeenlikethat.Wenever,evertalkedaboutherdepressionoranxietywhenIwasgrowingup.Westillhaven’ttalkedaboutthecaraccidentlastyear.Mygazesweepstotheopengarage.Hercarisfixed,andIwonderifshe’sbeendriving.She’snotallowedtountilshegetshelp.
Shewasdrivingfriendshomefromthebarwhenshehadthepanicattackandrear-endedanothercar.Becauseofmylatefather’sstruggleswithalcoholism,she’salwaysthedesignateddriver.Ithinkoneofherfriendssmelledlikebooze,andcombinedwithdrivingatnight,whenmydad’saccidenthappened,itjustsetheroff.
Idon’trememberhim—Iwasonlyababywhenhedrovedrunkandwrappedhiscararoundapole—butIresenthimforleavingmymomwithallthisbaggage.Ifnotforhim,maybeshewouldn’thavehaddepressionwhileIwasgrowingup.Maybeshewouldn’thavepanicattacks.
“You’renotevenclippedin.”Mychestfeelstight.“Youcouldslipandfall.”
Sherollshereyes,makingherwayovertotheladder.“Ameteorcouldbonkmeintheheadandkillme.”Shedescendstheladder,andmyheartrateslows.“Youworrytoomuch.”
Internally,Ideflate.Sometimes,IwishIwaslikeher,butthenwhowouldholdourfamilytogether?Whowouldswoopinandanswermymom’scallswhenshe’shavinganepisode?
Daisylovesherimmediately,ofcourse.Weheadinside,andmymomputtersaroundthekitchen,settingouttheGreekfoodIbroughtwhileIgrabplates.Daisysniffseverysquareinchofthehouse.
“Howareyousettlingintoyournewplace?”sheasks.
IfeeltheweirdurgetotellheraboutPippa.WhatwouldIevensay?Myassistantisadrop-deadgorgeoussongbirdwhoIhadacrushoninhighschool.Who’sincrediblewithmydog.WhostockedthefridgewithallthefoodsIlikeeventhoughIbarked“stuff”atherasagrocerylist.Andnowshe’sgoingtobelivingwithme,sleepingontheothersideofthewall.
Maybedoingotherstuffontheothersideofthatwall.Thethoughtgoesstraighttomycock.
“Fine,”Itellher.“It’sfine.”
Shebringstheplatestothetable.“Iwanttocometoagame.”
“Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea.”
SheblinksatmelikeI’veslappedher,andIimmediatelyregretmywords.Icouldhavesaiditdifferently.Itisn’tagoodidea,though.Thesmellofalcoholisatriggerforher,andatahockeygame,everyone’sdrinking.Ifsomethinghappens,she’lltakeupmyfullattention,andIcan’tlosefocusontheice.
“Jamie.”Shegivesmeanindulgentlook,butthere’sirritationbeneathit.“Ihadonelittlepanicattack.”
Onethatshe’sadmitted.
Hereyesareonthelasagnaasshedishesitout.“You’retreatingmewithkidgloves.”
That’sbecauseyou’refragileandyoudon’thavethebesttrackrecordofkeepingittogether,Ithink.Andinmyhead,I’mtenandmakingmyownschoollunchduringoneofherlowpointsofdepression.
“Doyouneedanyhelpmovingin?”Shemovestothekitchen,andI’mrelievedthatshe’sdroppedtheideaofcomingtoagame.
“No.I’mallunpacked.”
Shegivesmeafunnylook.Sheknowshowdemandingmyscheduleis.“Thatwasfast.”
Iclearmythroat.“IhiredanassistanttohelpwithDaisyandotherstuff.”
Mymomblinksatme.Asmilestretchesacrossherface.“You?Youhiredsomeonetohelpyou?”
“It’snotabigdeal.”Igiveherahardlook,butthecornerofmymouthtugsup.
Shelaughs.“Ifyousayso.”Asshepasses,shenudgesmewithherelbow.“That’sgreat,honey.”
Warmthspreadsinmychest.Iduckmyhead,embarrassed.“Yeah,well.”Ishrug.“ShedoesalotofthingsformethatsavetimesoIcanfocusonhockey.”
“She?”Herheadtiltsandhereyessparkle.
Mygutdips,andmygazedartstomymom.Ishrugagain.“Yeah.”
Thebackofmyneckheats.
“What’shername?”Mymom’seyesarelikelasers,andthere’sthatlittletwitchatthecornerofhermouth.
Iholdmyfaceneutral,notwantingtogiveanythingaway,evenasmypulsepicksupatthethoughtofmyprettyassistant.“Pippa.”
Pleasedon’taskwhereshe’sfrom,Ibegsilently.I’llblurtoutthatwewenttothesamehighschoolandthenit’llallcometumblingout.
Shemakesapleased,hummingnoise.“Prettyname.Howoldisshe?”
Shesmellsbloodinthewater.
I’mtwenty-six,whichputsPippaattwenty-four.“Idon’tknow.”
“Guess.”
Myskintingles.Sheknows.Shesofuckingknows.“Alittleyoungerthanme.”
“Hmmm.”Shesmiles,nodding,watchingme.“Interesting.”
Istaysilent.
“Isshepretty?”
Irakeahandthroughmyhair.“Idon’tknow.”
“Imean,youhaveeyes,don’tyou?”Sheasksitsoinnocently,likeshedoesn’tknowtheanswer.
Iblowoutalongbreath,frustratedwithmymombutalsowithmyself,becauseIshouldn’thavethisinconvenientcrush.
AndIsureasshitshouldn’thavedemandedshemoveinwithme.
“Yes,okay?”Irushout.“She’sveryprettyandshehasabeautifulsingingvoiceandDaisylovesher.”
Mymomrollsherlipstohideasmile,buthereyesarebright.
“What?”Idemand.
Sheburstsoutlaughing.
Igroan.Shehasawayofgettingthingsoutofme.
Shesmilesatmeasshetakesaseatacrossthetable,tiltingherhead.“Erinwasalongtimeago.”Shesaysitquietly,andmylungstighten.“IsawheronanewTVshow.She’sthestar.”
Myjawtensessohardmyteethmightcrack,andIthinkbacktosevenyearsago,duringmyrookieyear.ErinDavis,thesupermodelonherwaytothetopwhoshockedthefashionindustrywhensheleftmodelingabruptly.Overthepastfewyears,she’sbeenacting.Ilookheruponceinawhiletoseeifshe’sstillworking.
MymomthinksErinandIbrokeupbecauseIcouldn’thandlehockeyandarelationship,whichistechnicallytrue.Shedoesn’tknowthatwhenErintoldmeherperiodwasaweeklate,Ipanicked.Erinwassoexcited,andIhadterrorwrittenallovermyface.Wewerenineteen,forChrist’ssake.ItwasmyrookieyearandIwasworkingharderathockeythanever.EverychanceIcould,Iwasflyinghometovisitmymom.Mybestfriendgrowingup,RoryMiller,wasn’tinterestedinbeingfriendsnowthatweplayedforseparatehockeyteams.EverythingwasdifferentandIwasbarelyholdingittogether.Addinganothercommitmenttomylifewasterrifying.Iwouldhavedoneit,though,nomatterhowharditwas.
Shegotherperiodadaylater,butthedamagewasdone.Webothknewtherelationshipwasover,andaweeklater,Isawthenewsaboutherleavingmodeling.Shefelloffthefaceoftheplanetforalmostfiveyears.
Guiltsqueezesmylungs.That’swhyIdon’tdorelationshipsanymore.BecauseErinwantedsomuchmorethanIwasabletogiveher.Becauseitwascasualforme,andIbrokeherfuckingheartandblewupherlife.Shewassotraumatized,sheleftapromisingcareer.
Ididthat.
MaybeIwasn’tinlovewithher,butshewasaniceperson,andshedeservedsomuchmorethanthehalf-assedattentionIwasabletogiveher.Ifwehadendeduphavingababy,thatkidwoulddeservesomuchmorethanthelimitedtimeIcouldgivethem.
I’llneverhurtsomeonethewayIhurtErin.
WhenIretirefromhockey,I’llhavetimeforthatstuff—arelationship,maybegettingmarried,maybehavingkids.IfIstayfitandkeepmyheadinthegame,Icanplayuntilmymid-thirties.Untilthen,thoseotherthingsaren’tpartoftheplan.
“Jamie?”
Myheadwhipstowardmymom.She’slookingatmewithacurious,softexpression.
“There’smoretolifethanhockey,youknow.”
Inodandmakeanoiseofacknowledgment,butshedoesn’tgetit.AfterseeingPippacrytheotherday,it’snotgoingtohappen.IknowIdon’thavetimeforher,andIcan’tcrushherlikeherexdid,andlikeIcrushedErin.
“AndIstillwanttogotoagame.”ShewidenshereyesatmeinanaffectionateImeanbusinessway.“I’llsitinthenosebleedsifIhaveto.”CHAPTER11PIPPA
Aweeklater,IsetaframedpictureofmeandHazelonthebookshelfinmyroom.Iwasfinewithmovingintoaroomthatwasbasicallyemptyexceptforthebedanddresser,butoverthepastweek,furniturekeptarriving.Iwasn’tevenherewhenthisbookshelfshowedup—itjustappeared,puttogether,thismorningafterIgothomefromDaisy’swalk.
Mystomachflutters.Iknowheputittogether.
He’salmostneverhere.Sometimes,Ihearthefrontdooropenwhenhegetshomelate.Daisysleepsinmyroomeverynight,butshelikestogreethimwhenhegetshome,soIcrackthedoorandletherrunout,butIdon’tsayhibecauseIwanttogivehimspace.
Inmyroom,Islidemyguitarcaseoutfromunderthebedtomakeroomforabox.I’mabouttopushitbackunderwhenIhesitate.MyhandslingeronthecasebeforeIsnapitopen.
Myguitargleamsatme,andmyhearttwists.Ilovethisthing,andnowI’mshovingitawaytocollectdust.Ireachoutandpluckastring.
ThelasttimeIplayedwasinfrontofZachandhismanageronthetour.Ididn’tevenwanthismanagerthere,butZachpulledhimin,andtheylistenedwhileIplayedtheskeletonofasongI’dbeenworkingon.Evenbackinhighschool,Ilovedwritingmusic.
Deepdown,IdreamedofhavingacareerlikeZach’s.
Whentheysmiledatmeafter,inthatcondescendingway,Iactuallychuckledwiththemtohidemyembarrassment.Theworstpartwasthatuntilthatmoment,IthoughtIhadwhatittooktomakemusicmycareer.Icansing,Icanplayguitar,andIcanwritemusic.Ialwayswantedtowriteanalbum,evenifjusttoseeifIcould.
Themarketingjobisgoingtobesomucheasierintheend.Noonegetstheirheartbrokenoveradeskjob.
There’sanoiseatmybedroomdoor,andIinhalesharply.Jamie’sstandingthere,frowningatme.
“Jesus.”Isnaptheguitarcaseshutandslideitunderthebed.“Youscaredme.Ididn’thearyougethome.”
Hefrownsharder.“Sorry.”
“It’sfine.”
Hisgazeflicksdowntotheedgeoftheguitarcasestickingoutfromunderthebed,andhelookslikehewantstoaskmesomething,butbeforehecansayanything,Istand.
“IwasjustabouttotakeDaisyout.I’llbeoutforawhiletogiveyousomespace.”Ibreezepasthim,andmypulseisstillwhistlingthroughmyveins.
IwishIdidn’thavethisreactiontohim.Tohim,I’mprobablylikeagnat—tiny,insignificant,andslightlyannoying.ThewayhefrownseverytimeI’maroundtellsmeeverythingIneedtoknow.
IheaddownstairstogetDaisyreadytogo,andasIclipherleashandharnesson,Jamiewalksintothelivingroom,crossinghisarmsoverhischest,watching.Hispresenceintheapartmentisintense—he’stoweringandbroad,andhisgreeneyesmakemyskinprickle,they’resosharp.OureyesmeetandIsmilenervously,tryingtosummonthatversionofmyselfwhodemandedherjobbackandcalledhimadickhead.
“I’vebeentakinghertothedogparknearhere,”Itellhim.IfIactlikeI’munaffectedbyhim,maybemybodywillgetthehint.“There’sthisguywhohasadogwholooksalotlikeDaisy.Theyliketoplaytogether.IthinkhisnameisAndrew.”
I’mramblingasIpullmyshoeson.Ican’tseemtogetmynervesundercontrolaroundthisguy.
“Andrew.”Hesaysthewordlikeittastesbad.
Imeethispiercinggaze,blinkinginconfusion.“Yeah.He’syoung.Probablymyage.He’sapersonaltrainer.”
Jamie’sgazeturnscoldbeforeheprowlstothedoor.“I’mcomingwithyou.”
Mylipspartinsurpriseasheyankshisshoeson.“Youdon’thaveto.Iknowyou’reprobablytired.”Heusuallyhasanapatthistime,exhaustedfrompractice.
“I’mnottired.”Hepullshisjacketoutoftheclosetandslipsitonbeforetakingtheleashfrommyhand.“I’msore,andIneedtomove.Let’sgo.”
BeforeIcanprotest,heopensthedoorandgesturesformetostepintothehall.CHAPTER12PIPPA
Thewalktothedogparkissilentandtense.Whenwearrive,Jamiescansthefenced-inareabeforehisshouldersrelaxandhisfrownlessens.IwaveandsmileatafewpeoplebeforeIletDaisyofftheleashtogreettheotherdogs.
DoeshenottrustmewithDaisy?IchewmylipasIrunthroughpossiblereasonshecamewithus.Theguy’sbeenavoidingmeforaweek.
“Thisparkisreallysafe,”Itellhim.He’sleaningonthefence,armsfoldedoverhischest,withascowlonhisface.“I’dneverbringDaisysomewhereunsafe.”
Hisscowlsoftens.“Iknow.Itrustyou.”Thecornerofhismouthtwitches,andhiseyesalmostlook…amused?“Iwouldn’thaveaskedyoutomoveinifIdidn’ttrustyou.”
Imakeadubiousface.“Youdidn’task.”
Hecoughsandlooksaway.Wasthatalaugh?It’ssohardtotellwithhim.
“Weshouldgettoknoweachotherbetter.”Hiseyesarebackonme,andit’stoughtolookaway.They’rethecolorofDouglasfirtrees.OftheearthygreenmossinStanleyPark.Ofadeepgreenrockatthebottomofacreek.
“Um.”Iblinkstupidlyinsurprise,feelingshy.“Okay.What’syourfavoritefood?”
Hiseyebrowgoesup.“That’syourquestion?”
“Ihadzerowarningyouweregoingtowanttotalktoday,orIwouldhavepreparedalistofquestions.”Mysmileturnsteasing.
Thecornerofhismouthtwitchesagain,andhiseyesalmostlooksoft.Ilikethislookonhim.
Hewatchesmeforalongmoment.Thatgirlwhodemandedherjobbacksurfaces,andIstarebackathim.
“Christmasdinner,”hesays,stillwatchingmeinthatunnervingwaythatmakesmystomachflutter.“Turkey,mashedpotatoes,gravy,broccolicasserole.”
“Cranberrysauce?”
Henods.“Homemade,notcanned.”
“Ofcourse.”Ismile.“AreyoucrazyaboutChristmas?”
“Notreally,butmymomlovesit.”HelooksoveratDaisy,whohasastickinhermouthandistryingtobaitanotherdogtochaseher.“WespendmostofthetimecookingtogetherandwatchingChristmasmovies.”
Thewayhesaysitmakesmethinkthathejustlikesseeingherhappy.
Heslidesaglanceatme,studyingmyface.“Ilikedthoseenchiladasyoumade,too.”
Pridefillsmychestatajobwelldone.“Great.I’llmakethemagain.”
Daisysprintspastus,chasedbyagoldenretriever,havingthetimeofherlife,andIsmileatJamie.Hismouthtwitchesasoureyesmeet.
EverytimeIsmile,hismouthtwitches.Thatrealizationmakesmystomachwarmandliquid,andIsmilewiderathim.
Maybehe’snotsuchanasshole,afterall.
“Nextquestion.”Myhandsaregettingcold,soItuckthemintomyjacketpockets.“Whyhockey?”
Lookingaroundthedogpark,hiseyesnarrowasheputshisanswertogether.“Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.”
“Startatthebeginning.”
Hesnorts.“Igotmyfirststickattwoyearsold.”
“Wow.”Myeyebrowsshootup.“Yourdad’sabighockeyfan?”
Hisexpressionchanges,barelyperceptible,andhefrowns.“Hewas.Hedied.”
“Oh.”Myheartdrops,andnowIrememberreadingthis.Shit.Ishouldhaveremembered.“I’msosorry.”
Heshakeshishead.“It’sfine.Idon’trememberhim.IthappenedwhenIwasreallyyoung.Hewasadrunk,andhewrappedhisowncararoundapole.”
“Shit,”Ibreathe.That’ssotragic.IstudyJamie,butheseemsunaffectedbythis.
“Seriously.”Hestaresatme.“Idon’trememberhim.It’salwaysjustbeenmeandmymom.That’senoughforme.”Heglancesaway,rubbinghissharpjaw.“Hockey’sfast-paced,morethananyothersport,andthefeelingofbeingfocusedonthegame,shuttingeverythingelseout,it…”Thecornerofhismouthtwitchesagain,andhisgazecomestomine.“Ontheice,it’slikenothingelseexists.”
Myheartsqueezes.That’showIfeelwhenI’mwritingsongs.OrwhenIusedto.Likeeverythingfellaway.
“Ilikebeingpartofateam,”hetellsme,archingabrow.“ButIlikebeingtheonlyguyinthenet,too.”Hisbigshouldersliftinashrug.“Ilikethepressure.”
“Doyoulikeyournewteam?”
“I’veplayedagainstthembefore,butI’mnotfriendswithanyofthem.”
“Whataboutthosecupcakes?”
Hisgazeshootstomineinconfusion.
“Thecontainerwasempty.Yougavethemtoyourteammates,right?”Hefreezes,aguiltylookcrossinghishandsomeface,andmyjawdrops.“Ohmygod.Youthrewthemout.”
Heshifts,glancingaroundthepark.Theguiltylookintensifies.
“Jamie.”I’mgivinghimanappalledlook,andwhenIsayhisname,heturnsandgivesmehisfullattention.
It’sintoxicating.
“Didyoudumpthosecupcakesinthegarbage?”Icrossmyarms,butIcanfeelthesmiletwistingonmymouth.“Theywereterrible,weren’tthey?”
Oureyesarelocked,andthesideofhismouthisn’teventwitching;it’scurvingup.God,hiseyesarepretty.Thewayhe’slookingatme,amusedandintense,it’smakingmystomachflutterlikecrazy.
Areweflirtingrightnow?Ican’tlookawayfromhim.
“Theywereincredible.”Hisgazedropstomymouth,andmyeyeswidenafraction.
Wearesoflirtingrightnow.What?
Iblinkabouttwelvetimes,memorizingthismomentsoIcananalyzeitwithHazellater.“Soyoudidn’tdumpthem.”
Heshakeshishead,stillgivingmethatsmirkyhalfsmile.“Iateeverylastone.”
I’mmelting.That’stheonlyexplanationforwhat’shappeningtomyinsidesrightnow.“Oh.”
“Yeah.”He’sdroppedthesmirk,buthiseyesarestillsparkling,amused,almosthappy,even.
“IfImakemore,aretheygoingtomakeittotheteam?”
“Probablynot.”
Ilaugh,andthecornerofhismouthtwitches.
God,Iwanttoseeafullsmilesobadly.Ibetitwouldknockmeoffmyfeet,makemyhairflutterwiththeforceofit.
“Youbroughtyourguitar,”hesays,changingthesubject.
Mystomachdrops.Ican’ttellhimthetruth.
“It’snothing.”Iforceasmileandshakemyhead.ThenIrollmyeyes.Toomuch,Itellmyself.Toofake.“It’smyoldguitarthatHazeldoesn’thaveroomfor.Iboughtitformyselfaftergraduation.”AlarmbellsringinmyheadasIveerclosertothetopicofhighschool.Irollmyeyesagain,tryingtoconveyanobigdealvibe,whichI’veneverbeenabletomaster.“Idon’tevenplayanymore.”
He’sdoingthatstaringthingagainthatmakesmefeellikeIhavenoclotheson.“Whynot?”
“Um.”AllIcanthinkaboutisZachonstagewiththatnewwoman,andhoweasilyreplacedIwas.Withabettermodel,too.Newandimproved.
“Idon’tknow.”Ifrownatmysneakers.“IlearnedwhenIwastwelve,andthenImetZach—”Iglanceathim.“Myex.”
Hemakesanunhappynoiseofacknowledgment.
“Wewouldalwaysmessaroundwithmusicandstuff.I’dplayatune,andwe’dsingittogetherorsomething.”Iplaywiththehemofmyjacket.“Evenwhenwewereontour,sometimesI’dplayifitwasjustmeandhimhangingout.”Shamesettlesinmystomach,andIworrymybottomlipwithmyteeth.
Ihatebeingthegirlwhogotdumped.IhatethatZachleftanuglymarkonme.Thebreakupislikeaweightholdingmedown.
IliftmygazetoJamie’s,andthere’ssomethinginhisexpressionashelistenstometalk.Somethingsweetandsharp,anditmakesmewanttostayhereinthisdogparkforawholeday,talking.
“Whatever,”Isay,puttingonasmiletoshoveawaytheweirdZachfeelings.“It’sinthepast.”
Hiseyesmoveovermyface.“Youhaveanicevoice.”
Myfacefalls,andembarrassmentweavesthroughme.“Youheardmesinging?”
HisAdam’sapplebobsashenods.“ThatdayI…”
Oh,right.Thedayhenearlysawmenaked.Cringe.Myfaceheats.“Everyonesoundsgoodintheshower.”
“No.”Hegivesmeahardlook.“Theydon’t.”
Jeez,he’ssointense.Atinyshiverrollsdownmybackathisfirmtone.Ishethisfirminbed?Itrynottobitemylipatthearousalthatshimmersthroughme.TheideaofJamieStreicherontopofme,naked,sweating,andwearingalookofagonizedecstasy,isvery,veryhot.
“Youhaveagreatvoice,”hetellsmeagain.“Youknowyoudo.”
Whenmygradetwelvemusicteachersaidthattome,Zachmadeitseemliketheteacherwasbeingnice.Liketheteacherfeltsorryforme.
“I’mnotgoingtodoanythingwithit.”
Heglaresatme.
“I’mnotperformermaterial,”Itellhim,echoingthewordsZachsaidyearsago.
Youdon’thaveit,he’dsaid.Oof.It’sstillembarrassingthatIeventried.Especiallywhenmymindflickstohisnewmanicpixiedreamgirl.
“It’sokay,”IreassureJamie.
“Yourexisafuckinglosertoletyougo,”hebitesout.
Mybreathcatches.Hiseyesflashwithfury,andItiltmyhead,studyinghim.Hefrownsharder.He’sabouttokeepgoing,butIcuthimoff.
“Let’sgo.”Mytoneisbright.Idon’twanttobesad,hurtlosergirlrightnow.Ijustwanttoforget.
Hisgazelingersonmeforamomentbeforehenodsanddropsit.Aswewalkhome,IaskhimabouthisupcomingscheduleandfishforotherwaysIcanhelparoundtheapartment.He’sresistant,though,andbesidestakingcareofDaisyandorderinggroceries,hedoesn’taskformuch.
Imakeamentalnotetobuymorecupcakeingredients,though.
We’reablockfromtheapartmentwhensomethinginthewindowofamusicstorecatchesmyeye,andIstopshort.
Ohmygod.
Theguitarofmydreamssitsondisplayinthefrontwindow,gleaming.ThephotosintheguitarmagazineIflippedthroughacouplemonthsagodidn’tdoitjustice.Inperson,Icanseethefinecraftsmanship,thedetailsinthegrainofthewood,theshapethatIcanpracticallyfeelrestingonmylegasIplay.It’sbeyondbeautiful.Mygazetraceseveryline,eachstring,everyfret,memorizingit.
It’smadefromamixofwalnut,mahogany,andsprucewood.InthevideoIwatched,theguitarsoundedwarm,rich,andfull.Thecompanyonlymadeathousandofthem,andthere’sonerightinfrontofme.
Ibettheinsideofthatguitarsmellsincredible.Ithinkthisiswhattheycallinstalove
Iwantit.Iwantitsofreakingbadly.Ican’taffordit,though.IfIgetthemarketingjobandI’mvery,verygoodwithmymoney,maybeIcanfindoneinayearortwo.
Icatchmyself.WhyamIpiningovermydreamguitarwhenIcan’tevenpickuptheoneIhave?There’sasharpacheinmychest.
IrealizeJamie’swatchingmewatchtheguitar,wearingacuriousexpression
“Sorry,”Ichirp,turningawayfromtheguitar.“Let’sgo.”
***
Whenheleavesforhisgamethatevening,heactuallysaysgoodbye.
“Breakaleg,”Itellhim,sittingonthefloorofthelivingroom,trainingDaisyto“leaveit.”
Hiseyebrowgoesupinalarm.“Goodluckisfine.”
Ipicturethebrutalityofhockeyandhowbreakingalegisn’tthatunrealistic.“Sorry.Goodluck.”
Henodsoncebeforehe’sgone.
Thatevening,I’mlyinginbed,thinkingabouttheconversationwehadatthedogpark.IreplayJamie’sfacialexpressions,theamusedsparkinhiseyesashelistenedtometalk,thepiercinggleamashetalkedabouthockeyandwhyhelovesit.
IwishIcouldseehimsmile.Ipictureit,andmystomachflutters.
Andthereitis—atrillofnotesinmyhead.Isitupinthedarkbedroom.It’sjustafewnotes,butit’sthatsamefeelingasbefore,whenI’dsitwithZachonacouchwithmyguitarandwe’dgoofaround.It’sasparklingpressureinmychest,likefizzingbubbles.Iplacemyhandovermysternum,smilingoutthewindow,andI’msorelievedIcouldcry.
Zachdidn’tbreakme.ThatgirlIusedtobeisstillinthere.Ijusthavetofindawaytogetherout.
IthinkaboutJamieagain,andIwonderifithasanythingtodowithhim.CHAPTER13JAMIE
“Streicher,”WardcallsasIheadtothedressingroomafterpractice.“Myofficewhenyou’redone.”
MygutpitchesasIgivehimaquicknodandheadtotheshowers.Gettingcalledtothecoach’sofficeislikegoingtotheprincipal’soffice.Intheshower,Irunthroughmyrecentgamesandpractices.IfWard’sgoingtobringupmyweaknesses,Ineedtobeready.
HisofficedoorisopenwhenIarrive,andhelooksupfromhiscomputer.
“Hey.”Hestands.“Let’sgetsomelunch.”Hetiltshisheadtothestreetbelowhisofficewindow.“Iknowaplace.”
Aweightgathersinmygut.Ifitwassomethingeasy,we’djusttalkinhisoffice.Lunchmeansabiggerconversation,andwhateveritis,I’mnotexcitedtohearit.
WardmakessmalltalkasweleavethearenaandwalkthroughthestreetsofdowntownVancouver.
“Thisway,”hesays,steppingdownanalley.
Iraiseaneyebrowandglancedownthenarrowlane,buthe’swalkingwithpurposeanddirection,soIfollowhimtoagreendoor.Aboveit,aweatheredsignreadsTheFilthyFlamingo.Hehaulsitopen,andclassicrockspillsoutatalowvolume.
“Afteryou,Streicher.”
Istepinside.It’sabar,withwarmwoodpanelingonthewalls,vintageframedconcertposters,Polaroidphotosbehindthebaramongliquorbottles,andstringlightsacrosstheceiling.Peoplesitinthebooths,eatinglunch.
“Youtookmetoadivebar?”IaskWardasthedoorclosesbehindus.
“Hey,”awomansnaps,holdingatrayofdrinksbehindthebar.She’sinherlatetwenties,withlongdarkhairinahighponytail.She’swearinganold-lookingbandt-shirtandascowl.“Thisisn’tadivebar.”
“Itisn’tadivebar,Streicher,”Wardsaysloudenoughforhertohear.
Thebartenderglaresathimbeforecarryingthedrinkstoatable.
Wardleansin.“It’sadivebar,butwedon’tsaythatinfrontofJordan.Thisplaceisherbaby.”
WetakeseatsatthecounterasItakethespacein.Threelunchoptionsarewrittenonthechalkboardbehindthebar,andIgettheimpressionthatthosearemyonlyoptions.
Ikindoflikethisplace.It’sweird.WhentravelingtoVancouverovertheyears,I’deitherbeinNorthVanwithmymomorinahotelroom.Thiscrappybarfeelslikeasmallconnectiontothecitythatwillhopefullybemyhomeforawhileagain.
IwonderifPippaknowsaboutthisplace.
“Jordanhateshockey.”Ward’svoiceislow.“Sonoonewillbugushere.”Hecrooksagrinatme,andhiseyesfollowthepricklybartenderwithinterestbeforehedragshisattentionbacktome.“Stillsettlinginokay?Therewasthathiccupwithyourassistant.Isthatalltakencareof?”
“Yes,”Isayquickly.“Everything’sgreat.She’sahugehelp.”
Wardsmiles,pleasantlysurprised.“Gladtohearit.”
Jordantakesourorders,andwhensheleaves,Wardslantsacuriousglanceatme.
“Youdidn’tmakeittodinnertheothernight.”
He’stalkingabouttheinformaldinnerIskipped.“Ihadtocheckonmymom.”
Henodsinunderstanding,surveyingthePolaroidsbehindthebar.Apause.“Youdon’tspendmuchtimewiththeguysaftergames.”
Onmybarstool,Ishiftindiscomfort.SomeguysintheNHLmakefriendswiththeirteammates,andsomedon’t.MyNewYorkcoachdidn’thaveaproblemwithmestayingfocusedandoutoftrouble.Thelastthingafranchiseneedsistheirplayersinthemediaforpartying.Iwasn’ttopgoalieintheleaguelastyearbecauseIwasoutdrinkingwithmyteammates.
Mythoughtssnag,andIpictureRoryMillerandmeplayinghockeyasteenagers.Hisdad,NHLHallofFamerRickMiller,wouldarrangeextraicetimeforusatthelocalarena,andwe’dspendhourspracticingshootouts,laughing,andchirpingateachother.
Thatguywasmybestfriend.Myjawtenses,andIfoldmyarmsovermychest.Idon’tdothatkindofthinganymore.
“Ifocusonhockey,”Itellhim,offeringhimashrug.“Ithasn’tbeenaproblemuntilnow.”
Hismouthhitchesup.“Streicher,yourfocusissecondtonone.”Hepausesabeat.“ButIwantyoutospendmoretimewiththeguysofftheice.Teamcamaraderieisjustasimportantastrainingontheice.”
Mybrowssnaptogether.“Idon’thavetime.”
“Maketime.”Hissmileiseasy,butthedeterminationinhiseyesleavesnoroomforuncertainty.
Mykneebounceswithfrustration.Keepingthecoachhappyisacriticalpartofstayingontheteam.I’veseencoacheswithmajoregostradeplayersforpettyreasons.Pissinghimoffcouldjeopardizeeverything.
ImeetWard’sgaze.Theguydoesn’tseemtohaveanego,butIdon’twanttotakeanychances.
“Yougotit,”Itellhim.CHAPTER14PIPPA
Thearenaisemptyexceptfortheplayersontheice.Halfwearwhitejerseysovertheirpads,andhalfwearbluejerseys,andtheyrundrillswhileJamieandthesecond-stringgoalieguardeachnet.Thecoachingstaffstandonthesideoftheicewithclipboards,callingoutfeedbacktotheplayers.
Itakeaseatinthestandsbehindthebench,clutchingthekeysJamieforgotonthecounterthismorning.
Jamie’sinthenet,blockingpucksthatplayersshootathim.He’sfastaslightning.Idon’tevenseethepuckandhe’salreadycaughtit.Betweendrills,hegetsonhiskneesanddoesthesehip-thrustymovestostretch.Inmyhead,Ihearseventiespornmusicandhidemysmilebehindmyhand.
Thewhistleblows,andtheguysskateofftheicebeforefilingthroughthehalltothedressingroom,pullinghelmetsoffandtalkingtoeachother.Afewofthemsendmecuriousglances.
Abigblondguywithacharming,boyishgrinleansontherailingseparatingus.Hisdamphairiscroppedshort,andhehasthebluesteyes.
“Areyoulost?”heasks.
“No.”Mycheeksgopink.“I’mPippa,Jamie’sassistant.”
Hissmilebroadens.“Streicherdidn’tsayanythingaboutaprettyassistant.”
Alaughbubblesoutofme.Someguyscan’tpullthisvibeoff,buthecan.Despitehissize,hefeelslikeabiggoldenretriever,goofyandfun.
“Dude,”Itease,wincingathim.“Isthatyourline?”
Hechuckles,notevenalittleembarrassed.“HowcomeI’veneverseenyouatoneofthegames?”
“Idon’treallylikehockey.”Imakeafaceandshrug.“Sorry.”
“Pippa.”
AtthesoundofJamie’svoice,mystomachfizzes.Jamiestridestowarduswithanexpressionlikeastormcloud.Hishairisalsodampwithsweat,whichshouldbegross,butit’sweirdlyhotonhim.Hestopsbetweentheblondguyandmelikehe’stryingtoshieldme.
Myfaceheatsevenmore.Ihopehedoesn’tthinkI’mheretoscopeoutplayersorsomething.
“Youforgotyourkeys,”Itellhim,holdingthemout.“Ididn’twantyoutogetlockedoutwhileI’mwalkingDaisy.”
“Thanks.”Hetakesthembeforeshootingtheblondguyaweirdlook.AlockofdarkhairfallsintoJamie’seyes,buthedoesn’tnotice.
Theblondguysmilesevenwideratme.Forahockeyplayer,hehassurprisinglyniceteeth.“I’mHaydenOwens.”
“Pippa.”
“Hi,Pippa.”HaydenlooksatJamie.“Howcomeyoudon’tinvitehertogames?”
Jamiefrownsandflicksaglanceatme.
“Itakecareofthedogintheevenings,usually,”Isayquickly,notwantingJamietobeinanawkwardposition.
Haydenleansontherailing,andJamie’sjawtenses.“Pippa,domeafavor,okay?”HejerksanodatJamie.“Makethisguycomeoutwithusafteragame.Halftheteamisafraidofhimbecausehedoesn’ttalk.”
Alaughburstsoutofme,andJamieturnshisglaretome.
“Icanseeit,”Itellhim.“Youglarealot.”
Haydenchuckles.
ThecornerofJamie’smouthtwitches,andmystomachhasthatfizzyfeelingagain.Ismilewider—Ican’thelpit.I’mgettingusedtobeingaroundhim,andthatstarstruckfeelingIhadisslowlymeltingaway.
SoIhadacrushonhiminhighschool.Thatwasyearsago.I’velearnedsomuchsincethen—mainlytonever,everdateoneofthesesuperstarguyswhohaseverythingattheirfingertips.NothingwilleverhappenwithJamieStreicher.Knowingthisbolstersmyconfidence.
Haydenwalksbackwardtothedressingroom,pointingatme.“Pippa,nicemeetingyou.”HepointsatJamie.“RememberwhatIsaid.”
Haydenleaves,andIgettomyfeet,tuckingmyhandsintomyjacketpockets.“Alright,I’mgoingtogo.”
“Holdonasec.”Jamierubsthebackofhisneck,andI’mcurious.Histhroatworks.
It’slikeI’mseeingahiddenlayer,onewherehe’snervous.
“Iwaswondering,”hesays,andIwait.“Mymom.She’sbeenbuggingmetocometoagame.”
“Oh,that’ssonice.”Asmileliftsonmyface,andIwonderwhathismomislike.“Youwantmetoarrangetheticketswiththeoffice?”
“Uh,no.Icandothat.”Hiseyesmeetmine.“Iwasthinkingyoucouldgowithher.”
Myexpressionisdubious.“YouknowIdon’tknowanythingabouthockey,right?”
Hisfacerelaxes,andhemakesanoisethat’salmostalaugh.Almost.Likeanamusedhum.“That’sokay.Shedoesn’tcare.Justkeephercompany.”
“Icandothat.Isshegrumpylikeyou?”
Iblurtitoutwithoutthinking.ThemoreJamieandIhangout,theeasieritistoteasehimlikethis.Thisisahellofalotbetterthanthetense,awkwardsilences.
Hearchesaneyebrow,andsomethingbubblesupinsideme.Itfeelslikedelight.“No.”
Eventhoughheisn’tsmiling,hiseyesglitter,encouragingme.Imakeanoverexaggeratedfaceofrelief.“Good.Thatwouldbealongnight.”
Hestaresatme,andIflattenmymouthsoIdon’tlaugh.Itfeelslikehewantstosmile,andmyheartisbouncingaroundinmychestlikeaping-pongball.IfIhadseenthisversionofJamieinhighschool,I’dhavebeenafull-outstalker.
“Veryfunny,”hesaysinstead.
Irollmyeyes.“Iknow,I’mhilarious.Okay,I’mgonnaheadhome.”
“Thanksfordroppingoffthekeys.”
“Noproblem.”ItaketwostepsbeforeIstopandturntohim.He’sstillstandingthere,watchingmeleave.“Jamie?”
Hewaits,watchingmeintently.
“Youshouldgooutwiththeteam.Ibetitwouldbefun.”
Hisgazeroamsmyface,anditfeelslikehewantstosaysomething,buthejustnodsonce.“I’llthinkaboutit.”CHAPTER15PIPPA
ASanJoseplayerslamsHaydenintotheboardsinfrontofus,andaroundus,fansarescreaming,slammingtheirhandsagainsttheglass,rattlingit.Aroarofboosrisesupfromourendofthearena.
“That’safuckingpenalty!”aguybehindusshoutsattheref.
Jamie’smom,Donna,glancesatmewithbrighteyes,thesamedeepgreenasJamie’s.
“Thisisveryexciting,”shesays,smiling.“It’seasiertosaythatwhenmysonisn’ttheonegettingslammedintotheboards.”
Shefiddleswithastringofbeadsaroundherleftwrist,twirlingthem.She’sbeendoingthatsincewegottothestadium.
Ismileather,andmyeyescatchonJamieinthenetnearus.WatchingJamieStreicherplayagameisatotallydifferentexperiencethansittinginonapractice.Whenheblocksthepuck,thecrowdarounduscheersforhim,althoughitdoesn’tevenseemlikehenoticesorcares.Justlikeinpractice,he’sfasterthanIcanfollow,butnow,therearefiveguystryingtosinkthepuckinwhileanotherfivefightthemoff.Jamie’sbodybendsandcontortsinthenetinsharpmotions,buthemakesitlookeasy.It’sfast-paced,brutal,andchargedwithenergy.
Iloveit.
Ithoughthockeywasboring,butmaybeIneverpaidattentionuntilnow.Mydadwillbethrilled,ofcourse.
MygazedropstoDonna’sfingersasshetwirlsthebeads.“CanIgetyouanything?Icangrabanotherdrinkorsomefood.Whateveryoulike.”
Sheshakesherheadwithasmile.“No,thankyou,honey.I’mokay.”Shetiltsherhead,studyingme.“AreyoufromVancouver?”
“NorthVancouver,”Isaywithoutthinking.
“That’swhereIlive.”Shelightsup,andIfreeze.“Whatneighborhood?”
Ican’tlietoher—she’stoonice—andthelongerItrytothinkofsomething,themorethoughtsfalloutofmyhead,soIjustblurtoutthetruth.“BerkleyCreek.”
“Noway.That’swhereJamiegrewup.”
“Noway.”Iforceasmileasmypulsepicksup.
Herbrowwrinklesincuriosity.“Whathighschooldidyougoto?”Thereareacoupleinthearea,andit’snotuncommonforstudentstogotoschoolsoutsidetheircatchmentsforspecialprograms.
“Um.”Herewefreakinggo,Iguess.
SomeonetapsusontheshoulderbeforepointingattheJumbotronabove.Thegameisstoppedforamoment,andJamie’smomisonscreen.
“PleasegiveaveryspecialwelcometothewomanbehindtheStreichershutout,”theannouncercalls.“DonnaStreicher!”
Thearenacheers,andDonnalaughsandwavesatthecamera,glancingupatusonthescreen.ShepointsatJamieandblowskissesathim.Achorusofawwsrisesaroundthearena.
Igrinsohard.Jamie’smomissoniceandcute,andshe’ssoproudofhim.
Andthankfuckinggodforthatinterruption.
“Jamietellsmeyouhaveaprettysingingvoice,”Donnasaysafewminuteslaterwhiletheplayersgatherforaface-off.
Hesaidthat?
“Areyouamusician,too?”
Mystomachdips.“Idon’treallydothatanymore.”
Hermouthhitchesinawry,crookedsmile.“Oh,darn.I’dlovetohearasongeventually.IfJamiesaysyou’regood,youmustbe.”Shepatsmyhandonmyknee.“Noproblem,honey.”
WebothpauseasSanJoseskatestowardVancouver’snet.TheenergyaroundusrisesastheirforwardslapshotsthepuckatJamie.Ithitsthebackofthenet,andthecrowdletsoutacollectivegroan.
“He’llbepissedoffatthatone.”Donna’sstillfiddlingwiththebeads.“He’ssohardonhimself,butthat’showhegothere.”Shegesturesattheice.“Eversincehewasakid,he’stakenonalltheresponsibility.Iworryabouthim.”Asmileliftsonhermouth,andsheglancesatme.“I’mreallygladhehasyoutohelpout.Hetakesontoomuch.”
Inod.“Yeah,I’venoticed.Buthedidjoinmeonawalktheotherday.”
Shearchesabrow,andhereyessparkle.“Oh?”
“Hesaidithelpswithmusclesoreness,movingafterpracticelikethat.”
Hereyeslingeronmyface,interestedandamusedlikeshehasasecret.“Oh.Yes.Thatmakessense.Howdidyougetintobeinganassistant?”
Itellheraboutmydegree,Zach’stour—leavingoutthedetailsofhowIleft—andhowIwanttogetajobinmarketingwiththeteam.
Shesmilesaffectionately.“That’sgreat,Pippa.I’mcertainthatwhateveryouwantinlife,you’llmakeithappen.”
Ishootheraweaksmile.Marketingisn’tmydream,butit’smybestoption.Icanhearmyparents’voicesinmyhead.There’snothingwrongwithastablejob,Pippa!Guiltweavesthroughme.Theypaidforschoolformewhensomanypeoplehavetoeitherscrapestudentloanstogetherorskipuniversityaltogether.Whocaresifit’snotmydream?
I’vealreadylearnedmylessonaboutpursuingmydream.MygazeflicksovertoJamieashewatchesthepuckattheotherendoftheice.
Somepeoplearemeanttopursuetheirdreams,butI’mnotoneofthem.
***
Whiletheplayerschangeandtalktothepressafterthegame,weheadtotheboxreservedforfriendsandfamily.Theboxisfilledwithpeople—players,coaches,spouses,kids,andfriends.Irecognizeafewcoachesandplayers,includingHayden,whogivesmeafriendlywave.
IshowDonnapicturesofDaisywhilewewaitforJamie.
“Ohmygoodness.”Donna’shandcovershermouthasshesmilesataphotoofDaisymid-sprint.“Thisisjusttoocute.”
BehindDonna,aserverpasseswithatrayofdrinks.
“Ilovetheoneswithhertonguehangingout.”Iscrollthroughtheimages,grinning.“Itakeabouttwelvepicturesaday.”
Outofthecornerofmyeye,Iseeaplayeraccidentallybumptheserver.Theserver’seyesgowide,andshescramblestorightthetray,butit’stoolate.Thedrinkstipandspill,splashingoverDonna’ssleeve.Theglassescrashtothefloor,andeveryoneintheboxturnstolook.
“I’msosorry,”theservergasps.
Aroundus,peoplepickuptheshardsofglass,passusnapkins,andcleanupthespillonthefloor.
“I’llgetmorenapkins,”theservertellsus.“Stayrightthere.”
“Oops.”IpassDonnaahandtowelwiththeVancouverStormlogoonit.
Donnadabsathersleeve,notsayinganything.
“Areyouokay?”Iask.
Sheclearsherthroatbeforehereyesdartaroundtheroom.She’sgonewhiteasasheet,anditdoesn’tseemlikesheheardme.Sheblinksandlookstowardthedoorleadingtothehallway.
“Donna?”
“Hmm?”Shewhirlsaroundtolookatme.Herchestrisesandfallsfast.
Something’swrong.Ihavethatfeelinginmygut.She’sactingdifferent.
“Areyouokay?”Iaskagainsoftly,placingmyhandonherarm.“CanIgetyousomething?”
Atthecontactofmyhandonher,sheturnstomewithabaffledlook,likesheforgotIwasthere.
“Ineedsomeair.Ineedtogetoutside.”Thetoneofhervoicehaschangedcompletely.
Thesilly,warmwomanfrommomentsbeforeisgone,andnowshesoundspetrified.Sheforcesasmile,andIknowit’sforcedbecauseIdothatallthetime.
“Ladies’room,”shesays,soundingbreathless.She’salreadysteppingaway.“Berightback.”
There’sabadfeelinginmystomachasIwatchhermakeherwaytothedoor.Iheardoncethatpeoplewhoarechokingoftenruntothebathroomtoavoidmakingascene,whenit’sthemostdangerousplacetobesincenoonecanhelpthem.
Donna’snotchoking,butshe’sdefinitelynotokay.
Ihurryafterher.WhenIpushtheladies’roomdooropen,she’sinfrontofthesink,splashingwateronhersleeve.She’swheezing,breathshallowandrapid.Eyeswideassaucers.
Mymindwhirs—Idon’tknowwhattodo.Idon’tknowwhat’shappening.Hereyesaredartingaroundthesmallspaceasshetriestopullinmoreair.
“What’sgoingon?”Iask,rushingovertoherside.
“I’mfine.”Hervoiceshakesassheturnsthewateroff,andshe’swheezingharderthanever,clutchingthesideofthesinkforsupport.Sheleansagainstthewall,andalarmbellsringinmyhead.
Shecan’tbreathe.She’shavingapanicattack.CHAPTER16PIPPA
“Donna.”MyvoiceisstrongandfirmasIstepinfrontofher.“Lookatme.”
Hergazeflicksup,terrified,asshegaspsforair.
Ipointatmyeyes.“Righthere.”
Shenodsfrantically.
“We’regoingtobreathetogether.”IscrambletorememberwhatHazeldoesinheryogaclasses.“In,two,three,four,”Isay,slowandsteady,holdingeyecontactwithher.“Out,two,three,four,five,six.Great.Nicejob.In,two,three,four.”
She’sshaking,tryingtodraginbreathswithmyslowtiming.She’sslumpingovermoreonthewall,andI’mworriedshe’llslip,soIhelphertoaseatedpositiononthefloorandtakethespotbesideher.
“You’redoinggreat.”Ilaunchintoanothercountedbreath.
“Thisneverhappens,”shesays,shakingherhead.
Inodwithunderstanding.“Noproblem.We’rejustgoingtobreathethroughit.”
Hereyeslockonmine,fulloffear.“It’sthesmellofbourbon.Itjustmakesmeloseit.”
“It’sokay.”Myvoiceiscalm,andIcountherthroughanotherbreath.
Thedooropens,andawomantakesonelookatussittingonthefloorandwalksbackout.IleadDonnathroughmorebreathingexercises.Idon’tknowwhatI’mdoing,butthisseemstobehelping.Afterfiveminutes,itseemslikeshe’sokay.Shaky,butshecanbreatheonherown.Herbreathsaredeepandstrong.
“I’mokay,”shesays,noddingwithclosedeyes.“I’msosorry.”
Myeyesgowide.“Donna,don’tapologize.Please.Thisisjust…”Ishrug.“Thisisjustlife.”
Thecornerofhermouthturnsupassheoffersmeagratefulsmile.“You’reamazing,doyouknowthat?”
Ishakemyhead,laughing.“Idon’tknowwhatI’mdoing.”
Shelaughs.“Meneither.”
We’requietforamoment.Icanhearpeoplechattinginthehallway,headinghome.MymindflickstohowoftenJamievisitshismom.Shesaidthisneverhappens,butsheheadedtotheladies’roomfastenoughtotellmeotherwise.
“DoesJamieknowyougetpanicattacks?”
Shesighs.“Yes.”Sheglancesatmewithapleadinglook.“Pleasedon’ttellhimaboutthis.Hehasenoughtoworryaboutwithhockey.”
Igrimacewithdiscomfort.He’smyboss.Ican’tkeepsecretsfromhim.Then,IthinkaboutZacharrangingtohavemesenttotheairport.Iknowwhatit’sliketobeembarrassedbysomethingthatisn’tyourfault.
“Okay.”Mymouthtwists.“ButIthinkyoushouldtellhim.”
Shesnorts.“He’lltrytomoveinwithmeagain.”
There’sacommotioninthehallway.Raisedvoices.
“Whereisshe?”Jamie’svoicebooms.
Mypulseskyrockets,andIjumpup,exchangingalookwithDonnabeforeopeningthedoor.Jamie’sstandingoutsidethedoortothebox,armsfoldedandjawset,whilethewomanwhowalkedintothebathroomgesturesdownthehalltowardthewashroom.Jamie’sfaceisflushedfromexertionandhiseyesarebright,andthere’sashiftinmychest.God,he’ssofreakinggorgeous,evenwhenhe’sfurious.Jamiemeetsmygaze,andtheflashingangerinhiseyesdrainsaway.Hisshouldersinchdown.
“Hi,”Isaybrightly.“Wejusthadtousethewashroom,”Ilie.
Hestormsover,staringatDonna,whoappearsbehindmeinthehallwayoutsidethewashroom.“Someonesaidtherewasawomaninthebathroomhavingapanicattack.”
Donnablowsoutabreathandrollshereyesatme.“Somuchforthat.”
“Mom.”Histoneissharp,worrywrittenalloverhisface.
Shewaveshimoff.“SoIgotalittleexcited.”
“Whathappened?”Jamiedemands.Whenhismomjustblowsoutanotherfrustratedbreath,heturnstome.“What.Happened?”
“Theserveraccidentallyspilledboozeonme,”Donnaadmits.“Pippahelpedmecollectmyself,andnowI’mjustreadytogohomeandreadmybook.I’mbookinganUber.”
He’salreadyshakinghishead.“I’mdrivingyou.”
Herphoneisout,andshe’stappingawayontheapp.“No.”
Iseewherehegetshisstubbornnessfrom.
“Yes.”
Sheglaresupathimwiththecornerofhermouthcurlingup.“No.I’mperfectlyalrightnow,thankstoPippa.”Sheshootsmeawarmsmile,andthistime,hereyessparkle.
Idon’tknowwhattosay.Ican’tbelievethebreathingexerciseshelped.“Itwasnothing.”
Sheshakesherhead.“No,itwasn’t.”Shewinksatme.
AfterDonnapromisestotexthimthesecondshe’shome,Jamierelents,andweallheaddownstairstowaitforhercar.Whenitpullsup,shewrapsmeinawarmhug.
“I’llseeyousoon,”shetellsme,andshehasthiswayofsayingitlikewe’reoldfriends.WhenshehugsJamie,shetiltsherheadinmydirection.“Don’tlethergetaway.”
Myfaceheats.Iknowshemeansashisassistant,becauseImakehislifeeasier,butIcan’thelpbuthearittheotherway.Theromanticway.
No,Itellmyself.We’renotgoingthere.ThelastthingJamieStreicheristhinkingaboutisdatinghisassistant,andI’mnotgettinganyideasaboutdatinganotherfamousguy.
“Textmewhenyou’rehome,”heremindsherasshegetsintothecar,wavingatus.
Wewatchthecardriveawaybeforehiseyessettleonmyface.Theydon’thavethehardedgetheyusuallydo.
“Thankyou.Idon’tknowwhatwouldhavehappenedifyouweren’tthere.Lasttime,shewasdriving,and—”Hiseyebrowspulldown.“Shecrashedhercar.”
“Shit.”Mymouthfallsopen.
“Shewasokay,”headdsquickly,crossinghisarms.Hisjawticks,andpainstabsinmygutforhim.Helookssoworried.
“She’sokay,”ItellhimwithwhatIhopeisareassuringsmile.
“Yeah.”Hiseyestracemyface,myhair,whichisloosearoundmyshoulderstonight.
Thewayhe’slookingatmeismakingawarmweightsettleinmystomach.
Hegesturesattheparkinggarage.“Let’sgo.”
“Oh.Iwasjustgoingtowalk.”
Hiseyebrowarches.“Why?We’regoingtothesameplace.Besides,”hesays,glancingaroundus,“it’snotsafeforyoutowalkhomealone.”
Iletoutanamusedhuff.“Jamie,comparedtosomeoftheplacesI’vebeenwiththetour,Vancouverisverysafe.”
Helooksdownatmewithasetjaw.“No,Pippa.”
Thewayhesaysmyname,allsternanddemandinglikethat,sendsashiverdownmyspine.
BeforeIcanevenanswer,heputshishandonmylowerback.Apulseofsomethingwarmandliquidhitsmelowinmybelly,andmybreathcatches.
Whenwereachhiscar—ablackluxurycrossoverprobablyworthmorethanmyparents’house—heholdsmydooropenbeforegettinginthedriver’sside.
Hisclean,masculinescenthitsmynose,andmyeyesalmostrollback.Hesmellsincredible,andbeinginaconfinedspacewithhimwasahugemistake.Mygazeslidesovertohishandsonthesteeringwheelasweexittheparkade.
Hehasbighands.
God,Pippa.Itearmygazeawayandstareoutthewindowashedrives.
“That’swhyImovedhome,”hesaysquietly.
Hiseyebrowsknittogether,andIhaveafeelinghe’sstillworryingabouthismom.IthinkaboutwhatDonnasaidduringthegame,howJamietakesoneveryoneelse’sproblems.
Noneofitisfair.It’snotfairthatDonnagetspanicattacks,andit’snotfairthatJamiefeelstheneedtofixitforher.Iunderstandthat’showfamilyworks—youtakecareofyourlovedones.Still,IwishJamieleftmorespaceforhimself.Whotakescareofhim?
He’squiet,watchingtheroad.Inoticehowgoodadriverheis—confidentbutcautious.Likehedoesn’thaveanythingtoprove.
Hisgazeconnectswithminebeforegoingbacktotheroad.“Thanksforcomingtothegame.”
“Ihadfun.”ThewayJamiemovedontheicereplaysinmyhead.“You’resofastoutthere.You’remeanttobeahockeyplayer.”
There’ssomethingfunnyinhisgaze,anditseemslikehewantstosaysomething.Thecarfeelstoosmall,suddenly,andthere’sawarmtuginmyheart.
“Thanks,Pippa,”hesays,voicelow.
Whenwegethome,Daisyrunsovertous,tailwagging.Isayhellotoherandreachforherleashtotakeheroutonemoretimebeforebed,butJamie’sfingersbrushmineashetakestheleashfromme.
“I’lldoit.”
“Idon’tmind,”Itellhim.
“Ittakesmeawhiletounwindafteragame.I’llbeupforhours.”
Animageflashesinmyhead—himunwindinginadifferentway.Standingintheshower,lateatnight,onehandontheshowertilesaswaterrollsdownhisperfect,chiseledchestandabs,theotherhandfistinghiscock.Ibethislipswouldpartandhe’dwearatorturedexpressionashecame.
“Okay.”MyfaceisgoingredasIshovetheimageoutofmyhead.
Ican’tbethinkingthingslikethat.
“Goodnight.”Hisgazedropstomymouth,andmypulsestuttersashefrowns.
I’mfrozen,lockedinplace,asheglaresatmymouthlikeitoffendshim.Daisy’swaitingatourfeet,butitdoesn’tseemlikeheevennotices.Hiseyesburn,andI’mmoreawarethaneverofhowbigandbroadthisguyis.
Lowinmystomach,arousalblooms.
“Goodnight.”MyvoiceisasqueakasIhurryofftomyroom.
Later,asI’mlyinginbed,I’mlostinthought,thinkingabouthowJamietakescareofeveryone.Butwhotakescareofhim?
Adirtythoughtsneaksintomyhead.It’sJamieandme,tangledinthesheets,himontopofme,histhickarmssupportinghimoneithersideofmyhead,cagingmein.He’spushinginsideme.Hismouthdropsopenandhiseyesgodeliciouslyhazy.There’sawarmthrumofpressurebetweenmylegs,andmypulsepicksup.
That’showIwouldtakecareofJamie.
He’stotallyoutofmyleague,andI’vebeenburnedbyguysonhislevelbefore.Ishouldn’twanttofuckJamie,butIreally,reallydo.CHAPTER17JAMIE
OnSundaymorning,Ilieinbed,staringoutthewindowatthemountainsacrossthewater.It’sonlyOctober,butafterarecentcoldsnap,there’ssnowatthetopofthem,adustingofwhiteonthetrees.
I’malsothinkingaboutPippaandthesweetcurveofhermouth.It’sbeenlikethisallweek.Ican’tgetoneparticularthoughtoutofmyhead.
Ireally,reallywanttofuckmyprettyassistant.
Agroanoffrustrationslipsoutofme,andIclosemyeyes.Iknowbetter.EverythingaboutPippaisdangerous—herlushmouth,hersmile,hersweetness.Backinhighschool,shewasjustthegirlIwasfascinatedby,butasIgettoknowher,it’sturningintomore.Icanfeelit.
I’mnotgoingtodoanythingaboutit,though.Messingaroundwiththewomanworkingasmyassistantisafantasticwaytofuckupbothmylifeandhers.AfterPippahelpedmymomduringherpanicattack,Itrusther.Daisy’sgrownonme,andIlookforwardtocominghometoherwagginghertail,excitedtoseeme.WithoutPippa,I’deitherneedtogetanewassistantorfindanotherhomeforDaisy.
Idon’twanteitherofthosethings.
AndafterwhathappenedwithErin?Iknowbetter.Gettinginvolvedwithsomeoneisn’tpartoftheplan.MyminddriftstoErinandherdevastatedexpressionwhensherealizedIwasn’treadyformore.Ihurthersobadlysheleftherwholecareer.ShedeservedsomuchmorethanwhatIcouldgiveher.
Pippadoes,too.
SheandmymomhaveplanstotakeDaisyonahikeinNorthVannextweekend.Iactuallylikeherlivinghere.Hearinghermovearoundthekitchentomakehermorningcoffeeisthebestwaytowakeup.
IpicturePippa’smoutharoundmycock,hergray-blueeyeslookingupatme,gaugingmyreaction.Bloodrushestomydick,andI’mhard.
Almostthebestwaytowakeup.
Ipicturehersoft-lookinglipsagain,hersilkyhairthatI’dlovetowraparoundmyfistasIfeedmycockintohertightpussy.Arousaltightensinmygroinandmycockaches.Ipullmyselfoutofmyboxersandgivemylengthastroke.Abeadofpre-cumappearsatthetip,andIdraginabreath,lettingitoutonagroan.
Ishouldn’tbedoingthis.
I’monlythinkingabouther,anotherpartofmecounters.Betterthisthanactingonit.
WhileIstrokemyself,imagesofPipparollthroughmyhead.Herhairacrossmypillow,herbackarchingasIlickbetweenherlegs.Thewayherstomachmuscleswouldclenchasshecame,eyelashesfluttering.Ibetshe’dbiteherlipwhileIfingeredher.
Myballstighten.JesusChrist.Myhandworksfast,andIfistthesheetsinmyotherhand.Ithinkabouthowwarmandsofthermouthwouldbe,howfuckingincredibleshe’dlookwithmycockbetweenherplushlips.Theteasingsparkinhereyesasshesloweddown,keepingmerightattheedge.
Thepressureandheatatthebaseofmyspineboilover,andIcome,spillingallovermyabsandchestwithalowmoan.
Fuck.I’mbreathinghard,staringattheceiling,wishingitwasPippaIjustcamealloverinsteadofmyself.
Afterashower,Iheadoutintotheapartment—toafront-rowseatofPippa’sassinyogaleggings.
MycocktwitchesasIstareather,bentatthewaist,cleaningcoffeegroundsoffthefloor.Sheturnsandstraightensupwithasmile.
“Goodmorning.”Hereyeslingeronmydamphairbeforeshegesturesatamugonthecounter.“There’scoffeeforyouhere.”
Myeyebrowssnaptogether.Pippadoesthis—makesmecoffee—andIdon’tknowhowIfeelaboutit.I’mnotusedtosomeonedoingthesethingsforme.
Afunnywarmthspreadsthroughmystomach,andIjerkaquicknodather.
“Thanks.”
WhenIreachpasther,herscentsurroundsme.Vanilla,maybecoconut?Somethinglightandsweet,likeher.Myballstighten.
HowamIhornyagain?Ijustjerkedoff.
Pippatiltsherheadatmewithapatientlook.“Wow.Youmustreallyneedthatcoffee.”
I’mglaringather,Irealize.Iclearmythroatandwalktowardthedoor,sippingthecoffee.
Fuck.That’sgood.
“Daisy,”Icall.“Let’sgoforawalk.”
She’scurleduponthecouchinthelivingroom,sleeping.Sheopenshereyeshalfwaybeforegoingbacktosleep.
“I’vealreadytakenher,”Pippasays,finishinghercoffee.
Ifrown.“It’syourdayoff.”
Sheshrugs,smilingatDaisy.“Iliketakingheroutfirstthinginthemorning.Thestreetsarequiet,andwewanderthroughthepark.It’snice,andIdon’tmind.”Sheplaceshermuginthedishwasherandheadstothedoor.“Okay,Igottago.I’llbebackaroundnoon.”
Myeyesareonthecurveofherthighsintheyogaleggings,thinkingaboutwhatthey’dfeellikearoundmyhead.“Whereareyougoing?”
“Hazel’steachinghotyogatoday.”Shepullshersneakerson.“Theotherteachersatherstudioarekindofbitchy,soIliketogotosupporther.”
There’saweirdfeelinginmychest,likeIdon’twanttosaygoodbye.Withoutthinking,Isetmycoffeemugonthetableandnodonceather.
“Alright.Let’sgo.”
Shestaresatmeinconfusion.
Ipullmysneakerson,ignoringthewarningfeelingattheedgeofmyconsciousness.It’sjustyoga,Itellmyself.I’malreadyinworkoutclothessinceIwasplanningtotakeDaisyonaneasyrunthismorning.I’lldothisinstead.
“I’msoretoday.Yogahelpswithmyflexibility.”
Shebitesherlip,andmygazetracesthecurveofhermouth.“Areyousure?”
“Yes.”Iopenthedoor.“Afteryou.”
Whensheoffersmeashysmileintheelevator,thewarningfeelinggoessilent.Maybeshewantstospendmoretimewithme,too.CHAPTER18PIPPA
“We’rebreathing,”Hazelremindstheclass,walkingslowlyaroundustomakeadjustmentstoourposes.Sherestsherpalmonmylowerback,andIdeepenthedownwarddogstretch.
Sweatdripsoffmynoseandontothemat.Iknowthisclassiscalledhotyoga,butIforgothowhotitreallyis.I’vechuggedtwobottlesofwaterinfortyminutes.Sweatpoolsinmysportsbra,andasItiltwiththepose,reachingfortheskywithmyrighthand,itpoursout.Myunderwearisdamp,andnotinthefunway.
IglanceoveratJamie,andoureyesmeet.Hischeeksareflushedfromtheheat.Hisshirtcameoffafewminutesintoclass,andIcan’tseemtofocusontheposesorHazel’svoice.Thereareonlythreeotherpeopleintheclass,butIbarelynoticethem.
JamieStreicher’sbodyisperfect.Beadsofsweatrolldownhiswashboardabs.Asmatteringofdark,neatlytrimmedchesthairspanshisbroadchest.Thick,musculararmsholdhimupduringposes.Hispecsandcalves?Chiseledfromstone.Downhisstomach,atrailofhairleadsintohisshorts,andmymindsnagsonitagainandagain.
Everytimehemoves,hismusclesripple.Combinedwithhisbrighteyesandintimidatingstrength,he’stheperfectpictureofvitalityandpower.
Arousalthrumslowinmystomach,andI’mpicturinghimpickingmeupandthrowingmeoverhisshoulder.
MaybeIspoketoosoonaboutmyunderwear.
He’salsoinsanelyflexible.Fromthedepthandbalancetohisposes,he’sdoneyogabefore.
“Child’spose,”Hazelsaysbesidemeinanemphasizingtone,likethisisn’tthefirsttimeshe’ssaidit.Shewidenshereyesatme,asilentquestionofdude,whatareyoudoing?inhereyes,andIhurryintothepose.
LettingJamiecomewithmewasaterribleidea.Ican’tstopstaringathim.He’saflawlessOlympian—mydadtoldmeheplayedinthelastWinterOlympicsforCanada—andrightnow,Ilooklikeasewerrat.
Wehangoutinchild’sposeforawhile,andHazelrefillsourwaterbottles.WhenIglanceoveratJamie,hisbackmusclesdon’tlookastightasbefore.
Hehasalotofbackmuscles.Iclenchmyeyesclosedandputmyheaddown,deepeningthepose.It’snotlikethatwithJamie,andnogoodcancomefromoglinghim.
IrememberthelowgroanIheardfromhisroomthismorning.Ikeeptellingmyselfitwasjusthimstretching,wakingup.Hesaidhewassore.Itwasprobablythat.
Itdoesn’tstopmefrompicturingwhatelsethatgroancouldhavebeenfrom,though.
Hazelpokesmeintheribs.Therestoftheclassisinchairpose,andI’mstillinchild’spose.
“Focus,”shemurmursasshepasses.
I’mfocused,alright.Focusedontheshirtlesshockeyplayerwho’smilesoutofmyleague.
***
AfterclassisoverandItakeaquickshowerinthechangeroom,Iheadbacktothelobby.ThestudentsfromclassaretakingaphotowithJamie.Thetwoyogateacherswhowereatthefrontdeskwhenwecheckedinarewaiting,eyesonhim,andwhenit’stheirturn,they’reathissideinaflash,armsaroundhiswaist.Somethingpinchesbetweenmyribs.
Heisn’tsmiling,buthealsoisn’tglaring.Oneofthewomennestlesclosertohim,andhisgazeflicksovertome.
Amuscleyanksinmystomachandmyshoulderstense.Ihavenoreasontobepissed.Ihavezeroclaimonhim.He’smybossandroommateandthat’sit.Ijust…reallydon’tlikethemtouchinghimlikethatandlookingathimwithstarsintheireyes.
“Whatthefuck?”Hazelhissesatmyside.“Youbroughthimhere?”
Wedidn’thaveachancetotalkalonebeforeclass.“Hedidn’tgivemeachoice.”
Wewatchtheotherteacherstakeaflurryofpictures.“He’sreallyflexible.”Sheslidesacoyglanceatme.
“Stopit.”Ihidealaugh.
Herexpressionisallinnocence.
Jamiefinishestakingphotosandheadsovertous.
“Goodclass,”hetellsHazelwithanod.“Thanks.”Heholdshishandout.“I’mJamie.”
Shetakesitwarily.“Hazel.”
“Youworkwiththeteam.”
Surpriseflicksoverherfeatures.“Yes.”Shementionstheseniorphysiotherapistssheworkswith,andJamienods.
“Theotherplayerscouldbenefitfromsomethinglikethis.”
Hazeljustshrugs,butIcantellshe’stryingnottosmile.Shecanbeguarded,especiallywithmen,butdeepdown,shewantspeopletowalkoutofherclassesfeelinggood,eveniftheyareprohockeyplayers.
“Joinusforlunch,”hetellsher.
Yoga,andnowlunch.Mystomachflutters,andItellittoshutup.He’sprobablystarvinganddoesn’tknowhowtoditchme,orhedoesn’twanttoberude.IstareatHazel,andshestaresbackatme.Inourgazes,we’rehavingafullconversation.
“She’dloveto,”Isay,smilingatJamie.
***
Jamietakesustoastrange,dingybarinanalleyinGastown.
“TheFilthyFlamingo,”Ireadonthesignabovethedoor.
“Don’tsayit’sadivebar,”hetellsusasheholdsthedooropen.
HazelandIpauseatthefrontdoor,lettingoureyesadjust.They’replaying“Tangerine,”myfavoriteLedZeppelinsong.Theinsideofthebariscozyandwarm,andIimmediatelylovethisplace—thevintageconcertposters,thephotosbehindthebar,thetwinklinglightsstretchingacrosstheceiling.
Behindthecounter,awomanmixesdrinks.She’sgorgeous,actually,withthisninetiesgrungelookthatIimmediatelylove.
SheglancesatJamie.“Youagain.”
Hemakesanoiseinhisthroatthatsoundslikeastifledlaugh.ThebartendernodshelloatmeandHazel.“Sitwherever.”
MygazelandsonaposterforTheWho’sQuadropheniaalbum.“Hazel!”Ipointatit.“Look.”
Hazelsmilesatit.“Cool.”
“YoulikeQuadrophenia?”thebartenderasks.
Weslipontobarstools.“It’sourdad’sfavoritealbum,”Iexplain.“Wegrewuponthatrecord.”
Sheoffersusasmall,pleasedsmile.“Goodtaste.”Abeat.“I’mJordan.”
“Pippa.”Ilikeherimmediately.“That’sHazel.AndJamie.”
ShenodsatHazel,andwhensheturnstoJamie,shearchesaneyebrow.“Nohockeytalkinhere.”
Hemakesanothernoisethatmightbealaugh.Weorderlunch,andwhileweeat,JamieactuallymakesconversationwithHazelaboutyoga.
“I’dlovetodoaclassforinjuredathletes,”Hazel’ssaying.“Somethingthatgoesataslowerpace.”
“Hazelwantstoopenherownstudiooneday,”IexplainforJamie.“Aspacewherepeopleofallbodytypesfeelcomfortable,insteadofjustskinnypeople.”
HiseyebrowsriseandheregardsHazelwithsomethingthatlookslikerespect.“That’sagreatidea.Theworldneedsmorepeoplelikeyou.”
Shestaresathim.“Ithoughtyouweresupposedtobeanasshole.”
Jamielooksatme,andsomethingglintsinhiseyes.“Didyoutellherthat?”
“Um.”Iblink.“No?”Veryconvincing,Pippa.Iwince,butI’msmiling.“Imean,youdidfireme.”
Oureyeslock,andmystomachdoesaslow,warmroll.There’sthatfascinatingtwitchatthecornerofhismouth.Ihavetheurgetoreachoutandbrushmyfingeroverit.Hazel’sglancingbetweenuswithafunnylookonherface.Ourgazesmeet,andhereyebrowsbobupanddownonce.
She’sreallytryingnottolikehim,butbetweenhisthoughtfulquestions,hisinterestinherprofession,andhowlittleegohehas,shedoesn’tstandachance.
Idon’tknowifIdo,either.Whoisthisversionofhim?He’snothinglikethesurlyassholeIthoughthewas.
Jamiefinisheshissandwichandleansbackinhischair.“Doyoudoprivateclasses?”
Hazellooksconcerned.“Yes?”
Henodsonce.“Mytrainerwillcontactyou.”
Later,whenJamieheadstothewashroom,IsmileatHazel.“You’reright.Allhockeyplayersareevil.”
Sherollshereyesbutshe’ssmiling.“Whatever.”Hereyesnarrowatme.“Helikesyou.”
Iflushwithhappy,buzzyfeelings.“Hecanhardlystandme.”
Shechokes.“Areyoukidding?”
“Hazel,theguyfiredme.Heonlyrehiredmebecausehefeltbadforme.Andthenhesawmecrying,andthatmadeittentimesworse.”Ilowermyvoice.“Hepitiesme.I’mjustthedogwalker,basically.Hedoesn’tlikeme.”
Sheholdsmygazewithaknowinglook.“Helikesyou.”
Ihatetheflurryofbutterfliesinmystomachatherwords.
Onthecounter,Hazel’sphonestartsbuzzing.“Ihaveatonofnotifications,”shemutters,frowningatthescreen.“Dude,”shesaysamomentlaterinaflattone,scrollingthroughcomments.
She’sbeentaggedinoneofthephotoswithJamiethattheotherstudentsposted.It’sgoingviralonsocialmediabecausehealmostnevertakesphotoswithpeople.Anemailpopsuponherphone,andshereadsit.
“Myclassnextweekisfull,”shesays,soundingdazed.
Myjawdrops.“That’sincredible.”
Sheshakesherhead,readingon.“Thewholemonth.MySaturdayhotclassesforthewholemontharebookedup.Thestudiowantstoaddasecondclassintheafternoon.”
I’mbeaming.Sheturnstomewithafunny,surprisedsmile,andgratitudeforJamiesqueezesinmychest.IloveseeingHazelsohappyandproudlikethis.
Whenhereturns,JamieinsistsonpayingforlunchtothankHazelfortheclass,andafterwesaygoodbyetoher,weheadbacktoourapartmentbuilding.
Somethingoccurstome,andIturntohimwithnarrowedeyes.“YouknewgoingtoHazel’sclasswouldhelpher.”
Heshrugs,butthecornerofhismouthlifts.Myheartswells.
“Oooooh.”Inod,smilingathim.“Okay.Iseeitnow.”
“What?”Hisexpressionisconcerned.
Ijustcontinuesmilingathim.“You’renice.”
HelooksatmelikeI’vegrownanotherhead.
Inod.“Yeah.Youare.Youtakecareofyourmom,youtookinastraydogthatneededahome,andyoumadememovein.”Ihitchmythumbovermyshoulderinthedirectionwecamefrom.“Youboughtuslunch.Jamie,you’renice.”
Hebeepshiskeyfobattheentranceofourbuildingandopensthedoorforme,notmeetingmygaze.“It’snotabigdeal.”
“ItoldyouHazel’scoworkerswerebitchy,soyoucamewithmetohelpherout.”
Hiseyesrestonmeaswewaitfortheelevator,andthere’ssomethingwarminhisgaze.“MaybeIjustwantedtohangoutwithyou.”
Ichuckle.“Mhm.I’msure.Youprobablyhavesupermodelsonspeeddial,soitmakesperfectsensethatyou’dspendyourdayoffwithme.”
Westepintotheelevator.Amusementtwitchesonhislips.“Speeddial?”
“IsaidwhatIsaid.”Mychestshakeswithlaughter.Somethingaboutthewayhe’spinningmewithhisgaze,andhowmaybeI’mamusinghim,ismakingmystomachdoexcitedbackflips.
Ourgazeshold,andthere’sadropinmystomachthatI’mgoingtoattributetotheelevatorascending.Hiseyesglitter,andIcansmellhisfresh,sharpscent.
Oh,wow.
Heisn’tsmiling,buthisgazeiswarm.Delightsparklesinmychest,andIfighttheurgetorubmysternum.Thisfeelingisnew.
“Ioweyouonefortoday.”Myvoiceisbarelyaboveawhisper,andI’mawareofhowsmallthiselevatorisandhowmuchroomhetakesup.
Histhroatworksasheswallows,stillholdingmygaze.“Youwanttomakeituptome?”
Mylipspart,andashiverrollsdownmyspine.There’sheatinhiseyes,andIblinkathim,stunned.
Hiswordssoundsuggestive.Anintimatemuscletugsbetweenmylegs.Ohgod.Ican’tgetturnedoninanelevator.I’mnotthatkindofgirl.
Thecornerofhismouthslidesupintoasmirk,andmyheartbeatsfaster.
Iamthekindofgirlwhogetsturnedoninanelevator.It’stoolate.It’shappening.We’rethere.I’mhornyformyhockeyplayerbossinanelevator.
Ireallycan’tbedoingthis.Jamieistotallyoff-limits.He’stoohot,toonice,andhesmellswaytoogood.Lettingmycrushballoonintosomethingmorewillonlyendinheartbreakforme.
“Okay,”Isay,stillholdinghiselectricgaze.
“Playmeasong.”
Iflinch.Aheavyweightextinguishesmyhorninessasmythoughtsfreeze.
“Anysong,”hesays,andmyskinpricklesatthelowtoneofhisvoice.Theelevatordooropens.“Oneofyourfavorites;Idon’tcare.”
IopenmymouthtotellhimIcan’t,buthedipshisheaddowntomeetmyeyessowe’reonthesamelevel.Hisarmisholdingtheelevatordooropen.
“Yes,youcan,”hesaysinafirm,demandingtone.Thecornerofhismouthiscurling,andIwonderifIweretositdownandplayasongforhimonmyguitar,wouldIgetafull,high-wattsmilefromhim?
It’stempting.
I’mstandingtherefrozen,buthishandcomestomylowerback,andhegentlyguidesmeoutoftheelevator.Hiswarmthpermeatesmylayersofclothing,andIwanttoleanintohishand.
Insidethefrontdoor,Daisyjumpsupandrunsovertogreetus,andhegrabsherleashfromthesidetable.Istillhaven’tsaidaword.
“It’ssettledthen.”Heclipsherharnessonbeforestraighteningup.“Thanksforafunmorning,Pippa,”hemurmurs.
It’ssettled?
Atwhatevermyexpressionis,hismouthslidesintothatsexysmirkagain.
“Bye,”hesays,steppingoutthedoor.
Istandthereforalongmoment,replayinghisslowsmirk,thepressofhishandonmylowerback.
Hewantsasong,buteverytimeIthinkaboutpickingupmyguitar,mystomachchurnswithworryandhesitation.
Yes,youcan,hesaid,andhesoundedsocertain.Maybehe’sright.MaybeIcan.Ileanagainstthedoor,blowingoutalongbreath.CHAPTER19JAMIE
Afewdayslater,I’mstandinginmykitcheninmyboxers,staringoutthewindow.It’smidnight,andthekitchen’sdim,onlylitbythecitylights.
Ican’tsleep.
I’vebarelyseenherallweek.WhenIgethome,sheheadstoherroomorleavestomeetHazel.Ipouraglassofwateranddownhalfofit,thinkingaboutthechargeofelectricitybetweenusonSundayafternoon.Iwantedtokisshersofuckingbadly.
Istilldo.
“Fuck,”Imutterbeforedrainingtheglass.
ThefearinhereyeswhenIaskedhertoplayasongformemademesick.Herexfuckedwithherhead,andnowshecan’tdothethingsheloves.
Iwantmoreforher.Idon’twanthertolivewiththisfear.Iwanthertocrushitandfeelproud.Pippa’sstrong—Isawitwhenshehelpedmymomwithherpanicattack.
Irubthebridgeofmynose.Iwantmoreforher?I’mnoonetoher.Sheworksforme.Shedoesn’trememberme.Atwingeofguiltgetsmeinthegut.Maybetellinghertoplayformewasovertheline.
There’sanoisebehindme,andPippa’sstandinginthedimkitchen,lookingjustassurprisedasIam.
She’swearingpajamas,asilkymintgreenshortsset.Theshortsareshort,andherlegsarelongandsmooth.Herhairismessy,likeshe’sbeentossingandturning,andIdon’tknowwhyIlikethatideasomuch.Whenmygazesnagsonhertop,lustsurgesinmyblood.
Hernipplesarepeaked.Oh,fuck.Myteethgrit,andittakesallmywillpowertodragmygazeup.
“Icouldn’tsleep,”shesayswithanervoussmile.
Inod.“Me,neither.”
Shemovespastmeandturnsthekettleonbeforepullingherfavoriteteaoutofthecupboard.Decafvanillachai.Thewrappersarealwaysinthegarbage;shemustdrinkatonofthatstuff.
“You’vebeenavoidingmethisweek,”Isay,andherhandsfalterassheripsthebagopen.
“Um.”Sheblinksatthecounter.“No,Ihaven’t.”
Istareather,andfinally,hergazeflickstomine.Asmileghostsoverherfaceandshelaughsalittle.
“Okay.”Shesighswithaguiltywince.“Ihave.”
“Mhm.”Ileanonthecounter,andhergazelingersonmyabs.
Isitappropriateformetobestandinginfrontofherinmyunderwear?Probablynot.
DoIcare?Iwatchasshepullsherbottomlipbetweenherteeth,tracingmyabswithhergaze.
No.No,Idonot.Mybloodhumswithsatisfactionashereyeslingeronmybody.
“Ididn’ttakeyouforthekindofpersonwhodoesn’tpaytheirdebts,”Itellher.
Shehuffsalaugh.“Iwouldn’tsayit’sadebt.”
“‘Ioweyouone.’That’swhatyousaid.”
“Jamie.”Sherollshereyesatme,smiling.Ilovethewayshesaysmynameinthatteasingway.
Ifoldmyarmsovermychest,andhergazelingersonmybiceps.“What’stheholdup?”
Sheturns,busyingherselfwithhertea.“You’vehadgamesandstuff.”
Notmorethannormal.
Mymindwanderstoacouplenightsago,afterIgothomefromagame.WhenIturnedontheTV,itwasalreadyonthesportschannel.Wasshewatchingmygame?
Prideburstsinmychestatthethoughtofit.
“You’restalling.”
Hereyesareonhertea,andthesmellwaftingoffitisthesameasherhairproducts—sweet,spicy,andwarm.Comfortingbutsexyandintriguing.Ihavetheurgetoburymyfaceinherneckandhuff.
Sheliftshergazetomeetmine,andhereyesarefullofvulnerability.“ThelasttimeIplayedforsomeone,theylaughedatme.”Hervoiceisquiet.
Ragesurgesthroughmyveins.I’llkillthem.“Who?”Idemandinalow,lethalvoice.“Tellme.Names.Now.”
Sherollshereyes.“Jamie.”
“Now.”
“ItwasZach.”Herfaceisgoingred,apatchofpinkoneachcheek,andmyfistsclenchwhilefoldedovermychest.“Andhismanager.”Sheblinkslikeshe’srelivingitbeforesheblinksagainandshe’sbackhereinthekitchenwithme.
JustwhenIthinkthisguycan’tgetworse,hedoes.
Inodonce.“That’sthesongIwanttohear.”
I’msuchafuckingasshole.
Hereyesgowide.“What?No.”
“Yes.”Myvoiceisfirmanddemanding.I’mapushy,arrogantdick,butIdon’tcare.
Herhandstwist,andshetriestocoveruphernervousnesswithafakesmile.She’sscared,andit’smakingmychestfeeltight.
“Hey.”Ileandownsomyeyesarelevelwithhers,andmyhandscometoherupperarms.There’sthatincrediblechaismellagain.“WhenIwasnine,Igothitwiththepuck.”
Hereyeswiden.“Really?”
Inodandpointtomywrist.“Righthere.Thepuckpingedoffthepipe,andIhadforgottenmygloves,soIwaswearingsparesthatweretoobig,sotheyshifted.Ithurtlikeamotherfucker.”
Herexpressionissympathetic.“Ibet.”
Myhandreturnstoherarm.Icanfeelherwarmththroughthesilkyfabric.Mythumbstrokesbackandforthoverthefabric,andherlipspart.
“Ididn’twanttogetbackontheice.Iwasscaredofgettinghitagain.”
Hereyebrowspulltogether,andthewayshelooksatmemakesmewanttoscoopherupintoahugandneverputherdown.I’dneverlethergo.Thewayshe’slookingatmemakesmewanttoprotectherfromtheworldandassholeslikeherex.
Hermouthslidesintoaruefulsmile.“Idon’twanttogetbackontheice,”shewhispers,nosewrinkling.Eveninthedimlight,herfrecklesaresopretty.“I’mscaredofgettinghitagain.”
Thismomentinmykitchenfeelslikewe’retheonlypeopleontheplanet.Inthebackofmymind,awarningbellrings,butIignoreit.I’lldealwiththatlater.Rightnow,Pippaneedsme.
Igiveherasqueeze.“Youcandoit.Igotbackontheice,anditwasokay.Rememberwhenmymomhadapanicattack?Younailedit,songbird.Youdideverythingright.You’retoughasnailsdeepdown,Iknowit.”
Herbrowrises.“Songbird?”
Ididn’tmeantocallherthat—itjustslippedout.It’sperfectforher,though.“Mhm.”
Shebitesherbottomlip.Shewantstodoit.Iknowshedoes.
“Tellyouwhat.”IgiveherarmsanothersqueezewhileIstudytheblueofhereyes.“Halfasong.That’sall.”
Thelonglineofherthroatmovesassheswallows,gazelockedonminelikeI’maliferaft.Iwanttobethatforher.
Ilethergoandstraightenup.“Comeon.”Mytonehasturnedauthoritative.“Let’sgo.”
“Now?”Hereyebrowsgosky-high.“Like,rightnow?”
“Yep.”Istridetothecouchanddropdown,slinginganarmovertheback.“Now.”
Hergazelingersonmeonthecouch,onmyabs,mypecs,myarms,andforabriefmoment—mycrotch.Mydicktwitcheswithinterest,andthere’sapulseofsomethinghotlowinmygut.
Letherlookallshewants.
“Quitstalling.”
“You’resobossy,”shesays,shakingherheadasshedisappearsupthestairstogetherguitar.Shesaysitinaresignedway,butthere’ssomethingelseinhervoice.Somethingamusedbymybossiness.
Ileanbackandlacemyhandsbehindmyhead,andwhenshereturns,guitarinhand,shestopsshortatthesightofme.
“Yes?”Iask.
“Canyouputashirton?”
Hergazesnagsonmystomach,andIfeellikesmilingagain.IknowwhatIlooklike.“Why?”
Iknowwhy,butIdon’tcare.Watchingmyprettyassistantgetflusteredisfun.
Shegivesmeaflatlookandgesturesatmytorsoandarms.“Allofthat.”
There’sapressureinmychest,warmandcrackling,likelaughter.Mymouthhitchesintoasmirk.“No.”
“Stubborn,too,”shemutters,andIsmileather.
Shefreezes,watchingmyfacewithafunnylook.Likeaweorsomething.
“What?”
“You’resmiling.”Herprettylipscurveintoherownsmile.Hergazeroamsmyface,andmyskinprickleswithawareness.
Suddenly,Iwantheralotcloser.Inmylap.Straddlingme,maybe.Herhandsinmyhair,andmineinhers.
Shetucksherchindown,cheeksgoingpinkagain.“Alright,JamieStreicher.Yoursmilemakesmefeellikeplaying.”Shetakesadeepbreathandstrums.Theopeningnotesringout.
Shestartstosing,andsomethinginmychestlocksintoplace.CHAPTER20PIPPA
JamieStreicher’ssmilecaptivatesme.Evenafterhismouthisbacktothenormalcruelslash,thewarmglintremainsinhiseyes.
Istrumthechords,pluckthestrings,andsingthatsongIwrotemonthsagoaboutgettingolderandchanging.TheoneZachlaughedat.
Myvoiceisgrittyfromsleep.Ihaven’twarmedup,andthere’sarasptothenotes,butIlikehowitsounds.Ikeephearingtheirlaughter,seeingthelookonZach’sface,sobaffledandembarrassedbutentertained,butIshovethosethoughtsaway.
You’retoughasnails,deepdown.Iknowit.That’swhatJamiesaid.
Healsocalledmesongbird.
Hiseyesareonmetheentiretime,warmandsteady,andhepullsmebacktothepresent.Tothismoment,sittinginhislivingroominthemiddleofthenightwhileIplaymyguitarforthefirsttimeinmonths.Itisn’tashardasIthought—infact,itfeelsnatural,likenotimehaspassed.Throughthewindows,thecitylightstwinklefromacrossthewater,andthemoonisbrightinthenightsky.
MyshoulderseaseasImoveintothechorusagain,andsomethingunfurlsinsideme.Thissongisfun.ItfeelslikeFleetwoodMacwithamodernTaylorSwiftspin,andthenonemoreelementthat’sallme.Ithasaquicktempoandahookymelody.It’swhyIcouldn’tgetthetuneoutofmyheadonceitshowedup.Ihadtodosomethingwithit,hadtoweaveitintoasong.
Ipauseafterthesecondverse,narrowingmyeyesatJamieasItrytorememberthenextpart.Heraisesaneyebrowatme,intrigued.
Thenextverserushesbackatme,andIlaunchintoit.ThecornerofJamie’smouthtugsupintoalazygrin.
God,he’sfuckinggorgeous.Myeyesdroptohistorso,sodistractingwithalltheridgesanddeeplinesofmuscle.Thewayhe’sspreadinghislegslikethat,inhisblackboxers?
Iyankmygazeup,andhiseyesflashwithinterest.Ohgod.Hesawmelookingathiscrotch.
Thesongisaboutbecominganewperson,andmymindwandersbacktoZachasIsingthelastthird,leaningintothemusic.IthoughtZachandIwouldbetogetherforever.Attheairport,Iwaitedformyflightintheterminal,feelingsofuckingcrushed.ThepersonItrustedmosthadshippedmeaway,outofsight,andIfeltlikeI’dneverfeelthatclosenessthatIhadwithZachwithanyoneagain.
NowIwonderifweeverhadthatclosenesstobeginwith,orifitwasallinmyhead.
Jamie’sstillwatchingandlistening.Somethingglittersinmychest,justapinchofit,finebutsparkling.Zachwasn’ttheoneforme,butthewayJamie’smakingmefeelrightnow,sosafeandspecialandsupported…maybeI’llfindthatfeelingagain.
NotwithJamie,ofcourse.Evenifhediddate,he’dgoforsomeoneinhisleague.We’vealwaysbeenontwodifferentlevels,evenbackinhighschool.I’mnotnaive.Iknowbetter.
Butthatdoesn’tmeanIwon’tfinditwithsomeone.Maybe.Oneday.
Ifinishthesong,andpridemovesthroughmychest.MymouthtwistsasIhideasmile.It’sembarrassing,beingproudofmyselfforsomethingsodumb.Something’sflowingthroughmyblood,aburstofexcitementfromplayingsomethingIlove.Passionandchallengeandprideallmixedtogether.Itintoxicatesme.Ormaybethat’sfrombeingthisclosetoJamiewhilehe’salmostnaked.
Jamieleansforward,eyesonme.“Youwrotethat?”
Inod.Myheartthumpsinmychest.
Hestudiesmebeforehegrowlsandshakeshishead,almosttohimself.“Thatguywasnevergoodenoughforyou.Notinhighschoolandnotnow.Ihopeyoufuckingseethat.”
Hiswordsmeltintome.IfwhatZachdidputacrackinmyheart,Jamie’swordssmoothsomethingcooloverittofillitin.Likealoeoverasunburn.Itmeanssomething,whathesaid.
“Wait.”Myeyebrowssnaptogether,andItiltmyhead,replayingit.“Ididn’ttellyouZachandIwenttohighschooltogether.”
Jamie’seyeswidenafraction,andmylipspartinsurprise.Isitpossiblethatheremembersmefromhighschool?No.Noway.
Aguiltylookpassesoverhisface,andmyjawdrops.“Jamie.”Mytoneisaccusing,andIwearacurioussmile.
“Fuck,”hemutterstohimself,rubbingthebackofhisneck.Hisexpressionissheepish,andit’sadorable.“Youprobablydon’tremember,butwewenttothesamehighschool.”
Alaughburstsoutofme.Don’trememberhim?Howcouldanyonenot?
“I’macoupleyearsolder,andImissedalotofschoolforhockey,”hegoeson,andhisembarrassedexpressionsobersmeimmediately.
Oh.He’sserious.HeactuallythinksIdon’trememberhim.
“I’msorryIdidn’tsayanythingbefore,”hegoeson,andhiskneebobsupanddowninadistractingway.“YoutookmebysurprisewhenIsawyouthefirsttime,andthenIjust…”Hetrailsoff,andhiseyesmeetmine.“Ididn’twanttomakeitweird.”
Icouldgoonpretending,butwhy?It’sexhausting.AndthefactthatheremembersmeismakingmyheartdoDaisy’sexcitedtippy-tapsagainstthefrontwallofmychest.
“Irememberyou,”Iadmit.“OfcourseIrememberyou.”
Hisexpressionstills.“Youdo?”
Ican’thelpbutrollmyeyes.“Jamie.Comeon.YouwereonyourwaytotheNHL.Youwereoneofthepopularkids.Allthegirlsswoonedoveryou.Youweregorgeous,evenbackthen—”
Hiseyebrowgoesup,andthere’sthatlookagain.Teasing,focused,anddetermined.“YouthinkI’mgorgeous?”
Sparksdanceupmythroat,andIswallow.I’mblushing.“Uh,”Isaystupidly.
Thecornerofhismouthtwitches.“Yousaidevenbackthen.ThatmeansyouthoughtIwasgorgeousthen,andyouthinkI’mgorgeousnow.”
MypulsebeatsinmyearsandIcan’tlookaway.Hisgazepinsmelikeabutterflyunderglass.MylipspartandcloseasIscrambleforwhattosay.
Busted.I’msobusted,andnowthatheclearlyknowsI’vehadthemostmassivecrushonhimforever,it’sgoingtobeawkward.
Heleansforwardwithaconfident,teasingsmirkthatmakesmyheartpoundharder.
“Ithoughtyouweregorgeous,too,”hemurmurs,lookingatmeinawaythatmakesmefeellikeIcan’tbreathe.“Evenbackthen.”
Itcan’tbetrue.Istudyhiseyes,searchingforthelie,butcomeupwithnothing.Noone’severcalledmegorgeousexceptmymom,andthat’sdifferent.
Somethingweirdishappeninginsidemyhead;I’mrapidlyreconsideringeverythingIthoughttobetrue.
“Oh.”Thewordfallsfrommylips,andthecornerofhismouthtugsup.“Okay.”Isounddazed.
Oureyesarelocked,andthere’sazingoftensionbetweenus.Mystomachrolls,andforamoment,IwantJamietobethatguy,theonewhomakesmeforgetZacheverexisted.
Hisgazedropstomylips,andfocusedhungerflaresinhiseyes.Mynipplespinch,becauseI’veneverbeenlookedatlikethat,anddefinitelynotbyaguywholookslikeJamie.
Predatoryfocusrisesinhiseyes,andbetweenmylegs,Iclench.
Itfeelslikewe’reabouttokiss.
Atinypartofmeisfreakingout,wavingherarmsaroundandsnappingherfingerstogetmyattention.Thisiscrazy,anditisn’treal.Theenergyintheairisheated,tense,anddangerous,andIdon’twantanythingtodowithit.Idon’tevenwanttoimaginethatJamielikesme.
He’lldevastateme.AfterZach,I’mfullofcracks.Ican’thavefeelingsforJamie,becauseifitendslikeitdidwithZach—whichitwill—I’llsmash.
Ishoottomyfeet,holdingmyguitarlikeashield.“Weshouldgotobed.”
Hewatchesmewiththatlookthatmakesmyinsidessquirm.“Goodnight,Pippa.”
Leavinghiminthelivingroom,sprawledonthecouchlikethat,Irunupthestairs,backtomyroom,whereIsetmyguitarinitscaseandclimbbackintobed.
MyheartraceswhileIstareoutthewindowatthedarksky,thinkingabouthowJamiewatchedmewhileIplayed.CHAPTER21JAMIE
“Theirfirst-linedefenseisweaksinceHammondisoutwithaninjury,”Wardtellsourdefensemenacouplenightslaterinthedressingroom.HaydenOwensandAlexeiVolkov,anolderdefenseman,nod.
Wardcontinuestotalkusthroughgamestrategy.Theenergyintheroomisheightened,cracklingwithintensity.Evendownhere,wecanhearthefansexcitedinthestands.
TheCalgaryCougarsareourbiggestrival,andtonightisthefirstgameagainstthemthisseason.
Wardrunsthroughthedrillswepracticedthisweek,butmymindiselsewhere
Mymindisonmyprettyassistant,sittinginhertinysleeptopandshorts,smoothlegstuckedbeneathherassheplayedtheguitarinthemiddleofthenight,lookinglikeanangelsentfromheaven.
Ormaybeshewassentfromthedevil,becausePippaistemptingashell.
Gorgeous,evenbackthen
Somethingpleasedfloodsmychest.Sheremembersme,andshethinksI’mhot.
I’vebeenthinkingabouthersinceIwokeupthismorning.Throughoutpractice,mymindwasonhersinging.Intheshower,Ipicturedherwithme,nakedandwetandsmilingupatmewithsparklingeyes.WhenIpickedlunchupfromtheFilthyFlamingo,Irememberedhowhereyesdanced,takinginthestringlightsacrosstheceiling.
Aftersheplayedguitarforme,Iwantedtokisshersofuckingbadly.Thewayhernipplespinchedunderhertophasbeentormentingmefordays.Ican’trememberthelasttimeIwassoattractedtoawoman.
Iamsofucked.
Icatchmyself—I’mnotfucked.I’mfine.I’vetrainedwiththebestsportspsychologistsintheworld,andIknowhowtoblockoutdistractions.Pippaisn’tanoption.She’snotpartoftheplan,andthere’snoroomtoslip,becauseifPippaandIstartmessingaround,Ihaveanuglyfeelingthatwewon’tbeabletostop.
OneofthesportspsychologistsinNewYorklikedtoappealtomycompetitivenature.Challengeyourself,she’dsay.KeepingmydistancefromPippa—myhighschoolcrush,thegirlIcan’tseemtosaynoto—isprovingtobeachallenge.NothingIcan’thandle,though.
Irememberthesmilethatgrewonherfaceasshekeptplayingandsinging,likeshewasproudandsurprised.MyhearttwistsandIrubmysternumovermyhockeypads.Fuckinghell,shewassobeautiful,andknowingshewasafraidtodoitmademesoproud.
Ihopesheknowssheisn’tbroken.Ihopesherealizeswhatshe’scapableof.
She’shereagaintonightwithmymom.SparkspopinmychestattheideaofPippawatchingmygame.Maybebitingherplushbottomlipintensemoments.
“Streicher.”
Myheadsnapsup.Wardandeveryoneelseinthechangeroomarestaringatme
“Youokay?”WardtiltshischinatwhereI’mrubbingmysternum.
Iletmyhanddrop.“Yeah.”Inod.“Fine.”
Onthewaytotheice,hepullsmeaside.
“Istonightgoingtobeaproblem?”heasksastheotherplayersshufflepast.Musicpumpsinthearenaasplayershittheicetowarmup.
Shit.MydistractionwithPippaiswrittenallovermyface.Getittogether,Streicher.Ishakemyhead.“Nope.”
Wardstudiesmyface.“Don’tletMillergetinyourhead.”Heglancesaround,waitinguntiltheequipmentmanagerstepsoutofthehall.“Iknowyouguyshavehistory.”
Mythoughtsscreechtoahalt.RoryMillerwastradedtoCalgaryrecently.IknewthisandIcompletelyforgot.
ThatishowbadthisthingwithPippais.IforgotthattheguyIgrewupwith,whousedtobemybestfrienduntilheturnedintoatotalfuckingasshole,isgoingtobeontheicetonight.
IfrownatWard.“Howdoyouknowaboutthat?”
“It’smyjob.”
Sevenyearsintohiscareer,Millerhasareputationforpartying,girls,andbeingafuckingassholeontheice.Ashedevelopedintoanincrediblerightwinger,hisegogrew.Coacheskeephimaroundbecausehescoresgoals,buthe’sfarfromafanfavorite.
Ihateplayingagainsthim.Calgary’soneoftheclosestteamstoVancouver,geographically,soweplaythemsixtimesthisseason.
Hehasoneofthebestscoringaveragesintheleague,andhe’sgoingtobeslappingpucksatmeallnight.ThisisthekindofthingIshouldhavebeenthinkingaboutallweek,preparingandreviewinggametape.
“You’veplayedwithhim,”Wardsays.“Youknowhisweaknesses?”
Miller’sthestar.Alwayshasbeen,sincewewerekids.He’sthemostcompetitivepersonI’veevermet.WeneverwouldhavebeenfriendsifIwasn’tagoalie.
Ithinkbacktopastgames.Hedoesn’tlistentothecoach’splays.Thestartinglinewillthinkthey’rerunningacertainplay,andMillerwilltakeitofftherailsforthechancetoscore.Andbecauseheoftensucceeds,hegetsawaywithit.
Iknowtokeepmyeyeonhim,evenifhisteammatesaresettingupforadifferentformation.Iknownottotrusthim.
InodatWard.“Yeah.Iknowhim.”
“Good.”Heslapsmeontheshoulder.“Let’sgetoutthereandhaveagreatgame.”
Ihittheice,andthebackofmyneckprickles.Ontheotherhalfoftherink,ouropponentswarmup,skatingandshootingpucksatthegoalie.Thearena’salreadypacked,brimmingwithenergy.
RoryMiller’sstandingthere,wearingasmug,cockygrinthatmakesmewanttohithim.Hetiltshishead,turns,andskatesforthenet,sinkingthepuckinbeforehespinsaround.Hissmilestretchesfromeartoear,andmygutseizesupwithirritation.
He’stryingtogettome.Thisiswhathedoes.
Iheadtomynet,centeringmyself.Infrontofthegoalposts,Iwarmup,andmygazelockswithPippa’s.She’ssittingbehindthenetwithmymomandmymom’sfriend.
Pippa’swearingaVancouverStormhat.Iblink,staringatherinit,andthosesparksigniteinmychestalloveragain.
Shelightsup,liftingherhandinaquick,shywavethatmakesthecornerofmymouthtipup.Iwaveback,andthefrustrationIfeltmomentsbeforemeltsaway.Shepointsatherhat,andInod,lettingmyselfsmileather.Ilikeseeingherinmyteam’sgear.
Besideher,mymomischattingaway,smiling.ShesayssomethingtoPippa,whonodsandlaughs.MymomlikesPippaandasksabouthereverytimeIcall,andIlikethat,too.
Ilikethatafterthegame,PippaandDaisywillbeathome.
***
Thewhistleblowsandthethirdperiodstarts.MybloodpumpshardasCalgarytakesthepuck.
Pippa’sgazerestsonmyshoulderslikeablanket,calmingme,keepingmefocused.I’veblockedeveryshot,andthefansarechantingStreichershutout
TheirleftwingerpassestoMiller,whoswingsaroundOwens.He’sonabreakawaywiththepuck,skatinghard,eyesonme.Thatfuckingsmugsmirkonhisface.Histeamgetsinposition,butIignorethem.
He’sfrustrated.Hissmugsmileisforced.I’mgettingtohim.Heshowedupheretonighttoscoreagainstme,toprovesomethingtome,maybethathedoesn’tneedmeorthatI’mjustanotherplayertohim.
Hisgazeflickstosomethingbehindme,andhiseyesgowideinsurprise.
Pippa.Myheartstops.HeknewIhadathingforherinhighschool.Inevertoldhim,butheknew.
BythetimeIrealizewhathe’sdone,thefansaregroaningindisappointmentandthepuckisinthenet.
Millerskatespastmewithacatlikesmile.Thefansboohim,andheturnsthatgrinonthem,whichrilesthemupmore.Mystomachsinks,myteethgrit,butIshoveallthethoughtsawayasthegameresumes.
Iwasfocusedonhisweaknesseswhenminesitsrightbehindme.
***
Wewin,andafterthecoachreviewsthegameinthechangeroom,Ishowerandheadupstairstothebox.
MyheartstopswhenIseeRoryfuckingMillergrinningdownatPippa,predatorygazelockedonher.Hesayssomething,shelaughs,andhegrinswider,steppingclosertoher.
Primalprotectivenessrisesinme.It’snotuncommonforplayersfromtheotherteamtovisitthebox,especiallyiftheyhavefriendsorfamilyontheopposingteam.Isureasfuckdon’tlikehimbeinghere,though,talkingwithher.Myteethgrit,andI’minfrontofhim,placingmyselfbetweenthem,staringhimdown.
Hisdarkblondhairisstilldamp,andhe’sinhissuit.Ishetryingtofuckingimpressherorsomething?
Heeyesmewithsmugamusement.“Thereheis.”
“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?”Ibiteout,glaringathim.
Hisgrinbroadens,andIwanttofuckingkillhim.
“JustcatchingupwiththelovelyPippa,”hesaysbeforegesturingoverhisshoulder,wheremymom,herfriend,andWardaretalking.“AndIwantedtosayhitoDonna.”
“IwastellingRoryhowIworkasyourassistantnow.”Pippagiveshimashysmile,andmyglareintensifies.
Idon’tlikehersmilingforhim.
“Andyouguyslivetogether,”Roryadds,narrowinghiseyesatus.
Myskincrawls.Heseesrightfuckingthroughme.
“Don’ttalktoher,”Isnap,andpeopleinthevicinityglanceoveratmytone.
Hehasthefuckingaudacitytolaugh.“Buddy.”
Atmysides,myhandsmakefists.Mypulsewhooshesinmyears.Ontheice,thisisallfairgame,butuphere?Withmy—
Withmyassistant,Iremindmyself,dragginginadeepbreath.
“Ishouldgetgoing,”hetellsPippa,smilingdownatherlikehe’sfoundburiedtreasure.“Earlyflighttomorrow.Greatseeingyouagain,Pippa.Maybenexttime,youcanshowmearoundVancouver.”
Shelaughs.“You’refromhere.”
Hiseyessparkle.“I’msurethecity’schangedinadecade.AndI’dlovetokeepcatchingup.”Hisgazeslidestomine,andthesuggestiveundertonesmakemybloodroar.
Nofuckingway.
Hetiltsagrinatme.“Maybeyou’llgetyourStreichershutoutnexttime,huh?”MillerwalksawaybeforeIcanrespond,wavingatafewpeoplebeforedisappearingoutthedoor.
BeforeIcansayanythingelse,Owensisinfrontofus,slappingmyshoulder.Itrynottoflinch.
“Greatfuckinggame,bud.”
“Thanks.”Mytoneisterse.
Ijustwanttogethome,getthefuckoutofhere.MaybePippawillplayanothersongformetonight.
PippashootsOwensasympatheticsmile.Hetookapucktotheankleinthesecondperiod.“How’syourankle,Hayden?”
Forsomereason,whenshesmilesathim,itdoesn’tcutasmuch.Maybebecausemyguttellsmehe’sagoodguy,andhe’sthisfriendlytoeveryone.
Hereachesdowntolifthispantleg,showinghertheredweltandgrowingbruise.“Prettygross,butI’lllive.”Hepuffsouthischestinanexaggeratedway.“I’mtough,Pippa.”
Shelaughs.“Okay.”
Acoupleoftheplayersareatthedoor.OneofthemwavestoOwensandhemakesaonemomentgesture.
“We’regoingout,”hetellsus,andunlikeMiller,he’snotjusttalkingtoPippa.Hepointsatme.“Coachsaidyouhadtohangoutwithus.”
Irollmyeyeswithasnort,butIcan’targue.Ineverypractice,Wardbringsupteambuildingandbondingandhascalledmeoutspecificallyafewtimes.EventhoughmybloodisstillrushingafterthegameandIwon’tsleepforhours,Idon’tfeellikegoingout.
IjustwanttohangoutwithPippa.Maybewecanwatchamovieathome.
Pippa’ssmileishopeful,andhereyesarebright.“Whatdoyousay?Doyouwanttoblowoffsomesteam?”
Myeyebrowarches.“Youactuallywanttogo?”Itiltmychinattheplayerscongregatingbythedoor.“Withthem?”
Sheshrugs,andhersheepishsmileissocute.“Yeah,Ido.”
Owensisn’tanassholelikeMiller,butIstilldon’twantabunchofsinglehockeyplayerscirclingPippalikesharks.
“Comeon.”Owenspunchesmelightlyinthestomach,andIpushhimoffwithasnort.ThisguyislikeDaisyinhumanform,excitedandfullofenergy.
Inaninstant,mymindchanges.Iwanttoseethisgirloutsidethewallsofmyapartment.Iwanttoseeherlaughingandhavingfun.
Inodonce.“Okay.”
Pippalightsup,andIcan’tlookaway.“Great.”CHAPTER22PIPPA
Outsidethearena,DonnapromisestotextJamiewhenshegetshomeassheandherfriendpileintotheUber,andwefollowtheteamouttotheFilthyFlamingo.
Jordangivesusaflatlookaswepilein.“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?”sheasksHayden.
“Hey,sunshine,”hesays,laughing,grabbingherinabighug.“Wewontonight.”
Sheelbowshiminthegut,andhepretendsithurts.“Idon’tcare.”Sheseesmeandgivesmeasmallsmileandanod.“Hey.”
“Hi.”Igestureatthehockeyplayersastheytakeupthebackhalfofthenarrowbar.“Isthisokay?”
Shesnorts.“Yeah,it’sfine.I’musedtotheseassholes.”
Chairsandtablesscrapeastheguysrearrangethemsowecanallsittogether.Atthebackofthebar,aguystandsinfrontofamic,tuninghisguitar.HelooksupandwinksatJordan.
“Youhiredliveentertainment?”Ismilewideather.
Sherollshereyes.“No,that’sjustChris.”
Chriswavesatus.“I’mherboyfriend.”
“He’snotmyboyfriend,”shesays,loudenoughforChrisandeveryonebetweenthetwoofthemtooverhear.“Wejusthavesex.”
Alaughslipsoutofme.“Nice.”
MaybeIcangettotheplacewhereIcanhavecasualsexwithaguyIdon’tcareabout.
Jamie’shandlandsonmylowerback,andheleadsmetoaseatinoneoftheboothsbeforeslippinginbesideme.Hisarmcomesoverthetopofthebooth,histhighpressesagainstmine,andhisscentsurroundsme.Hispositionaroundmefeelspossessive,likeI’mhis.
Ithinkabouttheothernight,howheremembersmefromhighschool.HowhesaidIwasgorgeous.Mythroatfeelstight.Ican’tstopthinkingabouttheintensewayhelookedwhenhesaidit.
AtinyshredinsidemewondersifJamie’sattractedtome.I’vebeenthequiet,invisiblegirlinthebackgroundforsolongthatitfeelsunfathomable.
Haydenslidesintotheothersideofthebooth,alongwithAlexei,agruffdefensemaninhismid-thirtieswhodoesn’tsaymuch.Hisnoseiscrookedlikeit’sbeenbrokenbefore,butlikealltheseguys,he’shandsome,justinarougherway.
“Millergaveusarunforourmoneytonight,huh?”Haydenasks,andAlexeigruntshisagreement.
Tomysurprise,Roryalsorememberedmefromhighschool.HemademeshowhimpicturesofDaisy,soIshowedhimoneofDaisy,Hazel,andmethedaywewenthikinginNorthVan,andhestudieditwithinterest.HeonlystartedactinglikeanassholewhenJamieshowedup.
Jordandropsoffourdrinks,andIstudyJamie,whostudiesmerightbackoverhisbeer.
IknowRoryisn’tinterestedinmethatway.Ionlygotplatonicvibesfromourconversation,buthewastryingtopissoffJamie.
TheimageofJamieintheupstairsbox,jawclenchedtightandjealousyflashingthroughhiseyes,makesmesmileupathim.IwanttoseehowthisthingwithRoryandJamieplaysout.Iwonderifthey’lleverbefriendsagain.
“Somethingfunny,songbird?”Hisvoiceisalowmurmur,andashiverrunsdownmyback.
Ismilewider.“Nope.”
Hiseyesdance,andeventhoughhismouthisinaflatline,hisgazeiswarmandamused.“Good.Keepitthatway.”
Ichuckle.Inmyjacketpocket,myphonebuzzes.IpullitoutandreadthetextfrommyfriendAlissa,whoIworkedwithonthetour.
Girl.We’regonnabeinVancouvernextweek.Laststoponthetourbeforethebreak!
Mystomachsinks.Thefacesofeveryonefromthetourrollthroughmyhead,andshamerisesinme.Withaclose-knitgroupofpeoplewhoworkinsanehours,sidebyside,secretsdon’texist.NoonefromthetourtextedmeafterImysteriouslydidn’tshowupatthenextstop,andIhavenodoubteveryoneknowsexactlywhathappened.
Ifrownatmyphone.Ihatebeingremindedofmyoldlife.
Myphonebuzzesagain.
There’sawrappartyonTuesdaynight,andyournameisonthelist!Jennasaidshehasn’tgottenyourRSVPyet.
Istareathermessageindisbelief.NofuckingwayamIgoingtoawrappartywitheveryone.Howfuckingshamefulwouldthatbe?Ican’t.Iwon’t.
Ireadhertextagain,frowning.Inevergotaninvite.Iopenmyemailandscrollthroughtheunreadmessages.
Thereitis.Ohgod.Theemailwentouttoeveryoneonthetour,andJennaalwaysforgetstoblindcarboncopypeople,soeveryonecanseemyemailonthelist.EveryoneknowsI’vebeeninvited.
Jamiebrushesmyarm.“What’sgoingon?”
“Nothing.”Iblink,tuckingmyphoneaway.
Hestaresatmeinthatwaythatmakesmystomachflutter.“Tellme.”
“Bossy.”
“Mhm.”Thecornerofhismouthslants,andIcanfeelmyownsmilestarting
Onthesmallstageatthebackofthebar,theguystartsplayingguitarandsinging.Theplayersmostlyignorehim,buthedoesn’tseemtomind.ItakealongsipofmydrinkandhumwithappreciationbecauseJordanmakesgoodwhiskeysours.Ilickthefoamoffmytoplip,andJamie’sgazedropstomymouth.Hiseyebrowsslidetogetherinafocusedfrown.
“Areyougoingtotellmewhyyoulooklikeyousawaghost?”heasksinalowvoice.Aroundus,theplayersaretalking,laughing,andhorsingaround,butJamiedoesn’tevennotice.
Ichewmylip,takinginhishandsomeface.Hischeekbonesarestillflushedfromhisgame,andhewatchesmewithpatienceandcuriosity.Somethinginhisdeepgreeneyesmakesmewanttotellhimthings.
“There’sawrappartyforthetournextweek.”
Hisgazepinsme,hisjawtightening.“Thetouryougotfiredfrom?”
Ilaughwithouthumor.“Imean,whenyouputitthatway,Isoundstellar.”
“Pippa.”
“Iknow,Iknow.”Isigh,takeanothersipofmydrink,andtherearehiseyesonmymouthagain.Heatpoolslowinmystomach.Hishandbrushesmyarmagain,scatteringgoosebumpsalongmyskin.
IwishIdidn’thavethisreactionaroundhim.It’sgettinghardertohide.
“EveryonesawthatIwasinvited,”Itellhim,blowingoutalongbreath.“IfIdon’tgo,it’slike…”
“Defeat.”
Mygazerisestohis.“Exactly.LikeI’mhidingfromthem.”Mythroatfeelstight,andIshakemyhead.“Apartofmewantstohideandforgetthemall.Butthere’sthisotherpartofmethatfeelslike—”Iswallow.Mypulseisbeatingharder.“Like,fuckhim,youknow?Fuckhimforfiringmeandpickingsomeonenew.”Mystomachchurns,andIrollmyeyesatmyself.“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”Histoneissharp.“Don’tapologize.”Hetakesadrinkofhisbeer.“Youshouldgo.”
Isnort,givinghimaflatlook.“I’msurethat’llgogreat.IfIshowuplookingsuperhot,they’llthinkI’mtryingtogethimback,butifIshowuplookinglikegarbage,it’llseemlikeI’mfallingapartwithouthim.Besides,he’llprobablybemakingoutwithhisnewmuseallnight.”
Idowntherestofmydrink.Idon’twanttothinkaboutthisanymore.
Onthestage,theguyfinisheshisthirdsongbeforesettinghisguitardown.“I’mgoingtotakeaquickbreak,folks.”
Jamie’sthumbtapsmyarm,andhetipshischinatthestage.“Yourturn.”
Mysmileisindulgent.“Right.Veryfunny.”
“I’mserious.”Hisgazeboresintomine,filledwithdetermination.“WhatdidItellyouaboutgettingbackontheice?”
Theauthorityinhisdeepvoicemakesmyfaceheat.
“Jamie.”Mymouthisquirkingintoaruefulgrin.“Thisisn’tgettingbackontheice.Ihaven’tperformedonstagesincehighschool.”
“Iremember.”
Awarenessshimmersthroughme,alongwith…somethingsparkinginmystomach.IwishIcouldseeinsidehishead.
Hepinsmewithhisgaze.“Iknowyoucandoit.”
Thewayhelooksdownatme,thecertaintyinhisvoice,itmakesmyinsideswarm.
Haydenturnsbacktousfromwherehewastalkingwiththeboothbehindhim.“Pippa,areyouasinger?”
Irollmyeyes.“Notreally.”
“Yes,”Jamiecutsin.“Shesingsandplaysguitar,andshe’sgood.”
Haydenleanshischinonhisfist,lookingatmelikeit’sChristmasEveandI’mSanta.“Pippa.”
“No.”IstareatJamie.“Thanksalot.”
Haydengatherstheguys’attention.“Pippa’sgoingtosingforus.”Hestartsclapping.
Theyallreactatonce,clappingandholleringandmovingchairsoutofthewayforme,butIstayseated.IglareatHayden,butIcan’tbemadathim.MyheartisracingbutI’mlaughing.
“Tellyouwhat,songbird.”Jamie’smouthbrushesmyear,andthere’sthatlowtuginmybellyagain.“Ifyousingasongupthere,I’llgowithyoutoyourwrapparty.We’llshowyourassholeexwhocameoutontop.”
Imeethisgaze,andelectricitypullsbetweenuslikeacord.IpicturewalkingintothepartywithJamie’sarmaroundme,maybehismouthbrushingmyearthewayitdidasecondago.
IpicturethelookonZach’sface—disbelief,shock,andjealousy.
Ilikethatidea.
“Deal.”CHAPTER23PIPPA
Everyoneisstaringatme.Thisguitarisoutoftune,butthereisn’ttimetofixit.
I’mscared.Myheartbeatsoutofmychest.Mythoughtsareeverywhere,whizzingaroundlikebees.Ireadjustthestraponmyshoulderandstrumasoftchord.Themotioniseffortless.
TheFilthyFlamingogoesquiet,butIcanhearmypulseinmyears.Jordanleansonthebarcounter,watching.WhatamIgoingtoplay?Iscrambleforasong
Iftheylaugh,I’llbesoembarrassed.Icouldnevergotoanothergame.
ImeetJamie’seyes,andmymindpauses.Helookslikehedidtheothernight,whenIplayedforhim.Thewatchful,patientexpressionpinningme.
Icouldplaythatsong.
ThesoundofZachandhismanager’slaughterechoesinmyhead,andmylungstighten.PlayingforJamiealoneisdifferentthanplayingforabarfullofpeople.
Acrossthebar,Jamie’smouthtipsupashewatchesme,andhewinks.Right.Gettingbackontheice.I’mnotreadytoplaymyownmusic,though.
Everyone’swaiting.IholdJamie’sgaze,andIhearasonginmyhead.AsongbyRoxyMusicthatmydadusedtoplaywhenHazelandIwerekids.
Iplaytheopeningnotesandstartsinging.Myheartisstillbanginglikeadrum,soIlookatJamiewhileIsing,becausesomethingabouthimmakesmefeellikethisisgoingtobeokay.
Afterthesecondverse,myjittersfizzleout.WhileIplay,IremembermydadplayingthissonginthelivingroomasHazelandIdancedaroundtoit.Ourgoofydancemovesmadehimlaugh.
Duringthechorus,Iletmyvoiceflyhigher,testingtheresponse.Ilaunchintothenextverse,andthestagefeelssteadierundermyfeet.Theotherplayerslistenwithraptattention.Hayden’sgrinninghisboyishsmileatme,andIsmileback.MygazeswingsbacktoJamie,andhiseyesaresowarm,theymakemybreathcatchononeofthenotes.
Ifinishthesong,andthebarexplodeswithnoise—cheeringandapplause.MyfaceisonfirewhileIsettheguitarbackonthestand.
Ican’tbelieveIjustdidthat.
“Youwanttoplayanother?”Jordanasks,archingabrowatme,butshe’ssmiling.
Ishakemyhead.IfeellikeIcould,though.“Nottonight,thankyou.”
Everyoneisstaringatme,smiling.Theyaren’tlaughing,sothat’sgood.Mygazedartsaround,lookingforananchor,butI’mswarmedbypeoplecongratulatingme.It’soverwhelming.
“Justamoment,”Ibreathebeforewalkingtothehallwaywiththewashrooms
Ineedtocatchmybreath,toletmyheartsettledown.ThewalliscoolandsolidasIleanagainstit,closingmyeyesanddragginginthosedeepyogabreathsHazel’salwaysgoingonabout.
Footstepsmakemyeyesopen.Jamiestalkstowardmewithafuriouslookonhisface.
“Wha—”Istart.
Hiseyesflashwithheat.“Thatwasfuckingamazing.”
Hishandcomestothebackofmyneckandhedragsmymouthtohis.CHAPTER24PIPPA
Jamie’smouthtakesminehard,likehe’sbeenwantingthisforyears.Hegripsthebackofmyhairandtiltsmyheadback,dragginghistonguealongmine,andmykneesgoweak.Hismovementsareurgent,hungry,insistent,anddemanding.Hisintoxicating,masculinescentisinmynose,andIcanbarelybreathe.Idon’tevenwanttobreatheifthisistheotheroption.Myhandsmoveupthefirmplanesofhisbroadchest,andhegroansintomymouth.
Ohgod.Helicksintomymouthlikehewantstofuckme.
I’veneverbeenkissedlikethis.
“Fuck,”hemuttersbetweenkisses,andmywholebodypulseswithheat.
I’mwet.He’smademewetfromakiss.
I’mnotsureifmyeyesareopenorclosed.Ican’tfeelanythingexcepttheneedypressurebetweenmylegs,Jamie’sdemandingmouth,andthelightpullofmyhairinhisfist.Hegripsmyhairlikeheownsme.Hisotherhandrestsaroundthebaseofmyneck,heavyandhuge.Hedoesn’tapplypressure,butjustthecontactofhisbighandholdingmeinsuchavulnerableposition,itmakesmeneverwanttomove.Ilikethiswaytoomuch.
HisstubblebrushesmymouthandImoanintohim.Somethingaboutthatnoisesetshimoff,becausehepresseshisentirebodyagainstme,pinningmetothewall.
Hishipspushintome,andIgaspagainsthislips.
He’shard.Thethicksteellengthpressesintomystomach.Warmpressuretwistsbetweenmylegs,andImoan.Jamie’skissingme,hiserectionishuge,andI’vedefinitelylostmymind.
“JesusfuckingChrist,Pippa,”hegrowls,pullingbacktolookatmewithdarkeyes.He’sbreathingfast,glaringatme,toweringoverme.Hereleasesmyneck,andIalmostwhimperinprotest,butherestshisforearmonthewallabovemyhead,staringdownatmewithaglazedlookthatsetsmyunderwearonfire.
JamieStreicherissofuckinghot.
“What’shappening?”Ibreathe.
Heblinksandfrowns,andthenhisgazeshutters.“Shit.”Hestraightensup,andIwanttoyellno!“I’msorry.”Hedragsapalmdownhisface.“Ilostmyhead.Iwasn’tthinking.”
ThereareahundredthingsIwanttosay.Ilikeditanddoitagaincometomind.
Hetakesastepback.Withouthisbodyheat,I’mcold.Thehungerandurgencyaregonefromhisexpression,leavingonlyhistypicalcrankysurliness.Butunlikenormal,Idon’tfeelliketeasinghimaboutit.
Ijustfeelhurt.Anuglyrealizationhitsme—thisisexactlyhowIfeltattheairport.
WhatamIdoing?He’shot,protective,andsecretlysweet.KissinghimwaslikenothingI’veeverexperienced.He’snicetohismom,forgod’ssake.He’sthewholepackage.IfIlethim,hewilldevastateme.WhatZachdidwillbeatinyscratchcomparedtowhatJamiecoulddo.
It’slikeI’vethrownabucketoficewateronmythoughts,andmyheadclears.
Jamie’smouthisahardlineasheshoveshishandthroughhishair.“Ionlydocasualstuff,andwithusworkingtogether—”
“Iknow.”IplaywiththeendsofmyhairasIlookaway,gettingmybreathingundercontrol.“Thisisn’tagoodidea.”
Imeethisgaze,andhestudiesme,lookingtorn.“You’remyassistant,”hesays.
Aweightlandsinmystomach,andI’mangrywithmyself,becausehe’sright.Everythingaboutthisisaterribleidea.Isteptowardtheladies’roomandforceasmile,likewhatjusthappenedwasnothing.
“I’llbeoutinaminute,”Itellhim,pushingthedooropenbeforehecananswer.
Itakealongmomenttowashmyhands,wettingapapertowelwithcoldwaterandpressingittothebackofmyneck.MyskinisstillhotfromJamiepracticallyfuckingmymouthwithhistongue.
Againstmywill,IpictureJamiefuckingmymouthwiththatsteelrodthatpressedintome.MyeyescloseandIgroan.
Thisisn’tagoodidea,Itoldhim.
Ican’tbepicturingit,then.CHAPTER25JAMIE
MyjawistightasIstalkbacktothegroup.Somethingaboutmygaitmakestheguysmoveoutofmyway.
Fuck.KissingPippawasincredible.It’slikeshewasmadeforme.
Ishouldn’thavedonethat,butsomethingaboutPippamakesmelosecontrol.Ican’tgivehermorethancasual,andIknowthat’snotenoughforher.Thatisn’tenoughformewhereshe’sconcerned,andthatterrifiesme.
Atthebooth,Idowntherestofmybeer,watchingtheentrancetothehallway,rememberinghowhersoftmouthfeltundermine,howhercurvespressedintome,andhowshegaspedandrubbedagainstmycock.Idon’tthinksheevenrealizedshedidthat.Thehazy,druggedlookinhereyeslitmybloodonfire.EverycellinmybodywantedtothrowherovermyshoulderandcarryherhomebeforeIfuckedherintothemattress.
IfPippaandIweretogether,I’dneverletherrest.Thethoughtcurlsaroundthebaseofmyspine,andmyballsache.
Istareatmyemptybeerglass.Mypulseisstillracing.Everynerveinmybodyisonhighalert.Iwasn’teventhisampedupduringmygametonight.
Ican’tbelieveIdidthat.Myeyesclose.Isaidyou’remyassistant,butwhatImeantwasyou’respecialandIdon’twanttohurtyou.She’sbeenthroughthewringer.IfIcrushedherthewayIcrushedErin,Icouldn’tlivewithmyself.
“Youokay,buddy?”Owensasks,raisinganeyebrowatme.
Inodanddragasoberingbreathin.“Fine.”
Behindhim,Pippameandersthroughtheplayerstoherseat.They’recallingoutpraiseforherperformance,andshe’sgivingthemshysmiles.Mychesttightens,andthebarfeelstoosmall.
OwensglancesbetweenPippaandme.“Oh.”
Iglareathim,daringhimtosaysomething,buthejustsmirks.
Pippareachesthetable.“I’mgoingtogo.”Hergazedartstominebeforeshelooksaway.
Istand,pulloutmywallet,andslipafewbillsout,settingthemonthetable.
“Don’tleaveonmyaccount,”shetellsme.“I’mgoingtowalk.”
“It’sdark,”IsaybeforeIcancatchmyself.Theideaofherwalkingdowndarkalleysmakesmyshoulderstense.“AndI’mtired.”
Hergazeflickstomine,andIregretleavingthathallwayafewminutesago.“Okay.”SheputsonabrightsmileforOwens.“Hayden,thanksforinvitingme.”
Hestandsandgivesherabearhug.Herfeetliftofftheground,andshelaughsintohisbroadchest.“Anytime.We’regoingtomakeyousingagain.”
SomethingpinchesinmygutasIwatchthem,andmyteethgrit.Iknowhe’slikethiswitheveryone,butIdon’tlikeit.Iwanttotouchherlikethat.
Whenheputsherdown,she’sflushed.“Maybe.”
EveryonegivesPippahugsasweleave,andwhenwestepoutthedoor,she’ssmilinghernormalsmileagain.
“Thatwasterrifying,”shetellsme.“ButI’mhappyIdidit.”
“Playingforeveryone?”
Shenodsandglancesatme.“Thanksforencouragingme.”
Mythroattightensaswewalk.Whenshesangtonight,shelookedlikeshewasontopoftheworld.ShesmiledandsangandplayedlikethatfuckfaceZachneverhappened.Likenoonehadhurther,orlikeshehadhealedfromit.
Iwantthatforher.Iwantitsofuckingbadly.
That’swhywecan’tdomoreofwhatwedidtonight.Shedeservessomuchbetterthanme.
Westopatacrosswalkandwaitforthelighttochange,andsherubsherarms,shivering.Myeyebrowssnaptogether.
“Cold?”Iask.
It’searlyNovember.Itisn’training,butthetemperatureshavedropped.She’swearingalightrainjacketwithnoinsulation.
Shenods.“We’llbehomesoon.”
Islipmyjacketoff.
Sherollshereyes.“Jamie.I’mfine.”
“Putthison.Now.”Myvoiceislow,andIseeherbreathcatch.
“Bossy,”shewhispers,pullingiton.It’shugeonher.Thesleevesarewaytoolong.
Shelooksfuckingadorable.
Wewalkhomeinsilence,listeningtothesoundsofthecity—thecarhorns,peoples’conversationsaswepass,noisefromrestaurantsandbars.Insidetheapartment,Pippagivesmeaquick,tightsmilebeforedisappearingupstairs.ItakeDaisyonalongwalk,thinkingaboutPippatheentiretime,andwhenIclimbintobed,certainthatshe’ssleeping,Ipullmyachingcockoutandstrokeittothememoryofhermoaningintomymouth.
IbrokeErin’sheartbecauseIwasn’tcareful,andIknowbetterthantotakechances.
ThisisasclosetomessingaroundwithPippaasI’llget.CHAPTER26PIPPA
Thenightofthewrapparty,Jamie’sjawdropsasIwalkdownthestairs.
Apingofdelighthitsmesquareinthechest,andItrytohidemygrin.IknowIlookgood.Myhairislooseinlong,undonewaves.Mydarktealvelvetdresshugsmyslightcurves.Jamie’seyeslingeronthethinstraps,thenecklinedippingintomycleavage,andtheembroideryrunningdownthedresstomythighs
“That’swhatyou’rewearing?”
Thewordsaresharpandshort,likehedoesn’tapprove,buttheheatinhiseyestellsmeadifferentstory.Myfaceheats.
Thisisn’tagoodidea,Itoldhimafterwekissed.You’remyassistant,hesaid.
Thispastweek,we’vebeenactinglikethekissneverhappened.HejoinedmeonafewdogwalksaroundStanleyParkandinNorthVan,andDonnajoinedusoncewhenwehikedSeymourMountain.Itdidn’tseemlikeshepickeduponanyweirdnessbetweenus.Ihaveafeelingshe’dsaysomethingorteaseusifshedid.
“Youlookgreat,”Itellhim,takinginhischarcoalsuit.“You’regoingtohavewomenfallingalloveryou.”
Goodlord,helooksgood.Thesuitmustbecustom,becauseitfitshimperfectly.Heisn’twearingatie,andinstead,thetoptwobuttonsofhiswhitedressshirtareopen.
Heholdsmyeyes,andamuscleinhisjawticks.Ichewmylip,tryingnottorememberthesoundIheardthenightwekissed.
Ican’thelpit,though.
Thatnight,Ilayinbed,tossingandturning,tryingtofallasleep,butallIcouldthinkaboutwasJamie’slipsonmine,andhistonguestrokingintomymouthlikeheownedme.
WhenJamiewentintohisroom,Ihearditthroughthewall—hislowgroan.ThesamelowgroanIheardafewweeksago.Hewasstretching,Ihadtoldmyself.
Hewasn’tstretching.
ThesecondIheardit,myeyeswentwidewithshock,andtheapexofmythighsheated.Forthefirsttimein…Idon’tknowhowlong,Islippedmyhandintomypantiesandtouchedmyself—quick,lightstrokes.Icameinlessthanaminute.Anewrecord.Icouldn’tbelieveit.
Actually,lookingatJamienow,inhischarcoalsuit,Icanbelieveit.Icanbelieveitsohard.
Mygazedropstohismouth,pressedinaflat,unhappyline,andIrememberhowconsuminghiskisswas.Ashiverrollsdownmyback.
“You’regoingtobecold,”hemutters.
“I’mbringingajacket,bossy.”Irollmyeyesathim,andhisjawticksagain.Istridepasthimtothefrontdoor,andwhenIleandowntoputmyheelson,IstumbleoverDaisy’sleash.
Jamiesighsandwalksover.
“I’mfine,”Itellhim,buthecrouchesatmyfeetandtakesmyshoefromme.
“Putyourhandsonmyshoulders.”
“I’mfine.”
“Pippa.”
Isighandsetmyhandsonhisshouldersbeforeheslipsmyshoeonandbucklesthedelicatestrap.
“You’resurprisinglynimble.”
Icrookagrinathim,andashelooksupatme,somethinghotandsmugflashesthroughhisweirdmoodtonight.“I’mverygoodwithmyfingers.”
Mybreathcatchesinmythroat.He’skneelinginfrontofme,bighandcirclingmyankle,tellingmehowgoodheiswithhisfingers,andIpicturethisscenariogoinginaverydirtydirection.Sparksburstbetweenmylegs,andoureyesarelocked.
IfIwerebraver,I’dsaysomethingboldandsexylikeshowmeorproveit,butinstead,Ijuststayquiet,lookingdownathimwithheatpulsingbetweenmylegs.
Hebreakseyecontactfirst,lookingdowntoputonmysecondshoe,andwhenhe’sdone,hestandsandpullsmycoatoutofthecloset,holdingitformetoslipmyarmsinto.Ifeelweirdlyshyafterhavinghishandbrushingmyankle,butIblinkitawayandgivehimaquicksmile.
“Ready?”Iask.
Henodsonce.“Bye,Daisy,”hecalls,andsheopenshereyeshalfwaybeforegoingbacktosleep.
Weridetheelevatortotheparkinggarageinsilence.Heopensmycardoor,andIthankhim,buthejustnodsatmewithagrunt.Iwatchhimcirclethecartohisdoor.Hisjawistightagain,andhe’swearinghisdispleasedfrown.
Heregretssayingyestothis,Irealize.Hemadethedealwithmebeforewekissed.Mystomachplummets.WhatifhethinksIthinkthisisadate?
“Thisisn’tadate,”Itellhimwhenheclimbsintothecar.
HestaresatmelikeI’mabugonthesidewalk.“Iknow.”Histoneispissedandresentful.
Hepullsoutoftheparkinggarageandontothestreet.It’sraining,andJamie’sbadmoodismakingmefeelliketonightisalreadyamistake.
“Wehaven’ttalkedabouthavingovernightguests,”hesaysoutoftheblue
Iwhirltowardhim,givinghimastrangelook.“Huh?”Ichokeoutalaugh.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Ican’tevenimaginebringingaguyhome.WherewouldIfindone?AfterwhathappenedwithZach,theideaoftakingmyclothesoffforaguy,lettinghimtouchme…Mystomachchurns.Ihatethatidea.
Mymindflickstotheguybesideme,allbroadshoulders,thickhair,sharpjaw.Hisdelicatefingersbrushingmyankle.Thelow,needygroanIheardthroughthewall.
Ididn’tmindhimtouchingme.
Hisnostrilsflareasheshoulder-checksandchangeslanes.Hiseyesareontheroad,andtheairinthecaristhickwithtension.“Daisywouldn’tlikeit.”
I’mspeechless.Idon’tknowwhethertolaughorpunchhimintheface.“Daisylovesvisitors,”Isaywithoutthinking.
Thelookhegivesmecouldburnmyskinoff.
Idon’tevenknowwhattosaytohimrightnow.Wedrivetherestofthewaytothepartyinaweird,tensesilence,andI’mregrettingthismorebythesecond.Thispartyisgoingtobesoawkward.Onthestreetinfrontoftherestaurantwherethepartyis,hefindsaparkingspot.
“Staythere,”hebarksbeforegettingoutandopeningthetrunk.
I’mgettingirritated.Heagreedtocomewithme,andnowhe’sbeingadick.Idon’twanttodothis—Ijustwanttogohome.
Heopensmydoor,andI’mabouttoinformhimthatwe’regoingback,butheopensanumbrellaandgesturesformetostepout.Heholdsithighabovemyhead,frowningatmyhair.
“Don’twantyourhairtogetwet.”
Somethinginmychestliftsatthepictureofhimstandingthere,waitingforme.I’magrownwomanwhocantakecareofherself,butbetweenhimhelpingmewithmyshoes,puttingmycoatonme,andnowtryingtokeepmyhairdry,I’mmeltingintoapuddle.
IhatetokeepcomparinghimtoZachbutcan’thelpmyself—Zachexpectedeveryonetotakecareofhim,anditonlygotworseastimewenton.MythroattightensasIrememberZachaskingmewherehiscoffeewasonemorning,likeIwashisemployee.IguessIwas,becauseIworkedonthetour,butthatwasn’tmyjob.
“What’sgoingonwithyou?”Iaskasraintapsontheumbrellaaboveus.
Histhroatworksashelooksdownatme.We’restandingclose,andhesmellsdelicious.
“I’msorry.”Hiseyespinme,rakingovermyhair,myface,mycollarbone.“Youlookbeautiful.”
Somethinginmerelaxes,andIsmileupatJamie,lookingsohandsome.Iliterallyamhisemployee,andyethe’stheonetreatingmewithcareandattention.
He’sthiswaywitheveryone,awryvoiceremindsme.JamieStreichertakescareofeveryoneinhislife,andI’mnotspecial.
“Let’sgo,”hesays,guidingmetothefrontdooroftherestaurantwithhishandonmylowerback.
Mystomachdips,andit’shittingmenow.Zachisinside,andIhavetopretendwhathediddidn’tbothermeatall.
Ifeelsick.
“Hey.”Jamielooksdownatme,studyingmyface.“Don’tletthemseeyouscared,songbird.”
MythroattightensasIgazeupathim.Whateverweirdnesstherewasbackinthecarfallsaway,andthelookhe’sgivingmeisjustlikewhenheencouragedmetogetonstageinthebar.Likehebelievesinme.
Inodathim.“Yeah.Okay.”
“I’myourgoalie,”hesays.“I’llblockallyourshotstonight.”
Achuckleescapesme,andIsmileathim.Thecornerofhismouthticksup,andhiseyesfillwithaffection.
Forasplitsecond,Iwishhe’dkissmeagain.CHAPTER27PIPPA
Westepinsidetoawallofsound—thumpingmusic,laughter,conversation.Thedoorguychecksournamesoffonalistbeforeawomantakesmycoat.
Arippleofcuriositymovesthroughoutthedimspaceandmyskinpricklesundertheweightofinterestedgazes.MypulsewhooshesinmyearsasIglancearound,givingatightsmiletoafewpeopleIrecognize.Onthesecondfloor,morepeoplegather,andthere’ssomeoneatthetopofthestairslettingpeopleinandout.ThatwouldbetheVIPsection.
Aflashofpaleblondhaircatchesmyattentionupthere,andmystomachfreezes.Inthedimlighting,Icanjustmakeherout,laughingandtossingherhairoverhershoulder.Zachwillbenearby,nodoubt.
Jamie’swarmhandlandsonmylowerback.
“Howaboutadrink?”hemurmursinmyear,andInod.Heleadsmeovertothebarandordersawhiskeysourformeandabeerforhimself.
“I’mjustgoingtohaveone.”Hiseyesflicktomyhair.“I’llbefinetodrive.”
“Iknow.”Ilaughquietly.“You’reMr.Responsible.”
Hisgazedropstomymouth,andmybloodspikeswithelectricity.“Notalways,”hemutters,takinghisbeerfromthebartenderbeforethankingher.
“Pippa!”Alissashrieks,andIflinchasshethrowsherarmsaroundmyneck.“Youmadeit.”
Iforceasmile.“Ofcourse.”
SheturnstoJamie,staringathimlikehe’sapieceofcheesecakeshe’sabouttodevour.“Hi.”
“ThisisJamie,”Itellher.
Heshakesherhand,andshe’spracticallydrooling.There’sacrackleofpleasureinmychest,butwhenshebatsherlashesathim,thebackofmyneckprickleswithirritation.
“Howdoyoutwoknoweachother?”sheasks,stillgazingathim.
Hishandreturnstomylowerback.“I’mherboyfriend.”
Mythoughtsdropoffacliff.Hishandslidesupmyback,overthebareskinofmyshoulders,beforeitrestsonthepartwheremyshouldermeetsmyneck.It’sapossessivegesturethatmakesmyheartbeatharder,andeverybraincellinmyheadstumbles.
“Yeah,”Isaystupidly,staringathim.
Hewinksatme.Hewinksatme.Hismouthcurvesupononeside,andI’mfascinatedbythemovement.
“Wow.”Alissatiltsherheadatme,blinking.“Sosoon.”SheglancesupattheVIPsection,andweallknowexactlywhatshe’simplying.
Angerdripsintomyblood,butIdon’tletitshow.Ibetnoonefuckingsaidwow,sosoontoZachandhisnewfriend.
Jamietucksalockofmyhairbehindmyear.Ican’tbreathe.Ijuststareathimindisbeliefandawe.He’ssogoodatthis.
“Withtherightperson,”hesays,holdingmygaze,“youjustknow.”
Icouldkisshimrighthere.Inonesentence,he’ssolidifiedtheimpressionImaketonightaswellasimpliedthatZachwasn’ttherightguyforme.GivethisguyanAcademyAward.
Morepeoplefromthetourswarmus,andAlissaintroducesJamietoeveryoneasmyboyfriend.Oneofthetourelectriciansisahockeyfan,andthatsetsoffanotherroundofquestionsandcuriousbutimpressedglancesatme.
“CanIbuyyouadrink?”thehockeyfanasksJamie.
Hishandslipsdown,takingmine.“Thankyou,butI’mdrivingushome.”
Hishandishuge,warm,andcalloused,andIleanagainstthebarcounterforsupport.Thisisalot,pretendingwithhimlikethis,andI’mstartingtolikeittoomuch.
“WeliveinGastown.”Hiseyesmeetmineandthere’saflashofhumorinhisgazejustforme.
“Youlivetogether,”oneofthemakeupartistsrepeats,andshestaresatoneofthehairstylistswithmeaning.
Everywomanknowsthislook.It’stheoneIshootHazelsometimesthatmeanswewillgossipaboutthislater.MychestsqueezesandItampdownmysmile.
Afewminuteslater,astaffmemberfortheeventappearsatmyside.
“You’vebeeninvitedupstairs,”hesaysimperiously,likeI’vebeensummonedbyaking.
Jamie’smouthisbymyearagain.“Wedon’thavetodoanythingyoudon’twanttodo,”hemurmurs,andhisbreathticklesmyneck.It’shardtothinkwhenhedoesthat.Icansmellhisaftershave,anditmakesmefeellikepullinghimdownadarkhallwayandrelivingourkiss.
Hepullsbacktolookdownatme,andmischiefsparksinhiseyes.I’msointriguedbythisversionofthesurlygoalie.“Orwecanhavesomefun,”hewhispers,glancingatmymouth.
Iwiltoutofpurehorniness.JamieStreicherisgoingtokillmetonight.
AruefulsmiletwistsontomymouthasInodathim.“Okay.”
Alone,thiswouldbegod-awfulandterrifying.WithJamie,though,itfeelslikewe’reinittogether.Likewe’reatacostumepartywhereourcostumesaresogood,noonecanrecognizeus.Playingacouplefeelslikeashield,aprivatejokejustforus.
Withhimbymyside,I’mokay.I’vegotthis.
ThestaffmemberleadsusupthestairstotheVIPsection,andIfeeleyesonustheentireway.Jamie’shandisonmyarm,helpingmeinthesetotteringheels.Halfwayup,mystepsfalterashesitationclawsupmythroat.
PanicbeginstopoundinmychestandIcan’ttakeafullbreath.I’mbackattheairport,cryingintheterminalafterIwasthrownoutlikeyesterday’strash.
“Hey.”Jamielooksdownatme,concerncrossingoverhisexpression.“RememberwhatIsaid.”
Right.Outside.I’myourgoalietonight.I’llblockallyourshots
Inodathim.Meetinghiseyessettlesmyracingheart.“Youwon’tlethimgetbetweenmycrease?”Iwhisper,smiling.It’saphraseIheardoneofthecommentatorssaywhileIwatchedoneofJamie’sawaygames.Itmeanstoscoreagoal,anditsoundsdirtyashell.I’mtryingtomakehimsmile.
Hislipcurlslikehe’sdisgusted,andIlaugh.
“Inyourcrease,”hemutters.“Andno,Ifuckingwon’t.”
Hesaysitsharp,withjealousy,butmaybethat’swishfulthinkingonmypart.AsIstepontothelandingatthetopofthesteps,Ileanmyweightontohisarm.
“Why’dyouweartheseridiculousshoes?”
Ishrug.“Becausethey’rehot.”
Hisgazelingersonmylegs.“Yeah”isallhesays.
Thestaffmemberunhooksthevelvetrope,andItrynottorollmyeyes.Didthisstuffeverimpressme?Ihatethatthepartyissodivided.Zachwouldn’tevenhaveatourifnotforallthepeopleonthemainfloorwhobusttheirasseseverynight,racingtofixlast-minuteaudioissuesorhuntforreplacementequipment.Hehasnocluehowhalftheirjobsevenwork.
“Pippa.”
Zach’sinmyface,wrappingmeinahug.Hisscentisinmynose,andmyheartlodgesinmythroat.Myskincrawlsasheembracesmeandourearsbrush.Arepulsedshiverrollsdownmyback.ThisisnothinglikewhenItouchJamie.It’scoldandstiff,andthesecondZachletsmego,Ibackaway—straightintoJamie.
Hisarmlocksaroundmywaist,pinningmetohisside,andIbreatheasighofrelief.That’ssomuchbetter.
Zach’sstaringatmewithasurprisedsmile,blinkingwithatinyfrownlikeI’msomeonehecan’tplace.“Lookatyou.”
“Hi.”Istillcan’treallybreathe,butJamiegivesmywaistasqueezebeforehedragshisnailsoverthevelvetfabric.Iwonderifhelikesthatsensation,becauseIsuredo.
Pippa.Focus.IforceasmileatZach.
He’swearingafluorescentyellowhoodiewithreflectivestrips,whatpeopleonconstructionsiteswearassafetygear,andIkindofhatehimforit.Afewmonthsago,hetoldmeheneededtostartdressingtosettrends,becausehewasacelebritynow.He’stryingtobefashionable,butitfeelsinsincere,likehe’stryingtoohard.
Heswallows,stillstaringatmeinthatfunnyway,beforegesturingatmydresswithappreciation.“Youlookamazing.”
Ican’tlie,I’mpleased.ThislookonZach’sface?It’ssatisfyingashell.
Justlikeeveryonedownstairs,ZachturnstoJamieandbalks.
“JamieStreicher.”Jamieholdshishandout.He’swaytallerthanZach,andIstifletheurgetolaugh.“Pippa’sboyfriend.”
Zach’shandfreezesmid-airbeforeherecoversandshakesJamie’s.“Yeah,wewenttothesamehighschool,”hesays,andthewordsaretoneless.
“Right.”Inod.
WhenZachlooksbackatme,thereareknivesinhisgaze.Hegesturesbehindhim,andhisplatinumblondappears,glidingforwardlikeshe’sbeensummoned.“HaveyoumetLayla?”
Jamie’shandtightensonmywaist.No,Ihavenotfuckingmether,andZachknowsthat.
Ihatepretendingtobeokaywithsomething.Ihatehoweveryone’splayingtheirlittleroles,includingmeandJamie,andIhatethatIeverfelttheneedtoshowthesepeopleup.
Zachdoesn’tmatter,andthesepeoplearen’tmyfriends.Irealizethatnow.Iknewitbefore,butit’ssmackingmeinthefacetonight.
“Hi.”Ismileatherandshakeherhand.Herhandissotiny,likeachild’s,andItrynottorollmyeyes.“Pippa.”
Shenodswithwideeyes.“Layla.”
Thewayshesmilesatme,though,it’skindandshy,andIpause.Ithoughtshe’dbethisCruellatype,cacklinginvictorythatshestolemyman,butsheseemsyoung,small,andquiet.Zachtakesastepforward,andhereyelashesflutterasshebacksup.
Oh.Pity,ormaybeempathy,risesinmystomachatthewayshe’sdismissed.Iknowhowthatfeels.
Zachwavesusovertothegroup.IrecognizeafewpeoplefromTVshowsandmovies,acoupleguysfromabandIlike.Jamietakesaseat,andbeforeIcansitbesidehim,hepullsmeintohislap.
He’ssowarmandsolid,andhishandssettleonmywaistliketheybelongthere.Iknowthisisjustforshow,butmyfaceheatswithshyness.IthinkbacktostandingoutsideJamie’sbuildingforthefirsttime,psychingmyselfuptogoin.Howintimidatinghewasatfirst.HowhandsomeIthoughthewas—andstilldo.SittinginhislapisnothowIthoughtthiswouldgo.
I’mnotcomplaining,though.
Zach’seyessnagonmesittingthere,butIturnawaylikeIdon’tcare.
“Whenyoumakeadeal,”ItellJamiequietly,“youreallydeliver.”
Hisgazedropstomymouth,andIwonderhowfarhe’lltakeittonight.Heatmovesovermyskin,andeventhoughmylegs,shoulders,andarmsarebaretonight,Idon’tfeelcold.
TheserverbringsmeanotherdrinkandawaterforJamie,andhegetspulledintoaconversationabouthockeywiththeguitaristonZach’stour.Ipretendtolisten,butreally,myattentionisonZachandLayla.
Shesitsbesidehim,listeningtohimtalktothegroup.Hedoesn’taddressheronce,andshewearsaforcedsmile.Noonetalkstoher.
Ifeelbadforher.
Ialsowonder,wasthatme?IthinkbacktothesepartiesandhowIfeltluckytobethere,luckytohaveZach’sattentiononme.Laylaglancesoveratmeandsmiles,andIfeeltheurgetohugher.It’dbeweirdifIdid,Iknowthat,butitlookslikesheneedsone.Ishowedupheretonight,readytohateher,butnowIjustwanttodragherwithmewhenweleave.
TheguyJamiewastalkingtogetsuptogreetsomeone,andJamie’shandslidesfrommywaisttomyhip.HisgazeisonZach.
“Sothat’sthekindofguyyougofor.”Histoneisflatandunhappy.
IwatchZachregalethegroupwithastory.He’sthrivingasthecenterofattention,andashesayssomethingandeveryonelaughs,Icatchhimglancingaroundtogaugetheirreactions.
Hewantsthemtolikehimsobadly.
“Notanymore,”ItellJamie.
Oureyesmeet,andthechillinhisgazefadesafraction.IshethinkingaboutwhenItoldhimhewasgorgeous,orthekissinthehallway?
“Andallthis.”Hisfingerssqueezemyhipandhisgazeroamsmyface,myhair,mydress.“It’snotforhim?”
Ilaughindisbelief.“What?Jamie,”Imurmur.“Ofcourseit’snotforhim.”
Hisnostrilsflare,andIhavetheurgetostrokemyfingerdownhisstrongnose.
“WhatthefuckamIsupposedtothink,Pippa?”Hisgreeneyesflashandhegripsmyhipharder.
Oh.Ilikethatfeeling.
“Youpulledoutallthestopsforthisguy.”Herunshisfreehandbackthroughhishair,messingitup.“It’stheultimaterevenge,isn’tit?Tomakehimwantyouback?”Histeethclench.“Tomakehimbegtofuckyou?”
I’mspeechless,blinking,jawdroppingtothefloorinshock.
“Jamie,”Isay,butIhavenofollow-up.Itrytoturnonhislap,buthisbighandsanchormeinplace.
“Stopmoving,”hebitesout,andamomentlater,Ifeelit—thehardpressofhiserectionintomybackside.
Myeyesgowide.
Iknowtonightisfake,andthisisprobablyjusthisbody’sreactiontomesittinginhislap.Thisunsettled,angrysideofJamieislightingmeup,though,sendingheatthroughmyblood,andI’mhyperawareofhisstifflengthagainstme,hishandsonmyhips,thewayhisfingersbrushthesoftfabric,howtheytensewhenhelooksatmymouth.
Itfeelsgoodtobesomeonemorethanthegirlwhogotsteppedon.
“That’snottheultimaterevenge,”Isaysoftly.
Hisdarkeyesmeetmine,pinningme.Hisjawticks.
Mymouthcurvesintoasmile,andIdon’tevenrecognizemyselfrightnow.“Theultimaterevengewouldbefuckingyou.”CHAPTER28JAMIE
I’mtheclosestI’veeverbeentohaulingthisgirlovermyshoulder,takingherhome,andforgettingalltherulesI’vemadeformyself.
HermouthcurvesupandhereyesglitterwithteasingasIreplaythewordsshejustsaid.
Theultimaterevengewouldbefuckingyou
Iwish.
Inthecar,I’dpushthisdressup,tearherpantiesoff,andburymyfacebetweenherlegs.I’ddoitrightthereinthefrontseat.Iwouldn’tcareifanyonesaw.
No—I’ddoithereinfrontofZach.I’dmakeherscreammynameinfrontofallofthesepeople.Drinkswouldgetknockedintolaps,peoplewouldstareasIthrustintoherandmademyprettyassistantmine.ThegirlI’vewantedfor-fucking-everwouldcomesohardonmycock.
MyerectionpressesintoherbacksideasIreininmythoughts.Fromthesecondshewalkedoutofherroominthisdress,Ialternatedbetweenfantasizingabouttearingitoffherandbeingirritatedthatshewasdressinguptoimpressthefuckwitwho’sdesperateforattention.
Pippa’seyesarelockedonmine,gaugingmyreaction,andmyteethclench.Ineedtogetmyshittogether.Idooneofmymentalcenteringexercisesfromhockey—deepbreath,focusonthefeelingofmylungsexpandingandnotthewaymyballsache,listentothemusicaroundus,thechatterandconversation,andtrynottoinhalethesweetscentofherhair.Mythumbsbrushthesoftvelvetofherdress,andIletthatstealmyentirefocus.
Iopenmyeyes.I’mstillrockhard.Istillwanttofuckher.
“Pippa,”Istart,butIdon’tknowwhatI’mgoingtosay.Ican’tthinkaroundher.
Sheshakesherhead,lookingembarrassed.“Idon’tknowwhyIsaidthat.”Thelonglineofherthroatmovesassheswallows,lookingatherhands.“Ioweyouforthis.Thankyousomuch.”
“Forwhat?”Mytoneisflatwithtension.
Shegesturesaroundtheparty,andthenbetweenherandme.“Forthis.Forlettingmesitinyourlap.Forgoingalongwiththiswholecharade.”
Lettinghersitinmylap?Iactuallyfeellikelaughing.Pippa’sasspressedintomeisthemosteroticthingI’veexperiencedinyears,andI’llbejerkingoffthinkingaboutitforweeks.Also,thepoisonouslookZachgavemethemomentPippawasn’tlookingmadethewholenightworthit.
Whethersherealizesitornot,Pippadoesn’tneedhimanymore.Zachrealizesit,though.AburstofsmugmalesatisfactionhitsmeinthechestasIlockeyeswithZachacrosstheparty.Hepausesmid-conversationbeforeresuming,andIknowI’mright.
Fuckingasshole.TheurgetoprotectPippaexpandstenfold.
Shesqueezesmyknee,andsparksshootupmyleg,straighttomycock.Thisissweettorture,havingherinmylaplikethis.TheonlyreasonI’mnotmovingherofftogivemydickabreakisbecauseI’llnevergetthischanceagain.
Iglancebetweenhereyesandhermouth.“Promisemeyou’llneversleepwithZachagain.”
Shechokes.“What?”
“Doit,”Idemand.Isoundlikeanasshole,andIdon’tcare.“Promiseme,Pippa.”
Sheshakesherhead,laughing.“Ipromise.Ohmygod.Afterwhathappened?I’mnotthatstupid.”
“Idon’tthinkyou’restupidatall.”
“Well.”Sheshrugs,givingmealopsided,self-deprecatinggrin.“Ididstaywiththeguyforwaytoolong,”shesaysinalowvoice,leaningin.Herbreathticklesmyear.“Andhewasterribleinbed.”
“Really.”MynostrilsflareasIpicturethemtogether—himontopofher.No,he’dprobablymakehergoontopeachtimebecausehe’salazyfuck.
Ifuckinghatethatimage.
“Ow,”shesays,shiftingonmylap.
Myfingersdigintoherhips,andIloosenmygripimmediately.“Sorry.”
“It’sokay.”Shegivesmeasmallsmile.
“Whywashebadinbed?”ThequestionfallsoutofmymouthbeforeIcanstopit.Ican’thelpit.Ineedtoknow.
Shegivesmealook.“I’mnottellingyoudetails.”
“Iputonasuitforthis.”
“Youputonasuitmultipletimesaweekforgames,”shearguesback,smiling,andmychestfeelspressurizedlikeapopcan.
Ilovethatsheisn’tafraidofme,andthatshelikestoargueback.
Thesideofmymouthtugsup.“It’spastmybedtime.”
Shechuckles.“Fine.Okay.”HergazeslidestoZachbeforecomingbacktomine.“Hewoulddothisthingwithhishand,”shewhisperstome,andIleanin,eventhoughIcanhearherjustfine.Sheflattensherfingersandthenshiftsthembackandforthfast,likeshe’saDJ,andshe’sbaringherteeth.
Arustylaughscrapesoffmychest.“Whatisthatsupposedtobe?”
Shelaughs,andwhenhersparklingeyesmeetmine,mypulsetrips.“That’sZachrubbingmyclit.”
Mystomachchurns.Idon’tlikeherusinghisnameinthesamesentenceasmyclit
“Italwaysfeltrushed,andI’dworryIwastakingtoolongandthenI—”Sheshrugswithawince.“Iwouldn’tbeabletogetanywhere.”
Withus,itwouldn’tberushed.I’dtakemytime.I’dtakeallfuckingnight.Whenthesunrose,she’dstillbecoming,exhaustedfromcountlessorgasmsineveryconceivableposition.
“Thewholethingfeltlikeachoreneartheend.”Hergazeflickstomine.“Sorry.Toomuchinformation.”
Afeelingsurgesinmyblood,electricanddetermined.I’vebeencompetinginsportsmyentirelife.Ithriveoncompetition.It’swovenintomyDNAatthispoint,andit’sthebestwaytomotivateme.
HearingthatZachcouldn’tmakePippacome?Itlightsmybloodonfire.
I’dmakehercome.I’dmakehercomesofuckinghard.
Mypulsebeatsinmyears,andinthismoment,there’snooneherebutmeandher.Iholdhergaze,swallowingwithdifficultyasIpictureslidingmyhandsupherdresshereinthedarkrestaurant,pressingthepadsofmyfingersoverherdamppanties.Maybeshe’dgripmyknee,maybeshe’dburyherfaceinmyshoulderwhilesheshookonmylap,unraveling.
Ineedtomakehercome.
“It’snottoomuchinformation,”Imanage,andmyvoiceishoarse.“Wasitjustwithhim?”Iaskforsomestupidfuckingreason.“Thatyoucouldn’tgetthere?”
Ilikethepain,Iguess.Ilikethetortureofhearingaboutherstruggleswithorgasms,eventhoughIcan’tdoafuckingthingaboutit.
ShebitesherlipandIfollowthemotion.Iwanttobiteherlip.
Oureyesmeetagain.“He’stheonlyguyI’veeverbeenwith,”sheadmits.
Idragadeepbreathinascompetitionroarsinmyveins.Me,mysubconsciousshouts.I’mtheonewhocanchangehermind
Sheshiftsonmylap,andIclenchmyjawasshebrushesagainstmycockagain.
“SometimesI’msuccessful,um,bymyself.”
Evenintherestaurant’smoody,dimlighting,Icanseetheflushacrosshercheeks.Iwonderiftheyflushlikethatwhileshehasherhandbetweenherlegs.
“Whyareyoublushing,songbird?”Myvoiceislow.
“I’mnot,”shesays,breathless.Shewon’tlookatme,butherpulsejumpsinherneck.
Theprettysongbirdisthinkingaboutsomethingnaughty,andIneedtoknowwhatitis.Onehandisstillgrippingherwaist,butIliftmyfreehandandpressthebacksofmyfingersagainsthercheek.Herlashesflutter.
“You’reburningup.Youdon’thaveafever,doyou?”Iarchabrowather,teasingher.
“Idon’tthinkso,”shewhispers,eyesdartingtomine.
“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”
“Nothing.”Hereyesarewide.
NowIhavetoknow.Iturnherinmylapsoshecan’tavoidmygaze.“Tellme.”
Shehuffs,half-amusedandhalf-annoyed.“Jamie.”
“Now.”
Shegroans.“Bossy.Okay,fine.Lastweek…”
“Goon.”
“Thisisembarrassing.Okay.Whatever.Iusuallyhaveatoughtimeevenonmyown,butlastweekIwasabletoreallyquickly.”Herexpressionturnsmortified.“Ohmygod.WhyamItellingyouthis?”
“Youwerejustfollowingorders,”Isay,butmyvoicesoundsfarawaybecauseallIcanthinkaboutisPippaacrossthewallthatseparatesourrooms,strokingherself.Gasping.Hertoescurlingasshecomes.
Fuck.I’msohardrightnow.
“Jesus,”shemuttersasmycockpulsesintoher.
“Stopmoving,”Igritout.
Shegivesmealook.“Stopstabbingmewiththatskyscraper.”
Ichokeoutalaugh.OnlyPippacouldmakemelaughinthismoment.MaybeI’mlightheadedbecauseallmybloodisstraininginmydickrightnow.
“Whataboutyou?”Pippalooksatme.“Everyonesaysyoudon’tdate.”
“Idon’t.”
“Never?”
Erin’sfaceflashesintomymemory—happy,smiling,andI’mfloodedwithguiltalloveragainasIrememberreadingaboutherpullingoutofallofthosefashionshows.
“IhadagirlfriendwhenIwasnineteen.”
Pippa’sheadtiltsasshelistens.
“Erin.”Itfeelsweirdtosayhernameoutloud.“Shewasnicebut…”Ishakemyhead,unsureofwhattosay.“Myscheduleisintense,evenintheoffseason,andmymomneedsalotofattention.”
Pippanods,andhereyesarefullofwarmcompassion.She’stheonlypersonwhoknowsthefullextentofthings,IrealizeasIstudyherface.
“Icanonlyhandlethosetwothings.”
Shenodsagain.“Right.”
Imeethereyes,andsomethingshiftsinmychest.Playingpretendlikethisfeelstooeasy.It’sdifferentfromdatingErin,whoalwaysfeltmorelikeafriend,andthatrealizationisasharpkernelinmychest.MyhandsstrokeupanddownPippa’ssides,andhereyelidsfallhalfway,likeit’seitherrelaxingherorturningheron,ormaybeboth.
Myattentionispulledtomycock.Again.
Hard.Again.
I’mlettingmyselfactthewayIwanttowithPippa,andIdon’tknowifI’llbeabletostoponceweleave.Touchingherisfuckingmagic.
BehindPippa’sback,Zachstaresatherwhilehisfriendtalks.
Mycockthrobs,andIgetanidea.I’manevilasshole,andI’mtakingadvantageofPippawhenI’msupposedtobehelpingher.ThereareamillionreasonswhyIshouldn’tdowhatI’maboutto,butIdon’tcare.Thesecondwewalkoutthedoor,everythinggoesbacktonormal.Webothknowthisisn’treal.
“Youreallywanttodrivethestakeintohischest?”Imurmur,leaninginandlettingmymouthbrushherear.Sheshuddersagainstme.
Iwaituntilshemeetsmyeyes.Christ,hereyesarepretty.
“Kissme,”Itellher.CHAPTER29JAMIE
Pippablinks.
“He’swatching.”Iarchabrow,andmygazefallstoherlips.Iknowhowsofthermouthis.I’vereplayeditahundredtimes.“Onlyifyouwantto.”
“Yeah,”shebreathes,nodding,andwhenIliftmygazetohers,she’slookingatmymouth.“Ifhe’swatching,weshould.”
“Mhm.”
“Okay.I’mgoingtokissyounow.”
MyhandcomestothebackofherheadandIgentlypullherforward.
Ourkissisdifferentthistime.Lessurgent,lessfrantic,althoughIfeelallthosethingsbeatingagainstthefrontwallofmychest,urgingmetotakehermouth,butno.Iwanttosavorthisone,becausejustlikehersittinginmylap,we’llnevergetanothershot.Aftertonight,she’llneverseethatloseragain,andmyopportunitiestotouchherwilldroptozero.
IkissPippalikeImeanit.Likeshe’sairandI’mabouttosuffocate.Herhandsfistmycollarandpullmeclosertoher,andInipherbottomlipbeforeItasteheragain.
Ikissherlikewehaveforever.Iknowwedon’t.WehavemaybethirtysecondsmoreofthisifI’mlucky.
Shesighsintomelikeshe’sbeenthinkingaboutthisallweek,too.Everythingfallsaway—thepeople,themusic,everythingexceptthefeelofhermouthundermine,herpressedagainstme,myhandsinherhair.She’ssofuckingsweet.Hertongueslipsintomymouth,andI’mleakingpre-cuminmyboxers.Isuckhertongue,andshewhimpers.
Icouldmakehercomesofuckingfast.I’ddoitoverandoveruntilshebeggedforarest.
“Pippa,”Iwhisperbetweenkisses.
Shenods,andhermouthseeksmineagain.Desirefloodsmychest,drowningouteverythingelse.EverybadthingI’veeverseenorthathashappenedtomeevaporatesintotheatmosphereasIkissher,likeshe’sfillingmewithlight.Herhairissilk,andItiltheropenmore,soIcangetdeeper.Ineedtogetdeeper.Ineedhertobefullymine.
Iknowthisisn’treal,butit’sstillfuckingincredible.
Isenseapresenceinourvicinity,andwhenIopenmyeyes,there’safluorescenthoodiebesideus.I’mcradlingPippa’sjawinmyhandsnow,butZachreachesoutandtugsonalockofherhair.
Ipullback,glaringathim,jawclenching.
“Whatareyoutwodoinghidinginthecorner?”heasks.Hissmileiswry,forced,anduncomfortable.“It’saparty.Comehangoutwithus.”Hegesturesatthetableofhisfriends.Hesaysitlikehe’snotasking.
Undermyhand,Pippa’sbackmusclestighten.Evenwithoutmyhandsalloverher,I’dsenseherhesitation,thewayshestraightensup.
“Wehavetogo.”Istareathim.“We’vegotanearlymorningandI’mnotdonewiththisonetonight.”Mytoneissuggestive,andhereyesflarewithsurpriseandheat.“Right,baby?”Iask,lockingmyarmsaroundherwaist.Herlipsareswollen,andshelooksdazedasshenods.
Somethingsmugcoursesthroughme.Zach’sexpressionisbothunimpressedandirritated.
Shestands,andwhenIgettomyfeet,ItakeastepclosertoZachtoemphasizeourheightdifference.Idon’tusemysizetomyadvantageoften,buttonight,I’lltakeanyopportunitytoshowthisguyup.
“Thanksforinvitingus.”
“Yeah,”hesays,forcingasmile.Helookslikehe’sabouttobesick.“Reallygreattoseeyou,Pippa.”
Sheforcesasmilerightback.“You,too.”
Itakeherhand—itfitsperfectlyinmine.Onthewaydownthesteps,I’mpracticallycarryingher,supportingherarms.Shewavesgoodbyetoafewpeople,andthesecondwegetoutside,shedeflates.Iletherarmgo,becausenowthatwe’velefttheparty,theruseisover.
Somethinginmygutsinks.Thatallfelttooeasy,andIknowhowdangerousthatis.
“Ohmygod,”shebreathes,closinghereyes.“Thatwasalot.”
“Pippa.”IfoldmyarmsovermychestsoIdon’tdosomethingstupidliketouchherhairorwaistagain.Wearen’tpretendinganymore.“Youkilledit.”
Shesnorts,rollinghereyes.
“Youdid.”
Shesmilesupatme.“Thankstoyou.”
Myheartbeatsharder.“Anytime.”
Ican’ttellherthetruth—thattonightwasn’tafavortoanyonebutmyself.CHAPTER30JAMIE
Ican’tstopthinkingabouther.
“We’llhaveanotherround,”Owenstellstheserver,gesturingatourlargegroup.AlltheplayersareouttonightinabarafteralossagainstHouston.
UneasesimmersinmygutasIdrinkmybeer.Wheneverthewhistleblewduringthegametonight,Ihadtheurgetolookovermyshoulder.Icouldn’tstoppicturinghersittingthere,smilingandwatchingmeplay.I’vebeenawayforsixdays,andit’stimetofaceanuglytruth.
Imissthesongbird.
TheserverplacesanotherbeerinfrontofmeandIslugbacktherestofmydrinkbeforehandinghertheemptyglassandthankingher.
“You’reinamoodtonight,”Owensnotes,cockingagrin.
Istareathim.
“How’syourgirldoing?”
Mygirl.Thewordswarmmychest.“She’smyassistant,”Isay,butitdoesn’tsoundconvincing.
“Yeah.”Hesmirks.“That’swhatImeant.”
Idrinkhalfmybeer.“She’snoneofyourfuckingbusiness.”
Heletsoutaloudlaugh,headtippingback.“Streicher,relax.I’mnotgoingafterPippa.”
MyshouldermuscleseaseandItakeanotherpullofmybeer.
IthinkbacktotheconversationPippaandIhadinthecar,whereItoldhernottobringguyshome.Sofuckingstupid.CouldIhavebeenmoreobvious?SheprobablythinksI’matoxicasshole.
Andthentherewasthewrapparty.Kissingher,touchingher,pullingherintomylap.I’vebeenreplayingthatnightallweek.
“You’reprobablygoingtobitemyheadoffforsayingthis,”Owensstarts.
“Sodon’tsayit.”
Hegrins.“Nah.I’mgoingtosayitanyway.YouplaybetterwhenPippa’satthegame.”
Ifoldmyarmsovermychest.Icanfeelmynostrilsflaring.There’saweirdpressureinmychest.
“That’sbecausewhenshegoestomygames,mymomisthere,”Itellhiminasharptone.“Iworryaboutmymom.”
Heshakeshishead,eyesglittering.“Idon’tthinkthat’sit.”
“You’redrunk.”
Helaughsagain.“Yeah,Iam,butthatdoesn’tmeanI’mwrong.”
Irollmyeyes.Thesefuckingrookiesthinktheyknoweverything.Downthetable,AlexeiVolkovcallshimover,andwhenOwensgetsupandleaves,IpicturePippasittingbehindthenet.Mynervesimmediatelysettle.
Fuck.
Irubthebridgeofmynose.I’mnotreadytolookthisproblemintheeye.It’scowardlyofme,anditgoesagainsteverythingI’velearnedaboutgritandmentaltoughnessfrommysport,but…
Ican’tdothisforrealwithPippa.Ican’tmessitupandthenbeinthesamecategoryasZach,thefuckfaceloser.Afterhearingherplayguitarandsingforme,Iknowshehaswhatittakestohaveacareerinmusic.
Shejustdoesn’trealizeityet.
Inmybackpocket,myphonebuzzes.It’sapictureofPippaandDaisyonahikethisafternoon.Thesunpeeksthroughthetrees,andPippa’seyesaresobright.Twopinkpatchesbloomonhercheeksfromthecold.Myheartsqueezes.Istudythem,tracingthelinesofherfaceandhercaramelhairwithmygaze.She’swearingalightjacket,andIfrown.
Dresswarmer,Itext.Itgetscoldinthemountains.
Myfullfocusisonmyphone,watchingasthetypingdotsappear.Atwistofexcitementhitsmychest,likethemomentsbeforeaplayertriestoscoreonmynet.
Bossy,shetextsback.
Ihuff,leaningmychinonmypalm,scrollingbackuptothephotoofher.Thebeerismakingmyheadfloat,andIwonderifshe’dsaythatinbed.
Mymindfloodswithimagesofustogether—naked,breathinghard.MaybeIhaveherwristspinneddownasIpushintoher,watchinghereyesgohazy.
MycockstiffensandIclenchmyeyesclosed,rubbingmyface.Christ,Streicher.Getyourshittogether.
Pippa’sproblemwithorgasmshasnaggedatmeallweek.
Istareatmytextconversationwithher,wantingtosaysomanythings.HowareyouandhaveyoubeenthinkingaboutmetooandIknowahundredwaystomakeyoucome
Howarethingsattheapartmentthisweek?Ifinallysettleonbecauseit’slesspersonal.
Quiet,sheresponds.Daisymissesyou
Mypulsepicksup.Ileanforward,elbowsonmyknees,staringatmyscreen.
I’llbehomebeforesheknowsit,Itextback.
Pippa’sresponsecomesrightaway.She’slookingforwardtoit
Mymouthcurvesup.
“Holyshit,”Owenssaysdownthetable,pointingatme.“Hesmiles.”
Ishakemyheadathim,andIthinkI’mstillsmiling.“Fuckoff,Owens,”Icalldowntohim,butthere’snobitetomywords.Hejustgrinsbackatme.
Tellmeaboutthehikesyou’vedonethisweek,ItextPippa.
Youwantadetailedschedule?
Yes.Downtothehour.
Demanding.
Ismirkatmyphone,kneebouncingasmybloodcrackleswithenergy.
Halfanhourlater,we’restilltexting,messagesflyingbackandforth.I’velostcountofhowmanybeersI’vehad.Idon’tdrinkmuch—mymomwasalwaysworriedI’dinheritmydad’salcoholism—butItellmyselfthatdrinkingwiththeteamispartoftheteambondingthingWardlikes.I’minthatbuoyantbuzzedzonewhereeverythingseemsmorefun.
Thankyouagainforcomingwithmetothewrapparty,shesays.
Ileftformyawaygamesthemorningaftertheparty,sowehaven’thadachancetotalkaboutit.
Noproblem
Iwanttoapologizeforwhatwetalkedabout
Myguttenses.Explain.
Theresponsedoesn’tcomerightaway,andIcansenseherchewingherlipontheothersideofthecontinent.ThestuffthatItalkedaboutwithZachandme…itwasunprofessional.
Irubtheachebehindmysternum,picturingherbrowwrinklingwithworry.Doessheregrettellingme?Iforcedyoutotellme.
Still.It’snotyourproblemandI’membarrassed.
Idon’tknowwhatthisfeelingisinmychest.It’sablendofwantingtogiveherahugthatlastsforhoursandthefierceneedtoproveherwrongaboutthis“problem”shethinksshehas.
Nothingtobeembarrassedabout,songbird.IhitsendbeforeIcanthinktwiceaboutcallingherthat.Ireallyshouldn’t,ifwe’retalkingaboutbeingprofessional.Ican’tseemtostop,though.
Okay,well…shereplies.Thanksforlistening.
Youcantalktomeaboutthatstuffanytime,Itellher,likeI’mherfuckingboyfriendorsomething.Mychestclenchesatthatthought.
Anuglyimagewandersintomyhead.IpicturePippaandmesittingonthecouchintheapartment,hertalkingabouthersexproblemswithaguyshe’sseeing.Ragewhipsthroughme.Ifuckinghatethatimage.
I’mgoingtogotosleepnow,shetexts.Goodnight,Jamie.
Goodnight,Pippa.
Longafterherlastmessage,Istareatmyphone,scrollingthroughourconversation.
Zachcouldn’tmakehercome,andIwanttosobadly.Notjustbecauseofmycompetitivenature,butbecausePippa’slovely,andshedeserveseverythinggood.Icouldseetheanguishalloverherfacewhenshetoldmeaboutit.Itupsetsher.
Ineedtofixthisforher.Ineedtotakecareofher.
Iburymyheadinmyhands.Thereareamilliongoodreasonstoforgetsheevertoldmethosethings.Sheworksforme,andItrustherinmyhome,withmydog,andwithmymom.Ilikeher,andIdon’twanttoscrewthingsupforherthewayIdidwithErin.AndIknowfromlastyear,mymomneedsmetokeepaneyeonher,evenifsheisn’treadytoadmitit.
“Streicher,whenIsaidyoushouldspendmoretimewiththeteam,”Wardsayswithacrookedsmile,gesturingtomeonmyphone,“thisisn’twhatIhadinmind.”
Iglancearoundthetable.Everyoneisinconversation,talkinganddrinkingandlaughing,butmyheadisbackinVancouverwiththewomanI’msupposedtokeepmydistancefrom.
Islipmyphonebackintomypocket,andOwensordersmeanotherbeer.
***
It’slatewhenIgetbacktomyroom.I’mclumsy,fumblingwithmykeytoopenthedoor.AfterIputmyphoneaway,OwenshadusalllaughingatstoriesfromhissummertriptoEurope.HeremindsmeofhowMillerusedtobebeforeheturnedintoajackass.Wardeventoldusabitabouthispre-injurydayswhenheplayedforToronto.
Theentiretime,though,mymindlingeredonPippa’sproblem.
Iyankmyshirtandpantsoffandflopdownontomybed,pullingoutmyphoneandskimmingthroughmyconversationwithPippaagain.
It’sonlyamatteroftimebeforesheadmitsittoanotherguyandhewantstohelpherout,too.
MyheadfallsbackontothepillowandIletoutalowgroan.Thethoughtofsharinghermakesmyjawclench.IlikePippa,andnotjustbecauseIwanttofuckher.Iliketalkingtoher,Ilikehangingoutwithher,andIlikelivingwithher.Shemakesthosecupcakesforme.She’sfunny,sweet,andbeautiful.
We’refriends,Ithink.Idon’twanthertobakecupcakesforanotherguy,orsingintheshowerwhilehelistensoutsidethedoor.
Myheadspins,andIrealizeI’mdrunk.Ihaven’tbeendrunkinyears.
IletmymindwanderbacktoPippa,andanideatricklesthroughmysluggishthoughts.Onmyphone,IsearchforasextoyI’veheardabout.MypulsebeatsinmyearsandI’mrockhardasIputthetoyinmycart,addressittoPippaattheapartment,andpayforit.CHAPTER31JAMIE
Threedayslater,I’msittingontheprivateplanewiththerestoftheteam,waitingfortake-off,whenIsendPippaanotethatI’monmyway.
Daisy’slookingforwardtoit!sheresponds,andIsmileatmyphone.We’vebeentextingduringmyentiretrip,sendingeachotherphotosthroughoutourdays.Icatchmyselfstudyingherphotos,memorizingthem,andlookingforwardtothenextone.
Anemailnotificationpopsuponmyscreen.Shipmentoutfordelivery
Myeyesnarrow,becauseIdon’trememberorderingsomethingtotheapartment.PippausuallyhandlesthatstuffonthecreditcardIgaveher.
Goodnews!Yourpurchaseisoutfordeliveryandshouldarrivelatertoday.
(1)Satisfyer–personaltoywithclitoralsuctionforhertoe-curlingpleasure!
Myheartstops.
Ifuckingforgot.
Oh,fuck.Mypulserestartsatasprintasthememoryrushesback—lyingonmybedinmyboxers,hardassteel,buyingPippaasextoy.
Fuck,fuck,fuck.No.Shit.Ican’tbelieveIdidthat.Thisisnotokay.Sheworksforme.Sheneveraskedforthis.She’stryingtokeepthingsprofessional.I’mtryingtokeepthingsprofessional.Mythroatclosesup.
“Youokay,Streicher?”VolkovasksbesidemeandInodtersely.
“Fine,”Imutter,heartgoingamileaminute.
Fuck.
Thetrackinglinksaysit’sduetoarrivehalfanhourafterIgethome.Myskinfeelshot,andI’msweating.IfIrush,Imightbeabletomakeithometointerceptthepackage.
IpicturePippareceivingitwithahorrified,disgustedexpression.Allthetextconversationsthisweek,thesmilesshegivesme,thewalkswegoon—I’veruineditall.
WhateverPippaistome,Ijustblewitup.
“Cabincrew,”thepilotsaysovertheintercom,“preparefordeparture.”
Theflightattendantsensureeveryoneisbuckledinandtheplanedoorcloses.Mypulseraces,andI’mstuckonthisfuckingairplaneforfivehours,prayingPippadoesn’tgetthepackagebeforeIdo.
***
Thesecondweland,I’moutofmyseat,haulingmybagoutoftheoverheadbin.Theguysshootmewarylooks.
“Excuseme,”IsayinasharptoneasIheadtothefront.Theplaneisstilltaxiingalongtherunway,andoneoftheflightattendantsrollshiseyesatmybehavior.
Idon’tcareifI’mbeingrude.Ineedtobethefirstoneoffthisplane.IfIdon’tgetthereintime,I’mfucked,andit’snotevenabouthavingtofindanewassistant.IfsheseesIsentherasextoy,I’vejustlosttheonlypersonIactuallylikeinthiscity.
Mystomachknotsandnausearollsthroughme.
I’mrightbehindtheflightcrewastheyopenthedoor.Ifthiswasaregularflightinsteadofaprivateplane,orifIwasn’tknownforhockeyinthiscity,I’dprobablybearrestedwiththewayI’macting.Instead,theflightcrewjustlookunimpressedasoneofthemgesturesformetogoahead.
“Sorry,”ImutteratherasIrushpast.“It’sanemergency.”
Isprintthroughtheairport.Withmyheightandframe,inthiscity,I’measilyrecognizable.Peoplearegawking,takingphotosandvideos.ImustlooklikethefuckingTerminator,runninglikethis.Mybagcatchesonsomeone’selbowandtheystumble.
“Sorry,”Iyellovermyshoulder,stillrunning.
There’saspecialairportexitforprivateflights,thankfuck.Iwaitforthepersoninfrontofme,breathinghard,sweatbeadingonmyforehead.
There’snoupdateonthepackage’slocation.Stilloutfordelivery.Iswallowpasttheknivesinmythroat.Mynervesareshot,andI’veneverfeltthistightlywound.Notbeforeabiggame,notwhenIfoundoutmymomwashavingpanicattacks,never.
Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans,andI’mnotgoingtodealwithitnow.
Thepersonattheexitgivesmealonglookwhiletheyprocessmypassport.Themomentherecognizesme,Iseeitinhiseyes.Moreguiltformsinmygut;ifIwasn’taprofessionalhockeyplayerwearingasuitthatcostmorethanmostpeople’spaycheck,I’dbehauledintoquestioningforlookingshadyasfuck.
“Haveagoodday,Mr.Streicher,”hesays,gesturingmethrough.“GiveusmoreofthoseStreichershutouts.”
“Yougotit,”IcallasIhurryoutthedoors.
TheUberiswaitingformeoutside,andIslidein.IleftmycarattheapartmentincasePippaneededit.
“Fivehundredbuckstogetmehomeasfastasyoucan,”Itellthedriver,pullingthebillsoutofmywallet.
Thenexttwentyminutesareexcruciating.Thedriverridesthegasandbrake,drivingsofaroverthespeedlimitIdon’tevenwanttolook,andishonkedatadozentimes.MykneebouncesasIgritmyteeth,alternatingbetweenstaringoutthewindowandrefreshingthetrackingpage.
Whenwepullupinfrontofmybuilding,Ishovethebillsathimandraceoutofthecar.Theelevatortakesacenturytoarrive,andanothercenturytogettothetopfloor.Atinyoldladygetsoffonthetenthfloor,andIhavetoholdbackfromshovingheroutoftheelevatortogethertomovefaster.I’mcrawlingoutofmyskinwithimpatience.
Theelevatorfinallyopensonthetopfloor,andI’matthefrontdoorinashot.
Nopackageonthefloor.Mypulsebeatsinmyears.I’mnotintheclearyet—itcouldbeinsideorwiththeconciergedownstairs.
Insidetheapartment,it’squiet.Daisytrotsover,tailwagging,andIabsentmindedlypickherup,pettingherwhilescanningtheapartment,openingthecupboardbelowthesinktochecktherecycling.
NoPippa.Nopackage.Noemptybox.Aquickcalldownstairsconfirmstheydidn’treceiveapackageeither.Reliefeasesthroughme,andtheknotsinmygutuntie,onebyone.
Ithasn’tarrivedyet.Isighandleanbackagainstthefrontdoortocatchmybreath.Ijustagedadecade.IgiveDaisyonemorescratchbeforesettingherdown,andshereturnstothecouchandgoesbacktosleep.Asmypulseslows,Iscrubahanddownmyface.
Thatwassofuckingclose.Tooclose.
Intheupstairshallway,I’mheadingtomyroomtochangeoutofmysuitwhenanoisestopsmeinmytracks.Agasp.IstareatPippa’sdoor.
Afast,rhythmictappingsound,likeawhir,followedbyabreathymoan.
Allthebloodinmybodyrushestomycock.Ididn’tbeatthetoyhome.Itgotherebeforeme,andmyprettyassistantiscurrentlyusingitinherbedroom.CHAPTER32PIPPA
WaveafterwaveofintensepleasureradiatesfromwhereIpressthetoyagainstmyclit.I’mshaking,backarchingoffthebed,musclestaut,mouthopenwithmyeyesclenchedclosedasIrideoutthemostintenseorgasmofmylife.
WhenIcan’ttakeitanymore,Iturnthetoyoffandcollapsebackintothepillows,catchingmybreath.
Thatwas…amazing.IliftmyheadandstareatthetoyHazelsentme.Mymindisblown.Floaty,relaxedfeelingsflowthroughmybody,andIhuffalaugh.
Thatthingworked,andfast.MaybeI’mnotbrokenafterall.Ibitemylip,grinningtomyself.ThinkingaboutJamiewhileIuseditmadeeverythingmoreintense.
SoIhavealittlecrushonhim.Ialwayshave.I’mnotgoingtodoanythingaboutit.Itakeasoberingbreathandgetdressedbeforeheadingdownstairs.
Jamie’sinthekitchen,unloadingthedishwasher,lookingabsolutelyfuckingdeliciousinathleticpantsandagraylong-sleevedshirt.Somethingaboutthewaythethinfabricclingstohischestandshouldersmakesmewanttorunbackupstairsandusethetoyalloveragain.
Ibreakintoahugesmile.“You’rehome.”
Thisweek,ItextedhimthatDaisymissedhim,butthetruthis,Imissedhim.
HewatchesmewithanexpressionIcan’tdiscernasIwalkoverandwrapmyarmsaroundhiminahug.Itisn’tuntilmyfaceispressedagainsthischestandmyeyesfallclosedthatIrealizemaybethisisn’thowmostassistantsgreettheirbosses.
Ican’tfindtheenergytocare,though.Usingthattoywipedmeout.
“Howwasyourflight?”
WhenIstepback,Jamiewon’tmeetmyeyes,andhischeekbonesareflushed.Heshiftsawayfromme,foldinghisarmsoverhischest.“Fine.Good.”
“Good.”Ismileathimagain.
I’mjustfeelingsorelaxed.Hazelwillbesosmug,andI’mgoingtobuyherflowersasathankyou.No,thewholeflowershop.Everydamnflowerintheplace.
IwatchJamie’sAdam’sappleasitbobs.Hisgazedartstominebeforehecloseshiseyes,frowning.
“Areyouokay?”Iask.
“Fine,”hemanagesbeforestormingupstairs.
Iraiseaneyebrow,watchinghistall,strongformashedisappears.“Grumpy,”Icallafterhim.
Hisdoorslams,andwhenIreturntomyroomafewminuteslatertograbsomething,Ihearhisshowerrunning.Hemustbetiredfromtravelingorsomething.
Iopenmybedsidedrawer,whereIstashedthetoy,andgrintomyself.I’mgoingtouseitagaintonight.CHAPTER33PIPPA
Thenextmorning,DaisyandIarejustgettinghomefromhermorningwalkwhenwerunintoJamieinthehallwayoutsidehisapartment.
“Headingout?”
Hecanbarelymeetmyeyesasheshiftshisgymbagoverhisshoulder.“Yep.”
“Haveagreatpractice.”
“Thanks.”Hisgazeliftstomine,andIthinkhe’sabouttorushtotheelevator,buthedoesn’tmove.Heclearshisthroat.“Whatareyouuptotoday?”
Ican’tsaythefirstanswerthatcomestomind.RidingmynewtoywhileIthinkaboutsittingonyourlap,grindingagainstyourhugeerection
Definitelycan’tsaythat.Myfaceheats,andmybodytightensinanticipation.
I’vebeenusingthattoynonstop.
I’veneverownedone,soIdidn’tknowhowincredibletheywere.Onthetour,therewasnoprivacy,soit’snotlikeIcouldhaveusedone.AndevenifIhadone,I’msureitwouldhavefallenoutofmybagattheworsttime,infrontofeveryone.
“We’regoinghikingwithHazel.”Ihesitate.“AndImightplaymyguitarforabit.”
Hisgazegoessoftandwarm,andafunnyfeelingrisesinme.Ilikethatlookonhissharp,handsomeface.Ilikehimlookingatmelikethat.
“That’sgreat,songbird,”hesays,andthecornerofhismouthcurvesup.
Myheartflutters.I’lldoanythingtomakehimsmileagain.Hiseyesholdmine,andthefluttersinmychestintensify.
“Sendmeapictureonyourhike.”
Inod,smiling.HejustwantstoknowhowDaisy’sdoingthroughouttheday,Iremindmyself.
Afterwesaygoodbye,Iheadtomyroomandpullmyguitarout.Iplayaroundwithitforanhour,strummingandhoveringwithmypenabovemynotebook,readytowritelyrics,butnothingshowsup.That’showIusedtowritemusic—I’dgetafewpartsofthesong,maybeoneverse,thechorus,maybejustanopeningline,andthenI’dfilltherestin,buttoday,nothingfeelsgoodenough.Nothingsoundsworthyofcreatingasongaround.Ican’tstoppicturingZachandhismanager.
Iblowoutalongsighoffrustration.SomemusicianI’dmake.Ican’tevendothisasahobbywithoutseizingupinself-doubt.
***
“They’reopeningupthatmarketingpositionnextweekforinternalapplications,”Hazeltellsmeonourhikethatafternoon.
“That’sgreat.”
Ipicturemyselfinmeetingstodiscussbrandpartnerships,campaignstrategies,oralogoredesign.Comparedtotheinsanehoursonatour,anofficejobwillallowmetohaveanormallife.MaybeI’llevenmakefriendsthere.Andifsomeonemakesfunofmeorlaughsatmyideas?I’llbefine,becauseamarketingideaisn’tapieceofmyheartthewaysongsare.
Somethingmakesmepause.IfIworkforthemarketingdepartment,Iwon’tgettoseeJamieorDaisyanymore.
Mygoodmoodpopslikeaballoon.
It’sforthebest,though.IthinkabouttryingtowritemusicthismorningandhowparalyzedIwasbytheideaofnegativecriticism.I’mnotlikeZach,whowasalwaysabletoignorethebadstuff.
“Youdon’thavetoapplyforit,”Hazelsaysquietly.“Justbecauseit’swhatMomandDadwant—”
“Iwantto,”Icutin.“It’swhatIwenttoschoolfor.”
Hergazelingersonme,wary.Shedoesn’tbuyit.Hazelhasalwaysbeenabletoseerightthroughme.
IcanalreadyhearhowhappymyparentswillbethatIevenapplied.They’vebeenaskingnonstopaboutit.
Besides,I’mjuststartingtoplaymusicagain.Idon’twanttoputpressureonmyselftomakeiteverythinginmylife.Ijustwanttoloveitagain.
“Oh,Imeanttothankyouforthegift,”ItellHazel,changingthesubjectandshootingheracheekysmile.“Diditcrossboundaries?Absolutely.DoIcare?Notreally.”
Shetiltsherhead,frowning.“Huh?”
“Thetoy.”
“Whattoy?”
Myeyesnarrow.“Theoneyousentme.”
Shestaresatme.“Ididn’tsendyouanything.”
Iblink.“Yes,youdid.TheSatisfyer.”
Shechokesoutalaugh.“Ididn’tsendyouthat.Although,that’sagreatchoice.Everyonealwaysgoesforthevibrator,butthey’relikebzzzzzz!”Shemakesanoiselikeabuzzsaw.“It’stoomuchsometimes.”
Istopwalking.“Yousentittome.”
“No,”shesaysslowly.“Ididn’t.”
Then—
Ohgod.Mymouthfallsopen.He’stheonlyotherpersonwhoknowsmyaddress.EventheteamofficestillhasHazel’saddressonfileforme,eventhoughtheyknowI’mlivingatJamie’s.
“What’sthatlook?”Hazelasks.
I’mstaringatnothing.Myfaceisthetemperatureofthesun,andI’mgoingtodieofembarrassmentorhorninessorshock.
JamieStreichersentmeasextoy,andI’vebeenusingitnonstopwhilethinkingabouthim.
Theimageofhimstandinginthekitchen,staringatmewithdiscomfortasIwalkedoutinapost-orgasmhaze,appearsinmyhead.Ipressmyhandsagainstmycheeks.I’mgoingtodie.Anysecond,mywholebeingwilljustpoofintotheair.
“Ohgod,”Iwhisper.
“What?”
“IthinkJamiesentit.”
Shecrowswithlaughter.“Awesome.”
“No,”Iprotest,wincing.“Notawesome.”
Hereyesarebrightwithexcitement.“Heliiiiiikesyou.”
“No,hedoesn’t.”Myvoiceisweirdagain.“Hedoesn’t.”
Shegivesmealookthatsaysotherwise.
Hecan’t.You’remyassistant,hesaid.IglanceatHazel,worryfurrowingonmybrow.Mypulsepicksup.“HepretendedtobemyboyfriendatapartyZachwasatandgotabonerwhenIsatonhislap,”Iblurtout.
Hazel’sjawhitsthegroundbuthereyesaresmiling.“Tellmeeverything.”
WhenI’mfinishedrecountingthatnight,sheshakesherhead.
“Hewantstofuckyou.”
Myskinprickles,andIcan’tgetafullbreath.“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”
“Doyouwanttofuckhim?”
Theultimaterevengewouldbefuckingyou.Ican’tbelieveIsaidthat.
“Yes,”Isqueakout,blushing.“Butwecan’t.”
Shesighs.“YouknowhowIfeelabouthockeyplayers,butifyouwantto,andhewantsto…”Shegivesmeanencouraginglook.“Whynot?”
BecauseIalreadylikehimasmorethanafriend.WhatifIfallforhim,onlytomoveoutinafewmonthsandnevertalktohimagain?WhatifIstarttolikehimtoomuch,andhepullsaZachonme?
I’vealreadybeencrushedoncethisyear.Ican’tgothroughitagain.Jamie’ssoinsanelyhotandsooutofmyleague,itisn’tevenapossibilitythathewon’tbreakmyheart.
“Pippa,”Hazelsays,“justkeepitcasualwithhim.Guysareonlyasfaithfulastheiroptions,especiallytheseguys.”Sheshrugs.“Don’tforgetwhoheis.Andleaveyouremotionsoutofit.”
Easyforhertosay.Hazelalwayskeepsrelationshipstemporaryanduncomplicated,butIdon’tknowhowtodothat.
IlivewithJamie.IworkforJamie.Wetextandtalkaboutourday.Hisdogisbasicallymybestfriend.Ihangoutwithhismom.
Nothingaboutthisisuncomplicated.Myemotionsarealreadyfullyinvolved,andifIletitgoanyfurther,it’sgoingtohurtlikehell.
***
Thatafternoon,Igethomeearlierthanexpected,andJamie’sshoesareinthefronthallcloset,buttheapartmentisquiet.Daisy’stiredafterourhikesoheadstothecouchtonap,andIwanderuptomyroomtochargemyphone.
AsIpassJamie’sdoor,Ihearmynameinhislowvoice,barelyaboveamurmur.
Myheartstops.Ishetalkingaboutmeonthephone?Ifrownandleanin,listening.Thisistotallywrong,butifheis,Ihavetoknowwhathe’ssaying.MyskinpricklesasIpressmyearagainstthedoor.
“Fuck,”hemuttersinthesametoneaswhenwewerekissing.Alow,needygroan.
Myeyesgowide.MyskinheatsasIimaginewhathelookslikeontheothersideofthedoor,fistinghiscockandwincingwithpleasure.
“Pippa.”Ihearhislowmoanthroughthedoorandfeelarushofwetnessbetweenmylegs.
Myhothockeyplayerbossisjerkingoffwhilemoaningmyname.Athrillshootsthroughme,andIpictureustogether,allthehardplanesofhisbodywhilehetouchesme,urgingmeon.
Jamiewouldbeso,sodifferentfromZachinbed.Youcandoit,JamiesaidwhenIwasuncertainaboutperforminginthebar.
Ibethe’dsaythatinbed,too.CHAPTER34JAMIE
PippacomeshomethenexteveningwithDaisyandstopsshortinthekitchen,tiltingherheadwithasurprisedsmile.
“What’sthis?”sheasks,gesturingatthemassivemessI’vemade.
Irubthebackofmyneck,feelingstupid.Ican’tbelieveIthoughtthiswasagoodidea.
“Dinner,”Imanage,meetinghergazebeforelookingaway.“Imadedinnerforus.”
I’mafuckingwreck.Ican’tstopthinkingaboutherhavingorgasmsinherroomwiththetoy,andIcan’tstopworryingshe’llfindoutit’sfromme.ShemustnotknowIsentit—it’stheonlyexplanationforwhyshehasn’tquitorcalledHR.WhenIthinkabouthermovingout,Ifeelsick.WhenIimaginethelookonherfaceasshefindsoutIboughtitforher,Iwanttotearmyhairout.
I’vetriedcompartmentalizingPippa.I’vetriedplacingherinaseparateboxinmymindandsavingthoughtsofherlushmouth,perfecttits,andround,smackableassforthemomentIclimbintobedeverynight.
Noneofit’sworking.She’sconstantlyinmythoughts,andmebuyingherthattoyisaloomingaxeabovewhateverweare.
I’mfallingapart,soI’mmakingdinnerforus.Idon’tknowwhy.Idon’tseemtounderstandlogicanymore.NotwherePippa’sconcerned.
Sheblinks.“Ididn’tknowyoucouldcook.”
Ishruglikeitdoesn’tmatter.“Youdon’thavetoeatitifyoudon’twantto.”
“Idowantto,”shesaysquickly.“I’mjustsurprised.”Shetipsasmileatme,andmynervessettleafraction.“Pleasantlysurprised.”Issheblushing?Shewanderstotheovenandpeersin.“Enchiladas?”
Inod.“Blackbean,yam,andspinach.Readyintwenty.”
Sheheadsupstairstodropherstuff,andIblowoutalongbreathasmyheadfallsback.Fiveminuteslater,I’mloadingthedishwasherwhenshereturnstothekitchen.Shereachestopassmeabowl,andourfingersbrush.Electricityspikesthroughourtouch,andIjerkback.
“What’supwithyou?”Shegivesmeanamused,curiouslook.“You’resojumpy.”
Myshoulderstense.“I’mfine.”
Shesnorts.“Jamie,yourshouldersareatyourears.Doyouneedamassageorsomething?”
Mycockstiffens,thinkingabouthersofthandskneadingintomyneck.Jesusfuck.“Idon’tneedamassage,”Iblurtout.
Sheputsherhandsup.“Ididn’tsayIwasgoingtodoit.Relax.”
I’mfuckingblowingthis.Idragabreathin.Pippamovesinfrontofthesinktowashaknife,andwithoutthinking,myhandsareonhershoulders,movingheraway.
“I’llcleanup.Ididn’tmakethismesssoyoucancleanupafterme.”
“Iknow.”Sheshrugsundermyhands.“I’mhappytohelp.Ilivehere,too.”
“Pippa.Sitdown.”
Shesetsthecleanknifeonthedryingpadandturnstomewithaworriedlook.“DidIdosomethingwrong?”
“No.”Ihatemyself.“I’msorry.I’mstressedouttoday.”
Hermouthtwists.“IsthereanythingIcandotohelp?”
ThereIgoagain,picturinghersinkingtoherkneesandtakingmebetweenherprettylips.I’mabouttosayno,butanotherimageappearsinmyhead.Ussittinginthelivingroominthemiddleofthenightwhilesheplaystheguitar.
“Music.”Ifoldmyarmsacrossmychest,leaningagainstthecounter.“Thatwouldhelp.”
Asmileliftsonhermouthandshereachesforherphone.“IcanplayDJ,noproblem.”
“No.”
Hergazesnapsuptomine,oneeyebrowraised.
“You.”
Hermouthtwiststothesideagain,butsheholdsmygaze.“Thatwasaone-timething.”Shesmileslikeshe’skidding,butvulnerabilityflashesthroughhereyes,andmychestaches.
Iliftmyeyebrowsather.“Imadedinner.”Justlikeher,I’mteasing,butI’malsonot.
Westareateachother,andIfeelherresolvefading.
“Comeon,songbird,”Imurmur.“Yougoingtomakemebeg?”
Shehuffs,rollinghereyes.“Fine.Butonlybecauseyou’reclearlyhavingabadday.”Alittlesmilecurvesonherprettymouthandhereyeslosethathesitantexpressionfromamomentago.Sheheadstothestairs.
Shereturnswithherguitarandtakesaseatonthecouch.Istandinthemessykitchen,staringasshepositionstheguitaronherlap,loopingthestrapoverhershoulder.
Itfeelsalmosttoogoodtobetrue.
“I’vebeenplayingaroundwithsomestuff,”sheadmitswithafunny,almost-embarrassedsmilethatmakesmewanttokissheragain.“Itisn’tverygood.”
Thebreathleavesmylungsinahuff.“I’llbethejudgeofthat.”
“Okay.”Shesmilestoherselfandbeginstoplay.
Hermusicfillstheapartment,andawarm,tightpressuresurgesinmychest.Thesongshe’ssingingishopeful,sweet,andfun.Thelyricsareaboutgettingbackuponthehorseafterfallingoff.Pippa’svoiceissoftbutstrong,andshehascontroloverhernoteslikeaprofessional.Shemakesitlookeasyandeffortless.
Asshesingsaboutmovingonfromtoughtimes,IwonderifIhaveanythingtodowiththis,ifthepeptalkIgaveherbeforethewrappartyaboutgettingbackontheicemadeanyimpact.
Ireally,reallyhopeitdid.
Shesingsalineaboutfindingsomeonebetter,andanuglythoughtstrikesme.Whatifshe’sthinkingaboutmovingonwithsomeoneelse?Iimagineherswipingonadatingapp,andIfeelsick.Ipictureguysknockingonourfrontdoortopickherup,andmyjawhurtsfromclenching.
Thetuneends,andsheshootsmeanembarrassedsmile.“Notalotofcleaninghappeningoverthere,”sheteases.
Iblink,shakingmyself.“Didyouwritethat?”
Shenods.“Iknowitneedswork.”
“Whydoyoudothat?”Iaskwithoutthinking.“Cutyourselfdownlikethat.”
Discomfortflashesacrossherface,andsheshiftsherfeetbeneathherlegs.“Um.”Herlashesflutter.“IguessIsayitfirstsootherswon’t.”Shelooksoveratme,andIdefinitelywanttokissheragain,evenjusttodistractherfromtheassholeswhomadeherfeellikeshewasn’tgoodenough.
“I’dneverdothat,songbird.”
Sheholdsmygazebeforeshegivesmeasmallnod.“Iknow.”
I’msofuckinggoneforthisgirl.
“Howcananyoneeversayyestoyouifyousaynotoyourselffirst?”Iask.Shechewsherlip,watchingme,andinsteadofpushingtheissue,Ijusttwirlmyfingerintheair.“Next.”
Shelaughs,andthetensiondissipates.“Demanding.”
AsIcleanup,Pippacontinuestoplay.Daisysnoozesonthecouch,andwhenthetimerrings,IdishoutandgestureforPippatositdownatthetableI’veset.
Theairhumswithexcitement.Thisfeelslikeadate.No.Notadate.Thisfeelslike…somethingmore.Somethingnatural,easy,andnecessary.Likewe’reacoupleorsomething.Daisy’seatingherdinnerfromtheslow-feederbowlIboughther,andPippawatcheswithamusementashertailwags.
Thisfeelslikefamily.
Mystomachtightens.We’renot,andIknowthat.ThisisjustmetryingtosmooththingsoverwithhersoIdon’tlosesomeoneIreallyneedthisyear.
Pippatakesabiteandhumswithappreciation.“Jamie,thisisgreat.”
Ismileatmyplate.“Thanks.IusedtomakeitformymomwhenIwasakid.”
Shequirksafunnysmileatme,half-confused,half-amused.“Youwerecookingasakid?”
Inod,grippingmywaterglass.Thememoriesfloodback—mymom’sdimroominthemiddleoftheday,curtainsclosed,herunderthecovers,fastasleep.Allshedidwassleepforweeksatatimeuntilsheroseoutofthefunkshewasin.That’swhatshecalledthem—funks
“Okay,”Pippasays,leavingitbe.
It’sherreactionthatmakesmewanttosharemore.Thewayshegivesmespacetellsmeshe’llkeepitbetweenus.She’dnevertellthemediaorherfriends.
“MymomhaddepressionwhenIwasakid.SometimesIhadtocookformyself.”
Herconcernedgazemeetsmine,butthere’snopitybehindhereyes.“Oh.I’msorry.”
“It’sokay.Imanagedit.”
Understandingpassesoverherfeatures,andasmallsmileliftsonherface.“That’swhyyoutakecareofeveryone.”
Ijustshrug.“Ihavenochoice.”
Shereachesacrossthetable,coversmyhandwithhers,andgivesitawarmsqueeze.Herskinissoft,andmyhandtensesunderherssoIdon’thaulherintomylaplikeatthewrapparty.
“Sorry,”shewhispers,yankingherhandbackatmygrimexpression.
Thisisgoingallwrong.Weeatinawkward,tensesilence,andwhenwe’redone,shegetsuptocleartheplates,butIstopher.
“I’lldoit.”MytonecomesoutsharperthanIwanted.
Shetakesaseatonthecouchandpicksupherguitaragain.SheplaysanothersongwhileIcleanthekitchenmorethoroughlythanever.IfIstop,she’llstopplaying,andI’mdesperatetohearhervoice.Hersingingonthecouchmakesthisapartmentfeellikeahome.
Hersongendsandsheglancesoveratmewithasmallsmile.“Ithinkyougotthatspot.”
IlookdowntowhereI’mscrubbingthespotlesscountertop.
Shebitesherlip,hernerveswrittenalloverherface.“Sitwithme?”
Myfeetarealreadymovingtothelivingroom.Ican’tsaynotoher,itseems.Idropdowninthechairfacingher.
Shepauses,offeringmeahesitantlook.“Areweokay?”
Ijerkanod.“We’refine,Pippa.”
Shestudiesme,chewingherbottomlip,andIcan’tstopthinkingaboutwhatthatbottomlipfeltlikebetweenmyteethasIkissedheratthewrapparty.
Fuckinghell,whatIwouldn’tdotoexperiencethatagain.
SilencestretchesbetweenusbeforeIshoottomyfeet.I’monedge,andI’mgoingtodosomethingstupidifIsitdownherewithher.
Imakeitallthewaytothehalloutsidemyroomwhenhervoicestopsme.
“Isthisaboutthetoyyouboughtme?”Sheclimbsthelastofthestairs,foldingherarmsoverherchest.
Mygutdrops.Ofcourseshefigureditout.“Pippa.”Idraginabreath.“I’msosorry.”
Shestaresatme.Ican’treadherexpression.“Why?”
Ishakemyhead,feelingsickwithnerves.“Itcrossedaline.Youtoldmethatinconfidenceand—”Icutmyselfoff,frustrated.“Idon’twanttomakeyouuncomfortable.IhadtoomanybeersandI’dbeenthinkingaboutyouallday.”Shit,Ididn’tmeantosaythat.“Becausewe’dbeentexting.I’dbeenthinkingnonstopaboutwhatyousaidatthewrapparty.”Myeyesmeethers,andheatroarsinmyblood.“Ilikeyoubeinghere.IlikeyouplayingmusicintheapartmentandIlikeyoucomingtomygames.”
Hermouthtipsupintoasmile.“Ilikegoingforwalkswithyou,andyoumakingdinner.”
Myheartaches.AllIcandoisnod.Ican’tbelieveIalmostfuckedthisupbecauseIwashorny.
Shetucksherhandsinthesleevesofhersweater.“AndIlikegoingtoyourgamesandhangingoutwithyourmom.”
Nowwe’rejustlistingmorereasonswhyIshouldn’thavedonewhatIdid.
Hertonguedartsouttowetherlips.“Iusedit.”
Istifleagroanatthememoryoflisteningtohercomingalloverthetoy.Icanonlyimaginewhatitlookedlike.Ican’tstopimaginingwhatitlookedlike.
Ican’tlie.“Iknow.”
“Youdo?”Hereyesgowide.
“Thisplaceisn’tsoundproof.”Irubthebridgeofmynose.Nowthatsheknows,maybeshe’llbemorecarefulsoIdon’thavetowalkaroundwithanerectionallday.
Sheshifts,squeezingherthighstogether.“Iheardmynamecomingfromyourroomtheotherday,”shewhispers,cheeksflushing.
Ifreeze.Yesterday,IlethernameslipwhenIwasthinkingabouther,jerkingoff.Evenrememberingitsendsbloodrushingtomycock.“Ididn’thearyougethome.”
Westareateachotherforalongmoment,andtheairbetweenussparks.ShebitesherbottomlipandIwatchthemovement,fascinated.Iwonderifshe’ddothatifIhadmyfingersburiedinsideher.
Myeyesclose.Fuck.NomatterhowhardItry,Ican’tgetthoseideasoutofmyhead.Ifeelmyselfgettinghard.
“Jamie,”shebreathes,andIlookather.
Thelookinhereyestellsmesomethingdangerousisabouttohappen.She’sabouttosaysomethingthatIwon’tbeabletostopthinkingabout.Iknowit.
“What?”Myvoiceislow.
“Whydidyoubuythattoyforme?”Herlashesflutter.“Therealanswer.”
Itakeasteptowardher.Thethreadholdingmywillpowertogetherisclosetosnapping.“BecauseIwantedtogiveyousomethinghecouldn’t.”
Hergazedropstomyerection,andmorebloodrushesthere.
“Because,”Icontinue,becauseIcan’tseemtokeepafuckingsecretaroundthisgirl,“Iwantedtomakeyoucomeharderthanever,andthatwastheonlyway.AndIdon’twantanyoneelsetodoit.”
Herthroatworksandshe’sblushingagain,buthereyesarelockedonmine.ThetensionbetweenusisthickandelectricasItakeanothersteptowardher.
“Diditwork?”Iask,becauseIcan’thelpmyself.
Herbreathisraggedasshenods,andmyballsache.Ishouldgotomyroom.I’mabouttosnapwithherlookingatmelikethat.
Mycontrolfrays,andIwalkforwarduntilherbackispressedagainstthewall.Mychestbrusheshers,andIcanfeelherbreathonmyneckasshetiltsherheaduptolookintomyeyes.
“Youneedtostoplookingatmelikethat,songbird,”Itellher,leaningmyforearmonthewallaboveherhead.
“Orwhat?”shebreathes.
“OrI’mgoingtolosemymind.”Isayitlikeithasn’talreadyhappened.“Ican’tstopthinkingaboutyouusingthattoy.”
Atinysmileticksuponhermouth.Coy,teasing,andknowing,likesheseesexactlywhatshe’sdoingtome.
Keepingmydistance,Ichanttomyself.Butthevoiceisgettingquieter,fartheraway.
“Youwanttoshowme?”ThewordsfalloutofmymouthbeforeIcancatchthem.Myvoiceislowandthick.
There’sabeatbetweenuswherethatfadingvoiceinmyheadthrashesforattention,andIslamthementaldooronit.Thisisn’tarelationship.Pippahasnoexperienceinbed,andIdo.Whobettertoshowherwhatshe’sworththanme,amanwhothinkstheworldofher?
Inthedimlightofthehallway,herpupilsblow.“Okay.”
Mycontrolsnaps,andmyhandwrapsaroundthebackofherneck,pullinghermouthtomine.CHAPTER35PIPPA
Jamiekisseslikehe’smadatme.Hismouthmoveswithurgency,demandingandroughanddesperate,likehe’spouringeveryounceoffrustrationbackintome.
Iloveit.
Isighintohiminrelief,becausehismouthbackonmineislikedrinkingwaterafteramarathon.Sonecessary,soneeded,sofuckinggood
Hegripsmyhair,anglingmyheadbackandstrokingintomymouth.Sparksofpleasureskateovermyskin,andhiskissisdruggingme.Ilightlysuckonhistongue,andhegroans.
“You’refuckingkillingme,”heraspsbetweenkisses.He’sfurious,anddelightanddesireflickerlowinmybelly,warmingme.Hisstubbleisroughagainstmyskin,hislipsarepracticallybruisingmine,butIdon’tcare.Ijustneedmore.
Hegroansagainlikehe’sinpain,leaninghisforeheadagainstmine.Myhandscometohist-shirt,skimmingupanddownthehardplanesofhischest.God,Iwanttoseehimshirtlessagain,likethatnightinthekitchen.
“Fuck,”hebitesout,glazedeyesflashing.“Ineedtoseeit.IneedtoseeyoumakeyourselfcomeonthetoyIboughtyou.”
Hislipsseekmine,andaheavyacheformsbetweenmylegsashenipsmybottomlip.Asoftmoanslipsoutofme.Thebreathwhooshesoutofmylungsashishipspinmeagainstthewallandhisthicklengthpressesagainstmystomach.
KissingJamieishotterthananythingI’veeverdonewithZach.
Hislipsmoveroughlydownmyneck,andIstandthere,heartracinglikethisisadream.I’mfloating,andwehaven’tevendoneanythingyet.Hebacksaway,andIfeelhisabsenceimmediately.
Heopensmybedroomdoor,glaresatme,andpointsintomyroom.“Getinthere,”hedemands.
Ishiver.Jamiebossingmearoundmakesmefeeluntetheredandcompletelyunlikemyself,andIdon’tmindonebit.
Heartpounding,Iwalkpasthimintomyroom.Atmybed,Istopandturn.Hefollowsmeintotheroomandcrosseshisarmsoverhischest.
“Well?”heasks.
Ohgod.Mystomachdips,andthehorninessIfeltmomentsbeforewavers.He’sprobablysleptwithahundredwomen,andnowIhavenofreakingcluewhattodo.
He’sgoingtolaughatme.JustlikeZachandhismanagerlaughedatme.Iblinkrapidly,meetinghisgaze,andhisexpressionchanges.
“Songbird,”hesays,holdingmygaze.“Doyouwanttostop?”
“No,Ijust—”Icutmyselfoff,glancingatmybedsidetable.“Idon’tknowhowtodothispart.”
Hiseyesturnsoft.Hestepsforwardandthreadshisfingersintothebackofmyhairagain.
God,thatfeelsgood.Iclosemyeyesashepresseshislipstomine.Thenervesdrainaway.
“Takeyourclothesoffandgetonthebed.”
Hepullsbackandlooksdownatme,andsomethingabouthimtellingmewhattodosendsheatrushingbacktomycenter.
“Doyouunderstand?”
Inod,dazed.
“Good.”Heletsgoofmyhair,stepsbackagain,andfoldshisarms.
MypulsepicksupagainasIpullmysweateroff.Ireachforthehemofmyshirt,andasIpullitup,Jamie’seyebrowlifts.
“Slower.”
Anothertwistofheatbetweenmylegs.Ilikethissideofhim—primal,bossy,demanding,wantingme.Ipullmyt-shirtoffatacriminallyslowpace,watchinghisjawtick,hiseyessimmerwithheat,andhisfistsclench,tuckedbeneathhisarms.
Hisgazedropstomybra,apalepinklacything.Histonguetapshisupperlipashiseyeslingeronmychest,andmynipplesprick.Ipicturethattonguetracingmyskinabovethebra,andthere’sarushofliquidbetweenmylegs.
Thewayhe’slookingatme?Itfeelsgood.
Hiseyesmeetmine.“Allofit,”hesays,tiltinghischinatmypants.Anothershiverrollsdownmyspine.
Whenmyjeansareoff,hestaresatmylacethonglikeitoffendshim,butIknowthetruth.HisAdam’sapplebobsasheletsoutalongbreath,gazefixedbetweenmylegs.
“Areyourpantiesdamp?”
Inod.
“Good.”Heclencheshiseyesclosed,jawtickingwhilehedragsinanotherbreath.“Keepgoing.”
MybloodwhooshesinmyearsasIreachbacktounhookmybra.Ican’tbelieveI’mdoingthis.Ifeellikelaughingwithexcitementandnerves,likewhenI’monarollercoaster.WhenIremovemybra,Jamie’seyesareonmybreasts.Hisnostrilsflare,andathrillofexcitementshootsthroughme.
“Jesusfuck,”hemutters,lookingawaybeforehisgazereturnstomychest.“Panties,too,Pippa.”
Islipthemdown.Myskinpricklesfromhisgazebetweenmylegs,andhegroansandrakeshishandthroughhishairbeforetiltinghischinbehindme.
“Onthebed.”
He’sstillfullyclothed,andI’mbare-assnaked.ThisiseitherthemostintimidatingthingI’veexperienced,orthehottest.Orboth.IcanhearmypulseinmyearsasIsettleontomyduvet,leaningbackintothepillows.Mythighspresstogether,andthere’sadullachebetweenthem.Mynipplespinch,myskingoosebumps,andathoughtstrikesme.
WhatifIcan’tcome?
Worryspikesinmymind.It’dbesoawkward.TensionformsinmychestandIchewmylip,lookingupasJamieloomsoverme,stillcrossinghisarms.
Heopensmybedsidedrawer,andwhenheseesthetoy,hepausesbeforepickingitup.Hiseyesaredark,litonlybythelamponmybedsidetable,andanotherthrillarcsthroughme,landingatmycenter.
Hehandsmethetoybeforestraighteningup,waiting.He’ssotall,sofuckingbroad,andheseemstoobigformybedroom.
“Likethis?”Ibreathe,heartpounding.He’sjustgoingtostandovermelikethat?
Henods.“Mhm.Exactlylikethis,songbird.”
I’mnervous,butIdon’twanttostop.Himwatchingmelikethis,nottouchingmeeventhoughIknowhewantsto—I’mgoingtobethinkingaboutthisforalongtime.
MygazeislockedonhisasIclickthetoyon.Itswhirringnoisefillsthequietbedroom,andhiseyesdarken.
“Whatareyouwaitingfor?”
“Bossy,”Iwhisper,andthecornerofhismouthtwitches.
Ipressthetoytomyclitandmyeyesfallclosed.
Ohmygod.
Mythighmusclestighten.Thesuctionagainstmyclitisperfect,betterthananythingI’veeverfelt.Well…IrememberkissingJamiemomentsbefore.Thatwasaclosecontender.
JamiekissingmebetweenmylegsmightbethebestthingI’veeverfelt,ifit’sanythinglikethis.
Isigh,headtippingback,andIcanfeelhiseyesonme.Ohmygod,thisissohot,withhimstandingoverme,glaringdownatmewiththatfuriouslookonhisface.IneverthoughtI’dbeintothis.
Isneakapeekathim.Yep.Furious.Absolutelyfurious.Heatbuildsaroundthebaseofmyspine,andImoanandclosemyeyesagain.
“Keepyoureyesopen,”hedemands.
Idoashesays,gazingupathim.Helookssomad,butwhenmyeyesdroptohispants,hiserectionstrainsagainstthefabric.
Myclitaches,adullthrobofheatandpleasure,andIwhimper.
“Areyouclose?”heasks,andIjerkanod.
Hearchesabrow,lookingdownatmelikehehatesme,butthere’sasoftaffectioninhiseyes.“Areyougoingtosaymynamewhenyoucome?”
Anotherpulseofheatbetweenmylegs.I’msoakingwet.“Idon’tknow.Maybe.”
“Wrong.”Hisjawtightens.“You’llsayit.Withoutadoubt.”
Hisconfidencemakesmehuffwithquietlaughter.Mytoescurlatthewavesofpleasureradiatingfrommyclitasthetoysucks,andIpictureJamie’smouththere,hiseyesburningashelooksupatme.
Oh.That’sgood.Herakeshishandthroughhishair,messingitup.Itlookssohotlikethat.Iwanttotouchhishairsobadly.
“Fuck,”hemuttersagain,grittinghisteeth.“You’resofuckinghot,Pippa.Can’twaittoseeyoucomeforme.”
Inodindesperation,grippingmyduvetwithmyfreehand.Theheatandpressurebuild,andpleasureissurgingthroughmybody.
Zachpopsintomyhead.Iflinch,pushingtheimageaway,butIcan’t.Ipictureusinbed,himgettingimpatientwithme.
I’mfull-bodycringing,andtheachebetweenmylegsfades.
No.No,no,no.Notnow.Ihadthis.Iclosemyeyes,chasingthatfeelingfromasecondago.
Jamie’svoiceislow,browfurrowed.“What’sgoingon?”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’tknow.”
Embarrassment,shame,andregretwhirlpoolinsideme.Thiswasahugefuckingmistake.Ican’tbelieveIthoughtIcouldgofromsexuallybrokentobasicallyhavinganorgasmondisplay.
WhothefuckdoIthinkIam?
Myfaceisgoingred,andsuddenly,I’mtoonaked,tooexposed.Iliftthetoyaway;itisn’tdoinganything,anyway.Mylegssnaptogether.
“Thisisn’tworking.”Myvoiceiswobbly.Iclosemyeyesandpullmylegsin.Ijustwanttohide.God.HowamIevergoingtofacehimagain?“I’msorry.It’stakingtoolongandI’mcoldand—”Ishakemyhead.“Sorry.”
I’mhumiliated.Thisisgoingtomakethingsawkwardbetweenus.
Jamiesitsbesidemeonthebed,watchingmyface.Hisjawstillclenchesbuthiseyesarewatchful,andmaybealittleworried.
“I’msorry,”Isayagain.
“Stopapologizing.”Hereachestotuckalockofhairbehindmyear,andmyhearttugswiththeintimacyofit.
Ireallywantedtodothis.Itfeltfunandsexyanddangerous.
“You’retooinyourhead.”Hiseyessearchmine.
“Idon’tknowhowtogetout,”Iadmit.
Hisgazedropstomymouth,andhiseyesdarkenagain.Hedragsabreathinandletsitoutslow.“Ihaveanidea.”CHAPTER36PIPPA
Jamiepullshisshirtoverhishead,andI’massaultedwithafantasticviewofhisripplingtorso.Musclesuponmuscles.Rounded,tonedshoulders.Definedpecs.Stackedabs.Theydanceandjumpasheyankshispantsoff,andthatwarm,tightfeelingbetweenmylegspulsesonceagain.
Oh.Thereitis.
“Whatareyou—”Istart.
“We’retryingsomethingnew.Standforme.”
Islipoffthebedashethrowstheduvetbackandtakesmyspot.Hislegsfallwidebeforehegesturesformetositbetweenthem.There’ssomethingsoattractiveabouthistightblackboxers.Maybeit’stheoutlineofhiscockagainstthefabric,straining.
“Comehere,Pippa.”
Ishiverathistone,loadedwithtensionandheat,butIdoashesays,settlingbetweenhislegs.Hiserectionpressesintomybackside,andthere’sasparkofheatbetweenmylegs.
ThesecondIsettlebackagainsthim,Isighwithpleasure.He’ssowarm.Hepullstheduvetoverus,coveringme.
“Better?”hemurmursagainstmyear,andInod.
“Somuchbetter.”
“Good.”Heinhalesme,noseagainstmyneck,andletsitoutasasigh.“It’smyturn,okay?”
Inod,lettingmyheadfallagainsthim.Hekissesmycheek,myjaw,myneck,andthetensionleavesmybody.
Hishandsskimupmythighs,strongfingersdiggingintothemuscles,massagingme.Ashishandsdrawclosertomycenter,hepauses.
“Putyourhandsonmythighs,songbird.”
Isetmyhandsonhiswarmskin,andheflinches.
“You’recold,”hehuffs,laughingquietly.
“Sorry,”Isqueak.
“It’sokay.”Hepressesanotherkisstomycheek,andthisisthesideofJamiethat’sthemostdangerous.Thesweetversionofhim.“Putyourfeetonmine.”
Ido,andhegroanslikehe’sinpain.
“Likeice,”hesays,andIlaugh.Alittlepuffofairagainstmynecktellsmehe’slaughing,too.
I’mrelaxingmorebythesecond.Hishandsstrokeupanddownmythighs,inchingcloserandclosertotheapexeachtime,andI’mmeltingintohimasheatbuildsinsideme.
“How’sthat?”Hismouthmovesagainstmyshoulder.
“Good,”Iwhisper.
Hishandsmoveuptomybreasts,andwhenhisfingersfindmynipples,Isighagain.Hepinchesandrollsthepeaks,gentlyatfirst,butwithgrowingpressure,drawingmoregaspsandsighsfrommeuntilI’msquirmingagainsthim.HiscockpulsesagainstmybackasIarchintohishands.HeatpoolsatthebottomofmystomachandIcanfeelhowwetIam.
“I’mgoingtotrythetoyagain,”hesays,lowinmyear.“Youthinkyoucanhandlethat?”
Inod,openingmylegs,pressingthemagainsthisthighs.“Uh-huh.”
Heshiftsunderme,reachingforit,andslidesitundertheduvet,applyingittomyclitbeforeheturnsiton.
Thetoy’sintensesuctiononmyclitmakeseverymuscleinmybodypulltaut.“Ohmygod.”
“Haveyouplayedwiththesettings?”
I’mwrithingonhim.“No.”
Ohgod.Thisissogood.Thisisperfect,exactlywhatIneed.He’ssowarmandsolidbeneathme,allaroundme,andmynailsdigintohisthick,muscularthighs.HiscockpulsesagainwhenIdothat.
Heturnstheintensityofthetoydown,andthedesperate,achingfeelingfades—notcompletely,butI’mnolongeronthebrinkofcoming.
“Hey,”Iprotest,butit’smoreofadesperateplea.
Histeethscrapemyshoulder.“You’renotinchargehere.”Hishandcomestomystomach,slidingtotheundersideofmybreast.Iwanthimtotouchmynippleagain,rollit,pinchit,anything,buthewon’t,hejustkeepsstrokingmyskin,circlingtheachingpoint.
“Tellmewhatyoufeelrightnow,”hemurmursintomyear,loweringtheintensityofthetoyanotherclick.
Thetoy’ssoftsuctionpullsmeintoacomfortable,floatyzone.Ican’tcomelikethis,butIdon’twantittostop.
“Songbird.Payattention.”
Isuckinabreath.Right.Focus.“Okay.Um.Icanfeelthetoybetweenmylegs.”
“Good.”Pleasureripplesthroughmybody,warmingme.“Whatelse?”
Iclosemyeyes.“Icanfeelyouagainstmyback.You’resowarm.”
“Mhm.”
“Yourlegsundermyhands.”
“Verygood.You’redoingsowell.”Hislowtoneispleased,andmyclitthrobsatthepraise.
Myskinfeelshot.Ineedmore,butIcan’tgettherewiththislowsetting.Mybackarches.“Jamie,Ineedmore.”
“Notyet.”Finally,histhumbslidesup,playingwithmynipple,andmyheadfallsbackagain.
“Ohmygod.”
“Tellmeafewmorethingsyoufeel.”
“Um.”Mythoughtsscatteratthewayhepinchesme.Thetoywhirsawaybetweenmylegs,andmychestrisesandfallsfastasmybreathingpicksup.“Yourhandonmynipple.”
“Mhm.”Hismouthisbackonmyshoulder,andhisstubblescrapesme.“Yourtitsaresoperfect,Pippa.Seeingyouinthatprettypinkbraisgoingtomakemecomeforyears.”
Mypussyaches,floodingwithheatandliquid.“Wow.”
“Whatelse?”
MythoughtsfloatintheairandItrytocatchthem.“Um.Theduvetagainstmyskin.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yourboneragainstmyass.”
Hehuffsalaugh.“Sorry.”
“No,”Ibreathe.“Ilikeit.It’shot.”
Hegroans.“Whatelse,baby?”
Mybodyclenches,tighteningaroundnothing.Ilikeitwhenhecallsmethat.
“Icanfeelyourthighsagainstmine,”Isay,andmyvoiceisthin.
Heclicksthetoyuponespeed,andwhenImoan,hepinchesmynippleharder.Hiskneeshookunderminesohe’sholdingmylegsopenwithhisthighs.Thewayhehasme,I’mpowerless,andmypussythrumswithpressure.
“Ohmygod,”Igasp.
“How’sthat?”
“Good.Sofuckinggood.”MybackarchesagainandIpressmylipstogethertoholdinthemoan.“More.”
“More?”Histonetauntsme.
“Please.”
Arumblingnoisecomesfromhischest,likehelikesmeaskingnicely.Heclicksthetoyupagain.
“Youlooksofuckingpretty,”hesaysinmyearasItwistinhislap.“SofuckinggorgeoussittinginmylapasIusethetoyonyourpussy.”
Heclickstheintensityupagain,andmyeyesrollback.Ipicturehimbendingmeoverthisbed,pushingthatbigcockintome.Mypussyflutters.Ohgod.It’sstarting.
Thisisworking.Ican’tbelieveit’sactuallyworking.
“That’ssogood,”Ichokeout.Thepressurebuildsagain,swirlingbetweenmythighs.Jamie’ssowarmagainstme,againstmylegs,againstmyback.Hisbighandcupsmybreast,kneading,andthepleasureinsidemerises.“Ohgod,”Ibreathe.“Don’tstop.”
Histeethscrapemyneck.“WhatifIdid?”Helowersthesetting,andthepressurebetweenmylegsdiesoff.
“No,”Icry,diggingmynailsintohisthighs.“More.”
“Begme,”hedemandsinalowvoicethatmakesmeshiver.“Begmetoletyoucome,songbird.”
“Please.”I’mbreathinghard.“Pleaseletmecome.”
“Good.”Heclicksthetoyupafewspeeds,andIgroan.“Keeptalking.Whatareyouthinkingabout?”
“Yourcock.”Myvoicebreaksasheclicksthetoyupagain.“Yourcockinsideme.”
“Isthatwhatyouwant?”
Inodurgently.“Yes.”
“Youthinkyoucouldtakeme?”Heclicksthetoyupagain,andI’msquirmingonhislap.
Mybodyisn’tmine;it’shis.Heownsit.He’swieldingithoweverhepleases,andI’mjustalongfortheride.
“Idon’tknow,”Iadmit.
Histhickarmwrapsacrossmytorso,anchoringmetohim,andIclutchit.
“Ithinkyoucould.”Hisvoiceisahotraspinmyear.“Ithinkyoucouldtakemycock.It’dbeatightfitinthisgorgeouspussy,butwe’dmakeitfit.”
I’mjustnodding,eyesclenchedclosedasthetoymakesmefeellikeI’mabouttoburstwithpleasure.Thefirstfluttersbegin.
“Ineedtocome,”Itellhim,squeezinghisarm.
“Thencome,baby.ComeonthetoyIboughtyou.Showmehowgooditis.”
Histeethscrapemyearlobe,andthepressureboilsover.CHAPTER37PIPPA
Wavesofpleasurepulsebetweenmylegs,andIcan’tthink,Ican’tspeak,Ican’tevenbreathe—I’mjustclampingdownaroundnothing,shakinginhislapasheholdsmeagainsthim.
“Goodgirl,”Jamiegrowls.“Suchagoodfuckinggirlforme,comingsohard.”
AnoiseI’veneverheardmyselfmakeslipsoutofme,half-moan,half-cry,andheholdsthetoyagainstmyclitasintensepleasureradiatesthroughme.
“Ohmygod,”Icry.“Jamie.”
Hegroans,clickingthetoydownonespeed.“You’redoingsofuckinggood,Pippa.Keepgoing.Rideitout,baby.”
Helowersthespeedonemoreclick,andI’mstillthere,floatingandtotallyparalyzedineuphoria.I’venevercomeforthislong.I’venevercomethishard.IfeellikeI’mbeingturnedinsideout.Heatspreadsoutfrommycenter,andIcanfeeleverything—thewayhishardchestfeelsagainstmyback,howhisbigarmlocksmeagainsthim,thebrushofhisthighsagainstmine,hislipsonmyneck,urgingmeon.
Finally,Ican’ttakeitanymore,andmyhandcovershis.Hepullsthetoyaway,andIcollapseagainsthisbody.
Holyshit.
I’mstillshakingwithaftershocks,hipstiltingagainsthiserection.
“Stopthat,”hetellsme,andIlaugh,dazed.
“Orwhat?”Ipressagainsthimagain,andthistime,hishipspressforwardtomeetme,cockpushingintomyass.
Somethingtugsinsideme,knowinghowbadlyhewantsme.
Ipulloutofhisgrasp,turningtokneelbetweenhislegs,andoureyeslockashesitsagainsttheheadboard,watchingme.Hisdeepgreeneyesareglazedwithlust,andthere’sanothertwingeofwarmthwherehepressedthetoymomentsbefore.Icanseetheshapeofhiscock,distortingthefrontofhisblackboxers,andmycenterheats.
WhenIdragmygazeuptoJamie’s,hisexpressionispained.
“Don’tlookatmelikethat,”hebegs,nostrilsflaring.“Thiswassupposedtobeaboutyou.”
Myeyesdropagaintohiscock,anditpulsesundermygaze.Ishoothimaknowinggrin.
Busted.
Asmygazetraceshistorso,alltheridgesandvalleys,smoothchestandhardlinesofhisabs,I’movercomewiththeurgetotakecareofhim,toprovidehimwithsomethingnooneelsecan.He’ssocontrolled,socareful,somilitantabouteverything,butrightnow,IjustwanthimtofeeloverwhelmingpleasurelikeIdidafewmomentsago.
Ireachoutandstrokehislengthoverthefabricofhisboxers.
“Fuck,”hemutters,headfallingbackagainstthebedframe.Hiseyesarehalf-lidded.
Hisreactionspursmeon,andIgivehimanotherslowstroke.He’ssohard,sothick,andwhenIthinkaboutwhathewouldfeellikeinsideme,mythighssqueezetogether.
Ialreadyknowitwouldbesogood.Itmightevenhurtabit,andI’mweirdlyturnedonbythat.
Onmynextstroke,Ilingeratthehead,runningmythumboverit.Thefabricisdampwithpre-cum,andheletsoutalowgroan,jawtightening.
“Oh,fuck,Pippa.”
Hisjawclenchesagain,andIfeeldrunkwithpower.I’mbarelytouchinghim,andIhavehimmakingallthesenoisesthatI’mgoingtorememberwhileI’musingthetoynexttime.Somethingboldstreaksthroughme,andIpullthewaistbandofhisboxersdown,lettinghiscockspringfree.
Jamie’scockisgorgeous—thickandlongandhard.Thebest-lookingcockI’veeverseen.Nowonderhegivesitsomuchattentioninhisroom.Pre-cumbeadsonthetip,andwhenIdragmythumbthroughit,hesucksinasharpbreath.
“Isthisokay?”Iasksoftly.
Hejerksanod.Iliftmythumbtomylipsandsuckthesaltytasteoff,andhisAdam’sapplebobs.
“JesusChrist,”hemuttersinaraggedvoice.Hiseyespinme,sobrightandfullofintensitythatIshiver.“Didyoulikethat?”
Inod,smilingathimbeforeIreturntostrokinghim.“You’refuntoplaywith.”
Onthenextstroke,hemoans.“Funtoplaywith,”herepeats,watchingmeworkhiscock.He’ssothick.Moreliquidbeadsatthetip,andwhenIslipmyotherhandaroundhisballs,hisbigthighstense.
“Shit,”hegasps.“Ifyoudon’tstopthat,I’mgoingtocomealloveryourtits.”
Heatrushestomypussy,andmylipspartinexcitementandsurprise.Iwantthat.Iwantthatsobad.Ikeepworkinghiscock.Fascinatedbyhisreaction,Igivehisballsagentlesqueeze.Hefrowns,lipsparted,andIfeellikeIhavehimundermycompletecontrolrightnow.
Iloveit.
“Takeyourboxersoff,”Iwhisper.
Assoonashedoes,myhandsarebackonhim.Istrokehimfaster,andhecursesagain.
“Pippa,”hewarns.Hishandsclenchathissidesandhiseyelidsdrooplikehe’sabouttopassout.Hisstrainedabsripple.
I’msoakingwet,jerkingJamieStreicheroff.Hisshoulderstightenashesinkshishandsintohishair.Hisexpressionisstrained,hisbreathingisrapid,andhecan’tlookawayfromme.Idon’tneedtotrytomemorizethismoment;IknowI’llneverforgetthis.
Inmyhand,hiscockpulses,andhenods,lettingoutaloudmoan.“Gonnacome,baby.Gonnacomealloveryourgorgeoustits.”
Myeyesarewide.“Doit.”
Hehunchesover,groaning.CumshootsoutofhiscockandcoatsmychestasIcontinuestrokinghim,andwhenIthinkhe’sdone,heisn’t.Hekeepscoming,watchingmewiththatagonizedexpressionIlovewhilehespraysliquidontomybreasts.It’scoveringmyhands,it’sonmytits,andit’sdrippingdownmystomach.
“Myfuckinggod,Pippa,”hemutters,catchinghisbreath,watchingmewithsomethingthatlookslikeawe.“Youmademecomesohard.”Hisgazedropstomychestandthecornerofhismouthpullsupintoasatisfiedsmirk.Hedipsalongfingerthroughhiscumbeforelookingatmymouth.
“Open.”
IdoasI’mtold.Myfaceheatsbutsodoestheapexofmylegs—Iloveitwhenhetellsmewhattodo.Heslideshisfingerintomymouth,andImoanatthetasteofhim,suckinghisfingerandlettingmytongueswirlaroundit.
Hegroansagainashetakeshishandback.“Jesus.”
Ilightupwithadelightedgrin.Herollshiseyes,butthecornerofhismouthtugsintoasatedsmile.Heleansforwardtopressasoftkisstomymouth.
“Iknewyoucoulddoit,”hewhispers.Hishanddriftstothebackofmyneck.It’ssowarm,socomforting,sonice.I’mneverleavingthisbed.
Hekissesme,andinsteadofurgentanddemandinglikebefore,he’ssoft,sweet,gentle,likehe’scherishingme.Mythoughtsfloatintheair,myskintingles,andIsighintohim.
Mygod.Isthatwhatsexislikeforotherpeople?WhatthehellwasIdoingwithZachallthoseyears?
“Youokay?”hemurmurs,pullingbacktosearchmyeyes.
“Yes.”Inod,breathless.
I’mmorethanokay.I’mathousandtimesbetterthanwhenwewalkedintothisroom.
Hegivesmeonemorekissbeforepullingaway.“Staythere.”
Hereturnsamomentlaterwithwashclothstocleanmeup,andmypulsestumblesatthetwosidesofhim—demandingandbossyversussweetandcaring.Iwatchhistonedassandpowerfulthighsashewalksaway.Whenhereturns,wearingcleanboxersandholdingaglassofwater,he’sstillwearingthatsatedexpression,thatsmirkashiseyesrakeoverme,andIcan’thelpbutgrinathim.
“Whattimeisit?IshouldwalkDaisyagain.”
“I’lldoit,”hesays,diggingthroughhispantspocketforhisphone.“Youstayhere.”Hepullshisphoneout,andhisexpressionchanges.“Shit,”hemurmurs,frowning.
“What’swrong?”
Healreadyhasthephoneathisear.“Ihavesixmissedcallsfrommymom.”CHAPTER38PIPPA
Isitupstraight,worrysoberingme.Hepropsthephoneagainsthisearwithhisshoulderwhilepullinghispantson.
“What’sgoingon?”heaskswhenDonnaanswers.Concernisetchedintohisfeatures,whichweresorelaxedamomentago.
Hepauses,listening,handsfalteringonhissocks.Hiseyeswiden.I’malreadyoffthebed,gettingdressed.
“Okay,”hesaysbeforelisteningmore.“I’llgoovertoherplacetoseeifshe’sokay.”Heglancesatme.“CanyoutrythosebreathingexercisesPippadidwithyou?”
Helistens,buthiseyesarelockedonme,browsknittedtogetherasIpullmysweateron,goosebumpsrisingallovermyarms.
Afterpromisingtocallherback,hehangsupbeforescrollingthroughhiscontacts.
“What’sgoingon?”
“ShehadherfriendClaireoverfordinnerandaskedhertotextherwhenshegothome,butshedidn’t,andthenmymomcouldn’tgetaholdofher.”Hisjawtightens.“Andthenitturnedintoapanicattack.Shealwaysworriespeoplearegoingtogethitbyadrunkdriver.”
Clairecametoahockeygamewithusrecently.Shelivesinthesouthernpartofthecity.It’lltakehimanhourandahalftogetthereandthenuptoNorthVancouver.
I’mbuttoningmypantsup.“I’llgotoyourmom’splace.”
Heshakeshishead.“No,Icangothereafter.”
“Jamie,I’lltakeanUbertoyourmom’splace,andyoucanpickusupthereafter,orIcanjusttakeanUberhomeifshe’sfine.”
Hestaresatme,andsomethingpassesthroughhiseyes.“Okay.Thankyou,Pippa.Ireallyappreciatethis.”
“Noproblem.”Igrabmyphoneandbookapet-friendlyUberbeforediggingmyheadphonesoutofmybagandcallingDonna.
“Pippa?”Hervoiceishigh.
“Hey.”IsmileatJamie,andmytoneiswarmandreassuring.“I’mgoingtopayyouavisitwhileJamiedrivesouttoClaire’s,andI’mbringingDaisy.Maybewecantakeherforawalkaroundtheneighborhood.”
“Okay.”Shesoundshesitant,andherbreathingisthin.“Icoulddothat.”
“I’mgoingtostayonthephonewithyouuntilIgetthere,”Itellher,pullingmyhoodieon.
I’vebeenreadingonlineaboutpanicattacks.Somepeoplewhogetthemrecommendeddistractionsasawaytocalmdown.
“Thatwouldbenice.”Shesoundsrelieved.“I’msosorry,honey.Ijustgotallworkedupandthen—”Shecutsherselfoff.“Idon’tknowwhathappened.”
“It’sokay.Tellmeaboutyourday.”
WhileDonnatalks,Jamiestaresatmelikehedoesn’tknowwhattomakeofme,andIgestureathimtogo.Henodsandstalksoutoftheroom,andmomentslater,Ihearthefrontdoorclose.
***
“IsthatOrion?”IaskDonna,pointingupatthestarswhileDaisysniffsarosebush.
Donnacranesherneck.“IthoughtthatwastheBigDipper.”
Wetalkedonthephonetheentirewayhere,andbythetimeIarrived,herbreathingwasalmostbacktonormal.JamiecalledtoexplainthatClaire’sphonewasdeadandshecouldn’tfindherpowercord.AsDonnaandIwanderherneighborhood,Icanhardlytellshehadapanicattackwithinthelastfewhours.
“Huh.”Ipointovertotheeast.“IthoughtthatwastheBigDipper.”
Donnalaughs.“Ihavezeroknowledgeofastronomy,sodon’taskme.”
“Meneither.”
Webothlaugh,andshegivesmyshoulderanaffectionatesqueeze.“Thankyousomuchforcominguphereonshortnotice,honey.”Sherollshereyesatherself,lookingembarrassed.“I’msosorryItookoveryourevening.”
“It’sfine.”Ishakemyhead,smiling.“Honestly.Wedon’twantyoutobestuckuphereallbyyourself.”
“Don’tsaythattoJamieorhe’lltrytomoveinwithmeagain.”
Isnort.“Hecanbestubbornwhenhewantstobe.”
Animageofhimflashesintomyhead—armsfoldedoverhischest,t-shirtstrainingacrosshisshouldersasheglaresdownatmeusingthetoy.Myskinfeelshot,andIturnawaysoDonnacan’tseewhateverexpressionisonmyface.
“Ipicturedherinacaraccident,likePaul,”Donnasaysquietly.“Jamie’sfather.AndthenIcouldn’tstoppicturingit.ItwaslikethethoughtstookoverandIcouldn’tgetaholdofthings.They’renormallytriggeredbythesmellofalcohol.”Hereyesmeetmine,andshesearchesmyexpressionforsomething.Judgment,maybe.“Sometimesdriving.Butneveroutofthebluelikethis.”
Imakeanoiseofacknowledgment.“Lotsofpeoplehavepanicattacks.Therearedoctorswhospecializeinthis.”
Sheshakesherheadhard.“No.Noway.Nodoctors,nomedication.”Sheletsoutabitterlaugh.“I’vebeenthereandI’mnotgoingback.”
IthinkaboutwhatJamiesaidatdinnertonight,abouthowhismomhaddepressionwhenhewasakid,andthat’swhyheknowshowtocook.Myheartachesforthem.IcanseewhyDonnaisn’tinterestedinrevisitingthepast,andIdon’tevenknowthewholestory.
“ThatlookslikeScorpio,”Donnasays,pointingataclusterofstars.
Isquintatthem.“Yeah.Ithinkyou’reright.”
Webothlaugh,becausewehavenoclue.
Whilewewalk,wechateasily,butmymindslipsbacktoJamieandwhatwedidinmybed.Ican’tbelievehoweasilythingshappenedformeoncehemademesitinhislap.ThatwasthefirsttimeIwasabletocomewithaguy.Maybeitwasthewayhefeltagainstme,maybeitwasthewayheknewwhathewasdoing,ormaybeitwasthatexercisehedid,whereheaskedmewhatIfelt.Ormaybeitwasallofitcombined.
Jamieisn’tjustthehothockeyplayerIhadacrushoninhighschool.He’ssomuchmore.Underhissurly,chiseledexterior,he’skindandcaringandprotective.Hecaresmoreaboutthepeopleinhislifethanabouthimself.Heencouragesmeinmusiclikenooneelsehas.I’mbecomingfriendswithhismom,andIlovetakingcareofhisdog.
Hesitationrisesinmystomach,andmymouthtwiststotheside.ZachusedtothinkIwasspecial,buttheshineworeoff.Ican’tbeartheideaofJamielosinginterestinmelikeZachdid.
Atjusttheideaofit,Ifeelsick.Ican’tgothroughthatagain.
***
WhenwegetbacktoDonna’splace,Jamieisalreadyinside.Itextedhimearlierthatwewereoutonawalk.
“Hi,honey,”Donnacallstohimashestridesovertoher,studyingherface.
Hescansher,worryinhiseyes,andmyhearttwists.Thisisalotforonepersontodealwith,anditmustbetoughtowatchhismomstruggle.Hewrapsherinatighthug,andshesighswithexasperation.
“I’mcompletelyfine,”shesays.“JustaskPippa.”
Jamie’seyesfindmineoverhershoulderandhegivesmealookofgratitude.Ijustsmileandnod.
Forthenexthalfhour,JamiehoverswhileDonnamakesteaandIsitatthekitchentable,makingconversationwithher.Finally,Jamieisconvincedhismomwillbeokayonherown,andsheshoosusoutthedoor.
Thedrivehomeisweirdlytense,andIsneakglancesacrossthecarathim.Hisjawistight.Oureyesmeet.
“Thanksfortonight,Pippa,”hesays,voicelowandserious.
“Don’tmentionit.”
Heglancesbackattheroad,lookingfrustrated.“I,uh.Iwouldbesoscrewedwithoutyou.”
“Iknow.”
Hehuffs,amused.“Humble.”
Ilookathimwithmyeyebrowsraised,smiling.“Don’tmentionit.Honestly.”
Henodsandturnsbacktotheroad,buttensionstilllingersinhisexpression.Whenwearrivehome,Daisycanbarelykeephereyesopenassheheadsupstairs.ShesleepsinJamie’sroomwhenheisn’ttraveling.
JamieandIexchangeaglance.Nowthatwe’realoneagain,I’mthinkingaboutwhatwedidearlier,howhotitwas,howIwanttodoitagain.
Butwecan’t.Iknowthat.Ican’tkeepmyemotionsoutofitthewayHazelsuggested.
“Abouttonight,”hestarts.Histhroatworksandherubsthebackofhisneck.
“Idon’tthinkweshoulddoitagain,”Iblurtout,andhiseyesshoottomine.Isthatdisappointmentorrelief?Ican’ttell.“YouhaveyourmomandIhave…”Itrailoff,shakingmyhead.Ican’ttellhimthetruth.
Ihaveaverybreakableheartandabigcrushonhim.
“Right.”Hisintensegazeroamsmyface,studyingme,andhisjawticksagain.“I’msorryifImadeyouuncomfortable.”
“No.”Ishakemyhead.“Youdidn’t.Itwasgreat.Like,reallygreat.”Okay,I’mblushingnow.“Iworkforyouandwehaveagoodthinghere.”
Henods,stillwatchingmewiththatcarefulgaze.“Yeah.Wedo.”
MythroatfeelsthickwhenIswallow.“Great.”Iglanceatthestairs.Throughthegiantwindowsofthelivingroom,theski-hilllightsinthemountainstwinkle,andIknowI’mgoingtobestaringatthemforhours,replayingtheentirenight.“Ishouldgettobed.”
“Goodnight,Pippa.”Hisvoiceislow,andthere’ssomethinginhiseyesthatmakesmewanttohughim.
“Goodnight.”
Insidemyroom,Ileanagainstthecloseddoorandgathermythoughts.Jamiedoesn’thaveroominhislifeforme—tonightwasahugereminderofthat.Itwasn’tJamie’sfault;itwasjustbadtiming,butIknowhe’sdownstairsblaminghimselfforit.It’sgoingtokeephappening,andhe’snevergoingtochoosemeoverhismom.Hecan’t.Sheneedshimtoomuch.
ThewholesituationhasaneonwarningsignoveritthatsaysDANGER,blinking,withgiantredarrowspointingtoit.IfIletitcontinue,Iknowexactlyhowit’llendforme.CHAPTER39JAMIE
We’replayingCalgaryagainafewnightslater.AlexeiVolkovhasthepuck,butafterheshoots,Millercrosscheckshim.Thepuckhitsthepipe,andthefansattheotherendofthestadiumjumptotheirfeet,callingforapenalty.Playcontinues,andthebooingbegins.
WhentheCougars’goaliecatchesthenextshot,thewhistleblows,andtherefsandthelinesmentakeamomenttodiscussbeforebreakingapart.
“Nopenalty,”theannouncercalls,andtheentirearenaboos.
Millergrinsatthefans,armswideopenasheskatesdowntheice.They’refurious,slammingfistsontheglass,andherevelsinit.Hetakeshisgloveoffandflipsthemthemiddlefinger,andtheboosgetlouder.
Nowthewhistleblows,andhegetsapenalty.
JesusfuckingChrist.Ibarelyrecognizehim.Heusedtobesodisciplinedandfocused,likeme.Heusedtolovehockey,evenwithhisdadwatchinghiseverymoveandberatinghimaftergamesaboutwhathedidwrong.
IgrabmywaterbottleandmakeeyecontactwithPippa.Shesmiles,andInodback.Hazel’swithhertonight,drinkingabeerandlookingbored.Thefewtimesplayhasstoppednearmynet,Rory’seyeswentstraighttothem.
Pippa’slaughingatsomethingHazelsaid.Shewinksatmewithaprettysmile,andmycocktwitches.Ithoughtthemorningafterwouldbeawkward,butPippa’sbeencompletelynormal.Almostasifnothinghappened.
Ishouldberelievedsheisn’tupset.Ishouldputitoutofmyheadandmoveon.Instead,Ican’tstopthinkingabouttheothernight.
Shewasrightthatweshouldn’tbemessingaround.Whathappenedwithmymomwasawarningshot,areminderofwhatcangowrongifI’mnotthereforher.
Itdoesn’tmeanI’mhappyaboutit.
I’mdesperatetomakePippacomeagain,butifwestartmessingaround,wewon’tstop.I’llmakehermine,overandover,everymorning,afternoon,andnight.Probablyinthemiddleofthenight.She’stoofuckingsweet,toosoft,toospecial,andIcan’tgetenoughofmyprettyassistant.She’ssomuchmorethantheprettygirlfromhighschool,andthecloserweget,themoremyresolvearoundhercrumbles.
Shedeservessomuchmorethanme,anyway.Someonewhocanmakehertheirfullfocus,givehereverything.Ihatetheideaofanotherguyinherlifelikethat,butIwanthertobehappy.
Playresumes,andItearmygazeawayandpullmyselfbackintothegame.
***
Afterthegame,Iheaduptothebox.PippaspotsmerightawayandgivesmeasmallwaveasIwalkover.
“Hi.”Iclearmythroat,glancingaround.“Where’sHazel?”
“Shewenttothewashroom.She’llberightback.”Shesmilesupatme.“Greatgame.”
“Thanks.”
Oureyesmeetandmygazedropstoherlips.Mybloodisstillpumpinghardfromthegame,adrenalineflowingthroughmyveins,andtheonlythingIwanttodorightnowisdragherhomeanddomoreofwhatwedidtheothernight.
“Theresheis,”MillercallsasheapproachesPippa.Hegivesherabighug,liftingheroffherfeet,andsheletsoutapealoflaughter.
MynostrilsflareandIfoldmyarmsovermychest,glaringatthem.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Hesetsherdownandtugsontheendofherponytail.Myfistsclench,andIfeeltheurgetohithim.“JustsayingheytomypalPippa.”
Shegrinsathim.“Hey.”
Hewiggleshiseyebrowsather.“Hey,”hechirpsback,andtheylaugh.
Ihatethis.
“Playersfromtheotherteamaren’tsupposedtobeinhere.”Mytoneissharp,andmychestfeelstight.Theyshouldn’tbesmilingateachotherlikethat.She’smine,nothis.
Herollshiseyesandtiltshischinacrosstheroom,whereCalgary’sgoalieistalkingwithoursecondlineforward.“Thurston’sbasicallytradingplayswithyourguy.Noonecares.”HebeamsdownatPippaandthrowshisarmaroundhershoulder,andragesurgesinmyblood.“Howyabeen,kid?”
Shesnorts.“You’retwoyearsolderthanme.”
“Yeah,butyou’reshort.”
“I’manormalheight.”
Ihatethewayshe’stuckedintohissidelikethat.Sheshouldbetuckedintomyside.Nothis.Neverhis.
“You’rejustridiculouslytall,”shetellshim.
Myjawhurtsfromclenching.Iswallowpasttheknivesinmythroatasmypulsebeatsinmyears.WhyamIsofuckingworkeduprightnow?
HazelappearsatPippa’sside,givingmeacoolnod.“Hi.”
“Hazel.”Inodather.
HergazegoestoMiller,withhisstupidarmstillthrownaroundPippa,andshemakesafaceofdisgust.
IknewIlikedHazel.
“Hi,Hartley,”hesays.He’slookingatHazelwithaconfidentsmirk,butsomethingpredatoryflashesthroughhiseyes.“Rememberme?”
You’vegottabefuckingkiddingme.
Hazel’sdistastefulexpressionintensifies.“Nope.”
“Yeah,youdo.”
Pippaglancesbetweenthem.“Youknoweachother?Youwereindifferentyears.”
Miller’slookingatHazellikeshe’sdessert.“Wehadacoupleclassestogether.Hartley’sarealbrainiac.”
“Right.”PippanodsatHazel.“Iforgotyoutooksummerclassestogetahead.”
HeletsPippagoandtakesasteptowardHazel,stillwearingthatconfidentsmirkthatIwanttowipeoffhisface.Atleasthe’snotdirectingitatPippaanymore.“Howyoubeen,Hartley?Pippasaysyou’reworkingfortheteam.”
Hazelregardshimovertherimofherbeerasshetakesasip.“Yep.”
“Youalwaysdidhaveathingforhockeyplayers.”
Pippawincesatme.Myeyebrowarches,andshemouthstellyoulater
Hazelstaresathimlikehe’sasquishedbugonthefloor,andifhewasn’thittingonPippamomentsbefore,I’dhavetheurgetolaugh.Iseethehockeygossip.Womendon’tusuallylookathimthewayHazel’slookingathim.
Fromthegleaminhiseye,itdoesn’tseemlikeheminds,though.“Yougrewupwell,”hetellsher.
Shejuststaresathim,andhegesturesathimself.
“Aren’tyougoingtosayIgrewupwell,too?”Hiseyesglitterwithamusement.
“Congratulations.Younowseemlikethekindofguywhoownsareallyexpensivesexdoll.”
“HernameisDiane.”Hegrinsopenlyather,andIcantellhelovesthis.
PippaandHazelgaginunison.“Youshouldn’tnamethem,Rory,”Pippasays,andheshakeswithlaughter.
“Doesyoursexdollhaveahead?”Hazelaskshim.
Hiseyesdon’tleaveherface.“Shedid,butIremovedit.”Histonguetapshisupperlip.
“That’sworse.”
HejustgrinsatHazellikehewantstokeepher.Pippashootsmeanamusedsmile.Itfeelsprivate,andmychestsqueezes.
HazelsayssomethingtoPippaandsheturnsherheadtolisten.Herponytailbrushesmyarm,andI’mtransportedtoafewdaysago,whenshesatbetweenmylegs,shakingagainstmeasshecameinmyarms.Icanstillfeelherhairagainstmychestasshewrithed.Ican’tstopfeelingit.
“YoushouldcomeoutwithmeandPippawhensheshowsmearound,”hetellsHazel.
ShestaresatPippa.“Whatishetalkingabout?”
Pipparollshereyes.“RoryneedssomeonetoshowhimaroundVancouver,eventhoughhegrewuphereanddoesn’tlivehereanymore.”
RorytriestopushPippabehindhim,andshedissolvesintolaughter.“Don’tlistentoher,babe.”HesmilesagainatHazel.“Youshouldjoinus.”
“I’mbusy.”Hazelscowls.“Anddon’tcallmebabe.”
“Sorry.”Heplaceshishandonhisheartwithremorse.“Baby.”
ShestaresathimbeforeturningtoPippa.“Youknowhe’sgoingtotrytolureyouintoathreesome,right?”
Pippalaughs.“I’veneverbeeninathreesome.”
“You’renothavingathreesome,”Isnap,andallthreeofthemlookatmelikeI’vegrownasecondhead.“Andyou’renotsleepingwithMiller.”
Icanhearmyself,butIcan’tstop.
Pippanudgesmewithherelbow.“We’rejustkidding,”shetellsmebeforeturningbacktoMiller.“Whenareyouintownnext?”
“I’mhereforacouplemoredays,actually.Freetomorrowifyouare.”
Hiseyesarepracticallyfuckingtwinklingather.RoryMilleristwinklingatmyPippa.Everythingaboutthisiswrong,andapossessiveragerushesthroughme.
Theideaofhimtryingsomethingwithhermakesmefeelsick.Ijustglaredownather,wishingIcouldpullheroutofheresowecouldbealone.
“Tomorrow’sperfect,”Pippatellshim.
Miller’slookingatmelikehewonsomething.He’schallengingme,butIcan’tdoafuckingthing.I’vealreadydrawnthelinewithPippaandcrosseditafewtimes.
Thatfuckingfuck.Ihatehimforplayingthisstupidgamewithme.IhatemyselfforgettingthisjealousoverawomanIcan’thave.
“Great.”Hesendsmeabroadsmile.“It’sadate.”CHAPTER40PIPPA
WhenIleavemyroomthenextevening,Jamie’spacingtheapartmentwithathunderousexpression.Iwalkintothelivingroom,andhestopsshort,glaringatmyoutfit.
Sparksigniteinmystomach,andIwonderifthiswasabadidea.
IknowRoryisn’tinterestedinme.Evenifhejokedaboutthreesomes,we’rejusthangingoutasfriends.Iwaswiththesameguysincethetenthgrade,though,andafterJamieblewmymindwiththetoy,IrealizedhowmuchIwasmissingouton.
Iwanttogooutandhavefun.Iwanttomeetnewfriendsandhavenewexperiences.Fortwoyears,IfollowedZacharoundontour,workingmyassoff,andbeforethat,Ifollowedhimtouniversity.Allmyfriendswereactuallyhisfriends.
Besides,beneathhiscockybravado,RorywantstobefriendswithJamieagain.Hejustdoesn’tknowhow,otherthangettingonJamie’snerves.
“That’swhatyou’rewearing?”Hisnostrilsflareandhisdeepgreeneyesflash.
Iglancedownatmywoolminiskirtandbandt-shirtfromashowHazelandIsawafewsummersago.Overthet-shirt,myopenknitsweaternearlyreachesthehemofmyskirt.“What’swrongwiththis?”
Heglowersatmylegs,armscrossed.“You’regoingtobecold.”
AshiverrunsdownmyspineathisbossytoneandIturnaway,checkingthetimeonmyphonetohidemyflush.Rorywillbehereanyminute.
“I’mwearingboots.”Ipullthemoutoftheclosetandstepintothem.
Ilovetheseboots,andIdon’twearthemenough.Theygoallthewayuptomythighsandmakemylegslookamazing.
WhenIturn,Jamie’seyesareontheslitofbareskinbetweenthebootsandmyskirt,andhisjawisrazorsharpwithtension.
“Jamie,”Isigh,laughingalittle.“RoryandIarejustfriends.You’rejustmadbecausehescoredagoalonyoutheothernight.”
Daggersshootfromhiseyes,andIcanpracticallyfeeltheprickleofhisgazeonmythighs.“Whenheseesthatskirt,hewon’twanttobefriends.”Heliftshisgaze,andhiseyesflashwithfrustration.“Whatiftherearephotos?”hebitesout.“Wetoldeveryoneatthewrappartythatweweretogether.”
“Noone’sgoingtotakephotosofus.We’regoingtothisreallydimsecretbaronMainStreetthathasamazingcocktails.Peopleinthatneighborhoodaretoocooltotakepicturesofahockeyplayer.”
Myphonebuzzesonthetable,andFrontDoorflashesacrossthescreen.IbuzzRoryupandsetthephonedown.
IturnandbumpintoJamie,andmyhandscometohischesttosteadymyself.WhenImeethisgaze,mypulselurches.
Hiseyesarewild.
“What’sgoingon?”Iask,searchinghisdarkeyesasheglancesatthedoorandthenbacktome.
Hismouthcrashesintomine.Igroanagainsthimashistongueslidesbetweenmylips,strokingme.HewalksmebackwarduntilIbumpupagainstthewall,andhishipspinmine.
Myeyesgowide,seeingnothing.AllIcanfeelishimpressingintomystomach,fullyhard.Mypussyaches,andIletoutasoftmoan.
“Weagreednotto.”Mywordsarearegretfulwhisperagainsthislips,andhebreaksthekiss,restinghisforeheadonmine,breathinghard.
“Idon’tcare.”
Honestly?Meneither.Ican’trememberwhyweevenagreednottodothis.It’stoogood.
HismouthdropsbacktomineandhekissesmesohardI’llbruise.I’mlostinhiskiss,thefeelofhismouthtakingmine,hishandsonmeandmyhandsinhishair.WhenIgivehishairasofttug,theresultinggroanthatripsoutofhisthroatsendsathrillbetweenmylegs,andIcanfeelwetnesspoolinginmypanties.
Ohgod.Jamieismouth-fuckingmemomentsbeforeRoryshowsup,andIdon’tevencare.Ican’tstop.
“Ican’tstopthinkingaboutthis,”Jamiegritsout,justasangryasbefore,buttheheatinhiseyesmakesmycoreclenchupwithneed.
Hewantsmesobadly.AllIcandoisnod.
“Tellmetostop,Pippa,”hesaysagainstmymouth.
Imoanashesucksmytongue.Nofreakingway.
Aknockonthedoorbesideusmakesmejump,andhisarmshiftstorestonthewallabovemyhead,cagingmein.Mynervesareripplingwithexcitement.
“That’sRory,”Iwhisper.
Jamie’sfreehandcomestomyneck,gentlyholdingmeinplace.
“Stayrightthere,”hemurmurs,andIshiveragain.
Hisotherhanddropstomythighs,andherunshisknucklesoverthebareskinbetweenmyskirtandmyboot.Ican’tbreathe,andmyheartraces.Mybreastsfeelfullandtight,andwhenJamie’shanddriftstothehemofmyskirt,pushingitup,myhipstiltinvoluntarily.
Heletsoutabreathychuckle,andwhenRoryknocksagain,Jamieleansdownuntilhismouthbrushesmyear.“Tellhimyou’llbeaminute.”
Hecan’tmean—
Mypulsepoundsbetweenmylegs.
Hegivesmeanemphasizing,bossylook.Hisexpressionisclear.
Doit.Now.
“Justasecond,”Icall,voicewarblingwhilemyeyesstaylockedonJamie’s.
Hishandtrailsupfarther.Theaircracklesbetweenus,butIcan’tlookaway.Hestrokesasoftlineupmyinnerthigh,andwithhisotherhand,hisfingerstensearoundthebaseofmyneck.
Myeyesflutterclosedashebrushesovermyunderwear,andpleasurejoltsthroughmewhenhepressesagainstmyclit.MymouthfallsopenandIgasp.
“Fuck,”Iwhisper.
“Shh.”Thecornerofhismouthtipsupbuthiseyesaresodark,likehe’sgettingoffontorturingmelikethis.“Doesthisfeelgood?”
Inod.
“Youwantmetofingeryou?”
Inodagain,handstensingonhisbroadchest.Morethananything.
Heraisesaneyebrow.“Sayplease.”
“Please,”Iwhisper.
“Goodgirl.”Hestaresdownatme,searchingmyfaceashemovesmypantiesasideandstrokeshislongfingersoverme,circlingmyclit.Ipressmylipstogethertoholdinamoanasheglidesovermysensitivenerves.I’mbreathinghard,wincing,andhedipsonefingerinsideme.
“Fuck,”hemutters,andmyeyesfallclosedatthedelicious,tightfeeling.“Sofuckingwetforme,Pippa.”
Inod,restingmyheadagainsthischest.
“No,no,no,”hewhispers,“eyesonme.”
Iswallowanothermoan,bitingmylipasIliftmyheadtolookathim.Hishairhasfallenintohiseyes,andeventhroughmyclouded,hornyhaze,Ifindthatsoendearing.Hepushesanotherfingerinsideme,strokinginatanunhurriedpacedesignedtomakemeinsane,andIclingtohisneck,practicallyhangingoffhim.
Roryknocksonthedooragain,andIstartle,tighteninguponJamie’sfingers.Iforgothewasthere.Jamieshootsmeadark,pleasedsmile.
“Pippa,”Rorycallsthroughthedoor.“Thisisboring.Let’sgo.”
Jamieleansdown.“You’remine,”hemurmursinmyear,crookinghisfingerstowardmynaveltorubagainstmyG-spot.
Iletaquietmoanslipout.“Justasecond,”Icallback,andmyvoicebreaksasJamiebumpshisthumbagainstmyclit.Pressureandheatbuildlowinmybelly,andIfeellikeIdidtheothernight,withJamiepressingthetoytomyclit.
IfeellikeI’mgoingtocome.
“Youwanttocome?”heaskswiththatsatisfied,powerfulsmirk.
Inodfrantically,eyesrollingbackasheworksmypussy,bitingbackthemoanofpleasure.
“I’mrightthere,”Ibreathe,staringupathiminawe.Howishesogoodatthis?
“Iknow.”
There’sasmug,determinedtonetohisvoice,anditsendsmoreheatpoolingaroundhisfingers.Mybreathiscomingoutinshortlittlegasps,andIclingtohisgazeasthepressureatmycenterintensifies.
“There,”hemouths,watchingmeintently,andhishandspeedsup.Histhumbbrushesmyclit,andthewaveinsidemerises.“Quiet,”hewhispersasIstarttoshake.
Iclampmylipsclosed,wincingasIclenchuponhisfingers.Intense,mind-bendinglightfloodsmybody,curling,swelling,coursing,flowingthrougheveryinchofme,expandingfromwhereJamie’slongfingersstrokeme.IcanhearhowwetIamwhilesparksburstacrossmynerves.AsIrideoutthelastofmyorgasm,Iletmyheadfallagainsthischest.
“Perfect,”hewhispersinmyear.“Fuckingperfect.”
I’mstillcatchingmybreathwhenheliftshisfingerstohismouthandsucksmeoffhishand.Anotherrippleofheatmovesthroughme,andmyclitthrobs.Heleansdownandpressesasoftkissagainstmymouth,andIcantastemyselfonhislips.
There’sanotherknockonthedoor,andJamie’shandisonthedoorknob.Iscrambletostraightenmyskirtwhilehepullsthedooropen.
“Aboutfuckingtime—”RorystopswhenheseesJamie,andhebreaksintoacockygrin.“Yougoingtocrashourdate,Streicher?”
“Yeah.Iam.”CHAPTER41PIPPA
Thishasbeenthemostawkwarddinnerever.
We’resittinginthedimbaronMainStreet,withinwalkingdistanceoftheapartment.It’saspeakeasywithasecretentrancedisguisedlikeaseventiesaccountant’soffice,buttheinsideisalllushmaroonvelvet,bizarreandfascinatingartwork,andabright,hedonisticmuralofpeopleloungingaroundnakedinnature.
Isipmychaiwhiskeysourandglanceatthebackhallway,wherethewashroomsare.There’sprobablyabackdoorIcouldsneakoutof.
I’mstillbuzzingfromwhatJamieandIdidbackintheapartment,andeverytimeIthinkofit,myfacefeelswarm.Besideme,Jamie’sbacktohisgloweringself.Iknowweshouldn’thavemessedaroundagain,butthesecondhetouchesme,allthethoughtsjustfalloutofmyhead.It’stooelectricbetweenus.Toointense,toogood.
God,hisfingersinsideme…Ashudderrollsthroughme.
“Pippa.”Roryleansbackinhishair.“What’sthisIhearaboutyouplayingguitarforeveryone?”
Irollmyeyes.“It’sjustforfun.”
Besideme,Jamiemakesalownoiseofdisapprovalinhisthroat.
“Itis,”Itellhimwithanindulgentsmile,andhefrownsdownatme.
“She’sgood,”hetellsRory.They’rethefirstwordshe’ssaidtohimsincewegothere.“Ifshewantedto,shecouldworkinthemusicindustry.”
Ablockoficeformsinmystomach.“It’snotjustabouttalent.”
“No,it’snot.”Jamie’sgazeishard.“It’sabouthardworkandbelievinginyourself.You’rejustmissingthelastone.”
Anugly,hesitantfeelingrisesinme,andmyhandstwistinmylap.I’mabouttochangethesubjectwhenRorycutsin.
“Soundslikeyouhaveafan,”hesays,flickingagrinatJamie.
Noteasing.Nooverconfidentsmirk.Justasmile.
“Herbiggestfan.”Jamie’swordsdon’thavethebitetheyusuallydowhenhespeakstoRory.
Theylookateachotherforalongmoment,sizingeachotherup.
Alright,enoughofthis.
“Whyaren’tyouguysfriendsanymore?”Iblurtout.
JamiejustglaresatRory,whoshiftsinhischair.There’saflashofvulnerabilityinhiseyesbeforeheblinksitaway.
“He’stheguyI’mscoringagainst.”Rory’ssmileissardonic.“WhywouldIbefriendswithaguylikethat?”
Jamiefoldshisarmsoverhischest.“SoundslikealessonfromtheRickMillerschoolofhockey.”
“Yep.”Rory’seyebrowsbobonce,andthere’sahumorlessslanttohislipsashesurveysthebar.
There’salongmomentwhereitfeelsliketheybothwanttosaymore.
“YourdadisRickMiller?”IaskRory,eyebrowsrisingtomyhairline.
RickMillerisoneofthegreatsinCanadianhockey.He’dbeoneofmydad’sfavoriteplayersifhedidn’thavesuchareputationforbeinganassholetothepressandtofans.
Rorylevelsmewithadrylook.“Theoneandonly.”
“Wow.”
Heshrugs.“Don’tbeimpressed,Pippa.He’sjustaregularguy.”
IthinkaboutJamieandhowintimidatedIwasbyhimbackinhighschool,andevenafewmonthsago,andhowkind,sweet,andprotectiveheisbeneathhissurlyexterior.
SomethingtellsmeRickMillerisn’tkindandsweet,though.
“Weshouldgetgoing.”Jamieglancesdownatme.“Ihaveearlytraining,andyourinterviewistomorrow.”
Mystomachknots.Right,theinterviewforthemarketingposition.I’vebeenpreparingforitfortwoweeks,goingoverallmyschoolnotes,rehearsingwithHazel,andfendingoffexcitedphonecallsfrommyparentsaskingifI’mready
“Songbird.”Jamie’susingthevoiceheonlyuseswhenwe’retogether,likehe’sforgottenRoryissittingontheothersideofthetable.“You’llkillit,ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
That’snotwhatI’mworriedabout,butIdon’tseeanyotherpath.Anyotheroptionsare—
No.Justno.
Iforceaquicksmile,andacrossthetable,Rory’swatchinguswithacuriouslook.Theserverpassesbehindhim,andJamieliftsahandtogetherattention.
“Canwehavethebill,please?”heasksher.
Shesmiles.“It’salreadysettledup.Haveagoodnight.”Sheleaves,andwelooktoRory,whojustwinksatme.
“Thankyou,”Itellhim.“Youdidn’thavetogetourdinner.”
Heliftsashoulder,gettingup.“ItwastheleastIcoulddo.”
I’mnotsurewhathemeansbythat,andIwonderifithassomethingtodowiththewaythingsendedwithhimandJamie.
Jamieclearshisthroat,clearlyuncomfortablewithRorypayingforanythingforhim.“Thanks,”hemutters,andIhidemygrinasweleave.
Outsidethebar,Rorytipshisheaddownthestreet.“Myhotelisthisway.”
“Okay.”Ismileathim.“Thanksforthefunhang.”
Hegivesmeawarmsqueezeandaquickkissonthecheek.Idon’thaveabrotherbutI’mprettysurethisiswhatitwouldfeellike.
“Let’sdoitagain,okay?”Hepullsawayandgrinsdownatme.
Inod.“Youbet.”
HeturnstoJamie,who’sstaringwithirritation.“AndStreicher,youweretheretoo,Iguess.”
Jamie’snostrilsflare.Irollmyeyes,saygoodnighttoRory,andpullJamiewithme.Wewalkthroughthestreetstotheapartmentinsilenceuntilheglancesdownatme.
“Thanksforlettingmecrashyourhangout,”hesays.
Mysmileisteasing.“Youdidn’task.”
Hesnorts,andIknowhe’sthinkingaboutwhenhedemandedImoveinwithhim.
“Anditwasn’tahangout.Itwasadate.”Iturnawayfromhim,smotheringasmileashemakesanunhappynoiseinhisthroat.
“Not.A.Date.”
Ichuckle.Iloveteasinghim.
Wepasstheguitarstore,andasighslipsoutofmeasmygazelandsonmydreamguitar.IpauseasIadmireit.
Jamiestopsatmyside,foldinghisarmsashestudiesitthroughthewindow.“Youlovethisguitar.”
“Ido.”Igazeatit,memorizingthedetailsofthewood.Icanimaginejusthowthestringswouldfeel.
“Nexttimewepassit,youshouldgoinandplayit.”
Ishakemyheadwithasmile.“IfIplayit,I’llwantitevenmore,”Iadmit.
“Wouldthatbesuchabadthing?”
Yes,becausethenI’llwantotherthingsevenmore.I’llstartpicturingthings.I’llstartdreamingagain,andthelasttimeIdidthat,itdidn’tendwell.
“Inanotherlife,maybe,butnotthisone.Comeon.Let’sgohome.”
Whenweopenthefrontdoor,Daisysprintsover,andJamiereachesdowntogiveherscratches.
“I’mgoingtowalkher,”hesays,liftingherintohisarms.
Ourgazesmeet,andmymindisonwhatwedidhoursagoagainstthedoor.Hiseyesdarken,andIknowhe’sthinkingaboutthesamething.Apulseofheathitsmelowinmybelly.
I’mtempted.I’msofuckingtempted.
ThenightDonnahadapanicattack,though,afterJamieusedthetoyonme,hewasabouttoletmedowngently,andIquicklycutinbecauseIcouldn’tbeartoberejectedagain.
Ibetthat’stheexpressionhe’llwearwhenhetellsmewecan’tdothisanymore.It’sonlyamatteroftime.He’dneverdumpmethewayZachdid,Irealize.He’ddoittherightway.He’ddoittomyface,withcareandrespect.
Iflinch,picturingit.Whydoesthatfeelworse?
Becausethat’sexactlythereasonIlikehim.He’skind,andhewouldneverhurtsomeoneonpurpose,butthatdoesn’tmeanhewouldn’thurtmewithoutmeaningto.
“Ican’tdocasual,”Itellhim.
Mywordshangintheair,andmymessageisclear.Weneedtostopthis.Evenifit’sfun.Evenifhe’sgivingmethebestorgasmsI’veeverhad.Evenifwecan’tkeepourhandsoffeachother.
HestaresatmeforamomentbeforehisAdam’sapplebobs.“Yeah.”
Mychestfeelsfunny,tightandstrained,withanunwelcomepressure.“Goodnight.”
Henods,lookingsoserious.“Goodnight,Pippa.”
Inanotherlife,Isaidtohimabouttheguitar.Maybethatappliestohim,too.CHAPTER42PIPPA
Outsidethebuildingthatholdstheteam’smarketingoffice,Icheckthetimeonmyphone.There’samissedcallfrommyparents’house.Ihaveafewminutes,soIcallthemback
“Hi,sweetie,”mymomanswers.“Wejustwantedtowishyouluckbeforethebiginterview!”
Mystomachwobbles.Shesoundssohopefulandexcited.
“Holdonasecond.Ken,”shesays,callingtomydad.“Grabtheotherphone.It’sPippa.”
Amomentlater,mydadisontheline.“Hi,honey.Goodlucktoday.Weknowyou’lldowell.”
Iforceaweaksmile,eventhoughtheycan’tseeme.“Thanks.”
“We’resoproudofyou,”hesays,andIpicturehiswidesmileandbrighteyes.
“Soproud,”mymomadds.“Onceyougetthisjob,everything’sgoingtofallintoplace.Youjustwatch.”Shesoundssocertain.“Withinacoupleyears,youmightevenbeabletoaffordanapartmentoutsidethecity.”
Idon’twanttoliveoutsidethecity.Idon’tevenwanttothinkaboutbuyinganapartmentyet.
“Youshouldaskaboutthebenefits,”mydadsays.“Askwhatretirementoptionstheyhave.”
“Oh,andaskaboutorthodontics.”
“Definitelyaskaboutorthodontics,”mydadconfirms.“Notallhealthplanscoverthem.”
Ifrown.“Ialreadyhadbraces.”
“Notforyou,”mymomsays,“foryourfuturechildren.”
Myfuturechildren?!Icringeasmymindbeginstorace.Icanbarelypicturemyselfatthisjobinafewyears,letalone,like,fifteen.Goodlord.Thisconversationismakingthingssomuchworse.I’mgoinghomeforChristmasinafewweeks,andIhaveafeelingthisinterviewwillbethemaintopicfortheentiretimeI’mthere.
“Ihavetogo,”Itellthem.“I’lltalktoyouguyslater.”
“Okay,bye,sweetie!Goodluck!”mymomchirps.
“Don’tforgettotellthemhowreliableyouare,”mydadsaysasagoodbye
Isighandstareatthedoortothebuilding.Idon’twanttodothis,butIdon’thaveanotheroption.CHAPTER43JAMIE
WardwhistlesasIstepofftheicethenextmorning.
“Gotyourasskickedtoday,”hecomments,andImakeanoiseofagreement.
Myfocusisshottoday.Mymusclesache,andmylimbsfeelheavy.Allnight,Itossedandturned,thinkingaboutPipparidingmyhand,thesweet,softmoansshetriedtomuffleintomyshirtasshecame.
I’veneverbeenthejealoustype,butaroundPippa,Ilosemymindthinkingaboutherwithotherguys.IhatedtheideaofhergoingoutwithMiller.
Fuckinghatedit.
Anunwelcomethoughtwandersintomyhead.Erinwouldhangoutwithguysallthetime,andIneverfeltlikethis.
Alarmracesthroughme.Nomoremessingaround.Forreal,thistime.
Ipicturehergettingreadytogolastnightandstifleagroan.Fuck,thoseboots.Fuckme.
PippaHartleyhasnofuckingcluehowgorgeoussheis.
“Streicher,areyoulistening?”
“Hmm?”Isnapbacktoreality.Ward’sstaringatmewithastrangelook.“Sorry,what?”
“Thecharitygala.Youhaven’tconfirmedyet.”
Irefrainfromrollingmyeyes.TheVancouverStormisoneofthemaindonorsforthelocalchildren’shospital,andthey’reholdingagalaeventattheendofJanuaryinWhistler,askiresorttowntwohoursnorthofVancouver.Theteamwillbetherealongwiththeotherdonors.It’sgoingtobeabunchofcelebritieswhoIhavenodesiretospendtimewith.Isupportthecharity,Iattendtheeventsatthehospital,andIevendonateanonymously,butIhategoingtothegalas.
Mythoughtsarewrittenallovermyface,clearly,becauseWardgivesmeahardlook.
“Attendanceismandatory,Streicher.I’mnotasking.”
Fuck.
Ireinitin,becausekeepingWardhappyispartofstayinginVancouver.I’vebeenplayingwell—evenbetterwhenPippa’ssittingbehindthenet,afactIhateadmitting—andI’mnotgoingtogivetheguyareasontotrademe.
“Okay,”Itellhim.“I’llbethere.”
“Areyoubringingaplusone?”
I’mabouttosayno.Ishouldsayno.PippacanstayinVancouverwithDaisy,andifsomethinghappenswithmymom,shecangetovertherefast.
TheideaofgoingwithPippamakesitbearable,though.Ipictureherinaneveningdress,feelinggorgeous.Herhandonmyarm.Sippingchampagne,laughing.
“Yes.I’mbringingadate.”
Hestudiesme,theghostofasmileformingonhismouth.“Good.Happytohearit.”
Ispendtherestoftheafternooninthegym,tryingtokeepmymindoffherandthewayshesaidIcan’tdocasual
Thereitis—confirmationofexactlywhatIthoughtbefore.PippawantsmorethanIcangiveher,justlikeErindid.I’moldernow,andIknowbetterthantotoywithsomeone’semotions.GuiltstabsthroughmewhenIthinkabouthowItorchedErin’scareer.She’sworkingonsomelocallow-budgetTVshowwhenshewantedtobeasupermodel,andthat’smyfault.
Iwon’tmakethesamemistakewithPippa.
Mymindwanderstoherinterview,whichshouldbeoverbynow.
How’ditgo?Itext.
Typingdotsappearbeforehertextpopsup.Great.Nailedit!
Myeyesnarrow.Ibelieveher,butI’mnotbuyingthischeerfulness.Shehasn’tsaidshedoesn’twantthejob,butthere’ssomethingthere,somethinglurkinginherwords.Whensheplaysherguitarandsings,lightspillsoutofher,fillingtheroom,brighteningeverything.It’ssuchastarkcontrasttothemutedversionofPippaIseewhenshetalksaboutthismarketingjob.
Let’sgofordinnertonight,IsuggestbeforeIcanthinktoohardaboutit.Iwanttohearabouttheinterview.Iwanttospendtimewithher.
Wewon’tbefoolingaroundanymore,butIcan’tseemtostayawayfrommyprettyassistant.CHAPTER44PIPPA
Thatevening,we’reataMexicanrestaurantafewblocksfromtheapartment,sharingchipsandguacamole.Christmasiscomingupinafewweeks,andgaudyholidaydecorationsarestrewnaroundthespace.
“WeshouldfindoutwhenDaisy’sbirthdayis,”Isaybetweensipsofmymargarita.
“She’sarescue,sosheprobablydoesn’thaveanofficialbirthday.”
Myheartsinks.“Everyoneshouldhaveabirthday.”
Hisgazerakesovermyface,sosoftandgentleIcanalmostfeelit.“You’reright.It’sunacceptable.”Hepullshisphoneoutandfrownsathiscalendarapp.“Mid-January?Wecanhaveaparty.”
“Aparty?Youwanttohaveaparty.”
Hiseyesspark.“Onlyifyou’rethere.”
“Oh,I’llbethere.Youknowyouhavetowearadogcostume,though,right?”
Herollshiseyes,andIlaugh.
“There’ssomethingIwanttoaskyou.”Hesitationpassesoverhisfeaturesasheglancesatme.“There’sacharitygalaattheendofJanuary,andtheteamisexpectedtogo.It’sinWhistler.”
IloveWhistler,andIhaven’tbeeninyears,probablysinceHazelandIwereteenagers.
“Okay.”Ilickthesaltrimofmydrinkbeforetakingasip.“I’llwatchDaisyfortheweekend.”Themarketingjobisn’tsupposedtostartuntilFebruaryattheearliest.IfIgetit,thatis.
Hisgazedropstomymouth,flashingwithheat.Ithinkaboutlastnight,howhotitwasashetoweredovermewhileRorywaitedontheothersideofthedoor.Thewayhiseyesdarkenedwithpossessivenessashisfingerspressedinsideme.
Wecan’tdoitagain,butthatdoesn’tmeanIcan’tthinkaboutit.
“No,uh.”Helooksawayfrommymouth,blinking.“Iwantyoutocomewithme.Asmyassistant.”
“Noproblem.”Myvoicesoundshappyandchipper,butinside,Ideflatealittle.Ishouldn’t,becausewebothknowwecan’tbeanythingmorethanthis,butalittlepartofmepoppedwhenhesaidasmyassistant
“I’llbookusasuiteandtakecareofgettingadressforyou,”headds.
“Great.”Ifinishmydrink,andastheserverpassesbehindJamie,Igestureforanother.
Theconversationdriftstowardtheupcomingholidays.FortheweekbetweenChristmasandNewYear’s,I’mvisitingmyparentsinSilverFalls,thesmalltownintheinteriorofBritishColumbiatheyrelocatedtoforretirement.
I’vebeentryingtothinkofaChristmasgiftforJamie,buthe’simpossibletobuyfor.
“Arewegoingtotalkabouttheinterview?”heasks,cuttingthroughmythoughts.
Isuckinasharpbreathasmystomachchurns.“Itwasfine.”
Hiseyebrowgoesup,andIfeeltheweightofhisgazeasIlookaway,glancingaroundtherestaurant—atthemulti-coloredbottlesbehindthecounter,thebacksplashtilesbehindthebar,theothertables,anywherebuthiseyes.
I’mfinallyreadytoadmitit—whenIpicturemyselfatthemarketingjob,alittlepieceofmedies.
“Pippa,”hesays,andmyresolvecrumbles.
“Itwentwell.”Mymouthisdry.
Jamiestaresatme,waiting.
“I’mprobablygoingtogetit,”Isaytotheiceinmyglass.
“Yousayitlikeit’sabadthing.”
Iflattenmylips,dragginginabreath,andI’mquietbecauseIhavenofuckingcluewhattosay.Itfeelslikeabadthing.
“Songbird.”
Anotherchunkofmyresolvefallsaway,andIwishhewouldn’tcallmethat,becauseIlikeittoomuch.It’simpossibletopretendwithhimwhenhecallsmethat.
Heshakeshishead.“Youdon’twantthatjob,Pippa.Admitit.”
“Fine,”Iburstout,andIfeellikeI’mabouttobarf.“Idon’twantthejob.Myparentsmakeitsoundsafe,but…”Ipinchmybottomlipbetweenmyteeth.WhatI’mabouttosaysoundssostupid.
Jamie’seyesarebright.“Safeisboring.”
Thebreathwhooshesoutofme.“Exactly.”
Hestudiesmeforalongmomentbeforehisexpressionsoftens.“Good.”
“Good?”Ileanforward,givinghimabemusedlook.“Areyoulistening?Thisisafuckingdisaster,Jamie.”
Hiseyesaresteadyonmyface.“It’snotadisaster.”
Everythingmyparentsworkedsohardfor,downthedrain.Allthethingstheyscrimpedonsotheycouldaffordformetogotouniversity,allthehighhopestheyhaveforme,downthedrain.Ithinkaboutmymomteachingballetclasses,adailyreminderthatshefailedtomakeittotheprofessionallevel.
Failurehurts,sheoncesaidtome.
Jamieleansforward,searchingmygaze.Ifeeltheurgetoclimbintohislapandclingtohimlikeakoala,buryingmyfaceinhisneckandinhalinghim.That’stheonlythingthat’llmakemefeelbetterrightnow.
“Whataboutmusic?”heaskssoftly.
“Whataboutit?”Myheartbeatshard,andjustsayingthewordshurts.Theyfeelinsincere.Theyfeelcruelandlikeabetrayalofmyself,whichmakesnosense,becauseitwasneveranoptionanyway.
Youdon’thaveit,Zachtoldme.
Angergrowsinsideme,andmyfistsclench.WhatifIdo,though?Thedesiretotakecontrol,tostopbeingthisgirlthatthingshappento,wrapsaroundmythroatandsqueezes.
“Youhavethedrive,Pippa.”Histonehasafrustratedbitetoit,andhisgazepinsme.“You’resofuckingtalented,andtheonlypersonwhodoesn’tseethisisyou.”
Irollmyeyeswithabitterlaugh.“Zachdidn’tseeit.”
“Hesawit,”Jamiespitsout.“Hedefinitelysawit.”
Oursurroundingsfallawayasourgazeslock.Iseeeverythinginhisdeepgreeneyes;Iseethathewantsthisforme,thathehateswhatZachdidtome,andthathe’sfuriousthatmyparentshavethisunknowinginfluenceonme.
“Whataboutmyparents?”
Hisjawtenseslikehe’supset.“Whataboutyou?”
Myeyescloseforabriefmoment.Ipicturetheirdisappointment,andIfeellikeI’mcrumbling.“It’llkillthem.”
Hiseyesignite,focusedandfurious.It’sthesamelookI’veseenongamerecaps,inclose-upsofhisfaceattheheightofaction.“Theyloveyou,andthey’llgetoverit.”Hesaysitlikeathreat,likehe’llmakesureitworksoutlikethat,andmyheartbeatsharder.“DoyouknowhowmanypeopletoldmeIwouldn’tmakeit?”Hisbrowfurrowswithfrustration.“JustaskOwens,orMiller,anyotherprofessionalathlete.Anyonewhohasdoneanythingboldhasnaysayers.Shutoutthosevoices.Theonlyopinionthatmattersisyours.”
“Youropinionmatterstome,”Isay,truthfully.
Hisnostrilsflare.“Well,Iknowyoucandoit,sowhydon’tyoulistentome?”
Iwanttobelievehim.IthinkImight,too.Idon’tknowifI’mreadytofailhardatsomethingthatmatters,butthere’satiny,stubbornpartofmyselfthatisn’treadytogiveupyet.
WhenJamiesaysthingslikeIknowyoucandoit,thatstubbornpartthrives.Acrossthetable,he’sstudyingmewithaseriousexpression,andmyhearttugs.
Jamieissokind.Iwisheveryoneelseknewthissideofhim.Iwonderifhisexeversawit.
“WhathappenedwithyouandErin?”Iasksoftly.It’snoneofmybusiness,butI’mcurious.Hesaidheonlydoescasual,andIwonderifithasanythingtodowithher.Itmust.
Heblinksandtearshisgazeaway.
“Youdon’thavetotellme,”Irushout.“Ifit’spersonal.”
“No.”Hefrowns.“It’sfine.It’spersonal,but—”Helooksacrossthetableatme,reallylooksatme,andinthismoment,Ifeellikewe’resomuchmorethanweare.“Iwanttotellyou.I’vewantedtotellyouforawhile,butIwasn’tsurehow.”Hefoldshisarmsoverhischest.“Shethoughtshewaspregnant.”
Myheartstops.“Youwerenineteen.”
“Yeah.”Histhroatworks.“Itwasmyrookieyear,andhercareerwasjusttakingoff.”Heglancesatme.“Shewasamodel.”
Inod,notwantingtodisclosehowmuchI’veGoogledher.
“Herperiodwastwoweekslate,andwhenshetoldmeshemightbepregnant,shelookedsohappy.”Hesucksabreathinasguiltmovesoverhisfeatures.“Iwasfreakingout.”
“Ofcourse.”Ican’tevenimaginebeingpregnantatnineteen.I’dbeterrified.
“WheneverIhadtimeoff,I’dflyhometovisitmymom.”Hisstaregoesunfocused,likehe’sbackthereinhismemories.“IthoughtthingsbetweenmeandErinwerecasual,butshethoughtweweremore.”
“Whathappened?”
Heletsoutalongsigh.“Shewasn’tpregnant,butaftershesawmyfacewhenshethoughtshewas,itwasdifferent.Webrokeup.”Hisgazeliftstomine,sofullofregretandworry.“AndIsawonlineaweeklaterthatsheleftmodeling.ShehadallthesecontractsforFashionWeekandshepulledout.Shehadareallypromisingcareerandwalkedaway,andIknowitwasbecauseofme.”Heshakeshishead.“Ifuckingcrushedher,Pippa.”
MyheartachesforJamie,becauseIcanseehowtornhestillisaboutthis.“Jamie.”Ourgazesmeet,andIgivehimasoftsmile.“That’salotofblametoputonyourself.Peoplegothroughbreakupsallthetime.”
“Zachdumpedyouandsquashedyourconfidence.”
MylipspartandIblink,scramblingtodefendmyself,buthe’sright.
“Ican’tdothatagain,”hesays.
Thisiswhyhedoesn’tdorelationships.Therealizationmakesmesosad.Jamie’sbeenbeatinghimselfupaboutthisforyears.
“MaybeZachbrokemyheartandtoldmeIwasn’tgoodenoughtomakemusicmycareer,butthatdoesn’tmeanIbelievehim.Idid,butIdon’tknowifIstilldo.”Iofferhimasmallsmile.“Andyouhavealottodowiththat.DidyouevertalktoErinaboutwhathappened?”
Hestudiesmeforalongmoment.“No.”
Thesongintherestaurantchanges,andmythoughtsscreechtoahaltasIlistentoZachsingtheopeninglyrics.Mystomachdropsthroughthefloor.
“What’swrong?”Jamie’svoicesoundsveryfaraway.
Thelyricsfloataroundme,andmylipsmouththechorusasZachsings.I’mvaguelyawarethatJamie’shandiscoveringmineontopofthetable,butallIcanfocusonisZachsingingmysong.
Mysong.TheoneIplayedforhimandhismanager.Theonetheylaughedat.
Theysaiditwasn’tgoodenoughbeforetheytookit.CHAPTER45PIPPA
Nausearisesupmythroat.
“Pippa.”Jamie’ssittingbesidemenow,armaroundmyshoulders,concernalloverhisface.“What’sgoingon?”
“Thisismysong.”Myvoiceisflat.“Thisismysong,”Irepeat.
Someofthelyricsaredifferent.Theversesareadifferenttune,butthechorusisallmine.
Jamieflagstheserverdownbeforepullingabilloutofhiswalletandhandingittoher.“Canyouchangethesong,please?Rightnow.”
Amomentlater,Zach’svoicecutsoffabruptly,replacedbytheopeningnotesofadifferentsong.
Helaughedatme.Thisentiretime,IthoughtIwasn’tgoodenough.
Hesawit.Hedefinitelysawit,JamiesaidaboutZach.
“Pippa,”Jamiemurmurs,andhishandisonthebackofmyneck,warmandsolidandcomforting.Thecontactdragsmebacktothepresent,andIblinkupathim.Helooksfuriousandconcerned,ahardsettohisjawandfireinhiseyes.
I’mconfused,shocked,andso,soangry,buthavingJamieheresomehowmakesitbetter.Jamie,whobelievesinme.Who’sfuriousonmybehalf.
Monthsago,Icriedintheairportandjustwantedtodisappear.Tonight,though,there’satinyflameburninginsideme.Somethingstubbornandpissedoff.
Zach’sruinedsomuch,butIdon’twanthimtoruinthisevening.
“I’mokay,”Itellhim,andIthinkthatmightbethetruth.
“Comehere,”hesays,wrappingmeinabighug,andIletmyselfleanintohim.
MypulsereturnstonormalasIrestmycheekagainstJamie’schest.Hishandstrokesdownmyback,andIinhalehiswarm,spicyscent.
“Ihatehimforwhathedidtoyou.”Ifeelhislowwordsrumblethroughhischest.
“Metoo,”Iwhisper.
“Youwanttogohome?”
Ishakemyhead.“Iwanttostay.”
I’mdonewithZach,andI’mdonewithlettingthepastweighmedown.
Minuteslater,I’mfillingmystomachwithanotherorderoftacosJamieinsistedIeat,andhisphonelightsupwithatext.Thebackgroundimagemakesmyheartjumpintomythroat.It’soneofthephotosItextedhimofDaisyandmeatthepark,sittingononeofthegiantlogs.Iaskedsomeonetotakeit.
Hemadeithisbackground.Mypulsegallops.Idon’tdareletmyselfhope.Heseeswheremyeyesgo,andheslipsthephoneintohisbackpocketbeforeleaninghiselbowsonthetable,watchingme.
“Promisemeyouwon’tletthisholdyouback.Promisemeyou’llgetbackuponstage.”
Iblink,andthatoldhesitanceliftsitsheadinsideme.
“Promiseme,”Jamiesays,andhiseyesplead.
WhatdidIsayearlier?Nomorelettingthepastweighmedown.
“Okay,”Itellhim.“I’lldoit.”CHAPTER46PIPPA
AcoupledaysbeforeIleavetovisitmyparentsfortheholidays,Isitonthecouchwithmyguitar,thinkingaboutwhatIpromisedJamie.Mynotebookliesopenonthecoffeetablewithapeninthecrease.MymindflicksfromthesongIheardintherestauranttothewayZachlaughedatmetothewayheasked,“HaveyoumetLayla?”thenightofthewrapparty.
Iglareoutthewindowatthemoodygraysky.Whatadick.
Angerknotsinmystomach,andIbegintowriteasongaboutgettingmad.ThelyricshaltandflowasIfindmyfooting,butwithinafewminutes,Ihavehalfapageoflyricsandafewchordprogressions.
“Betchathoughtyou’dgetawaywithit,”Isingquietly,butIcringe.
Thatdoesn’tsoundright,sosoftlikethat.
Itryagain,butthistimeIbeltitout.SparkscrackandpopundermyskinasIsmilebig.
Therewego.That’stherightfeeling.
Theaddedattitudeopenssomethingupinsideme,andthewordstumbleoutfasterthanIcanwrite.I’mpissedoff,butthesongisn’taboutbeingsteppedon—thissongisaboutgettingbackup.It’saboutgettingrevengebutinmyownway,bylettinghimgo.Sayinggoodbyetotheguywhohurtme,butvowingtoprovehimwrong.It’saboutallthediscomfortandpainbeingworthitbecauseI’mgoingtobesomuchbetterandbrighterthanbefore.
Writingthissongfeelsfuckingfantastic.MyeyeswellupwithemotionasIsmoothoverthechorus,connectingwiththenextverse,andwhenthesongispolishedenough,IsetmyphoneonthecoffeetableandrecordaversionsoIdon’tforgetthetune.Ifeellikeakidagain,sprintingdownahillwithoutacareintheworld.Thisfeelsright,likethisismypurpose.
Ilovethissong,andI’mproudofmyselfforwritingit.IthinkJamiewouldbeproud,too.
Onawhim,Itexttherecordingtohim.Myheartjumpsaroundinmychest,andIsuckinabreath.Wasthatweird,thatIsentittohim?He’sprobablybusyinapracticeortraining.IstareatthephoneforamomentbeforetossingitasideandjumpinguptotakeDaisyonherlunchtimewalk.
Whenwegethomefromthewalk,Iseeatextfromhim.
Thattagirl,themessagereads,andsomethingwarmburstsinmychest.YoushouldplaythisonewhenwegototheFilthyFlamingonext.
Maybe,Itextback,smiling.
Youwill,hesays,andIchuckle.
Bossy.
Herespondswithawinkingemoji,andIbitemylipbeforecatchingmyself.WhatdidIjusttellmyselfafewweeksagoafterhemademecomeagainstthedoor?
AbsolutelynofallingforJamieStreicher.He’sdamnnearperfect,andIcan’tbeartowatchhimturnintoanassholelikeZach.Ifwe’rejustfriends,hecan’thurtme.
Ihaveatrainingsessionstarting,hesays.I’lltalktoyoulater,songbird.
Everytimehecallsmethat,Igetarushofhappinessthroughmychest.Ipicturehimsmilingatme,thatrare,broad,sparklingsmilethatmakesmewanttostareathisfaceforever.
It’snotfairthathe’ssohot.It’snotfairthatIhavetoseehimeveryday.
AtunepopsintomyheadandIgiggle.
“It’snotfairthatyou’resohot,”Ising,playingafewchords,andIlaughagain.
IwriteasongabouthowhotJamieis.I’mlaughingtheentiretime,scribblingdownlyricsandtryingdifferentcombinations,andwithinanhour,Ihavetheoutlineofthesong.
Bylateafternoon,Ihaveahandfulofroughsongs.Oneisaboutwantingsomeonebutknowingthey’rewrongforyou.Oneisaboutstrugglingwithpeople’sexpectationsandchoosingwhatmakesyouhappyintheend.Oneisaboutreally,reallygoodsexwithsomeonenew.Ilikethatone—it’sseductiveandplayful,andIwroteitthinkingaboutsittingbetweenJamie’slegswhilehemademecome
I’mfuelingthatflameinmychest,addlingkindlingtomakemyselfburnbrighter.ThisisthepretendalbumIalwaysdaydreamedaboutwritingwhenwewereonaflighttoanewcityonthetourorwhenZachwasinthestudiorecording.
OnesongisabouthowJamietakescareofeveryonebuthimself,andwhotakescareofhim?It’sseriousandprotective.There’salyricintherethatjustfelloutofmymouth,andI’mnotsurehowIfeelaboutit.
I’ddoitforeverifitwouldn’tbreakmyheart
MythroatfeelstightasIswallow,readingthatline.Ishouldscratchitout,butIcan’t.Thebestsongsarehonest.
Daisy’sstaringatme,wagginghertail,soItakeheroutagainforalongwalk.Thewholetime,mymindisonJamie,andonthesongsIwrote.
Theforestisdark,sowesticktothelitstreets.ThetreesalongthesidewalkaredecoratedforChristmaswithprettytwinklinglights,andworryhitsmystomach.Istillhaven’tgottenJamieapresent.
Anythinghewants,hecanbuy.Hehasabeautifulapartment.Hedoesn’tneedclothesorhockeyequipment.Heseemstoenjoycooking,butwhatamIgoingtoget,awhisk?Icringe.That’ssolame,anditfeelswrongforourrelationship.Iworkforhim,butwe’refriends,too.
IfIaskedhim,he’dtellmenottogetanything,butthat’sbecausehedoesn’trealizethathe’sworthit.
Wepasstheguitarstore,andmyeyebrowssnaptogether.Mydreamguitarisgone,replacedwithablackFenderelectric.
Somethingsinksinmychest.Icouldn’taffordit,soIdon’tknowwhyI’msodisappointed.
Jamie’sbrighteyesandhisdeterminedexpressionappearinmyhead.OnceIfigurethingsout—howeverthatwilllook—I’mgoingtosaveforanewguitar.Somethingspecial,justforme.Jamiewillbehappytohearthat.He’dbeproudofmeifheknewIspentthewholeafternoonwriting.
Arealizationhitsme.
IwrotethatalbumforJamie.Ithoughtabouthimtheentiretime,andwhentheimpostorsyndromecreptin,Irememberedhiswordsofencouragementandhiswarmlooksofaffection,anditspurredmeon.I’veneverwrittenevenonesongforsomeone,letaloneacollectionofthem,andnoonehaseverencouragedmethewayJamiehas.
It’slikehethinksIcandoanything.
Thetruthisobvious,andnomatterhowhardIdenyitortrytocomparehimtoZach,it’snotgoingaway.
IhavemajorfeelingsforJamieStreicher.
NowIjusthavetofigureoutwhattodoaboutit.CHAPTER47JAMIE
Christmaswasfourdaysago.I’matmymom’shouse,sittingonthecouchwithDaisy,watchingthevideoofPippaagain.Acheekysmilelingersonhermouthasshebeltsthelyricsout,herfoottapsintheairassheplaystheguitar,andhereyesglitterwithmischief,likesheisn’tsupposedtobesingingaboutgettingmadatherexandmovingontosomethingbetter.
She’ssobeautifullikethis.She’salwaysbeautiful,butespeciallylikethis,singingherheartout,lookingsohappy.
It’sdayfiveofnotseeingPippa,andI’mgoingoutofmymind.Wetextconstantly,butit’snotthesameashavingherrightinfrontofme.Withinarm’sreachisthebestplacePippacanbe.
Afterfivedays,it’sobvious.Ihavefeelingsfortheprettysongbird,andI’mtiredoftellingmyselfno.Justthinkingabouthermakesmehappy.
Ireachformyoldexcuses,butsomethingcutsthroughthem.WhatifIcouldfindawaytomakethiswork?
SheandHazelflewouttoSilverFallslastweek,andbecausemyflightfromMinnesotatoVancouverwasdelayedduetobadweather,sheleftbeforeIgothome.Ididn’tgettosaygoodbyeorgivehertheChristmaspresentsIgotforher.IcouldhaveovernightedthemtoSilverFalls,butIwanttoseeherfacewhensheopensthem.
WhatifIvisitedher?WhatifIdidtheimpulsivethingthatIneverdoandjustwenttoher?
Somethingliftsinmychest,butmymindwanderstothetimePippaandIhookedupandIhadatonofmissedcallsfrommymom.Iwasn’ttherewhensheneededme.Iwasoffgettingdistracted.Iscrubahanddownmyface,pushingthedaydreamsaway.I’mnotgoingtoSilverFalls.I’llseehernextweekwhenshecomeshome.
Ashadowpassesoverme,andmymomleansoverthebackofhercouchwhereI’msitting,mooningovermygoddamnedassistant.Ipullmyheadphonesoff.
“IsthatPippa?”sheasksbeforeIcantuckmyphoneaway.
Inod.
Shegesturesatmyheadphones.“Playitoutloud.”
WhenIpressplayafterdisconnectingtheheadphones,Pippa’svoicefillstheroomwhilewewatchheronthescreen.Daisyreadjustsonthecouch,restingherheadonmyarm,andsheletsoutalongsigh.
MymomgivesDaisyascratch.“ShemissesPippa.”
DaisyandIlookateachother.Metoo,buddy.
Mymomgivesmeaside-longlook,studyingmewithacurioussparkleinhereyes.“IcanwatchDaisyifyouwanttogooutonNewYear’s.”
TheonlypersonIwanttoseeonNewYear’sisPippa.“It’sfine.”
“Jamie.”Shestudiesme,andthere’saflickerofsadnessandsomethingelseinhereyes.Embarrassment,maybe.
“It’sfine,”Irepeat.“I’mnotreallyintopartying.”AndI’mneededhere,Idon’tsay.
Shewatchesmeforalongmoment.“Istartedlookingforatherapist.”
MyheadsnapsupandIturntogetabetterlookather.“What?”
Shenods,spinningoneofherringsaroundherfinger.“Pippamentioneditthatnightyoutwowereover.Shemadeitsoundkindofnormal.”
MyheartburstswithprideandaffectionformyPippa.“Itisnormal.Lotsofpeoplegettherapy.”
Sheshrugsagain.“Ihaven’tfoundsomeoneyet,butI’mlooking.”
“That’sgreat.”Thatheavyweightinmygutlessens.“I’mreallyhappytohearthat.”
“Ithoughtyoumightbe.”ShetakesaseatbesideDaisyandcombsherfingersthroughDaisy’sfur.“What’sPippadoingforNewYear’s?”
“SheandHazelaregoingtoabar.”
IimaginePippainthebusybar,herhairlooseandwavylikeatthewrapparty.Maybeshe’swearingadress,butmorelikely,she’sdressedcasuallybecauseit’sacrappybarinasmalltown,andshedoesn’twanttostickout.Whenshetoldmethat,Ilaughed,becausethereisn’tasingleroomwherePippawouldn’tstickout.
Anunwelcomeimagepopsintomyheadofaguyleaningonthebar,talkingtoher.Smilingather.Hisgazedroppingtohermouth,hertits.Maybehereachesoutandtucksherhairbehindherear,sayssomethingteasing.Mynostrilsflare
Ihatethatidea.Ihateitsofuckingmuch.MykneebouncesasIstareatnothing.
“Jamie?”
Isnaptoattention.“Hmm?”
Mymomshrugs,nonchalant.“Whydon’tyougovisitPippa?SilverFallsislovely,honey,andIbetshe’dlovetoshowyouaroundherhometown.”
MykneecontinuestobounceasIconsiderit.I’mcrawlingoutofmyskinwithouther.
Inthepastfewweeks,mymomhasseemedbetter.Sheseemslessworried,lessanxious,likeshehasmorecontrol.Maybeshe’dbefine.
Miller’smomlivesafewminutesfromhere,andI’mcertainhe’sspendingtheholidaythere.Ihaveaweirdfeelinghe’dbeoverhereinaheartbeatifIasked.
Andshe’slookingforatherapist.Thatisahugestep.
“Okay.”Inod.“I’mgoingtoSilverFalls.”CHAPTER48PIPPA
Thishasbeenthelongestweekofmylife.
“Pippa.”Hazelopenshereyesfromthechairbesidethewindowoverlookingthebackyard.She’sinherpajamasandhasmajorbedhead.
I’mdrapedacrossthecouch,alsoinpajamaswithmajorbedhead,staringlimplyoutthesamewindowatthesnow-coveredtrees.They’repretty,butIdon’tevencare.“What?”
“I’mtryingtomeditatebutyoukeepsighing.”Shegivesmealookthat’sbothirritatedandamused.
Iwrinklemynose.“Sorry.”
Sheraisesaneyebrow,andmystomachtightens.NewYear’sEveistomorrow,andthenweflyhomethenextday.
Ihaveabsolutelynoideawhattodoaboutmycrushontheguyfromhighschool,whichhasexpandedintofull-blownswoonyfeelings.Ilikehim.Imightevenfeelmorethanthat,butI’mnotlookinginthatdirectionrightnow.I’mjusttryingtofigureoutwhattodo.
Myguttellsmehefeelsthesameway,butafterwhatheadmittedaboutErin?Hemightnotbereadytohearit.Thatwouldbetheultimatedevastation,tellinghimandhavingitfallflat.
I’mtorn,soI’msittinghere,staringoutthewindow,gettingonHazel’snerveswhileIdeliberate.
Myphonelightsupwithatext.
Hey
There’saburstofexcitementinmychest.Ican’thelpit.It’sjustmybody’sreactionwhenhetextsme.We’vebeentextingalotoverthebreak,andpartofmehopesthathe’sjustasboredandmiserablewithoutme.
Hi,Irespond,eyesgluedtomyscreen,watchingasthetypingdotsappear.
I’vebeenthinkingabouttakingatrip
Oh,yeah?Somewherewarm?
Somewherecold
Dumb,naivehopetwirlsandspinsinmychest.Thetypingdotspopup,disappear,andpopupagain.
I’veneverbeentoSilverFalls,hetexts.
MyheartleapsintomythroatandIbeamatmyphone.
“Whatisgoingon?”Hazelasks,smirkingatme.
“Nothing.”It’sgorgeousthistimeofyear,Itext.You’llfreezeyourassoff
PerfectCanIcomesayhi?
Yes,please.
Great.Myflightlandsintwohours
Mymouthfallsopen.What?!
I’mattheairport.Isthatokay?
Ofcourse!Mysmilestretchesfromeartoear.
Hazeldropsdownbesideme,peeringatmyphonetoreadthetexts.“What?”sherepeats.“What’sgoingon?”
Idon’tcarethatmyemotionsarewrittenallovermyface.“Jamie’scomingtovisit.”
Shesighs,butshe’ssmiling.“Ofcourseheis.”
***
Thedoorbellrings,andIleapupfromthecouchbeforetakingadeepbreathinfrontofthedoor.Hazelsnortsfromthekitchen,whereshe’sonherlaptop.
Iopenthedoor,andhe’sstandingtherewithabarelyperceptiblesmile,whichmeanshe’sjustasexcitedasIam.God,he’ssotall.I’mspeechless,staringupathimwithadoofygrinonmyface.
“Hi,”Isaystupidly.
Hischeeksareflushedfromthecold.He’swearingagreentoquethatbringsoutthecolorofhiseyes.Maybeit’swishfulthinking,buthe’slookingatmelikeI’mthebestthinghe’severseen.
“Hi,”hesays,andthelowtenorofhisvoicesendsashiverdownmyspine.
Thetensionrunsbetweenus,andhisgazedropstomylips.Helookslikehewantstokissme,andmystomachwobblesinthebestway.
“We’rehome,”mydadcallsfrombehindJamie,andwetakeastepapart.
Myparentsclimbthesteps,chatting,andstopshortwhentheyseeJamie.Theywerevisitingfriends,andIthoughtthey’dbeoutlater.
Mydad’seyesgowidelikehe’sseenaghost.“Ohmygod.”Hethrustshishandforwardwithabig,friendlygrin.“WhattheheckisJamieStreicherdoingonmyfrontstep?KenHartley.”
Jamieshakeshishand.“Nicetomeetyou,sir.”Heoffersmydadasmile,andfromherspotinthekitchen,Hazelglancesatmeinconfusion.
Sir?HazelmouthsandIshrug.
“Oh,thisisthehockeyplayer!”Mymomclapsherhands.“We’veheardsomuchaboutyou.”
Hesmilesagainather,andmyfaceburns.Theyhaven’theardthatmuchabouthim.SoImentionhimonceinawhile.Sowhat?
“Hi,Mrs.Hartley,”Jamiesays,shakingherhand.
Shepullshimintoahug.Herheadbarelycomestohisshoulder.“CallmeMaureen,honey.Let’sgoinside.You’regoingtocatchacold.”
Wepileinside,andmydadremarksagainaboutwhatasurpriseitistohavetheJamieStreicherinhishome,whichisbothcuteandtotallyembarrassing,butJamiedoesn’tseemtomind.Hejustsmilesandanswersmydad’squestions.
HazelwalksinandJamienodsather.“Hazel.”
Surprisingly,shedoesn’tglareathim.“Hi.Youmadeit.”
Henods.“Idid.”
Hazelglancesatme,andsheseemspleased.“Good.”
“Everyone,sitdown,”mydadsays,gesturingatthelivingroom.“I’llbringoutsomesnacks.Jamie,doyouwantabeer?”
Jamie’sheaddips.“Abeerwouldbegreat.”
“What’syourpreference?”IhaveafeelingthatwhateverJamiesaid,mydadwouldruntothestoretobuyitrightnow.
“Whateveryouhaveonhand,”Jamiesays.“I’mnotpicky.”
“MillerLiteokay?”
“Perfect.”
“Goodman.”Mydaddisappears,andweirdly,Jamiesmilesagain.
Aswesitdowninthelivingroom,mygazeflickstotheoutdatedfurnitureanddecor,theknickknacksontheshelves,andthedorkypicturesofmeandHazelaskids.Jamiepausesinfrontofmygradetwopicture.Inthephoto,I’msmilingwide,eartoear,pigtailsstickingoutoneithersideofmyhead.I’mmissingmytwofrontteeth.
Jamietiltshisheadatthepicture.“Yougethitwithapuck,Hartley?”
Igroan,andmymomlaughs.
“Iforgotitwaspictureday,”shetellshim.“YoushouldhaveseenmyfacewhenPippacamehomeandtoldme.”
Jamie’seyeslingeronthepicture,andIthinkhe’ssmilingagain.“Verycute.”
MydadhustlesintotheroomwithatrayofdrinksandinsistsJamiesitinthecomfyLa-Z-Boychairwheremydadusuallysitswhilewatchinghockey.Internally,I’mcringingmyfaceoff,butJamieispoliteandfriendlyandindulgesmydadinallhisquestionsandconversationrevolvingsolelyaroundhockey.
Halfanhourlater,mymomchecksthetime.“Ishouldputthechickenintheoven.”ShelooksatJamie.“Doyoueatchicken?”
“Uh.”Helooksatme.“Yes?”
Isendhimasmile.“Ihopeyoudidn’tthinkyouwereleavingwithoutstayingfordinner.”
“Youhavetostayfordinner,Jamie,”mydadscoffs.
Jamiechuckles.“I’dbehappyto.Thankyou.”
“Whereareyoustaying?”mymomasks.
Jamierunsahandthroughhishair.“Idon’tknowyet.IsawahotelonMainStreet.I’mgoingtotrytherefirst.”
Mydad’seyesgowide.He’ssodramaticsometimes.“Youdon’thavearoombooked?”Heshakeshisheadindismay.“It’snotgoingtohappen.Everythinggetsbookedupthistimeofyear.”
Mymomnods.“Youhavetostaywithus.”
“What?”Ichoke.Jamie’susedtostayinginfive-starhotelswithking-sizedbedsandHBOontheTV,nothomeswithfurnitureolderthanme.Hazel’sandmybedsarefromwhenwewereteenagers,andtheguestbedisevenolder.“Jamiedoesn’twanttostaywithus.WecanfindhimanAirbnborsomething.”
“Atthistimeofnight?”mydadasks,lookingatmelikeI’mcrazy.“Pippa,it’salmostfiveintheevening.Iknowit’snotmuch,”hesaystoJamie,“butwehaveaguestbedroomwithyournameonit.”
Iopenmymouthtoprotestagain,butJamienodsatmyparents.“I’dlovetostayhere.”Istareathim,andheglancesatmewithamusementinhiseyes.“Ifit’sokaywithPippa.”
“Yeah.”Iblinkathim.“Sure.”
“Great.”Mydadjumpsup.“I’mgoingtohelpMaureenwiththechickenandthenI’llberightback.Anotherbeer?”
Jamienods.“Sure,thanks,Ken.”
Mydadbeamsathim,andIknowit’sbecauseJamiecalledhimbyhisfirstname.IstareatJamieinshock,butmyheartisdancingaroundinmychest.
Whoisthisversionofmygrumpygoalie?CHAPTER49PIPPA
Thatevening,mymompullsmydadawaytogiveJamieabreak,andHazel’supstairsinherroom,soit’sjustJamieandmeinthelivingroom,watchingElf.We’redrinkinghotapplecider,ayearlytraditioninourfamily,andthecinnamon,nutmeg,cloves,andstaranisemakeourhomesmellamazing.
“Let’smakethisathome,”Jamiesays,andImelt.
Ilovethewayhesayshomelikethat.
IlovethatheflewouttoSilverFalls.
Ilovehangingoutwithhim,justsittinginthelivingroomlikethis,evenifI’minsweatpants.Heseemsmorecontentandrelaxedthanever.
“Isthisokay?”Iask,gesturingaroundusattheshabbylivingroom.“Wecangotoabarorsomething.”
Jamienudgesme.“ThisisexactlywhereIwanttobe.”
Onscreen,WillFerrelljumpsupanddowninanelfcostume,shriekingabouthowexcitedheistomeetSanta,andIlaugh.
“Mymom’slookingforatherapist,”Jamiesays.
Ilightup.“Sheis?That’sgreat.”
Henodswithrelief.“Yeah.”Herubsthebackofhisneck,glancingatme.“That’sbecauseofyou,youknow.”
“Wedon’tknowthat.”
“Itis.Shetoldmeitwasbecauseoftheconversationyouhad.”
Mythroatclosesupwithemotion.“Really?”
Henodsagain,softgazetravelingovermyface.“Thankyou.”
Iwanttoclimbintohislapandhughim.“I’mreallyglad,Jamie.Seriously.”
“Me,too.”
Hishandslipsaroundmineandhegivesitasqueeze.Somethingsweetandsparklydancesinmystomach,andIglanceathismouth.Icanpracticallyfeelhislipsagainstmine,demandingandunrelenting.Hiseyesdarken,andpressureandwarmththrumbetweenmylegs.
“IwanttogiveyouyourChristmaspresent,”hesayssuddenly,pullinghishandaway,eyesdartingtominelikehe’snervous.“Isthatokay?”
“Ofcourse.”Iblink.“Yoursisn’tready.”
Heshakeshishead.“It’sfine.”
“Imean,it’smostlyready.Readyenoughtoshowyoutonight.”Ibitemylip,andnowI’mnervous.
Whatifhehatesit?Whatifit’stoomuch?Mystomachthrasheswithbutterflies,likethey’retryingtoescape.
Jamiegivesmeaquicksmile,slipshisshoeson,andheadstohiscar.Momentslater,he’sbackwithtwoboxes—onehugeandoneaboutthesizeofashoebox.Hehastoturnthebigpresentsidewaystogetitinthedoor.They’rewrappedbeautifullyinbrightpaperandshinyredbows.
“Ohgod.”Istareattheminhorror.They’regoingtoblowmygiftoutofthewater.“CanIgofirst?”
Heshakeshisheadwithalaughasheclearsthecoffeetableoffandsetsitdown.“No.I’mnervous.”Thecornerofhismouthcurvesupashehandsthesmallergifttome.“Youfirst.”
Iblowalongbreathoutandstudythepresentwhilenervestap-danceinmystomach.Jamieraiseshiseyebrowsandlooksathiswatchinanexaggeratedway,andIlaugh.
“Stopit,”Itellhimbeforeuntyingthebow.HiskneebounceswhileIopenit,andwhenIpullthelidoff,Iburstintoabiggrin.“Yougotmemyownjersey?”
Hestudiesmyfacewithafunnylook.“Youlikeit?”
Ipullthenavyandwhitejerseyoutofthebox,turningittoreadtheback.STREICHERisstitchedinboldwhitelettering,andmybodyhumswithsomethingpleased,proud,andpossessive.
“Youdon’thavetowearmynameonyourback,”hesaysquietly,watchingmecarefully.“Wecantakethatpartoff.”
“Don’tyoudare.”Iholdhisgazeasmyinsidesmeltintoapuddle.“Iwanttowearyourname.”
“Okay.”Thecornersofhismouthhitch,andhiseyeswarm.“Iwantyouto,too.”
Ican’ttellhimthetruth—thatwearinghisjersey,havinghisnameonme,makesmefeellikewe’resomuchmorethanweare,andthatIloveit.Iloveeveryinchofthispresent.
Hetiltshischinatthebiggerbox.“Next.”
CuriosityfiresaroundinmybrainasIunwrapitwithcare.Thesizeoftheboxisalotlike—
Nope.Idon’tevenwanttogetmyhopesup.
“Ihopeit’samotorcycle.”Iwigglemyeyebrowsathim.
Hiseyesgleamlikehe’senjoyingthis,watchingmeopenpresentshegaveme.Idon’tknowwhattomakeofthat.Itmakesmefeelspecialandcaredfor,andthere’sanotherhardthumpinmychest.Ipullthelastofthewrappingaway,andmybreathcatches.
“Jamie,”Iwhisper,staringatthebox.Mythroatfeelstight.
Hisfingerbrushesthebackofmyhandplayfully.“Openit.”
Ipressmylipsintoaflatline,wavering,beforeIflipthelidoff.
Yep.Thereitis,butinsteadofinthefrontwindowoftheguitarstore,it’ssittingonthetable.
It’ssobeautiful,butit’smorethanthat.ThisguitarissomethingIthoughtIcouldn’thave,andyet,hereitis.MyeyeswellupwithemotionandIblinkfasttoclearthem.
“It’stoomuch.”Ican’tlookathim.IfIlookathim,I’llcry.Orkisshim.I’mnotsure.
“It’snottoomuch.”
“It’stooexpensive.”Myfeelingsforhimgrowbythesecond,expandinglikeaballoon.
“Pippa.”Hisvoiceisfirm,leavingnowiggleroom.“I’dbuyyoueveryguitarinthecityifIthoughtyou’dletme.”
Shit.Thisguy’sgoingtobreakmygoddamnedheart.
WhenIfinallylookathim,hisexpressionissoproud,andIknowhe’stellingthetruthaboutbuyingeveryguitarhecould.
Shit.
“Sayingthankyoufeelslikenotevenclosetoenough.You’respoilingme.”Irunmyfingersoverhisnameonthejersey.
Heshrugshisbigshoulders.“Soletmespoilyou.”
“Thankyou,”Isay,leaningforwardtohughim,andhisarmslooparoundme.Ileanintohisshoulder,inhalinghiswarm,spicyscent.Oneofhishandsthreadsintomyhair,theotherholdingmetightagainsthim.
“Youaresowelcome,songbird.”Ifeelhislowvoiceagainstmychest,andIwishwecouldstaylikethisforever.“Alright,timetotakeitforaspin.”
Ipullbackandstudytheguitar.“It’stoonicetoplay.”
“Noway.Don’tyouhavetobreakguitarsin?”Hismouthquirks.
Iburstoutlaughing.“Thattakesyears.”
Hegesturesattheguitar.“Bettergetstarted,then.”
Nervesshimmerthroughme.I’mhesitating,butit’snowornever.“I’dliketogiveyouyourpresentfirst.”Fromthesidetable,Igrabmyphoneandopenafolder,sharingitwithhim.
Hishandbrushesmylowerback.“Youdidn’thavetogetmeanything,Pippa.”
“Iknewyou’dsaythat.”Hisphonepingsinhispocket,andInodathimwithasmile.“That’sfromme.Openit.”
Whenheopenstheemail,hislaughissurprisedandpleased.Thesoundmeltsintomyheart.HisfacelightsupwhilehescrollsthroughtheprofessionalphotosIhadtakenofDaisyatthedogbeach,andhiseyesarebright.
“I’mhavingthemprinted,”Iexplain.“Iwasgoingtoframeoneandputitintheapartment.”
HegrinsbigattheoneofDaisymid-jump,tonguehangingoutwithwildeyes.“Theseareamazing.Ilovethem.”
HelandsononeofmeandDaisy.
Aflashofembarrassmenthitsme,andmyfacewarms.“Iwasn’tgoingtoprinttheoneswithmeinthem.That’stheentirefolder,sotherearegoingtobesomeextrasinthere.”
He’sstillsmilingattheoneofmeandDaisy.“Iloveit.”
Ibitemylip,nervousaboutthenextgift.
“There’ssomethingelse,”Itellhim,pullingoutmyphoneagain.Myhandsareshaking.I’veneverdonesomethinglikethis.
Jamie’shandcoversmyknee,andthewarmthofhisbighandbleedsthroughthefabric,pullingmebacktothepresent.He’ssmilingatme,thatsoft,handsomesmilethatmakesmewanttokisshim.
“Iwroteanalbum,”Iblurtout,andhiseyebrowsshootup.
“What?”
Inod.“Yeah.Iwroteanalbumforyou.Imean—”Itiltmyheadbackandforth.“Iwroteitformetoo,soIhopeitdoesn’tsuckthatwehavetosharethisgift,butyouencouragedmeandmademefeellikeIcoulddoit,soIkeptwritingbecauseIwantedtohaveafullcollectionofsongstoshowyou.”
Hiseyesglintwithpride.“Showme.”
Ihuffalaughathistone.
“Now,Pippa.”
Ilaughagain,openinganotherfolderonmyphone.“Holdonasecond.Soimpatient.”
Hishandhasn’tmovedfrommyknee,andhisthumbstrokesbackandforthasIsharethevideoswithhim.Iwouldnormallyrecordthemasaudioonly,butIlikedthewaythelightlookedinthelivingroomduringgoldenhour,andthenIjustleftthevideorunning.AfterIwasdone,Icutthefullsongsintotheirownclips.
Jamie’sphonelightsup,andamomentlater,myvoiceringsoutinthelivingroom.Hismouthcurlsintoapleasedsmileagain,andhetiltsaglanceatme.
“Youwroteanalbum,”hesayssoftly.
Mychestisburstingwithpressureandgiddinessanddisbelief.“Iwroteanalbum.”
Heshakeshisheadinwonder,stillwatchingmewhilemysongplays.“Fuckingincredible.I’msoproudofyou.”
Ismiledownatmyhandsinmylap.“Thankyou.”MythroatfeelsthickasIswallow,reachingformynewguitar.WhenIliftitup,myheartpounds.
There’ssomethingperfectaboutthisguitar—itsweight,thewaytheneckfeelsinmyhand,thecurveofthebodyovermythighasIsettleitinmylap.
“Thisguitarismysoulmate,”ItellJamie,andhesmiles.
“Yougoingtoplaytherestofthealbumforme?”
“Ifthat’sokaywithyou.”
Heleansbackagainstthearmrestofthecouch,facingme,tuckinghishandsbehindhisheadasIplay.I’mplayingthesesongs,andJamie’ssmilingatcertainlyricsbecauseheknowsexactlywhatI’msingingabout.Overthepastfewmonths,Jamie’sbecomeoneofmyclosestfriends,andplayingguitarforhim,singingforhim,itfeelsintimateandspecial.
Ifinishthesongaboutrevenge,theoneIsenthimafewweeksago,andmyfingershoveroverthestrings.
Theonlysongleftisthesexyone.Heliftsaneyebrowinchallenge,likehecanseemyhesitation.
Ishouldendithere.Ishouldcallitanightandgouptobed.Ireallyshould.It’saboutJamie,andthere’snowayheisn’tgoingtoseethat.
Somethingriskyandboldthrillsthroughme,andIstartplayingthesong.
Someofthelyricsare,um,reallyspecific.That’smyfavoritepartaboutsongwriting,howspecificsomeofthelyricsare,abouteatingcherrychocolateicecreamandwalkingpastyouroldhighschoolorsomething,andyoucantotallypictureyourselfinsidethesong.
I’llsitbetweenyourlegswhileyoumakemeshakeagainstyouMakemybodyfeelnewthings,webothwantto
Facingme,Jamiestiffens,andhiseyesgohazy.Istopplaying.
“Songbird,”hewarns,liftingabrow.There’sadeliciousslanttohiscruelmouth,andmyfacefeelshot.
Youcouldcutthetensioninthisroomwithaknife.
“Weshouldenditthere,”Imutter.
“Notafuckingchance.”Hisvoiceisthick.
MygazedropstoJamie’slap.He’sfullyhard,erectionstrainingagainstthefabricofhissweats.Heatpulseslowinmystomach,butIcontinueplayingthesong.
“Youwrotethatoneforme?”heaskswhenitends.Hewon’ttakehiseyesoffmyface.
Inod.Ourgazeshold,andtensioncracksbetweenus.Jamie’sgazedarkens,andhisjawtightensasIlickmybottomlip.Pressuregathersbetweenmylegs,andmyskinfeelswarm.Iwanthimsobadly.
Hiseyespinmewithdetermination.“ThatwasthebestChristmasgiftI’veevergotten.”
“Me,too,”Ibreathe.
Abeatpasseswherewejuststareateachother,butJamiesnapshisgazeaway.“Ishouldgotobed.”
No,Iwanttoscream,butinstead,Inod.“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”Hestands,adjustshimself,andheadsupstairswithoutanotherword.
Isitonthecouchforafewmomentsafter,feelinghotandjittery,fullofenergy,beforeIturnoutthelightsandheaduptomyoldbedroom,carryingmyChristmaspresents.Inmyroom,Iholdoutthejerseyandsmile.
Iloveit.I’mgoingtowearittoeverygame,andIcanalreadyimagineJamie’ssmilewhenheturnsaroundandseesmebehindthenet,wearingitwithpride.CHAPTER50PIPPA
“WheredidyouandJamiegotoday?”Hazelasksthenextevening,sittingacrosstheboothfrommeinthebusydivebar.
It’sNewYear’sEve,andtheonlybarintownispacked.Iglancearound,takinginallthepeople,theChristmasdecorationsstillup,andJamiewaitingatthebartogetusanotherroundofdrinks.Hecatchesmyeye,givesmeaquickwink,andIautomaticallysmile.
“Ishowedhimaroundtown,andthenwedroveintothemountains.”IbitebackalaughatthememoryofhisexpressionafterIthrewasnowballathim.
“Hestuckupforyoutonight,”shesays,glancingathim.Agroupofguysaretalkingwithhimwhilehewaitsforthedrinks,starsintheireyes.
“Hedid.”Myheartsqueezes.Atdinnerwithmyparents,theybroughtupthemarketingjob,andJamieimmediatelytoldthemhowtalentedasingerandsongwriterIwas.Theylaughedandsaiditwasimportanttohavehobbies.
“Pippahaswhatittakestomakemusichercareer,”hetoldthem,andtheywerestunneduntilIchangedthesubject.
Sheleansforward,loweringhervoice,andhereyesdancewithteasing.“Justtrytokeepitdowntonight,okay?Thewallsarethin.”
Myeyesgosaucer-wide,andIsuckinabreath.“Nothing’sgoingtohappen.”Witheveryoneinthehouse?Noway.
Hereyesrollback.“Oh,Jamie.”
Ireachacrosstheboothtocoverhermouth,laughing.“Shutup.”
“Uhn,puckmeharderwithyourhockeystick.”Shesoundslikeapornstar,andpeopleglanceover.
Igaspwithlaughter.“Thatdoesn’tevenmakesense.”
Shebatsmeaway,grinning.
Twobigmalebodiesflopdownintotheboothoneitherendofus,endingourconversation.
“HappyNewYear,ladies!”Haydenthrowshisarmaroundmyshoulder,jostlingme.
Asurprisedlaughfallsoutofmymouth.Acrossthebooth,Rory’sgrinningdownatHazel,who’sstaringathimlikehe’sacockroachthatjustcrawledontothetable.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”sheaskshim.
“Streichersaidhewastakingalast-minutetripouthere,”Haydentellsus.“Wethoughtwe’dpayhimavisit.”Atthedoor,halftheteamispilingin.“Webeggedtheteamtoletususethebus.”
IburstoutlaughingatJamie’sconfusedexpressionastheguyssurroundhimatthebar.They’redrawingatonofattention.
HaydentossesacoasteratRory.“Andthisfuckingguylikesusmorethanhisownteam.”
Rorywon’ttakehiseyesoffHazel,andIhaveafeelingheknewshe’dbehere.
Atthatmoment,Jamiereturnstotheboothwithdrinks.Helooksatmewithabegrudgingexpression,likehe’sirritatedthattheplayerscrashedournightbutalsosecretlypleased,becausetheyobviouslyconsiderhimafriend.
“Wehavecompany,”Itellhim.
“Isaw.”HerollshiseyesbeforegesturingatHaydentomove.
WhenJamieslipsintotheboothbesideme,cagingmein,hedrapeshisarmoverthetop,andhisfingersbrushmyshoulder.NervesskitterinmystomachandIholddownasmile.Aroundthebar,peopleglanceoveratuswithcuriosity.
“Idon’tunderstandwhyyouhangoutwiththeseguyssomuch,”HazelissayingtoRory.She’sputtingonanirritatedfront,buthereyesarebrightandshe’shavingtroublemeetinghisgaze.
He’slookingatherlikeshe’stheonlypersonintheroom.“Iliketheseguys.There’snorulethatwearen’tallowedtohangoutwithourfriends,evenifthey’reonanotherteam.Ijustdon’ttalkaboutplays.”HetipshischinatJamiewithchallengeinhiseyes.“NotthatthatwouldhelpStreicherhere.ThedudecouldgetallmystrategiesaheadoftimeandI’dstillscoreonhim.”
Jamie’shandtightensaroundhisglass,knucklesgoingwhiteashestaresatRory.Rory’sbaitinghim,tryingtogetareactionfromJamie.
Halfofmewishesthey’djusttalkaboutit.Orfight.Somethingtogetitoutoftheirsystems.Idoubtthatwouldbegoodforeitheroftheircareers,though.Phoneswouldbeoutwithinseconds,recordingit,anditwouldbeonthenews.
MyhandlandsonJamie’sthigh,andhisgazedropstomine.Hisjawticks,andIgivehimasoftsmile.
“Ignorehim,”Itellhim.
Helooksdownatmewithasmallsmile,andamomentlater,hisfingersbrushmyhairasheplayswiththeends.
ByNewYear’sEvestandards,sittinginasmall-townbarandlisteningtothehousebandplaywhiledrinkingcheapbeerismild.Sittinghere,tuckedintoJamie’sside,though?
ThisisthebestNewYear’sEveI’veeverhad.CHAPTER51PIPPA
Twohourslater,I’mhappilytipsy,surroundedbyloud,boisteroushockeyplayers.Jamie’sgluedtomyside,andhe’shadafewdrinks.There’sapinkflushacrosshischeekbones,similartowhenhegetsoutoftheshower,andheevensmilesafewtimes.Ahandfulofplayerskeepdoingshotsfromtheshot-ski,aseriesofshotstapedcrudelyontoaskisoallparticipantsneedtodrinksimultaneously,andHaydenorderedaspecialshotthatledtohimcurrentlygettingspankedwithapaddlebythebartenderwhilethebarcheers.Inthecorner,abandplays,andasweapproachmidnight,thefunpartyenergyinthebarheightens.
“Yougoingtokissmeatmidnight?”RoryasksHazel.
Sheholdshisgaze,wearingasmuggrin.“Gokissyoursexdoll.”
“Ileftherathome.”
Iholdbackalaugh,andHazellookslikeshe’stryingtoaswell.
Helookstome.“Whataboutyou,Pippa?CanIgetaspotonyourdancecard?”
Besideme,Jamiestiffens.“No.”
Iglanceathim.Hisarmisuponthebooth,butIcanfeeltheheatfromhim.“Mydancecard’sfulltonight.Thanksfortheoffer,though.”
JamieglaresatRory,butbeforeanythingcanhappen,Hayden’satJamie’sside.“Streicher,you’replayingpoolwithus.”
JamieglancesbetweenmeandRory,uncertain.
“Go,”Itellhim,tippingmychinatthepooltables.“Hazelwillprotectmewithhersharpteeth.”
HazelbaresherteethatJamie,andIlaugh.RoryjustgazesatHazelwithhornyinterest.
“Backinabit.”Jamie’shandbrushesmylowerbackbeforehefollowsHayden.
“So,”Rorysaysacrossthetable,“youtwo.”
Mysmileistense,andIshrugathim.“What?”
Hisgazeiscuriousandteasing.“Helikesyou.”
Ilaughtomyself,andmyfacefeelshot.
“It’strue,”hegoeson,nodding.“HelikesyoumorethananyoneI’veeverseen.”
Hiswordssendathrillthroughme,andIhidemysmile.MaybeIhavefeelingsforhim,butI’mnotreadytotellpeople.Ihaven’tevenfullyadmittedittoHazel.“I’mjusthisassistant,”Ilie.
Hemakesanoiseofdisbelief.“You’rehissomething,that’sforsure.”
Thankfully,moreplayersarriveatourtablewithdrinks,interruptingus,andImakeconversationwhileIwatchJamieplayingpoolwithHaydenandAlexei.
“Alright,folks,”theleadsingerofthebandsaysintothemicrophoneafewminuteslater.“We’regoingtotakeashortbreakjustbeforemidnight,butwehaveaspecialtreatforyou.”
JamieandHaydenmaketheirwaybacktoourgroupthroughthecrowd,andJamie’seyesareonme.
“We’vegotanothermusicianinthehouse,andshe’sgoingtosingusasong,”theleadsingersaysintothemic,andJamie’smouthtipsup.
Mypulsestops.
“EveryonewelcomePippaHartley!”
Myeyesgowideasthebarcheersandapplauds,halfthepatronsturningtolookatmeasIsittherefrozen.
“What?”IaskJamieasmypulserestartsatagallop,whooshinginmyears.
Helowershismouthtomyear.“Getupthere,songbird.IwanttohearmyChristmaspresentlive.”
Imeethiseyes,andmylipspart.Iblinkathim,clingingtohisgaze.
PerformingattheFilthyFlamingobackinVancouver,therewerethirtypeoplethere,mostlytheteam.Thisplaceispacked.Thecrowdaroundthebaraloneiseightpeopledeep.Everychairandboothisfull,andit’sstandingroomonly.Thereareatleasttwohundredpeoplehere.
I’mfreakingout.
“Ican’t,”Iwhisper,shakingmyhead.
Everyoneisstaringatme.
Heholdsmygaze,sostrong,steady,andfullofaffection.Hismouthcurvesintoagorgeoussmile.“Yes,youcan.Iknowyoucan.”
Iglancearoundthebar,meetingfamiliargazesastheywatchandwait.JamiealwaysthinksIcandoit,andeverytime,he’sbeenright.Afunnyfeelingcutsthroughthepanicandstagefright—determination.IfIdon’tdothis,I’llbeprovingthatI’mnotrightforthemusicindustry.ThatI’mjustthatgirlwhousedtodatethefamoussinger.
Iwanttoprovethemwrong,andmorethananything,IwanttoproveJamieright.
“Okay,”Iwhisper,noddingatJamie.“Okay.”
Hisgrinstretchesacrosshisface,andmypulsestumbles.“Alright.”
God,Ilovemakinghimproudlikethat.
Iheaduptothemic,savoringthebrushofhisfingersonmylowerbackasIpasshim.Thecrowdapplauds,andItaketheguitarhandedtomeonstage,slippingthestrapovermyshoulderbeforeIstandatthemicandstareoutatthecrowd.
It’sjustlikethefirsttime,whenIsteppeduptothemicinthebarafterJamiemademethatdeal.Myheart’sbeatinglikeadrumandI’mhyperawareofeveryonewaiting.
“I’mPippaHartley,”Isayintothemic,andmyvoiceisstrongandclear.“Andthisisasongaboutrevenge.”
Thecrowdwhoops,excitedanddrunk,andImeetJamie’sgaze.Hegivesmeafirmnod,stillsmiling,andIlaunchintoit.Isingthesongaboutgettingbackupaftergettingsteppedon,theonethatmakesmefeelstrongandpowerful.Myvoiceringsout,andIdigdeep,givingthesongeverything.Onthelastroundofthechorus,IstopplayingtheguitarwhileIsing.Theaudienceclapsintime,andIbeambackatthemasIsing.
Awomannearthesmallstagehollersinsupportandappreciation,andIwinkather.Mychestburstswithenergyandpride,andI’mflyinghigh.Ifinishthesongwithfullcommitment,andwhenIplaythelastchord,theroofblowsoffthebar.
It’seuphoria.I’mfloating,glidinghigherthanever,heartracingandskintingling.I’veneverfeltlikethis,andIalreadyknowI’maddicted.CHAPTER52JAMIE
ThebarroarswithdrunkenappreciationforPippa,andIwatchasshegivesthecrowdashysmile,handstheguitaroff,andmakesherwayoffthestage.
Seeingherupthere,it’ssoobvious:I’mheadoverfuckingheelsforthisgirl,andIhavebeenforalongtime.AlotlongerthanIrealized.
PippaHartleyhasmewrappedaroundherlittlefinger.I’lldoanythingforher,andI’mnotevenmadaboutit.Iwanttodoterriblethingstoher,makehercomewithmymouthandmyhandsandmycock,makeherscreammynameandshowherhowfuckingincrediblesexcanbe.Iknowsinkingintohertight,wetpussyisgoingtochangemylife.
It’snotjustthesex,though.Iwanttowakeupwithher,spendfreeeveningswatchingamovieonthecouch,andgoforwalksinthewoodswithDaisy.
Idon’tknowhow,butwe’regoingtofigurethisout.Allthestuffwithmymom,myconcernsabouthurtingPippalikeIhurtErin,I’mgoingtodealwithit.I’mgoingtofixit.Idon’twanttobeweigheddownbyitanymore.
IjustwantPippa.
Shereachesourgroup,andIgatherherinmyarms,buryingmyfaceinherhair,inhalingherwarmscent.
“I’minaweofyou,”Isayintoherear,andwhenshepullsbacktosmileupatme,hereyessparkle.
“Thankyouforencouragingme,”shesays.“Thatwas…”Shetrailsoff,shakingherhead.“Incredible.IfeltlikeIwasflying.”
Myfeelingshammeragainstmychest,wantingout.Nervesflashthroughme,andIsearchhereyes.Christ,she’ssoprettyandperfect.
Shegotuponstageinapackedbareventhoughshewasscared,eventhoughherfuckfaceextriedtocrushher.I’malwaysencouragingPippatobebrave,andnowit’stimeItakeafuckingpageoutofmyownbook.
“Ihavefeelingsforyou,songbird.”Myheartpounds,andtherestofthebarfallsaway.“Ilikeyousofuckingmuch.Idon’twanttopretendIdon’tanymore.Iflewouthereforyou.”Somethingexpandsinmychest,fillingeverycornerwithanintensewarmth.Ourgazesarelocked,andmyarmsarestillaroundher,keepingherclose.“Idon’twanttofightthisanymore.”
Hereyesarebrightandfullofvulnerability.“Meneither.”
“Really?”
Shenods,laughinglightlylikeshe’srelieved.
Idon’tknowwhattodowiththisfeelingricochetingthroughoutme.It’sliketherearefirecrackersinmyblood.Fuckingfinally,Icanstopfightingit.
“We’regoingtofigureitallouttogether.”
Shesmiles,andIfallalittleharderforher.“Iknow.”
Ialmostmissedoutonthis.Itriedtofightthisforsolong.Unbelievable.
“Ten,nine,eight,”thebararounduschants,andIrealizeit’ssecondstomidnight.Pippablinks,lookingaround,beforehergazeswingsbacktome.
“HappyNewYear,Jamie,”shewhispers.
Idrawhercloser.Somethinghasshiftedinmychest,lockedintoplace.Thisisright.Thisisthewayit’ssupposedtobe.Ithoughtaboutherforallthoseyears,andwefoundourwaybacktoeachother.
“Three,two,one,”peoplecountbeforethebareruptsincheersagain.
“HappyNewYear,Pippa,”Imurmurbeforesinkingmyhandintoherhairandpullinghermouthtomine.CHAPTER53PIPPA
“Doyouhaveeverythingyouneed?”IaskHaydenlaterthatnightinmyparents’livingroom.
Theguysdidn’thaveaplacetostaybecauseHayden’satwenty-three-year-oldrookiewho’sterribleatplanning.Wecouldn’tletthemsleeponthebus—they’dfreeze—sothey’restayingatmyparents’place.Thedrunkestplayersarealreadysnoringonthefloor,coveredinblanketsthatIdroppedoverthem.
Mydadisgoingtolosehismindwithexcitementtomorrow.Ibethe’llmakeeveryonepancakes.
Haydenwavesmeoff.“We’regood.”HisgazeflicksovermyshouldertowhereJamie’swaiting.
Mystomachflutters.Everyonesawuskissatmidnight.After,RorygavemeanItoldyousolook.
“Okay.”IgiveHaydenandRory,who’sonthecouch,awave.“Goodnight.”
Rorywinks.“Night,Pips.Don’tletStreicherkeepyouupallnight.”
Myfaceburnsredasweheadupthestairs,andmybodyhumswithwound-upenergy.I’vebeenbuzzingwithanticipationforhours.
Ihideasmileaswereachtheupstairslanding,andhishandslipsintomine.Outsidemybedroomdoor,wepause,andthetensionintheairgrowsashelooksdownatmewithahotlook.
“Hi,”Iwhisper.
Hiseyeswarm,andhepressesakissontomymouth.Histonguepartsmylips,andIleanintohimashestrokesintome,sowarmandcareful.HewalksmebackuntilI’magainstmybedroomdoor,andwhenhishandcomestomyhair,heanglesmyheadbacksohecangetdeeper.
Arousalthrumsbetweenmylegs.
Hebreaksthekisswithalownoiseoffrustrationandleanshisforeheadagainstmine.
“Wecan’t,”hemurmurs.“Nothere.Yourparentsareintheotherroom.”
“Wecanbequiet.”Ibitemybottomlip,swollenfromkissinghim,andofferhimamischievouslook.
“Maybeyoucan,butIdon’tknowifIcan.”Hedragsinadeepbreath,andforamoment,Ithinkhe’sgoingtocave,butheshakeshishead.“Wecan’t,songbird.Iwanttosofuckingbadly,youhavenoidea.”Hetakesmyhandandputsitoverhiscock.
He’sfullyhard,andwhenIstrokehimoverthefabric,hiseyesclose.
“Fuck,”hebreathesbeforehepullsawayfrommytouch.“No.”Hedropsafirmkissonmylips.“Goodnight.”
Iarchabrowathim,andhepointsatmybedroomdoor.
“Now,”hesaysinafirmtone,althoughhiseyesarefullofamusement.
Iletoutasilentchuckle.“Goodnight,bossy.”
Aminutelater,I’mgettingundressed,abouttoputmypajamason,whenthejerseycatchesmyeye,andinsteadofsleepinginanoldt-shirt,Ipullthejerseyonovermybareskin.
Thatlow-lyingarousalsimmeringundermyskinbeginstoboilasthejerseybrushesmynipples,andtheyprick.Iignoretheachebetweenmylegsandclimbintobed.
Throughthewall,Ihearthesqueakofthebedintheguestbedroomashesettlesin,andpicturinghisfeethangingofftheendmakesmechuckle.
Somethingfunny?hetexts.
Igrinatmyphone.I’msorryyou’reintheworld’stiniestbed.
It’sfine.
Thankyouagainforthejersey.Iloveit.
Iopenmycameraappandsnapapicofmewearingitbeforesendingittohim.OnlymyshouldersarevisiblebecauseI’mtuckedundertheblankets.
Throughthewall,Ihearalowgroan.You’rewearingittobed?Fuck,songbird.I’mtryingnottogetturnedoninyourparents’house.
Lustshootsthroughme,andmygazeflickstothewallseparatingus.Ipicturehimlyingthere,doingthateyesclosed,deepbreathingthinghedoeswhenhe’stryingtocontrolhimself.Heatgatherslowinmybelly,andIsqueezemythighstogether.
AfterflyinghightonightfromsingingonstageandJamieandItellingeachotherthetruth,Ifeelboldandbrave.
It’sallI’mwearing,Irespond.
JesusChristThat’ssofuckinghot.Thatisn’twhyIboughtitforyou…butnowthat’sallIcanimagine.
Mymouthtwistsintoacoy,pleasedsmile.There’salongpausebeforeanothertextpopsup.You’resureyoucanbequiet?
Yes,Itextbackwhilemyheartslamsagainstthefrontwallofmychest.
Ilistentothebedcreakashegetsupandsoftlypadsdownthehalltomyroom.Mydooropensandhestepsinside,leaningagainstthecloseddoor.Hetakesmein,lyinginbed,wearingajerseywithhisnameonit,andhisgazerakesdownthebedbeforereturningtomyface.Thethickridgeofhishardcockunderhissweatpantssendsathrillthroughme.
“Hi,”hemurmurs.
“Hi.”Ibitemylip,andhisgazefollowsthemotion,darkeningevenmore.Hestridesovertothebed,anditdipsasheplaceshishandsoneithersideofmyhead,hoveringovermewithaheatedlookinhiseyes.
Betweenmylegs,theacheintensifies,andIcan’tlookawayfromhim.
“Youneedtobevery,veryquiet,songbird.Notasinglenoise.”Hisbreathticklesmyface.“Understand?”
Inod,sighingoutabreath.I’dsayanythingtogethismouthonmeagain.
“Good.”
Heleansdowntokissme.CHAPTER54JAMIE
Sheletsoutasilentsighofreliefasmytongueglidesintohermouth,andImovesomykneesareoneithersideofher.
“Fuck,”Iwhisperintohermouth,sowarmandwelcoming.Shetastessosweet,soright,Icanbarelycontainmyself.
Ipullthecoversbacktolookather,andmymindgoesblankasIstareatPippawearingonlymyhockeyjersey.
Afeelingrushesthroughmychest.
Mine.Pippaismine.I’mnevergivingherup.
I’mwordlessasIrakemygazeupherbody.I’mnevergoingtoforgetthesightofPippa’ssoftthighs,smoothskin,thepeekofcleavageoverthenecklineofthejersey.Thescatteroffrecklesalonghercollarbone.
Herthighspresstogether,andIdragmyhandupherinnerthigh.
“Youlooksofuckinggoodlikethis.”
Herhandsskimupmychestuntiltheybrushupmyneck,andIshudderunderhersofttouch.Itoldhertobequiet,butI’mtheonebitingbackagroanasherfingersthreadintomyhair.Shetugsmyhairinthatwaythatmakesmeevenharder.
Ipushthehemofthejerseyup,andmyheartstopswhenIseewhatshehasonunderneath.
No.Panties.
Istareatherperfectpussy.
“You’veruinedme,”Itellher,shakingmyheadbeforeIreachbetweenherlegsanddragmyfingersfromherentrancetoherclit.Herhipsshake,herlipspart,andwhenIfeelhowwetsheis,Iletoutanothercurse.“Soaked,Pippa.You’refuckingsoaked.”
Shebitesherlip,watchingmyeverymovement.Istrokeoverher,circlingherclit.ShetensesupasIbrushthetightbudofnerves,andadarkgrinhitchesonmymouth.Ilovehowsensitivesheis.IlovethatImakeherfeellikethat,thatIcandothistoher.
Ikeepmyvoicelowandmyeyesonher.“Wereyougoingtotouchyourselfinhere?”
Shenods,andIrewardherbypushingonefingerinsideher,findingherG-spotandcrookingmyfinger.Herbackarchesbutherwideeyesstayonme,andIfuckinglovethat.
“Oh,shit,Jamie,”shewhispers,panting.
“Shh.”Istrokeher,watchingasshepressesahandtohermouth,browsfurrowed.Isettlebetweenherlegs,andhereyeswiden.“Didheeverdothisforyou?”
Sheshakesherhead.“HetriedbutIwasn’tintoit.”
Competitionbeatsinmybloodlikeadrum,andIpushinandoutofhertightentranceatalanguidpace.“Youwanttotryagain?”
Shehesitates,andIcrookmyfingersagainstherfrontwall,lovinghowhereyelidsfallclosed.“Um.”ShesighsasIthrustintoher.“Ifyouwantto.”
“Ido.”Iwatchwheremyfingersenterher,watchhowherprettypussysucksthemin.“Ireallyfuckingdo.Ithinkaboutitallthetime.”
Shenodswithadazedlook.“Okay.”
Ipresskissestoeveryfreckleonherinnerthighs,slowandsoft,warmingherupuntilIlowermyheadandkissherclit.Mytonguebrushesoverher,andIbitebackagroanathowsweetsheis.Shearches,tighteningupasIstrokeintoher,coveringherhandoverhermouth.She’stryingsohardtobequiet,mylittlesongbird,andIloveit.
WhileIdragmytongueoverherclit,againandagain,listeningtoherprettylittlemuffledgasps,myfreehanddriftstoherassandIgriphersoftskin,pushingheragainstmymouthwhileIgiveherswollenclitalongsuck.Herthighsshake,andamomentlater,herfingersareinmyhair,tugging.
“Youlikethat?”Iwhisper,andshenodsfeverishly.“Youwantmetodoitagain?”
“Please,”shegasps.
Needrushesthroughme.Ilovehowbadlyshewantsthis.
“Shh.”MypulsebeatsinmyearsasIwatchher.“Youneedtobequiet.”
Shenods,andwhenIstrokeinandoutagain,herlipspartasshemouthsmyname.Ifeellikeaking.
IpushmyjerseyupherstomachsoIcanseehertits.JesusfuckingChrist,Pippalookssogoodlyingthere,chestrisingandfallingfast.Herskinissosoft,hernipplesarepinchedandpuckered,andIraiseuptopulloneintomymouth.HerhandsreturntomyhairasIlavethepeakwithmytongue.
TellingPippahowIfeelwasthebestideaIeverhad,andflyingouttoseeherisaclosesecond.
Herbreathcomesoutinpants,andIgrinasIpressakissbetweenherbreasts.“Youwanttolearnsomethingnew,songbird?”
“Thisfeelsprettynewtome.”HervoiceisthinasIdipmyfingerintoheragain.“Ohgod,”shewhispers.
Ihuffalaugh,lettingmystubblescrapethesoftskinonherstomachonmywaybackdownbetweenherlegs.“You’regoingtotellmewhatyouwant.”Ikissatrailacrossherskin,downherthighs,anywhereexceptwhereshewantsit.
“Please,Jamie,”shewhispers.
“Tellme.”
“Dowhatyouweredoingjustasecondago.”
“Whichwas?”Myvoiceislowandteasing.“Sayit,songbird.Youcandoit.”
Herfrustrationpeaks.“Iwantyoutolickmypussy.”
Icrookagrinather.“Therewego,baby.”WhenIpullherclitbetweenmylipsandsuckonit,alowmoanslipsoutofher.“Yougottabequiet.”
Aroundmyfinger,sheclenchesup,andIcanfeelhowbadlysheneedsthis.Iwanttobetheguydolingoutherpleasure,watchingherunravelbecauseofme.
“Ican’t,”shewhispers,breathinghardasIslickmytongueoverherclitagain.
Ifreeze.I’mrushingher,Irealize.
“Tellmewhatyoufeel.”Mymouthreturnstoherthighs.She’ssowet—
“No.”Shesinksherhandsintomyhairandpullsmebacktoherslickcenter.“Ican’tbequietbutIdon’twantyoutostop.Ineedtocomesobadly.Please,Jamie.”
Smug,primalsatisfactioncoursesthroughme.Iwasn’trushingher.She’sdesperatetocome.
“I’mnotgoingtostop.”Ireturntoherclit,licking,sucking,draggingherownarousaloverhersensitive,swollenskin.
“Oh,fuck.”Herheadtipsback.“Jamie,Ican’tholdoff.”
Iburymyfaceinherpussy.HermusclesflutteraroundmyfingersasIworkherG-spot.She’sclose.Withmyfreehand,Ireachupandcoverhermouth.Oneofherhandsstaysinmyhair,buttheotherclutchesmyarmasshetightensonmyfingers.
“Coming,”shemoansagainstmyhandoverhermouth,andIlatchontoherclit,suckinghard.Herlegssnapagainsteithersideofmyheadassheshakesbeneathmymouth,thighspressingagainstme,archingoffthebedtorideagainstmyfacewhilesheletsoutmuffledwhimpers.Mycockissohardithurtsasshesoaksmyfacewithherrelease,breathinghard.
Shecollapsesback,catchingherbreath,staringatmelikeshecan’tbelieveit.
“Nicework,”shewhispers,andIchuckleagainstherinnerthigh,pressingakissagainstherskinbeforeliftingupsoI’mhoveringoverher.
MyPippa.Sofuckinghot.Suchaperfectangel,allflushedfromherownorgasm.Irunmythumbacrossherbottomlip.
Hergazedropstothefrontofmysweatpants,wheremycockstrainsagainstthefabric.Awickedgleamentershereyes.
“Nottonight,”Itellher,knowingI’mgoingtoregretit.“Ifwemessaroundmore,Pippa,I’mgoingtobreakyourbed.”
Sheopenshermouthtoprotest,butIcoveritwithakiss,strokingintohermouththewayIwanttowithmycock.IgivemyselffivemoresecondsofhermouthbeforeIpullaway,standoverthebed,andframeherjawwithmyhands.
“You’resoperfect,”Itellher.“Sofuckingperfect.”
Shewatchesmewiththatsweet,drowsysmile.Itfeelsspecial,discoveringsexwithPippalikethis.Likewe’rebothdiscoveringhowitcanbe,becauseitsureashellhasneverbeenlikethisforme.
Sheissofuckingmine
Ipullthecoversuparoundher,smilingasshesettlesintothepillows,stillwearingmyjersey,hairfannedout,allmessedupfrommyhandsinit.
Iloveher.Thewordsarerightundermyvocalcords,butIholdthemback,becausethisisallsonew.Theybeatthroughmyblood,theyweavethroughmyheart,andI’msurethey’rewrittenallovermyface.
“Goodnight,songbird,”Isayinstead.CHAPTER55PIPPA
Canwetalk?
TendaysafterNewYear’s,Istandatthekitchencounter,staringatthetextIjustreceivedfromZach.
MymouthgoesdryasIreaditagainandagain.Itcan’tbereal,andyet,that’shisnumber.ThelasttextsweexchangedwerebackinAugust,acoupledaysbeforehedumpedme,whenIwaspickingupcoffeeformyselfandwantedtoknowifhewantedanything.
Disguststirsinmygut.Hehadtheaudacitytotakemysong,andnowhewantstotalk?
Iblockhimanddeletethetexthistory.
Jamieopensthedooroftheapartment,andIjump.Heshootsmethathandsome,disarmingsmileI’maddictedto,andthoughtsofZachvanish.
ThesecondJamieflewhomefromSilverFalls,hehadtoleaveforaten-dayawaygamestreak,butnowhe’sback.Irushovertohughim.Atourfeet,Daisydoesherexcitedtippy-tapsonthefloor,tailwaggingamileaminuteinexcitement.
“You’rehome,”IsayintoJamie’sneckwhilehepressesakisstothetopofmyhead.Hisarmsaroundme,pullingmeintohishardchest,istheultimatecomfort.
“Finally.”Hepressesanotherkisstomytemple,andwhenIleanbacktolookupathim,hiseyesgosoft.“I’vebeenwantingtodothisfortendays.”
Hekissesme,andIsighintohim.Hismouthonmineispurerelief,sweetandcareful,untilhegroansandsweepshistonguebetweenmylips.Hisstubblelightlyscratchesme,andheatpulsesthroughme.
“Missedyou,”hemurmursagainstmylipsbetweenkisses.“Ilovecominghometoyou.”
MyheartsoarslikeitdidonNewYear’sEve,whenIsangonstage.Likewhenwetoldeachotherwehavefeelingsforeachother.Itcan’tbehealthytoexperienceheartpalpitationslikethissooften,butIdon’tcare.
Jamiepullsaway,looksdownatDaisy,andpicksherup.“Missedyou,too,”hetellsher.Shelicksathisear,wigglinginhisarms,andhegrimaceswhileIlaugh.
Thismanwithadogisalmosttoocutetobelegal.
“Iwasjustabouttotakeherforawalk.”
Daisyhearsthewordwalkandherheadwhipstome.Jamiesmilesandgivesheranotherscratch.
“I’llgowithyou.”
Twentyminuteslater,we’rewalkingthroughStanleyPark.Vancouverisexperiencingacoldsnap,andsnowfallslightlyaroundus,coatingthetoweringemeraldtrees.PeoplehatedrivinginthesnowinVancouver,soexceptforourbootscrunchingonthesnow,downtownandtheparkarequiet.
“Yourmomseemedreallygoodtheotherday.”HazelandItookDaisyforawalkwithDonnaacoupledaysago,beforeitsnowed.
Hemakesapleasednoiseinhisthroat,smilingatthegroundaswewalk.“ShehasanappointmentwithadoctoronTuesday.”
Ilightup,smilingathim.“Shedoes?Formedication?”
Henods,reliefspreadingoverhisfeatures.“Yep.”
“That’sgreat.”God,I’msohappytohearthis.NotjustbecauseJamiehasspentsolongtakingcareofher.Donnaisareallylovelyperson,andshe’sbeenthroughsomuch.Shedeservestofeelbetterandhavethetoolstodealwithherpanicattacks.
WewalkincomfortablesilenceforawhilebeforeJamienudgesme.
“Thevideohasoverthreemillionviews.”
Mystomachwobbles.“Iknow.Don’tremindme.”
HaydentookavideoofmesingingonNewYear’sEveand,afteraskingme,heposteditonhisTikTok.Itwentviral,butI’mpretendingitdoesn’texist.Justthinkingaboutthatmanypeopleseeingmesingoneofmyownsongsmakesmesickwithnerves.Imadetheterriblemistakeofreadingthecommentsonthevideo,andwhilemostofthemwerecomplimentary,Ican’tshakethefewuglyonesoutofmyhead.
She’snothingspecial.Thisisboring.She’snotevenplayingtheguitar.That’sjustforshow.Thissongsucks.Theyonlyletheruptherebecauseshe’shot.
Icouldn’twritemusicformonthsbecauseZachhurtmyfeelings.HowcouldIeverhaveacareerwiththousandsofZachsoutthere,sayingevenworsethings?Maybesayingthemtomyface,everyday?
“Hey.”Jamiestopswalkingandreachesforme,puttinghisarmaroundmyshoulderandpullingmetohisside.“I’mproudofyou.Thattookguts,gettingupthere.”
Inodwithanoiseofacknowledgment,butmyanxietyaboutthewholethingbleedsintomyforcedsmile.Hewatchesmeforalongmoment.
“Wedoavisualizationexercisewithoneofthesportspsychologistsontheteam,”hesays,studyingme.“Shehasmepicturethegame.Iimaginetheotherteam’sforwardstryingtoscoreonmeandwhatthepuckfeelslikeinmygloveorhittingmyblocker.IpictureeachoftheirguysandeveryscoringconfigurationIcanthinkof.ThemorespecificIam,thebetter.”Hearcheshisbrow.“Ithinkyoushouldtrythat,butwithmusic.”
AfrownslidesontomyfaceasIthinkaboutenduringmeancommentsfortherestofmylife.“Idon’treallywanttopicturepeoplebooingme.”Alightlaughscrapesoutofmetohidemydiscomfort.
“Notthat.Picturethecareeryouwant.Pictureyourdream,songbird.”Hishandslipsfrommyshoulderdowntomyglovedhand,andhegivesitasqueeze.“You’vebeenstuckinthisloopformonths.It’stimetopicturesomethingnew.”
He’sright,Irealize.AllIdoisthinkaboutthepast,andit’sholdingmeback.EverytimeIevenconsidermusic,Ithinkaboutwhathappenedtowarnmyselfaway.Ikeepputtingmyownbarriersupinmypath.
MythroatisthickasIswallow,glancingupathimwithhesitance.Hiswarm,confidentexpressionbolstersme,andInod.“Okay.”
“Closeyoureyes.”
Iglancearound.It’sjustusandDaisy,who’sbusysniffingthesideofthepath.Itakeadeepbreathandletmyeyesfallclosed.
TheforestisalmostsilentexceptforDaisy’ssniffing.Coldflakeslandonmycheeksandnose,andtheairsmellscleanandcrisp.
Ipicturemyselfonstage.It’sasmallshow,andI’mopeningforabiggerartist.Thereareacouplehundredpeopleinthecrowd.
No.Icatchmyself,openingmyeyes,blinkingupatJamie,who’sstillwatchingmewithasmallsmileonhisface.Iwantmorethanbeingtheopener.MyeyescloseandItryagain.
I’monstageinanarena.I’mtheheadliner,andmydreamguitarisslungacrossmychest.I’mtouringwithmynewalbumthatIrecordedwithmydreamproducer,IvyMatthews.She’sknowninthemusicindustryforbeingeccentricandpickyashell,butshe’ssupremelytalentedatcreatinguniqueandauthenticmusicians.Behindme,ahand-pickedbandofkind,talentedmusiciansisready.I’mwearingsomethingthatmakesmefeelgorgeousandstrong,andmyhairisloosearoundmyshoulders.
“I’mPippaHartley,”Isayintothemic,andtheycheer.Everypersoninthisarenaboughtticketstoseeme,butIliketointroducemyselfatthebeginningofeveryshow.It’smything.
Iglancetothewings.Jamie’sstandingthere,lookingproud,andIsmileathim.
“Andthisisasongaboutfallinginlove.”
Inmymind,Ilaunchintothesong,thebandbeginstoplay,thearenafillswithsoundandlight,andit’sfuckingspectacular.
Myeyesopen,andIbeamupatJamie.Tearswellupinmyeyes,becausewhatIjustimagedwassosweet.Mychestachesforit.
“Idon’twantthemarketingjob.”Myvoiceishushed.
Henods,serious.“Iknow.”
Aweightsettlesinmystomach.WhenItoldmyparentsIpassedthesecondinterviewwithflyingcolors,theycouldhearthefalsecheerfulnessinmyvoice.
Iwishtheycouldbeproudofme.IwishIdidn’thavetoshovemyselfintosomejobIdon’twanttogaintheirapproval.Mythroattightenswiththeuglyrealization.Iknowtheirintentionsaregood;theytiehappinesstofinancialstability,becauseit’swhattheylackedgrowingup.
Ididn’t,though.WorkingajobIdon’tlikewon’tmakemehappy,evenifitdoespaymybills.Myhearttwistsinmychest,andlikehecanfeelit,Jamie’shandisonmyback,rubbingslow,calmingcircles.
Igotsweptupinwhattheywanted,justlikewithZach.JamielooksatmerightnowthesamewayhelooksatmeeverytimeI’mabouttostepuponastage—likeIcandoanything.Theflameinmychestisapilotlight,fueledbymemoriesofsingingonNewYear’sandrecordingsongsthatIwroteinthelivingroom.Thatfireismyloveofmusic,thewayIfeellikeI’mflyingwhenIsingmyheartout.It’sthereasonIcan’twalkawayfromthemusicindustryeventhoughItried.Somethingsharpandglowingrushesthroughmyblood,andIsuckabreathin.
I’llfigureouthowtotellmyparents.Theideaoflettingthemdownmakesmystomachclench,butit’swhatIneedtodo.
“Youwanttotellmewhatyoupictured?”Jamie’smouthtilts.“Youdon’thaveto.”
Jamieisn’tZach.He’dneverlaughatme,nevertellmemydreamsarestupidorthatIshouldstayinmylane.
“Iwantto.”
Itellhimeverything,andwhenI’mdone,hiseyesarebrightwithaffectionandexcitement.
“Wouldyoueverreachouttoher?”
Iblanch.“Who?IvyMatthews?”
Henods.
“Um.”Iblink.Myinstinctistosayno,butIcatchmyselfagain.
Nomoreputtinguproadblocksformyself.NomorelettingwhatZachsaidweighmedown.IfIwantwhatIimaginedjustnow,I’mgoingtohavetodoscarythings…likesendmymusictopeoplewhocouldrejectme.
“IguessIcould.”Determinationpoursintomyblood,andInodatJamie.“Yeah.I’mgoingtodoit.”
Hissmileissobroad,itmakesmyheartbreakopen.“Goodgirl.”
Ilaugh,andheslingsanarmaroundmyshoulderaswekeepwalking.
WhileJamieisatthegymthatafternoon,IstudyIvyMatthews’website.There’sanemailaddress,butnoinformationaboutwhethershetakessubmissions.Sheprobablywouldn’twanttoworkwithmeunlessI’msignedbyarecordlabel.Shedidn’tevenwanttoworkwithZach.Hismanagertriedtoarrangesomethingwithherandsheturnedthemdown.Hewassoangryabouttherejection.
Thisissuchalongshot,it’snotevenfunny,butItoldJamieI’ddothis.Iwriteabrief,professionalmessageaboutmyexperienceinthemusicindustryandattachlinksformyviralvideoandthesongsIwroteforJamieforChristmas.
Hesitationrearsitsuglyheadagainandagain,butshovingitawaygetsalittleeasiereachtime.
Ihitsendandblowoutalongbreath.Evenifnothingwillcomeofit—andI’mcertainthat’sthecase—Itried.Itookonestepforward.
***
Thatevening,I’mabouttofeedDaisydinnerwhenmyphoneringswithanunknownnumber,andIanswer.
“IsthisPippaHartley?”awomanasks.
“That’sme.”IdropthecupofdogkibbleintoDaisy’sslow-feederbowl,andsheracestoeatit.
“MynameisMarissaStrong.I’mIvyMatthews’assistant.”
Mybrainstopsworking.
There’sapause.“Areyoustillthere?”
“Yes,”Isayquickly.“I’mhere.JustwonderingifI’mhallucinating.”
Shelaughs.“Yeah.Igetthatresponsesometimes.IsawyoursubmissionandpasseditalongtoIvy.She’sintownrecording,andthebandhaswrappedupearly,soshe’sfreetomorrow.Ifyou’refree,she’dliketorecordademowithyou.”
I’mstaringatnothing.Idon’tthinkIevenhaveapulserightnow.
“There’sabsolutelynoguaranteeanythingwillhappenwiththedemo,”Marissacontinues,allbusiness,buthertonechangestosomethingthoughtful.“There’ssomethinginterestingaboutyou,though,andshe’scurious.”
Somethinginterestingaboutme.Mypulsekicksin,andItrytobreathe.
“I’mfree,”Isay,feelingbreathless.Ican’tbelievethis.“I’llbethere.”CHAPTER56PIPPA
IvyMatthewsskewersmewithhergazeinthelobbyoftheEastVancouverstudio,andmyskinprickleswithself-consciousness.
WhydidIwearsneakers?Ilooklikesomeone’sbabysitter.Nervespinchinmystomach,andIfighttheurgetochewmylip.
IvyMatthewsisfamousforaclosedstudiowithasfewpeopleaspossible,sowe’realone.Noreceptionist,noMarissatheassistant.
Rightnow,Iwishtherewereothersheretotaketheattentionoffme.Beinghersolefocusisalot,andIhavenoideaifI’mmessingthisupornot.
Thisismybigshot.Ican’tmessitup.
IwishJamiewashere,buthe’satpractice.
“Didyoueat?”Hervoiceissharpandno-nonsense,suchacontrasttothesweetfrecklesscatteredoverherdarkskin.Hersalt-and-pepperhairispulledbackintoatightbun,she’swearingblackfromheadtotoe,andherglasseshavethick,fluorescentorangeframes.Shelookslikeasternartteacher.
Inodquickly.“Avocadotoastwithapoachedegg.”Jamiemadeitthismorning,insistingIeatdespitemyrolling,nervousstomach.“Andacoffee.”
Shestudiesmeforalongmoment.“Good.”Shecrossesherarmsoverherchest,andIsuppressasmileasIgetaflashofJamiedoingthesamething.
Sheasksmeaboutmyhistoryinthemusicindustry,andIgiveheraquicksummaryofmymusictrainingandmytimeontourwithZach.Imentionhisnamesosheunderstandsthescaleofthetour,butIdon’ttellherthecontextofourrelationship.
AtZach’sname,hernosewrinkles.“Ineverhadagoodfeelingaboutthatguy.Hedidn’tsinglikehemeantit.”Hergazeslidestomine,studyingmethroughherorangeframes,andahawk-likesmiletipsuponhermouth.“You,though.Youmeanit.Ifeelit.”Shenods,watchingme,catalogingme,andIfeellikethere’saspotlightonmeinthisquietlobby.“AndIalwaystrustitwhenIfeelit.”
EventhoughI’mscared,eventhoughIfeeleveryounceofpressureweighingonmyshoulders,Iwanttoproveherright.
IwanttoproveI’mnothinglikehim.
Afeelinghitsmesquareinthechest.Thismomentisn’tforhim;it’sforme.IwanttoshowherwhoIam,whatIcando,andI’mgoingtodothatbydoingwhatIdobest.
I’menough,andifshedoesn’tseethat,thisisn’ttherightmoment.I’llkeeptrying,though.ImeantwhatItoldJamietheotherday—I’mreadytotrytomakemusicmycareer.Terrified,butready.
Istraightenup,pushingmyshouldersback,andgiveherawarmsmile,justlikeIdidtoJamiethedayIshowedupinhisapartment.Ifeelbetteralready.Justbecauseshe’sintimidatingdoesn’tmeanIhavetocowerinfear.
“Shallwedothis?”Iaskbrightly,andsheblinksatmebeforeshebarksoutalaughandgesturesatthestudiospace.
“Getinthere,honey.”There’sasurprisedtonetoherwords,butshedisappearsthroughthedoorofthesoundbooth,andit’stimeformetogotomyside.
***
“Good,”Ivysaystwohourslaterintothemicrophonethatplaysintomyheadphones.“Again.”
Itakeasipofwaterbeforelaunchingintothesongagain.Ihavenoideahowthisisgoing.I’mjustplayingmysongsanddoingmybest,becausethatisthefullextentofmycontrol.I’mtryingnottofangirloverhowprofessionalthisstudiois—everythingfromthemicstothelightingtotheacousticsistopquality,andIseewhyshelovestorecordhere.Inthecontrolroom,Ivy’sexpressionthroughtheglassgivesmenothingwhilehersoundtechnicianrecords.Sometimes,Iseehermouthmovingassheinstructshimontheconsole.Mostly,though,shejustwatches.
Strungacrossmybody,mydreamguitarfeelslikeanextensionofme.ThefactthatJamieboughtitformemakesthismomentjustalittlemorespecial,likeaperfectcircle.ThismomentfeelslikeoneofthosesnapshotsfromthementalexerciseJamiehadmedointheforestyesterday.It’salmosttoogoodtobetrue.
“Good,”shesaysagainwhenthesongends.“Next.”
Idraginabreath,gazefallingtothecarpetasIdecidewhatsongtoplay.IsettleontheoneIwroteaboutJamie,abouthowhetakescareofeveryonebuthimself.
WhenIplaythesongthistime,itfeelsdifferent,becausenowthatJamie’smomisgettingbetter,itseemslikehe’sgoingtobeokay.Hecanlivehisownlifenowthatshehashersundercontrol.
“I’ddoitforeverifitwouldn’tbreakmyheart,”Ising.Mythroattightensasthewordsspillout,andmyvoicecatches.
Itfeelsdifferent,becauseIknowJamieisn’tZach.Thingshavechangedbetweenus.It’ssonewandI’mterrifiedtothinkforwardtothefuturewithhim,butthatdoesn’tmeanIcan’thope.
Iclosemyeyes,becauseIdon’twanttoseewhateverIvy’sexpressionis.It’sunprofessionaltogetemotionalinthestudio.
Ikeepmyeyesclosedtheentiresongandletmyselffeelallthefeelings.Jamiewandersintomymind,andIsmiletomyself,becausehisencouragementisthereasonI’mevenhere,andI’llalwaysbegratefulforthat.
“Beautiful.”Ivy’sclippedvoicecomesthroughthemic,andmyeyelidsflyopen.
Jamiestandsbesideherinthesoundbooth,armsfoldedoverhischest,watchingmewiththatintense,brightgaze,andthecornerofhismouthcurvesup.Soserious,evenwhenhe’ssmiling.
He’shere,andI’msostunnedandpleasedthatallIcandoisletthegrinstretchacrossmyfaceasmyheartflipsoverinmychest.
He’shere,andIfallalittledeeperinlovewithJamieStreicher.
***
“Interesting,”Ivysaysinthelobbythateveningaftershe’sdecidedwe’redone.It’seighto’clockandI’mstarving,butI’dstayherefordaysifsheaskedmeto.Shestudiesmeforalongmoment,barelyglancingatJamie.“Veryinteresting.Thankyou.We’redonefortoday.”
Andthenshe’sgone,disappearedbackintothecontrolroom.Fromherreaction,Ican’ttellifIimpressedherorbombed,butIdon’tseehowIcouldhavedonebetter.
“Songbird.”IfeelJamie’sgazeonmyfacelikeabrushofhisfingers.Hiseyesaresoftlikevelvet,andmyheartsqueezesasIsmileathim.“Youdidit.”
Emotionfloodsme,andIsmilewiderathim.“IthinkIdid.”
Somethingbetweenus.AllthesefeelingsI’mexperiencingfortheguywhohasbecomesomuchmorethanJamieStreicherpulseintheair,demandingattention.Hisgazedropstomylips,andit’snotjustheatIseeinhiseyes,butmore.Hiseyeslifttomineagain,andhegivesmethatproudsmile.
“Let’sgetyoufed,”hesays,andInod.“Andthenhome.”CHAPTER57JAMIE
WegethomethatnightafterdinnerandthentakingDaisyforalatewalk,andI’veneverbeenmoreinlovewithmyprettyassistant.
She’ssobrave.Shesangherheartoutinthatsoundbooth,justopenedupherchestandleteveryoneseetheheartbeatingbehindherribs,eventhoughshewasafraid.
Shegotbackontheice,likeItoldhertoallthosemonthsago.
“Thankyouforcomingtoday,”shesaysasshekickshersneakersoff.
“LikeI’dmissit.”Ialmostskippedpracticetogo,racingtothestudioassoonasthewhistleblewinstead.“I’msoproudofyou,songbird.”
Hereyelashesflutter,hergazestillonmyface.Herlipsaresopretty,solush,andmyfingersitchwiththeurgetotracethem.“Iloveitwhenyoucallmethat.”
Mypulsejumpsassomethingbigexpandsinmychest.ThenicknameismywayoftellingherIloveher,Irealize.I’vebeendoingitformonths,longbeforetherealitysankin.Thewordsareonthetipofmytongue,butIholdback.
It’snew,andIdon’twanttorushher.
Aruefulsmiletwistsontomymouth.“Ilovecallingyouthat.”
IstaredownatPippa,intohermesmerizingblue-grayeyes.I’mnevergoingtofindsomeonelikePippaHartley.She’soneinamillion,andafterwhatIsawtoday,she’sfinallyrealizingit.
“There’ssomethingIwanttoaskyou.”Ituckalockofherhairbehindherear.
I’vebeenthinkingthisoversinceNewYear’sEve,whenmyfeelingsforPippahitmelikeafreighttrain.
“IwanttoreachouttoErin.”Erin’sdevastatedexpressionappearsinmyhead,andguiltweavesthroughme.“Iwanttomakethingsrightwithher.I—”MywordscutoffasIlookdownatPippa,soopenandcurious.Jesus,Iloveher.I’ddoanythingtopreventcrushingherlikeIcrushedErin.“Iwanttofixthings.”
Pippagivesmeasadsmile.“Youalwayswanttofixthings.”
Inod.“Thisisimportant.Isitokaywithyou?”
“Ofcourse.”
Iknewshe’dbefinewithit,butnowthatwe’rewhateverweare—together,inarelationship,dating,allthesephrasesthatfeeltoomildandwatereddownforwhatIfeelforPippa—Iwanttobeasopenwithheraspossible.
Ipressakisstohertemple,andhereyesfallclosed.Herskiniswarmandsoft,andIbrushmylipsoverhercheek,overtheshellofherear.Herscentisintoxicating,comforting,andfuckingarousing.
“Weshouldtrysomething,”Isay,becauseIhaven’ttouchedherproperlysinceNewYear’sEve.Iwastravelingforgames,andthenlastnight,shewaspracticingherguitarandsongsinherroomuntilaftermidnight.
HerbreathcatchesasIsoftlynipherearlobe.“What?”
MyfingerstangleintoherhairandItiltherheadbacktolookatme.“Iwanttomakeyoucometwice.”
Pippa’seyeswiden,andherlipspartasshesearchesmygaze.“I’venever—”
“Iknow.”
“Idon’tthinkIcan.”
Myeyebrowquirksassmugsatisfactionweavesthroughme.Shecan.Icanmakeithappen.IknowIcan.
I’lldoanythingtomakeithappen.
“Yousaythatalot,butIcan’trememberthelasttimeyouwereright.”
Worrywaversthroughhergaze.“Idon’twantyoutobedisappointed.”
Ishakemyhead,becauseshecouldn’tbemorewrong.“Pippa,that’snothowthisworks.Touchingyouisagoddamndream.I’donlybedisappointedinmyselfifyoudidn’tenjoyit.Notinyou,baby.Neverinyou.”
Theworryfadesfromhereyes,leavingonlylustandwant,andmyownneedsurges.
“Okay,”shewhispers,andmymouthfallstohers.CHAPTER58JAMIE
OurkissisurgentasIcarryherupthestairs.Herthighssqueezemywaist,andIgripherass,givingitasharpslap.Hermoanvibratesintomymouth,andwhenshesucksonmytongue,fuckinghell.Igroanbackintoher,pinningheragainstthewallupstairs.
“Ohmygod,”shewhimpersasIhittheperfectspotwithmyhips.“Ohmygod.”
“Rightthere,huh?”
Shenods,eyesclosedandlipsparted,andmybloodbeatswiththeprimalneedtopleaseher.
“Jamie.”HereyesopenwiththatfuckingperfectdazedlookasIrockagainstherclit.“Needtotouchyou.”
Imovetocarryherintoherbedroom.
“No,”shesays,andIstop.Shegivesmeashy,embarrassedsmile.“Yourbed.”
JesusChrist,Ilikethat.
Amomentlater,Ilowerherontomybed,yankingmyshirtandpantsoff,thensupportingmyownweightonmyelbowsoneithersideofherheadasIkissher.Anothershredofcontrolfallsawayasmytonguestrokesagainsther,urgentanddemanding.
Mybloodsingswiththetruth:Pippaismine.
“Youlikebeinginmybed?”Imurmurasmyfingerstrailbeneathhershirt,skimmingupherstomach.Herskinissosoft.
“Yes.”HerbreathcatchesasIbrushtheskinbeneathherbra,teasing,knowingwhatshewantsbutholdingbackaninch.
“Ilikeit,too.”
Herbackarchesintomytouch.Ipullawaytoteaseher,andshegrowls,handcomingtomyarm.
“What’sthematter?”Iaskinalowvoice,smilingather.IshiftsoI’monmyside,watchingher.
“Jamie.”Thewayshesaysmyname,irritatedandaroused,makesmygrinturnwicked.
Shesitsupandpullshershirtoff,andI’mfacetofacewithherperfecttits,pushedupintosomethingincredibleinawhitelacebraembroideredwithflowers.
Lustfloodsmybody.“Notfair,”Imurmur,trailingmyfingersoverthelace.
Icirclethelaceoverhernipple,feelingthestiffpeakbeneaththefabric.HereyesglazeandherlipspartbeforeImovetotheotherone.I’mfullyhard,lyingherewithPippa,playingwithher,teasingher,workingherup.
It’sheaven.
“Let’stalkgameplan,songbird.”MyvoiceislowasIbrushbackandforthoverthesensitivepeakscoveredinlace.“Howarewegoingtodothis?”
Hercheeksareflushed.“Ithinkyoushouldgodownonme.”
Myeyebrowarches.“Oh,really?”
Shenods,andwe’reboththinkingaboutafewweeksagoinherparents’house,whensheworemyjersey.
“Youlikedthat,didyou?”Shenodsagain,andsomethingelectriccracklesintheairaroundus.“SodidI.”
Surprisepassesthroughhereyes,andmypulsebeatsharder.
“Didyoudoubtthat,Pippa?”Myfingersbrushovertheswellsofherbreasts,justaboveherbra.“DidyoudoubtthatyourpussywasoneofthesweetestthingsI’veevertasted?”Idipintoherbracuptofindastiffnipple,andsheletsoutasoftmoan.“Becauseitwas,baby.IthinkaboutiteverytimeIstrokemycock,howwetyouwere.Howyousounded,moaningformewhileIlickedintoyou.”
Shearchesintomytouchagainandunhooksherbra.Mymouthfallstoherbreast,circlingthepinchedpointwithmytongue.Thenoisethatscrapesoutofherthroat,needyandrelievedatthesametime,makesmyballsachewithwant.
“Areweusingthetoytonight,Pippa?”
Sheshakesherhead.
“No?”IarchabrowasIsuck,andherbreathcatches.
“Iwanttotrywithout,”shewhispers,bitingherlip.
ShelooksatmelikeshethinksIcandoit,makehercomeagainwithoutthetoy.Mycocksurges,straininginmyboxers.
“Thisisdrivingmecrazy,”shesaysasIpinchandrolltheotherpeak.“Touchme.”
Igrindownather.“Iamtouchingyou.”
“More,”shedemands.
“Youdon’twanttotellmefivethingsyoucanfeel?”
Herfrustratedglaremakesmeshakewithlaughter.I’veneverlaughedduringsex.Mysongbirdishornyandfurious,andI’minheaven.Inthismoment,Ifeellikeshe’smybestfriend,andyetI’mrockhard,thinkingaboutpleasingher.Sexhasneverbeensoplayful,andIcan’tthinkofanothertimeIfeltsocomfortablearoundsomeone.
Thisiswhatit’ssupposedtobelike,Irealize.
“Stop.Teasing.Me.”HerteethareclenchedasIbrushhernippleassoftlyasIcan,watchingherreaction.
“Begme.”
Whenhergazesimmerswithheatandasighfallsfromherlips,mybloodsings.
“Please,Jamie,”shewhispers.“Pleasemakemecome.”
Heatburnsdownmyspine,poolingaroundthebase,andIdraginabreath,holdingontothelastremnantsofcontrol.
“Whenyoubeglikethat,Ilosemyfuckingmind.”
Hereyesareglazedwithlustbutcertain.“Soloseit.”
Igetherfullynakedwithinseconds.Myhandssettleonherinnerthighs,pushingthemapartasIlowermyselfbetweenherlegs.
She’swet,soaked,glisteningwithdampthighs,andpridecoursesthroughmyveins.Ididthat.Imakeherfeelgood.Nooneelse.
Pippaismine.
ThefirststrokeofmytongueupherwetcentermakesPippaarchoffthebed.
This.ThetasteofPippaignitesmyhungeralloveragain,setsmygreedforheronfire,andthepossessiveneedinsidemeintensifies.Iburymyfacebetweenherlegs,licking,stroking,suckingthetightbudofnerves.ThenoisesslippingoutofPippa’smoutharerough,breathy,unfiltered,andmycockpulseswiththeneedtofuckherhard.
WhenIslipafingerinsideherandfindtheridgedspot,herthighsslamtightaroundmyhead.
“Jamie,”shechokesout,andmychestbeatswithpride.
“Youlookedsofuckinghotinmyjersey,”IsaybeforeIsuckherclit.Herthighsshakeoneithersideofmyhead.Herpussy’ssowetIcanhearsuckingsoundsasIpushmyfingerinandout.“Sofuckinghot.Doyouknowhowitmakesmefeeltoseemynameonyourback,Pippa?”
Isuckherclitagain,andherhandsdrifttomyhair,clutchingandtugging.Thesensationshootsmoreheatdownmyspine.Mylengthaches,drippingpre-cum
“Itmakesmefeellikeyou’remine,”Itellher.
Hereyesgohazy.“Itmakesmefeellikethat,too.”
Mypulsewhooshesinmyears,andI’veneverfeltthisferalneed,thisprimal,outofcontrol,instinctivewant.ThesightofPippalyingbeneathme,splayedopenforme,hairspillingovermybed,handsinmyhairassheholdsontight,itslicesawayanyhesitation.
“Ohgod,Jamie,”shemoanswhenIaddanotherfingerandrubherG-spot.
Iknowthattone.I’vememorizedit,replayeditoverandoveragainasIfuckedmyfist,thinkingabouther.
“You’reclose,”Isaybeforeswirlingmytongueoverherclit.
Shejerksanod,eyesclosedtight.“Uh-huh.”
Somethinghotandsmugsettlesinmychest,andIclosemylipsoverherclit,suckingandworkingthenerveswithmytongueasmyfingersstrokeinandout.Shetightensaroundme—herabs,herlegsaroundmyhead,herpussyaroundmyfingers.
“Saymynamewhenyoucomelikeagoodgirl.”
“Fuck,”shechokesout,andIcanfeelhertipping.Herhandsgripmyhairsotightithurts.ThepainsearsmyscalpandIloveit.“Jamie.”
Sheshakesallaroundme,cryingoutmyname,comingandcoming,andIdon’tletupuntilI’vewrungeverydropfrommyprettyassistant’spussy.Asherorgasmsubsides,Ipresssuckingkissestoherclit.Ican’ttearmyselfawayfromher.
Herlegsfallapartasshecatchesherbreath,handsstillinmyhair.Herfingerscombmyhairoutofmyeyesasshestaresattheceiling.
“Jamie,”shewhispers.“Whatthehell?”
Ichuckleandkissherinnerthigh,coatedwithherarousal.Mytonguerunsalongthesoft,sensitiveskinthere,andsheletsoutahigh,tightnoisewhenIreachherclit.
“Sensitive,”shegasps.
“Sorry,baby.”Icrawloverher,hoveringwithmyelbowsoneithersideofherhead,cagingherin.Itipherchinupandkissher,andherbreathticklesmyfaceassheliesthereinapuddle.“Can’thelpmyself.”Ipresskissafterkisstoherface,tohercheekbones,toherforehead,tohernose,tohereyes,tohersoft,pliant,warm,invitingmouth.
She’sperfect,myPippa.
Herhandstrailupanddownmyarms,overmychest.Hernailsscrapethestubbledownmyneck,throughmychesthair,overmyabs,overtheridgesofmyback.I’msohardithurts,butIwouldn’tinterruptthismomentforanything.Iloveherlikethis,satedandpleasedandcalm.
Inthismoment,we’retheonlypeopleintheuniverse.Nothingelsematters.There’snofamilydrama,noexes,noworriesaboutcareersorthefutureorgettingourheartsbroken.
It’sjustus.
“Songbird,”Iwhisper,becauseIloveher.
Hereyesmeetmine,fullofaffection,andforamoment,Ithinkshemightloveme,too.Ikissherdeeply,sinkingintoherwarm,pliantmouth,andwhileI’mcaughtupinmyprettysongbird,mooningoverher,shereachesdownandpullsmystrainingcockoutofmyboxersandgivesitafirmstroke.
“Oh,fuck,”Igroanintohermouthbeforeyankingmyboxersoff.“Holdonasecond,baby.”
I’mtooclosetotheedge,andIwantthistolast.ItneverlastswithPippa,andIwantasmuchoutofthisasIcanget.
Mycocksettlesinthecradlebetweenherthighs.Herpussyisstillwet,sowarm,andelectricitytravelsupanddownmyspine,numbingmybrain,lettingthebaseinstinctstakeover.
Idragmycockthroughherwetness,andtheurgentneedtocomebeatsallthethoughtsfrommyhead.
Nirvana.I’vereachedit.It’sbetweenPippa’slegs.
“Doitagain,”shecoaxes,tiltingherhips,draggingfrictionandarousaldownmylength.
Oh,fuck.Thisistoogood.MycockachesandIcan’tstopfromslidingagainstheragain.Herpussyissoaked,warm,coatingmeinwetness.
“Ohmygod,”shemoans,staringupatmelikeI’magod.“Thatfeelsgood.Sogood.”
Powerthrumsthroughmyblood,andIdoitagain,slidingmycockthroughher,againstherclit.Hereyesrollback,andmypulsepoundsinmyears.
“Likethis?”Myvoiceisragged.Idon’tknowhowlongIcandothisfor.It’stoointense.
“Yes,”shegasps,writhingasIkeepstrokingagainsther.“Jamie.Likethat.Shit.”Herlastcurseisinsurprise,likeshecan’tbelieveit.
“WhenIfinallyfuckyou,Pippa,I’mgoingtocomesofuckinghardinsideyourtightpussy.”Ifindarhythm,strokingmyselfagainsther.
Idon’ttellherthatwhenIfinallyfuckher,it’sgoingtobreakme.She’llruinme.Ithinkshealreadyhas.
“Iwantthat,”shegaspsout,hipscantingtomeetmine.
“Iwantit,too.YouhavenofuckingideahowlongI’vewanteditfor.”
Hernailsdigintomyback,andpleasuresparksatthebaseofmyspine.Hermoanspitchhigher,breathier,andhereyesgowider.
“Oh,fuck.Jamie.Please.”
“Pleasewhat?”I’mholdingonfordearlifehereasIslideagainstheragain.
“Pleasefuckme,”shebreathes.“Ineedit,Jamie.”
Herexpressionispleadingandfilledwithaffectionandlove.
Ilovethisgirl.I’mnotreadytotellher,becauseitfeelsdangerousandrisky,andmorethananything,IwantwhatIhavewithPippatolast.
Ican’ttellherthatIloveher,butIcanshowher.
MyjawistightasIjerkanod.“Okay.”Thewordscrapesoutlikesandpaper.“Yes.”
Finally,fuckingfinally,I’mgoingtoshowPippawhoshebelongsto.CHAPTER59PIPPA
MyheartbeatssohardIcanhearit.Jamiereachesforacondomfromthebedsidetable,andoncehe’srolleditonhisthicklength,hepositionshimselfatmyentrance.
Hehesitates,watchingmyreaction,andIsmile,becauseJamie’ssweet,kind,andcaring.Myhipstiltagainsthisinencouragement,andhisjawistightashepushesinsideme,searchingmyeyesforanysignofdiscomfort.
Ohgod.AmoanslipsoutofmeasIstretcharoundhisthickness.He’scarefulasheslowlyfeedshiscockintomybody,andeveryswearwordIcanthinkofflickersinmyheadatthepleasurableachebetweenmylegs.
“Sofuckingtight,”Jamiemanages.He’sonlyhalfwayin.
“It’sbeenawhile.”Thepressuregrows,andIgaspashehitseverynerveinsideme.
“Thereyougo.”Hisvoiceisalow,comfortingmurmur,buthiseyesflashwithheatashekeepspushing.Hishanddriftstomybreast,toyingwithmynippleasheslidesinfarther.
Thesensationofhiminsidemeismind-bending,DNA-altering,andwe’rebothshaking.
Hebottomsout,andmythoughtsfalloutofmyhead.Sensitivitycoursesthroughmybody,radiatingoutfromwherewe’rejoined.Ourhipsarepressedtightagainsteachother,mylegswrappedaroundhiswaist,andanothermoanofpleasureslipsoutofmeasheatracesupmyspine.God,hesmellssogood.
“Goodgirl.”Hebrushesalockofhairoffmyface.“Suchagoodfuckinggirl,takingmycocksowell.”Hisvoiceisstrained,andaflushspreadsacrosshischeekbones.“Youokay?”
Inod,meetinghiseyes,andhisgazeishot,desperate,andadmiring,allinone.
I’malreadyaddictedtohimlookingatmelikethat.
“Doesthatfeelgood?”
“Yes,”Isay,butit’smixedwithamoan.“It’sreallytight.”
“Mhm.Iknow.”Hiscockthrobsinsideme,andmybreathcatchesasIachearoundhim.
“Iwasright,”Iwhisper,andhearchesabrowatme.“You’realittletoobigforme.”
Hismouthslantsintoawickedgrin,andIbitemylip.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthisforsofuckinglong,Pippa.”Hepressesasoft,intimatekisstomylips,andhishairbrushesmyforehead.“Areyoureadyformetomove?Wecanstaylikethisaslongasyouwant.”
He’stremblingaboveme,andwithhowhardheisinsideme,Iknowhe’sholdingback.Evenlikethis,he’ssocontrolledandcareful.Itiltmyhipsagainsthim,inchingbackandforthonhiscock,andjustthesmallmovementhasmedizzywithneed.
“Ready.”
Hepullsout,slowly,sotorturouslyslowly,beforehepushesbackin.Imoanatthedeliciousache,andwhenhebottomsoutagain—sofuckingdeep—Igasp.
“Good?”hemanages,neckcorded.
Mynodisvehement.“Good.Sogood.Again.”I’mnotevenputtingfullsentencestogether.That’swhatJamieStreicher’sdickdoestome.
Hethrustsagainandwebothgroan.
“Holyfuck,Pippa.”
HestrokesinandoutofmewithcareuntilIadjust,thenhefindsafasterpace.Watchinghimmoveovermewiththatclenchedjawisfascinating,withthatgorgeous,cruelmouth,thosedeepgreeneyesthatburnhotforme.Idon’tevenwanttoblink.
BeingfuckedbyJamieStreicherisareligiousexperience.Pressureswellsinsideme,butthepleasureisdeeper,lower,aslowerbuildthanwhenJamie’smouthwasallovermeearlier.Insteadofasharppeakofsensation,thefeelingexpandsthroughoutmybody.Mybodydoesn’tevenbelongtomeinthismoment—it’sallhis.Andhe’swieldingitexactlyhowhewants.
“Ican’tbelievehowgoodthisfeels,”Igasp,andhefallsintoafaster,morepunishingpace.Theheatbehindmycenterintensifies,andmyworldnarrowsdowntomeandJamie,hereinhisbed,connectedlikethis.
Hewasthereformetodayattherecordingstudio.He’sbeenthereformeallalong.MythroatworksasIgazeupathim.Emotionsurgesinsideme,mixingwiththeclimbingheatandpressurebetweenmylegs,andImightreachheavenbeforewe’redonehere.
It’sneverbeenlikethisbefore.
“Pippa,”Jamiegritsout,anditseemslikehe’slosingcontrol.“Ineedyousobad.I’vealwaysneededyou.”
Theexpandingbaseofpleasurespreads,andI’mclose.I’msofuckingclose
Hiseyesglazebuthewon’ttakehispiercinggazeoffme.“Youthinkyoucancomeagain?”
Idon’thavethecapacitytosaygodyes,soIjustjerkanod,andhishanddriftsbetweenus,strokingmyclitwhilehewatchesmyreaction.Sowatchful,thisguy,ineveryaspectofhislife.Socarefulwithme.
Afreshwaveofarousalfloodsbetweenus,andashetouchesmyclitinthatperfectfuckingwayofhis,sosoftandfast,mymusclestightenaroundhisthickcock.
“I’malmostthere,”Imanageasmybackstartstoarch.
“Yes,”Jamieurgesmewithawrinkleoffocusbetweenhisbrows.I’mstillclimbing,thepleasureisstillrising,andIfeelsuspended.Jamie’sthrustsareturningerratic.“You’rethere.Iknowyouare.Showme.Needtoseeit.”
Mybodypullstautastheintensewavesstart,radiatingoutfromwhereJamiedrivesintome.Mypussyspasms,grippinghimlikeafist,andmylegsshakearoundhiswaistaspressureburstslowinmybelly.Ihearahighmoan,gasping,Jamie’sname,andIrealizeit’sme.I’mfalling,clutchinghishardchestandshouldersasIcome,repeatinghisnameoverandoveragainasItearapartattheseams.I’mvaguelyawareofthefireinhiseyesashewatchesmelosemymind,thepleased,darklookinhiseyesasIshatteraroundhim.
Later,I’mgoingtowriteasongaboutthismoment—beingsoconnectedtosomeone,feelinglikenothingexistsbutmeandJamie.
Hisexpressionturnsagonized,incredulous,andpained,andIfeelhimswellinsideme.
“Fuuuuck.”Heburieshisfaceinmyneck.“I’mgoingtocomesofuckinghard.”
Ireachupandlightlyscrapemynailsdownhisback.ThepleasurehaspeakedinsidemebutI’mstillshaking,stillridingitoutashishipsrockagainstmine.
“Coming.”Hisvoiceisthickashepoundsintome,andImemorizethemomentwhenJamieStreichergiveshimselfovertomecompletely.Hegroans,fuckingmesohardmybreastsbounce,untilhisthrustsslowandhisbreathingturnsdeeper.
Nothinghaseverfeltsorealandright.
“Holyfuck,Pippa.”Hismouthisagainstmyneck,breathingmein,andItrailsoftlinesupanddownhischest,hisarms,hisback.
Hepressesakisstomycheekbone,andI’mfloating.
Hismouthmeetsmine,andwesmileagainsteachother’slips.
Ican’tbelieveIeverthoughtIcouldn’thavethis.CHAPTER60JAMIE
TwodaysafterPipparearrangedmyentirestateofconsciousness,IapproachthelunchspotwhereI’mmeetingErin.
“Mr.Streicher,”thedoormansays,openingthedoor,andIgivehimanodhello.
Tomytotalfuckingshock,Erinwasactuallywillingtotalktome.Thankfully,she’sintown,andhershowisonhiatus.TherestaurantwhereIbookedatableisknownforbeingdiscreetandprivate,sowewon’tbebothered,evenifwearerecognized.ThelastthingIneedisphotosofussurfacingandrumorscirculating.WhatPippaandIhaveisstillforming,andIdon’twanttocauseproblemsearlyon.
Pippa.MychesteasesthesecondIthinkofher.
Myprettysongbird.Mystrong,beautiful,bravePippa,whosingsonstagewhenshe’sterrifiedandgetsbackontheice.
NowthatIhaveher,losingherisn’tanoption.Iwon’tfuckthisup.
Thehostessleadsmetothetable,andErin’salreadysittingthere,texting.Herfacehasfilledout,herhairisshorter,andherskinglows.Myheartsqueezes.Idon’tloveErin,butit’snicetoseeanoldfriend,evenifIdidhurther.
Andthentheguilthitsagain.
“Erin.”
Herheadwhipsup,andwhensheseesme,abigsmilestretchesacrossherface.Shestands,andmygazedropstoherbelly.
She’spregnant.
“Hey,you.”Shereachesforme,andIhugher.Shestillsmellsthesame,likefruityshampoo.
Wepullapartandtakeourseats,andIclearmythroatasnervesrise.
“Youfindtheplaceokay?”Iask.
Shewavesahandwithaneasysmile.“Oh,yeah,I’vebeenherewithmyagent.”
Aservertakesourdrinkorders,andwhenheleaves,mypulsepicksup.I’mjustgoingtogetrightintoitandnotwasteErin’stime.Itakeadeepbreath,andacrossthetable,itseemslikeshe’sdoingthesame.
“I’msorry—”Istart.
“Iwanttothankyou—”shesaysatthesametime.
Westareateachotherwithequallyconfusedexpressions.
Shegesturesatme.“Youfirst.”
“Okay.”Anotherdeepbreath.Everyounceofguiltandregrettightensintoaknotinmystomach.“Iwanttoapologizeforwhathappenedbetweenus.Iknowitwasalongtimeagoandwewereyoung,but…”Ifoldmyarmsovermychest,thinkingabouthowItoldmyselfnoforsolong.“Thesethingscanhavealastingeffect.”Iliftmygazetohers.“Iwasn’tclearwithyouaboutwhatIcouldhandleinarelationship,andthat’smyfault.”
Shewrinkleshernoseinconfusion.“Huh?”
“ThewayIreactedwhenyouthoughtyoumightbe—”Mygazedropstoherstomach.Theinternetsaidshewasmarried,andthereareasetofringsonherlefthand.Ibetherhusbanddidn’tstareatherinhorrorwhenshetoldhimshewaspregnant.“Ishouldn’thavereactedlikethat.Ishouldn’thaveledyouonaboutwhatwewere.Iruinedeverythingforyou.Erin,Isawwhattheysaidaboutyou.”Myhearttwistswithpain.“YouweregoingtobeasupermodeluntilIbrokeyourheart.”
Shestaresbackatme,frozen,andthere’saweirdprickleinmybrain.
Myeyesdarttohers,suddenlyunsure.“Right?”
Acrossthetable,Erinburstsoutlaughing.
Iblink,confused,assheshakeswithbright,surprisedlaughter.
“Jamie.”Sheshakesherhead,eyesglittering.“Youdidn’truinanything.”
IfrownasIflickthroughmymemories.Herexcitementatthepotentialpregnancy,herdevastationatmyreaction.Herpullingoutofherupcomingfashionshows,droppingoffthefaceoftheearthforyears.HerIMDbprofilewithalistoflow-budgetproductions.
“First,”shestarts,“modelingmadememiserable.YoureadthatIwasgoingtobeasupermodel,butallIreadaboutwashowIwastooheavy,tooskinny,toougly,tootall,tooshort.”Sheswallows,andIseethepaininhereyesassheshakesherhead.“Iwasneverenough.”Thecornerofhermouthturnsupinahumorlesssmile.“WhenIrealizedhowlateIwasformyperiod,myfirstthoughtwasnowIgettoleavemodeling.That’sfuckedup,right?That’snotagreatreasontohaveakid.”
AmemorycomesbacktomeofErinskippingdinnerbecauseshewasmeetingwithadesignerthenextday.
Herhandrestsonherbump,andsheshootsmeafunnysmile.“Ialreadylovethiskidmorethanlifeitself,butatnineteen,beingpregnantandhavingakidwouldhavebeentough.”
Mymindisreeling.“Youdisappeared.”
Sheshrugs.“Ihadtogetaway.IwasateenagerwiththisinsanelifeandmoremoneythanIknewwhattodowith.Ididn’tevenlikemostofmyfriends,Iwashungryallthetime,andIhatedmylife.SoIboughtabeachhouseinasmalltownanddidyogaforafewyears.Ididn’thavetheinternetorcable,soIread,painted,andhungoutwiththeretiredwomenonmystreet.”Shesmilesagain,andthistime,itfeelsreal.“WhenIwasreadytogobacktoreallife,Idid,butitwasonmyterms.”
There’salongpausewhereItakeallthisinformationin.Ipictureherlifeinthebeachhouse,andmyheartsqueezesforher.Shewasmiserable,andIdidn’tseeit.
“Look,”shecontinues,adjustingthepositionofherwaterglass.“You’renotthefirstpersontofeelbadformebecauseI’monacrappycableshow.”Herexpressionturnswry.“Iliketheshow,though.JoshandIlovelivinginVancouver,andthehoursarereallygood.I’mhomefordinnereverynightandIhaveweekendsoff.Thecastandcrewarecool,andthey’vebeensuperaccommodatingwithmypregnancy.”
WhenIswallow,mythroatistight.“I’msorryIdidn’tseehowunhappyyouwere.”
Sheoffersmeasadsmile.“Youhadyourownstuffgoingonthatyear.Andbesides,ifyousawit,you’dhavetriedtofixit,andtheonlypersonwhocouldfixitwasme.”
Herwordssinkin,andInod.She’sright,Iwouldhavetriedtofixhersituationwithoutanyideaofhow.
“How’syourmom?”sheasks.
“Better.”It’sbeenafewweeksnow,andmymomavoidstalkingabouttherapy,butthat’sfine.I’mgivingherspace.She’llgivemedetailswhenshe’sready.
“Good.”Erinsmilesatme.“I’mglad.”
Wesittherealongmomentinsilence,andwhenIgobacktothatoldguiltoverwhatIdid,Ifindnothing.
Aweightlifts.
Ididn’tbreakErin.Ididn’tcrushher.Thewomanacrossthetablefrommeisastronger,happierversionofthegirlIthoughtIhurt.
ErinismoreresilientthanIrealized.Shestruggled,andshecameoutontop.Overthepastfewmonths,Pippahasconqueredherfearsagainandagain.IimagineheronNewYear’sEve,singingonstage.ThemomentIrealizedIwasinlovewithher.Abright,warmsensationexpandsinmychest.
“Wow,”Erinsays,blinkingatmeinmock-surprise.“AraresmilefromtheJamieStreicher?Mustbemyluckyday.”
Isnortandsmilewider.“Veryfunny.”
“Enoughaboutthepast.”Shestudiesme.“What’snewwithyou?”
“Imetsomeone.”
Isaythewordswithoutthinking.Pippaisthebiggest,brightestpartofmylife,andI’mexcitedaboutus.TellingErinfeelsright.
Hereyesturnsoftandshesmiles.“IsthisthegirlIsawonthesportsnews?”
Alaughscrapesoutofme.Aftermylastgame,thesportsnetworksshowedclipsofmesmilingatPippabehindtheglass.
StreichershutoutafteraStreich-ingsmile!theysaid.
Itwasthefirsttimethey’dseenmesmileinpublic,thesportsanchorsjoked.
“Yeah.”InodatErin,andasmiletwitchesonmymouth.“That’sher.”
Shejuststudiesmewiththatkind,affectionatesmile,andIknowshe’shappyforme.“Tellmeeverythingabouther.”
Wespendtherestoflunchinaflurryofconversation.IshowErinthevideofromNewYear’sEve,tellherabouttheguitarIboughtPippa,thetripouttoSilverFalls,andshowhereveryphotoofPippaandDaisyonmyphone.SheshowsmephotosfromherweddinginBalilastyear.WhenItellherabouttheupcomingcharitygalaandhowI’mgoingtotakePippadressshopping,shepullsoutherphoneandsendsmealistofrecommendations.
“That’swhereIgofordresses,”Erintellsmeaboutoneplaceclosetotheapartment.“Ifyoucalltheowner,youcanarrangetohavethestoretoyourselves.”Hereyestwinkle.“Reallymakeherfeelspecial,youknow?”
“Perfect.”Somethingsparksinmychestatthethoughtofthegala.There’snowayPippaandIcanwalkintothatplacewithoutpeopleknowingwe’retogether,andI’mstrangelyexcitedaboutthat.
AfterlunchisoverandIgiveErinahuggoodbye,IwalkhomethroughthestreetsofVancouverinalightermoodthanbefore.
ThisthingwithPippaisgoingtolast.Icanfeelit.CHAPTER61PIPPA
Inthemornings,JamieStreicheriswarm,sleepy,andsexyashell.Hewakesmeupwithhislipsonmyneck,pressingsoftkissesthereashishandsroammybody.Ipullbacktoseehimsmiling,sorelaxedandatease.
Iloveseeinghimlikethis.
Hisgazefallstomymouth,andthere’sanachingthrobbetweenmylegsaslustflaresinhisgaze.Hishairisunrulyfrombedhead,hiseyesarepuffyfromsleep,anddarkstubblespanshisjawline.Icanimagineexactlyhowthatstubblewouldfeelagainstmyinnerthighs.
Inbedlikethis,JamieStreicherlookssupremelyfuckable.Jamie’shandtanglesinmyhairandhepullsmymouthtohis,lettingoutahumagainstmylipsthatsoundslikerelief.
“Let’shaveashower,”hewhispers,andInod.
Minuteslater,underthehotspray,Jamiemakesmecomewithhisfingersburiedinsideme.
“That’sit,”hemurmursasIstarttotip,gaspingintohischest,clenchinguparoundhim.“Ridemyhand,songbird.Rideitout.”
WhenI’mdone,hereachesforthecondomheleftonthewindowsillbesidetheshower,turnsmearound,putsmyhandsontheshowertiles,andpushesinsideme.He’sabittoomuchforme,butitsendswavesofheatthroughmybodyaswecomeundonetogether.
“Ican’tgetenoughofyou.”Hiswordsareadesperatewhisperinmyear,andIflutterwithhappy,satedwarmth.
Ifeelthesameway.
Jamieinsistsonwashingmyhair,massagingmyscalpinslow,firm,druggingmovements.
“How’sthis?”
“I’mapuddle,”Itellhim,eyesclosed,meltingasheworksthemusclesatthebackofmyneck.Hislowlaughmakesmesmile.
“Good.”
Icouldgetusedtothis.Icouldgetusedtothissohard.
***
“RemindmewhyIneedtoeatbreakfastsittinginyourlap?”Iask,turningtoJamiebetweensipsofcoffee.Daisy’seatingherbreakfast,I’mreadingnewsfromthemusicindustry,andJamie’swatchingoldgametapeagainstCalgary.Theyhaveanothergametonight,whichiswhyhehasthemorningoff,andIknowhe’santsyaboutplayingRoryagain.
“It’sgoodforyou,”helies,givingmyhipasqueeze.
“Goodforyou,youmean,”Ilaugh,andherewardsmewithoneofthosesweetkissesonmytemple.
Weeatincontentsilenceforafewminutesbeforehishandrubsacrossmyback.
“AnywordfromIvy?”
“Nope.”Thefirstfewdays,Icheckedmyemailincessantly,butbeingonedgeconstantlywasexhausting,andnowIonlycheckafewtimesaday.“That’sokay,though,”Itellhim,andit’sthetruth.“I’mjusthappyIdidit.Ican’tcontrolwhathappensonherside,butifshewasinterested,otherscouldbe,too.”
Jamiewatchesme,listening.
Ishrugandsmiletomyself.“I’mproudofmyselffordoingit.Itwashardandscary,butIdidit.”
“Youdid.”Histoneispleasedashetucksalockofmyhairbehindmyear.“I’mproudofyou,too.”Heglancesatthetimeonhisphone.“Weshouldgetgoing.”
Isendhimacuriouslook.“Gowhere?”
Hegrins.“Tobuyyourdressforthegala.”
***
Thetinystoreisemptywhenwearriveexceptforawomaninherfortieswithadarkpixiecutandabigsmile.Fromtheoutside,theshopappearsmodest,withjustonedressartfullyarrangedinthewindow,butinside,jaw-droppinggownscascadefromtheceiling,adornedwithfeathers,sequins,beading.Somedressesaresimple,withflowing,smoothfabric.Someareworksofart,withthousandsoftinyflowerbudssewnontotheirskirts.Onehasanecklinethatgoestothenavel,andthatdressscaresme.
“Welcome,”thewomansays,stridingtowardus.“YoumustbePippa.”
SheintroducesherselfasMiranda,theowner.“Jamie,canyoupleaselockthedoor?”sheasks.Atmyconfusedlook,sheexplains,“Yourgentlemanhasrequestedwehavetheshoptoourselvesthismorning.”
Jamiewinksatme.Whenhesaidhewantedtobuymeadress,IthoughtI’dgobymyselfandbuyitonthecardhegaveme.Ididn’texpectthis
“Everydressisuniqueandspecial.”Miranda’seyessparkle.Hervoicehasthislovelycalmenergy,likewhenHazel’steachingyoga,andIimmediatelyfeelateasehere.“Shallwefindadressasbeautifulasyou?”
Iblushandgiveheraquicknod.Sheleadsmeintotheback,whereamirroredareaiscurtainedoffwiththickredvelvet.Abrownleathercouchsitsoutsidethechangingarea.Afewdresseshang,waitingforme.Onecatchesmyeye—ablue-graypiece,afewshadesdarkerthanmyeyecolor.Dark,moodyflowersflowdowntheskirt,givingtheillusionthatthey’repouringoutofthebodice.Onthehanger,it’shardtotellthedress’sshape,buttherichcolorsglowunderthestore’swarmlighting.
Mirandahaspulledafewdressesthatshethoughtmightsuitmeandtheevent,soJamietakesaseatonthecouchwhileIstepintothedressingroomandslipmyclothesoff.Shepopsinfromtimetotimetoaddclipstoadjustthesizing,helpmewithazip,orhelpmeoutofagown,butnothingfeelsquiteright.
Isavethebluedressforlast,butthesecondIslipitovermyhead,Iknow
Thefabricissoftagainstmyskin,andsomethingabouttheweightofthedressfeelsdivine.Inthemirror,Istudythedetails,theboldslicesofcolor,thedelicateshape.Thisdress.Thebodiceisvelvet,andwhenMirandazipsmeup,it’saperfectfit.Thegiantflowersmakemefeelpretty,special,andhappy.ThisdressisanelevatedversionoftheoneIworetothewrapparty.Mirandaleavesthedressingroom,andmyheartburstswithexcitementasIthinkaboutwalkingintothegalainthisdresswithJamie.
“Pippa?”Jamie’slowvoicecomesfromoutsideonthecouch.“Showme.”
Islipout,andthesecondheseesme,hisgazeflasheswithheat.I’msuddenlyshy,butIcan’tignorethesparksskitteringovermyskinashetakesmein.Mirandaisnowheretobeseen,givingusspace.
“Ilikethisone,”Isaylightly.
Hestaresforamomentlongerbeforeclosinghiseyes,likehe’ssoberinghimself.“Fuck,”hemutters,adjustinghimself.“Pippa.”Hesaysitlikeacurse.
Ichuckle.“What?”
Hisgazeisbackonmeinthedress,andhisjawtensesashestandsup.Myheartfluttersashewalksovertome,gazelockedonmine,beforehepressesasoft,lovingkisstomylips.
Ican’tgetafullbreath,andmyheadisspinning.
“You’rebeautiful,”hesaysquietly.
Ismileupathim.“Youmakemefeelbeautiful.”
Helooksatmelikethereareathousandkind,lovingthingshewantstosay.Butinstead,hejustsmiles.“Good.”Heglancespointedlydownatmydress.“Doyouwantthisdress?”
“Howmuchdoesitcost?”Iaskfirst.
Hesnortsandshakeshisheadwithamusement.
“Tellme,”Iinsist.
“No.”Hiseyesarefulloflaughter,andasmileliftsonthatmouthIusedtothinkwascruel.“Doyouwantthisdress?”heasksagain.
Theguitaralreadycostsomuchmoney,andnowthis?I’mtorn.
“Pippa.”Hedipshisheadtocatchmyeyes,andhisfingerscometomychin,tiltingmyfaceuptohis.“Idon’tthinkyouunderstand.”Hiseyesaresteady,warm,kind,andserious.“Anythingyouwant,songbird?It’syours.Whereyou’reconcerned,moneyisnoobject,becausemakingyouhappyisworthit.”
Ishouldn’tlovethis.I’mnotamaterialperson,andmoneyisn’timportant.
Jamiebeinggenerousandwantingtopleaseme,though?Itmakesmemelt.
“I’mbuyingyouthedress,andyou’renotgoingtoargue.I’mgoingtobuyyoumorethings,andyouwon’targueaboutthose,either.”Hiseyesholdmine.“Okay?”
Inodwordlessly,tryingnottosmileathissatisfied,possessiveexpression.Bliss—Ithinkthat’swhatthisfeelingiscalled.
“Good.”Hestealsakissbeforereturningtothecouch,andforthethousandthtime,Iadmirehowhemoveswithsuchpowerandgrace.Idon’tthinkI’llevergetsickofthat.Hetiltshischinatthechangeroom.“NowgochangesoIcantakeyouforlunch.”
Ismotherasmile.Mirandapopsbackintomarkandpinalterationsbeforehelpingmeoutofthedress.I’mtyingmysneakersupwhenmyphonepingswithanemail.ItcouldbeIvyMatthews,soIcheckit,butwhenIseewhosentthemessage,mystomachdrops.
Canwetalk?ItextedyoubutIthinkyouchangedyournumber.
Myhandsshake,grippingthephoneasIreadhismessageoverandoveragain.
“Pippa?”Jamie’slowvoicetravelsthroughthecurtain.“Youokay?”
IrealizethatI’vebeeninhereforawhile.HowlonghaveIbeenstaringathismessage,frozen?MythroatknotsasIswallow.I’mstillshakingwithanger.
“CanIcomein?”
It’slikehecansensewhenI’mupset.
“Yes,”Isayquietly.
Hestepsintothesmallspace.“What’sgoingon?”
Hisvoiceissocaring,soconcerned,thatIjustbreak.
“Zachemailedme,”Itellhim,showinghimthephone.Angerandresentmenttearthroughme,andIblowafrustratedbreathout.“HetextedmethedayyougotbackfromtravelingbutIblockedhim.”MyheartpoundsasJamieglaresatthephone,readingthemessage.“Idon’twanttotalktohim.Idon’tknowwhyhe’smessagingme.”Ishakemyheadhard.“Idon’twantthis.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
“Iblockedhim.Ithoughthe’dgoaway.”Isuckinadeepbreath,tryingtoshoveallthisZach-relatedangeraway,butitdoesn’twork.“ItwasthedaybeforeIrecordedwithIvy.Ijustwantedtoforgethimandfocus.”
Hesighs.“Yeah.Iunderstandthat.”Heturnshisfullattentiontome.“Youcantellmeaboutthisstuff.Wecanfigureitouttogether.”
Ilookupathim,andhiseyessearchminewithworry.“Iknow.”Igrabmyphone,openmyemail,andblockhisemailaddress.“There,”ItellJamiewithafirmnod.“We’llhavetokeepthewindowsclosedincasehetriescarrierpigeonnext.”
Asharplaughscrapesoutofhisthroat,andhedropsaquickkissontomycheekbeforewegosettleupwithMiranda.Neitherofthemwilltellmehowmuchthedresscosts,andMirandaandIsetatimeformetopickthedressupafterthealterationsarefinished.
AsJamieandIthankherandsaygoodbye,sheleansin.“Undergarmentswillbeincludedwiththedress.”Shewinksconspiratorially,andIgiveherafunnysmile.Miranda’slovely,butI’mnotsureifIwanthertobuymeunderwear.
Afterlunch,weheadhomesoJamiecannapbeforethegame,andItextwithHazelabouttheeventinWhistler.Aspartoftheteam,she’sgoing,too.
Uh.Wehaveaproblem,shetextsme.Ijustsawtheguestlist.
???,Irespond.LastIchecked,theywerestillfinalizingit.
ForwardedyoutheemailThey’restilltryingtosellthelasttables.Table16isgoingtobeanissue
Myemailpings.ThatfamiliarnauseariseswhenIseewho’ssittingatTable16.
ZachHanson.CHAPTER62JAMIE
Thatevening,thearena’senergyistense.Theplayers,thecoaches,thefans—everyone’sonedge,includingme.
Hetextedher.ThememoryofPippa’sfacethismorningreplaysinmyhead,andmybloodpoundswithfury.Pippaismine,andhehasthefuckingaudacitytoreachouttoher.
Beforethegame,shereluctantlyshowedmethelistofattendees.He’sgoingtobeatthegala,andIknowit’sbecauseofher.
Youdon’thavetogo,Itoldher.Myattendanceismandatory,buthersisn’t.
Insteadofcowering,hernostrilsflared,shetiltedherchinup,anddeterminationflashedinhereyes.I’mgoing,shesaid.I’mnotgoingtolethimscaremeaway
Myfuckingheart.Pippahasitinthepalmofherhand.
Ontheice,theothergoaliecatchesthepuckandthewhistleblows.MyshoulderstenseasIwatchMillerandVolkovexchangeheatedwords.
Idon’tknowwhatCalgary’scoachisplayingat,butourteamhasbeentakingnastyhitsallnight.Therefsdon’tseemtonotice,whichonlyfiresupthefansandourteamevenmore.Miller’sbacktohisusualcocky,fight-provokingself.
Thebadenergyhangsintheairlikeamist.There’sgoingtobeafight,Icanfeelit.
OneofCalgary’sdefensemencrosschecksourthirdlineforwardlongafterhepassesthepuck.
Stillnowhistle.
Volkovyellssomethingattheotherteam’splayer,andthetensionbubblesintoaboil.Millerskatesbetweenthem,grinninglikeaslycat,butthere’snohumoronhisface.He’sdifferenttonight.Colder.Unhappy.Pissedoff.
Helookslikehisdad,who’sarich,miserableasshole,andasIwatchMillergetinVolkov’sface,Iwonderhowmuchofthatgotpassedon.
Playresumes.OurteamtriestogetthepuckintheCalgarynet,butMillerwedgeshisstickbetweenOwens’legs.Thefansareontheirfeet,booingandcallingforapenalty.
ThewhistleblowsasCalgary’sgoaliecatchesthepuck,andIturntogetadrinkofwater,lockingeyeswithPippabehindtheglass.Shesmilesandgivesmeasmallwave,andInodather,sprayingwaterthroughmymask,thinkingabouthowgoodshelooksinthatjersey.Myjersey.Mychestpullstightatthesightofher,here,supportingme,wearingmynameproudly.
Thisgirliseverythingtome.
Theplayerslineuptoresumethegame,andIgetintothereadyposition.Thewhistleblows,andMillertripsoneofourguys.
It’slikehe’snoteventrying.Likehedoesn’tcareabouthockey.Whenhecares,he’sunstoppable,andthat’sprobablywhyhe’sstillonthefuckingteam.Thesparkheusedtohaveforthegameisgone,though.
Finally,he’sthrownintothepenaltybox,andthearenahollersandjeers.Peopleslamtheirfistsontheglass,andheshakeshisgloveoffbeforeflippingthemthebird.
Iinhalesharply.Iseeitnow.Heusedtopullthisshitwhenwewereteenagers.Hisdadwouldsaysomethingtoupsethim,andhe’dhittheiceinamood.Heantagonizesplayers,hefiresupthefans,hemakeshimselfthevillainsoeveryonewillseehimlikeheseeshimself.Theguyhateshimself,andhe’sflailingouthere,hopingsomeonewillgivehimwhathedeserves.
Whenhistwo-minutepenaltyisover,heskatesbackintothegame,capturingthepuckimmediatelyandheadingstraighttomynet.Heslapsthepuckatme.Itpingsoffthepipe—fuckinglucky—andamomentlater,hecrosschecksme.
Mytemperignites,andmybloodwhooshesinmyears.Thewhistleisdistantbecausefansroararoundus,rattlingtheglass.
“Whatthefuck?”Owensbitesout,gettinginMiller’sface.
Miller’seyeschallengeme.Theenergycracksaroundus,sparkingandbuzzingwithtension.
“What’sthematter,Streicher?”
“You’reinafuckingmoodtonight.”ItapOwens,indicatingforhimtomoveoutoftheway,andheskatesback,watchingus.Therestoftheplayersarecircling,waiting,watching.
“Fight,fight,fight,”thefanschantfrombehindtheglass.
ThefightIfeltintheair—it’smeandMiller.
We’veonlyfoughtonce.Weweresixteen.Heshowedupforpracticeinafoulmoodaftersomethinghisdadsaid,andhepulledallthesameshithepulledtonight.
“What?”Hecocksanugly,hatefulgrinatme.“Yougoingtohitme?You,upinyourivorytower?JamieStreicher,themostresponsibleguyintheroom.”
ThenoisearoundusfadesawayasIglareathim,grittingmyteethathisbaiting.
“Comeon,”hespitsatme,eyesflashing.“Ideserveit,don’tI?”
Myfistsclench.Hewastheonewhochanged.Hewastheonewhoturnedintoafuckingasshole.Heusedtocareabouthockey.Nowit’sabigfuckingjoketohim.
Everything’sajoketohim.
“Goon,”hegoads.
Bloodrushesinmyears.IntheNHL,bothplayersneedtoagreetoafight,ortheplayerwhoinstigateswillgetapenaltywhiletheotherdoesn’t.
AlltheangerI’veheldinsideforyearsattheguywhousedtobemybestfriendbubblestothesurface,overflowing,andIripmyglovesoff.
Thecrowdroars.Goaliesalmostneverfight.
Ipullmyhelmetoff,andtheglassbehindmeshakesfromthefans.Therefsandlinesmencircleus,readytobreakupthefightwhenitgoestoofar.Untilthen,they’llletusdealwithit,becausethisishowthescoreissettledinhockey.
Idon’tdarelookatPippa.Icanholdmyowninafight,butIdon’twantherworryandconcerninmyheadasIdothis.
“Fuckingfinally,”Millersnaps,andIremovemygoaliepadsandtossthemaside.
Iskateathim,andhisfistflies.Iblockhispunchbeforethrowingmyown.Itconnectswithhisjaw,andasecondlater,hisfistsearstheoutercornerofmyeye.
Ithurts,anditfeelsgood.
Chaosbreaksoutaroundus.Fistsflyasplayersletthepressureoff,clutchingeachother’sjerseysastheylandpunches.Theenergyinthearenaboilsover.I’veneverhearditthisloudinhere.Mybloodbeatshard,floodedwithadrenalineasMillerandItakeoutouraggressiononeachother.
Thefightisallinstinct,allprimalrage.I’mgrippinghisjersey,he’sgrippingmine,andwe’rehittingeachother.Thepainfeelscathartic,andmyfaceiswet.There’sbloodinmymouthandmoretricklingdownfromMiller’seyebrow.
Whistlesblowleftandright,andit’satangleoflimbs,helmetsrollingaroundontheice,guyssittingoneachother,jerseysgettingripped.
Thefansaregoingnuts.
IlandonemorepunchandwaitasMillerstraightensup,thelinesmenstrugglingtopullusapart.Thefightdiesfromhiseyesashecatcheshisbreath,watchingme.
“Done?”heasks.
Hemeansthefight,butIthinkhemeansthisseven-yeartension.Iwipethebackofmyhandovermymouth.Bloodsmearsovermyskin.Mychestheavesforair,andadrenalinewhistlesthroughmyveins.
Somethingshiftsbetweenus,andmyangerdeflates.Idon’twanttobeangryanymore.Ijustwanttomoveon.IglanceatPippa,who’speekingthroughherhandswithaworriedexpression,andmyheartclutches.
Idon’twanttoholdagrudge,becauselifeistooshortandsweet.IgivePippaanodtosayI’mokay.
Onthebench,IexpectWardtobelividasplayersgethauledintothepenaltyboxes,butinstead,hissmilestretchesfromeartoear.
“Yeah,”ItellMiller,meetinghisgaze.“Done.”CHAPTER63PIPPA
“Youreye,”IgaspwhenJamiefindsmeinoneofthestaffhallwaysatthearenaafterthegame.Myhandautomaticallydriftsuptohischeekbone,carefulnottobrushit.Theareaaroundhiseyeisswollenandbruising,andhislipiscut.
“I’mokay,songbird.”Theuntouchedcornerofhislipquirksup.Despitethebruises,heseemslighterthanbeforethegame,lessstressed.“DoIlookhideous?”
“You’retoohandsometolookhideous.Youlookevenhotterwiththeblackeye.”
Hiseyessparkwithamusement.“YouthinkI’mhandsome?”
“YouknowIdo.Bossyanddemanding,butunfairlyhandsome.”
Hissmileliftsevenhigher,andIdon’tmissthewayhishandcomestomylowerbackasheleadsmedownthehallwaytotheparkinggarage.Ilookupathimagain,sotall,hishairstilldampfromhisshower.MygazefallstohislipandIcanfeeltheworryallovermyexpression.
Hechucklesandstopswalking.“Ipromiseyou.”Hepullsmyhandtohischest,flatteninghispalmoverminesoIcanfeelthesteadythumpofhisheart.“Feelthat?”
Hiseyesareonme,watchingmewithaffectionateamusement.Inod,andIcan’tlookaway.
“Stillbeating.”Hestudiesme,anditfeelslikehewantstosaymore.
“Whathappenedouttheretonight?”
Histhumbstrokesoverthebackofmyhandabsentlyashelooksaway.“MillerandIsettledwhat’sbeenbuildingforalongtime.”
I’veneverheardthearenalikeitwastonight.Thefanswerelividandbloodthirsty.WatchingJamiefighttoremyheartout,butitalsotuggedonsomethingbetweenmylegs.Helookedlikeawarrior,allpower,strength,andbrutality.
Itwashot.
Hestrokesmyskinagain,andIremembertheothernight,himmovingontopofme,andtheagonizedexpressiononhisfaceashecame.Mycenterfluttersattheideaofit.
“Let’sgohome.”Hiseyestrailovermyface,andmygazesnagsonhiscutlipagain.
Tonight,I’mgoingtotakecareofmygoalie.
***
Jamiefrownsatthehugebathtubpiledhighwithbubbles.Hisbathroomsmellslikemyvanillachaibubblebath.He’sshirtless,dressedinonlylow-slungathleticpants,andI’mtryingnottogetdistractedbythedeep-cutVmusclesleadingintothewaistband.
“Getin,”Itellhim,gesturingatthetub.
Hiseyebrowgoesup,andhewinces.Thebruisearoundhiseyeisgettingdarker.“Youwantmetohaveabubblebath.”Histoneisflat.
“Mhm.It’llhelpyoufeelbetter.”
Hisgazeflareswithheat,andIgetanotherglimpseofhimfromlastnight,mindlesslythrustingintome,moaningintomyhair.Hisgazedropstomylips,andhistongueslidesoverthecutonhismouth.
“Onlyifyougetinwithme.”
Thefluttersbetweenmylegsintensifyandheatcrawlsupmyneck.
“Fine,”Isay,andadarklookflashesthroughhiseyes.
Whenheslideshispantsandboxersoff,he’salreadyhard,juttingoutthickandproud.There’ssomethinginhiseyesthatIlike,alittlebitofpride,alotofarousal,andapossessivenessthatsendsashiverthroughme.Hismusclesmoveashegetsintothetub—histhickthighs,theridgesofhisabs,hisrounded,strongshouldersashelowershimselfintothewater.Hesettlesbackandhisgazesharpens,pinningme.
“Yourturn,”hesays,andthewayhismouthtugsupfeelsdangerous.
Anticipationpumpsinmyveins.Ipullmyjerseyoff,layingitonthecounterbeforeIstarttotakemysweaterovermyhead.
“Slower.”
Hepropshiselbowonthesideofthetubashewatches,andalthoughhisbodylanguageisrelaxed,hiseyesaredetermined.Watchful,catalogingme.Thisiswhathelookslikeontheice,watchingeverymove.
Myclothescomeoffslowly,andheatclenchesbetweenmylegsashiseyesdarken.Finally,I’mnaked,andamuscleticksinhisjaw.
Isteponefootinthetub,andmybreathcatches.
“It’shot,”Iwhisper.
“Comehere.”Heleansforwardandguidesmebetweenhislegs,backagainsthischest,justlikethetimewiththetoy.Hiscockrestsagainsthisstomach,pressingintomybackside,sendingthrillsthroughme.Isighincomfortashelockshisarmsacrossmycollarbone,pullingmeagainsthim.“That’sbetter.”
Ifeelhislowvoicethroughhischest,andwesitthereincomfortablesilenceasthebathroomfogsup.Myfingerstrailaslowpathupanddownhisthighs,andherelaxesaroundme,breathturningsteady.Eventually,hishandsslideovermyskintomyshouldersandhisthumbsdigintomytraps,workingoutthetensioninthemuscles.
“How’syourfacefeeling?”
Hislaughislow.“Hardlyfeelingitrightnow.”Hedropsakissontomyshoulder,andIsmile.“You’retheperfectdistraction.”
Hebrushestheskinbetweenmybreasts,lightasabutterfly,butmynervesdancewithhistouch,andIfeeliteverywhere.I’veneverdonethiswithaguy,justsitinthebathtubandexploreeachother’sbodies.Hisfingersdrifttomynipple,circlingit,andthebreathwhooshesoutofmylungsatthesharpachebetweenmylegs.
Againstmylowerback,hiscockpulses,andhedropsanotherkisstomyshoulder.
“You’resupposedtoberesting,”Iwhisper.Hetugsandrollsthepeakbeforemovingtotheother,andit’smakingmyheadspin,itfeelssogood.
“Howdoesthisfeel?”heasksinalowvoice,ignoringme.
“Good.”Myeyesfallclosedashepinchesme,andmycenterclenchesaroundnothing.Thewaterissowarm,hishardbodyissocomfortableagainstmine,andmyheadfitsperfectlyagainsthisshoulderasImeltintohim.
Hismouthisonmytemple.“Wheredoyoufeelthis,songbird?Tellme.”
“Mychest.”Isighashisfingerswork,lullingmeintoadelicious,hazystateofarousal.
“Mhm.Whereelse?”
God,hisvoiceissofuckingsexy,murmuredinmyearlikethat.“Betweenmylegs.”
“Really.”Hesaysitlikehe’snotsurprised.
Inod,eyesclosed,andsighagainashisbighandcupsmybreast,weighingit,massaging.
“Ican’tstopthinkingaboutlastnight,”hetellsme,lipsbrushingmyear,andIshiver.
“Meneither,”Ibreathe.“Andthismorning.”
“Seeingyoucomeisadream,Pippa.I’maddictedtoit.”Hishanddriftsdownmystomach,trailinglighttouchesthatIfeelineverynerveending.“I’vepicturedmakingyoucomeinathousanddifferentways.Bentoverthekitchencounter.Inthebackseatofmycar.Inmybed.Inyourbed.”Atthebrushofhishandovermyclit,Ijerk,musclestightening.
Hecupsmypussy,andoninstinct,myhipstilt,seekingfriction.Myclitachesasmylegspressoutwardintohis.
“Needy.”Withoutmovinghishand,histeethnipmyshoulderandmyhipstiltagain.“Sofuckingneedy.”
“You’replayingwithme.”
Hislaughislowandpleased.“Whatdoyouneed?”
“Touchme.Fuckme.Fillme,Jamie.”
Ican’tbelievethewordscomingoutofmymouth.I’veneversaidthesethingsbefore,butthenagain,Ineverfeltthiswaybefore.
Heletsoutahoarsegroan.“Thatmouth.Thatpretty,dirtymouth.”Hismouthtracestheshellofmyear.Heatbuildslowinmybelly,andIknowthatwhateverhedoes,itwon’ttakelongtomakemecome.“Nowwhat?Showme.”
Myhandcovershis,andIslideitlower,pressingontwoofhisthickfingersnearmyentrance.Hepushestheminsideme,andIgasp,archingagainsthimatthedeliciousstretchingacheasIaccommodatehim.
“Likethat?”heasks,smug.
“Youknowit’slikethat,”Imanageashestrokesinandout.
“Whatelse?Whatelsedoyouneedtogetthere?”
“Clit.”Myvoiceisthinandstrained,andI’mclutchinghisthighs,tryingtobreathe.
Hispalmpressesagainstmyclit,draggingoveritwiththemovementofhisfingers,andmyeyesrollback.Myheadspinsattheintensity.
“Therewego,”hemurmursagainstmytemple,andhispleasedtonemakesmeflush.“Suchagoodgirlforme.Suchafastlearner.Areyoureadytocome?”
Inodfrantically.
“Useyourwords.”
“Please.”Itfallsfrommylipsasamoan.“Ineedtocome.”
Hisgroanvibratesthroughmyback,andhiscockpressesintomeinsistently.“Loveitwhenyoubegme.”
Hecrookshisfingersinsideme,findingthespotthatblanksmythoughtsout.Hisfingersarejustalittletoothick,butthelight,achingstingnudgesmeclosertomyrelease.Hisotherhandsettlesaroundmyneck,gentlebutpossessive,andIonlywanttobehis.
Icryoutatthefirsttremors.
“Yeah.”Histoneissmug,andIwishIcouldseehisface.“That’sitrightthere,isn’tit?”
Ishakeasintensepressurebuilds.Whenhetouchesthatspot,mybodyfloodswithbright,intensesensation.
“Jamie,”Iwhimper.
Itfeelstoogood.Toomuch.Thefrictiononmyclit,hisarmaroundmywaist,anchoringmetohim,hislipsagainstmytemple,histhickfingerspunishingme—electricitycoursesthroughmymusclesasthewavegainsstrength.
Itpeaks,andIcrash.
“I’mcoming.”ThewordsarepuffsofairasIshake,suspendedwhilepleasurepulsesthroughmefrommycenter.I’mclampingdownonhisfingers,pressedintohimfromheadtotoe,writhingunderthepurefuckingecstasythatisaJamieStreicher-inducedorgasm.
“Sogood,”hemurmursasIcome.“Goodgirl.Perfect.Justlikethat,baby.You’resotightaroundmyfingers.”
Ifadeback,andJamie’shandsmoothsupanddownmythighwhileIcatchmybreath.
Heletsoutaraggedsigh.“Ilovedoingthat.”
“You’revery,verygoodatit,”Isaylightly,andwhenhebrushesmyclit,Ijerk,laughing.“Toosensitive.”
Hislaughislowagainstmyhair,anditputsadumb,goofysmileonmyfaceashesettlesmebackagainsthisbody.
Whenwegetoutofthetub,Jamieinsistsondryingmeoff.He’sstillhard,andashepullsthetowelaroundmyback,tippingasmallgrinatme,Ireachforhisgorgeouscock.
Hegroans,andIsmileupathimasIdrawmythumboverhistip,overthebeadofliquidthere.Iliftittomylips,andmyeyesfallclosedatthetaste.WhenIopenthem,hisexpressionisagonized,darkeyesglazedandjawtight.
I’mgrowingtolovethismomentwhereIholdcompletepoweroverhim.
Igetanideaandbitemylipbeforereachingformyjerseyonthecounter.Anticipationlightsmeup,becauseIthinkhe’sgoingtolikethis.Withthejerseyinonehand,Ileadhimtothebedroom.
“What—”HiswordscutoffasIpullitovermyhead,andhiseyestraveldownmyform,flashingwithlust.“Fuck.”
Isinktomyknees,andhiseyesdarken.CHAPTER64PIPPA
“Fuck,”Jamiemuttersagain,jawtightening.
LustandaffectionweavetogetherinmychestasIstrokehim,watchinghisfocusedfrown.Jamie’ssospecial,andhedeservestobetakencareofthewayhetakescareofeveryoneelse.Andwiththeexpressiononhisfacerightnow,sotrustinganddesperateforme?
Ilovethisguysomuch.
HishandssinkintohisownhairasIplaywithhislength.Hiscockisundeniablyperfect—thickandlong,smoothandhard,andwhenIlicktheliquidofftheend,moreappears.
“You’regoingtowearmyjerseywhileyousuckmycock.”Hesaysitlikehecan’tbelieveit,andIsmileagain.
“Yep.”
Islidemylipsaroundhim,watchinghiseyesgleamwithintensityandfocus.He’sthickinmymouth,asnugfit,andmyintimatemusclessqueeze.ItakehislengthasfarasIcanbeforemycheekshollowoutwithsuction,andhisheadfallsbackwithatorturedgroan.
IsmilearoundhimbeforeIdoitagain.Slow,soslow.Iknowhe’shadblowjobsbefore,butthatflameinmychestthat’sgottenbrighterthesepastfewmonthswantsthistobethebestfuckingblowjobofJamieStreicher’slife.
IsuckJamie’scockatanagonizingpace.Iwanthimtothinkaboutthisoneforalongtime.
“Songbird,you’rekillingmehere.”Hisvoiceisguttural,andtorturinghimismakingmewetalloveragain.
“Yousaidslower,earlier.”
Hehuffsoutasharp,painedlaugh.“Fuck.”
Ikeepmypaceslowandsteady,runningmytongueoverhistipeachtimeIpullbackbeforetakinghimallthewaytothebackofmythroat.
Hegroans,andhisfingerssettleinmyhair,sogentlebutflexingeachtimeIaddsuction.“Jesusfuck.Thisisgoingtomakemecomesohard.”Hisgazefallstomyjersey.“YousuckingmycockwhilewearingmyjerseyisthehottestthingI’veeverseen.”
Pleasuretwiststhroughme,andIsmilearoundhim.Ilovethis.Ilovemakinghimfeelthisway.Ilovehavingthismanatmymercy.
Heletsoutalowmoan,andhepulsesinmymouth.Idon’tspeedup,though.Ijustkeepthispace,keeptakinghimtothebackofmymouth,keepdancingmytongueoverhim.Thenoiseshemakesareincredible—lowmoansofanguishlikehe’swounded,likehe’llneverrecoverfromthis.
“Yes,”hegasps,moaningagain,watchingmewithfascination.“Yes.Now.Goingtocome,Pippa.”
MygazeisencouragingasIhuminapproval,andhetenses,absrippling.
“Fuck,baby,fuck.Yes,”hegrits,spillingsaltyliquidintomymouth.Hisfingerstwitchagainstmyscalp.“Pippa.Fuckinglovethis.”
HefillsmymouthandIswallowitdown.HewatcheslikeI’vestolenhissoul,andhe’snotevenmadaboutit.Hepullsback,heavingforair,gazestillonmeasIdragmyfingerovermylips,catchinganyspillover.
Inarush,hehaulsmetomyfeet,andhismouthisonmine,tonguestrokingintome,handsinmyhair,walkingmebacktothebed.
“Sofuckinggood,”hegrowlsagainstmymouthbetweenkisses.“That’sthehardestI’veevercome.Mylegsareshaking.Getthisoff.”Heliftsthejerseyovermyheadbeforehelowersustothebedandtucksmeintohischest,onearmundermeandonelockingaroundme.
Welookateachotherforalongmoment.
Iwanttosayit,butnowthatwe’reinthis,thethoughtoflosinghimterrifiesme.Iknowhe’dneverdoanyofthethingsthatZachdid,butthere’snoguaranteewhatwehaverightnowwon’tfadeawayoneday.TellinghimIlovehimwouldmakeabreakupsomuchworse.I’mfrozenlikeI’mstandingonacrumblingcliff,rocksbreakingoffaroundme,andanysuddenmovementwillbringthewholethingdown.
Tomorrow,wedriveuptoWhistlerforthecharitygala.Icanpictureit—hishandonmylowerback,theprivatesmilehereservesjustforme.Myheartaches.Iwantittoberealandforever.
Jamie’seyesflickerwithanemotionIcan’tpindown.
“Iwanttotellyousomething,”hemurmurs.
Myheartstutters.
“I—”Hestopshimself,searchingmyeyes.
Iwait,anditfeelslikeI’mstandingonthatcliffedgeagain,clingingtoit.I’mequalpartsterrifiedandexcitedatwhateverisabouttofalloutofhismouth.
Heblinkslikehe’spullinghimselfback,reiningitin.“I’mreallylookingforwardtogoingtothegalawithyou.”
Evenifthatassholeisthere,we’rebothnotsaying.
“Metoo,”Iwhisper.
Hislipspresstomyforehead,andwefallasleeplikethat.CHAPTER65PIPPA
Thenextday,JamiepullsuptothehotelinWhistler,andIgapeattheelegant,chateau-stylebuilding.It’sthehighest-ratedluxuryhotelinWhistler,whereallthecelebritiesstay,andwiththewhimsicalwinterlightsandsnow-toppedtrees,itlookslikesomethingoutofafairytale.
Anxietyweavesintomymind,becauseZach’sgoingtobetheretonight.Maybehe’sevenstayinginthehotel.Mystomachtightens.Thismorning,myphonebuzzedwithanunknownnumber,butIignoredit.Theydidn’tleaveavoicemail,butIhaveacold,sinkingfeelingthatitwasZach.
Ireally,reallydon’twanttorunintohim,butmorethanthat,Idon’twanttobailonJamie.Heboughtmeagorgeousdress,wearrangedforDonnatowatchDaisyallweekend,andthisfeelslikeourfirsttriptogether.Idon’twantmydickheadextogetinthewayofthat.
“Welcome,Mr.Streicher,”thevaletsays,takingJamie’skeyswhenhestepsoutofthecar.
Jamiethankshim,andwhenthevaletwalksaroundtoopenmydoor,Jamieshakeshishead.“Igotit,thanks.”Heopensmydoorandliftshiseyebrowsatme,thecornerofhismouthtippingup.
Iclimboutandgivehimashysmile.“Thanks.”
Hiseyesaresoft.“Don’tmentionit.”
“We’lltakeyourbags,”thevaletsays.“Ihopeyouandyourwifehaveawonderfulstay.”
Iopenmymouthtocorrecthim.
“Thankyou,”Jamietellshim,guidingmetothefrontdoor.Ilookupathiminsurprise,andhejustwinksatme.
Wife?
I’veneverevenconsideredthatword.I’monlytwenty-four,buthearingthatwordinJamie’svicinitymakesmybreathcatch.Wife.Jamie’swife.MymouthpullsintoasmileandIbiteitdown.Thewarningthoughtsattheedgeofmymindjumparoundforattention,butIpretendIdon’tseethem.
Afterwecheckin,Jamieleadsusupstairstothetopfloor,andwhenheopensthedoorofoursuite,myjawdrops.
“Wow,”Isaystupidly,staringatthecavernouslodge-stylesuitewithfloor-to-ceilingwindows,cozydecor,andanincredibleviewofthesnowymountains.Thefireplaceison,addingtothecozyvibe,andintheroomoffthelivingroom,aking-sizedbedwithafluffywhiteduvetbegsmetoflopdownontoit.
ThecornerofJamie’smouthtwitches,andhiseyesarefullofamusement.
“Isthisthekindofplaceyoustayinwhenyoutravelwiththeteam?”Iask.
Hehuffs.“No.I’musuallyroomingwithanotherplayer.Iupgradedonceyousaidyou’dbemydate.”
Somethingsweetfizzesinmychest,andIcockateasinglookathim.“There’sonlyonebed.”
Hiseyesflarewithheat.“Mhm.”Hestepstowardme,andhishandscometomyupperarms.“Isthatokay?”
Oureyeslock,andit’shardtogetafullbreathundertheintensityofhissharpgreengaze.
“Totallyokay.”IbitebackagrinandgestureatthegiantL-shapedcouch.“Thecouchlooksbigenoughforyou.”
Alaughburstsoutofhischest,andIgetoneofthoserare,intoxicatingJamieStreichersmiles.We’vebeensleepinginthesamebedsincethedayoftherecordingsession.
Hisphonebuzzes,interruptingus.
“Hi,”heanswers,pausingamomenttolisten.“Readyanytime.Thanks.”Hehangsupandliftshiseyebrowsatme.“Themassagetherapistwillbehereanyminute.”
Oh.Ididn’trealizehehadbookedhimselfamassage.Ahesitantfeelingflares.“Awoman?”
Hissnortisderisive,likeit’sobvious.“Yes.”
Ihatetheideaofawomantouchinghim.Iknowshe’slikelyaprofessional,andthathe’ssoreandinpainafteryesterday’sgame.Amassagewillmakehimfeelbetter.
Istilldon’tlikeit.Jamie’sgorgeousandripped.Headtotoe,helookslikeagod.Idon’tevenliketheideaofawomanthinkinghornythoughtsaroundhim.
Heglancesatme,gazefallingtomychest.I’mwearingoneofhishoodies;it’shugeonme,buthestaresatmybodylikehedidearlierthismorningintheshower.
“I’mapatientguy,Pippa,butIdon’twantanotherguytouchingwhat’smine.”
Myfacescrewsupinconfusion.Doeshemean,like…hisdick?We’reatthenicesthotelinWhistler.Idoubtthey’llgivehimarubandtug.
“Jamie,aprofessionalmassagetherapistisn’tgoingtogiveyouahappyending,”Iblurtout.
Hestaresatme,equallyconfused.“Ifuckinghopenot.”Hiseyebrowsknit.“Themassageisforyou.”
“Oh.”Iletoutahighlaugh,andmyfaceburns.“Sorry.”
Hetiltshishead,eyesnarrowing.
“What?”Iask,turningtohidehowredI’mgoing,buthishandslandonmyshouldersandheturnsmebackaround.
“You’rejealous,”hesays,studyingmyfacewithatwitchingmouth.
Irollmyeyes.“Stopit.”
“Youare.”Hiseyesaresobright.Smug.Sofuckingsmug.“You’rejealousbecauseyouthoughtawomanwasgoingtogivemeamassage.”
Ishrug,andhepullsmeagainsthim.
“Sofuckingcute,”hemutters.“LikeIhaveeyesforanyoneelse.”
Amomentlater,there’saknockatthedoor,andJamieopensittoletherin.
“Hairandmakeuparrivesatfour,”hetellsmeasshesetsup,droppingakissontothetopofmyhead.Hesmilesatmybaffledexpression,steppingawaytogatherhisthingsforalightgymworkout.“Justwantedyoutofeelspecial.”
“Ido,”Itellhimtruthfully.“Thankyou.”
“Don’tmentionit.”He’satthedoorbutdoublesbacktome,kissingmeagainlikehecan’thelpit.“IfIdon’tleavenow,Ineverwill.”
Ismileagainsthismouth,gentlypushingonhischestwhilelaughing.I’moverflowingwithdelight,andIcan’tstopsmiling.
Heleaves,andlater,asthemassagetherapistworksonmytraps,IletmyselfreplaythepastfewweekswithJamie.
Somethingthrashesinmychest,desperatetogetout.WhatifItoldhimhowIfelt?Thedamageisdone;I’minlovewiththeguy.I’vebeentellingmyselfthatkeepingitasecretwillkeepmesafe.It’llhurtlessifitends.
Isthattrue,though?OrwillnottellinghimhowIfeelbeoneofmybiggestregrets?
Ithinkabouthowhe’sencouragedmeoverthepastfewmonths.What’sthepointoflearningtopushmyselfoutofmycomfortzoneifIdon’tdoitforthethingsthatmatter?
Jamiematters.Ithinkhemightmattermorethanalmostanyone.
Touchingwhat’smine,hesaidearlier,andsomethingstirsinmychest.
Floatinginthisblissed-out,happy,in-betweenzoneisstartingtonotbeenoughformeanymore.
IneedtotellJamiehowIfeel.
***
JamiegetsbackjustasIfinishputtingtheundergarmentsonthatMirandaprovidedformygown.
Okay,Iwouldn’tcallthemundergarments.
They’relingerie.I’mwearinglingerie.Lacy,expensive,seductive-as-helllingeriemadeinFrance.Myhairisloosearoundmyshouldersinpolishedwaves,andthemakeupartistdidasoftyetsexylookthatmakesmelooklikeaVictoria’sSecretmodel.
I’lladmitit—Ilookinsanelyhot.
“Pippa?”Jamiecalls,andIhearhisfootsteps.
“Inthebedroom.”
Untilmomentsago,Iwastheonlyonehere,soIdidn’tbotherclosingthedoor.Jamieappearsinthedoorwayandstopsshortatthesightofme.
“Hi.”Ismileathim,embarrassedthatI’mstandingherealone,staringatmyselfinlingerie.“Iwasjustgettingdressed.”
“Fuckinghell,Pippa.”Hiseyesdarken,gazemovingfrommyfacedownmybody,andthenbackup.“Stayrightthere.”
“Whatareyou—”
Hestridesover,sinkstohiskneesinfrontofme,andyanksmypantiesdown
“Oh—”Mywordscutoffashelicksafirmlineupmypussy.“Doyou,shouldI…”Myeyesrollashistongueswirlsaroundmyclitinfastcircles.Wow.It’shardtothinkwhenhedoesthat.I’malreadywet.“Doyouwantmetolieonthebed?”
“No.”Hegroans,buryinghisfacedeeperbetweenmylegs.Hehooksabighandaroundthebackofmythigh,pullingitoverhisshoulder,andmyhandsflytohishairforbalance.“Don’twanttomessupyourprettyhair.Weshouldprobablydoitlikethis.”
“Okay,”Isigh,eyesfallingclosedasheslidestwofingersinsideme.
Later,afterIcomealloverJamie’smouth,Ihappilyreciprocate.
“You’regoingtowearthisagain,”hesays,catchinghisbreath,nostrilsflaringasherunshisfingersoverthestrapofmygarter.
“Finebyme.”Ikisshimandrakemyhandsthroughhisthickhair.“Weshouldprobablyfinishgettingdressed.”
AfterI’mfinishedgettingreadyandJamie’sshoweredanddressed,Iwalkintothelivingroominmygown.Mybreathcatchesatthesightofhimstandingbythebigwindows,gazingoutatthesnow-coveredmountainwithhishandsinhispockets,lookingsohandsomeandstronginhistux.Heturnsatthesoundofmyfootsteps.
“Pippa.”Hesaysmynamelikeaprayer,takingmein.HeblinksatmelikeI’madream.“You’resobeautiful.”Hepullshishandoutofhispocket,holdingasmallblackbox.“Igotyousomething.”
Heflipsitopen,andmylipspart.Onadelicatesilverchain,ablue-graystonecatchesthelight,sparklingbrilliantly.It’sthesamecolorasmydress.Somethingwarmfloodsmychestandit’shardtogetafullbreath.
“It’sbeautiful.”IglanceupatJamie,andhe’swatchingmewithinterest.“It’stoomuch,”Itellhim,becausemyheartisexplodingintoconfettirightnow.
“Doyoulikeit?”
Inod,gazingatthenecklace.Ican’thelpbutsmile.It’sgorgeous.“Iloveit.”
“Thenitisn’ttoomuch.”Hegentlyliftsthenecklaceoutandunlatchestheclaspwithimpressivedexterity.It’ssofunny,seeinghisbighandsholdsomethingsodainty.Hetiltshischinatme.“Turnaround,songbird.”Hisvoiceislow,andashiverrunsdownmyback.
IdoasI’mtold,andJamiedrapesthenecklaceoverme.Moreshiversrundownmyspineashisfingersbrushthebackofmyneck.
“There,”hesays,andIturn.Hisgazedropstothenecklace,andwhenhegivesmethatsmall,serioussmile,mystomachdoesaslow,warmrollforward.“Beautiful.”
“Thankyou.”Ibitemylip,lookingdownatthenecklace,runningmyfingersalongthefinechain.“Iloveit.”
“Good.”
MysmileisshyasIglancedownatmydress.Everythingabouttoday,aboutmyliferightnow,feelslikeafairytale.Theprincessgoestotheballinabeautifuldress,swooningoverthehandsomeprince.
It’snotjustthedress,orthenecklace,orthelingerie,orthehairandmakeup.IfeelbeautifularoundJamie.IneverfeltmorespecialandbeautifulthanIdidsittingonJamie’slaptheothermorning,withnomakeup,withwet,messyhair,wearinghisoldhockeyhoodie.Theconfidencehe’shelpedmebuildoverthepastfewmonthshasseepedintomyveins—everytimehesaidyoucandoitorIbelieveinyouoryou’resotalented,songbird—andnowit’sapartofme.
IgiveJamiethebrightestsmileIhave.“Let’sgo,handsome.”
Helaughsinsurprise,andIcantellhelikesthatnickname.CHAPTER66PIPPA
Outsidetheballroom,Jamie’shandslipsintomine,andhisserious,watchfulgazesearchesmyface.
Myheartispounding.Intheelevator,hedidn’twanttomessupmymakeup,sohekissedasoft,torturouslinedownmyneckasIwatchedourreflectioninthemirror,breathless.PartofmewantedtostayinthatelevatorforeversoIdidn’thavetofaceZach.Partofmecouldn’tbelievethegorgeous,toweringguyinatuxwasmine.AndpartofmeroaredwithangerandresentmentforZachpushinghiswaybackintomylifelikethisafterwhathedid.
Jamie’sthumbstrokesagainstmyhand.We’reabouttoencounterthepersonwhohurtme,andhisprotectiveinstinctsareflaring,justlikeatthewrapparty.Exceptthistime,it’sworse,becauseZachstolemysongandmadeithis.
Idragadeepbreathin,lookingupathim,countingeverydarkeyelashrimminghisgreeneyes.Hiseyestellmeeverything—Jamiewon’tletanyonehurtmetonight.
IrememberJamie’swordsoutsidethewrappartyaboutgettingbackontheice,andhoweverytimeIwasscaredtodosomethingbold,Ishockedmyselfwithmybravery.
“Iknowyou’llneverletanythinghappentome,”IwhispertoJamie.Anenergized,strong,stubbornfeelingfillsmychest,andIstandalittlestraighter.“AndIwon’t,either.”
Icanstandupformyselfnow.Jamiehelpedmedevelopthatskill,andnowit’sflourishing.
“We’regoingtopretendheisn’tthere,”ItellJamie.Hisjawtightens,andIsmileathim.“Igotalldressedupforyou,andI’mnotgoingtolethimruinthis.”
Hisfacelookslikehewantstoargue,buthisexpressionsoftens.“Okay.”
“Comehere,handsome.”Whenheleansdown,Ipressakisstohischeekbeforeleadinghiminside.
“Wowza,Hartley,”Haydensaysassoonasweenter.He’sinatuxlikeJamie,wearinghisownblackeye.“Babealert.”
Ilaugh,andJamiegrowls.
“Careful,Owens,”hetellsHayden,butHaydenjustgrinsandslapshimontheshoulder.
Otherhockeyplayersfindus,andwe’resurrounded.Ifeellikeababyelephantinthecircleofgiantadults,peeringaroundtheminshortglances,onthelookoutforZach.I’veneverseensomanybeautifulpeopleinoneplace.Theballroomispackedwithhockeyplayersintuxes,andIspotfamiliarfacesfromtheVancouverandCalgaryteams,mostofthemwearingevidenceoflastnight’sfight.Irecognizeafewcelebrities,actorsandmusicians.Myheartstopsatawomanwithlong,platinumblondhair,butsheturnsandIletthebreathout.Itisn’tLayla.It’sawomanfromarealityshow.
Hazelfindsme,andIlightupathermagentagown.“Youlooklovely.”
Shegesturesatme,eyesbuggingoutofherhead.“Youlookgreat.”
InudgeJamieatmyside.“Someonehiredhairandmakeuptogetmeallprettyfortonight.”
Heglancesdownatme,thecornerofhismouthcurlingupbeforehenods.“Hazel.”
“Jamie.”Sheglancesbetweenus.Jamie’shandisonmylowerback,reassuringbutpossessive,andshesmilestoherselfasshelooksathimwithapproval.“Nicework,Streicher.I’mstillgoingtobeatthecrapoutofyouinphysio,though.”
Henods.“Ifigured.”
Theysmileateachotherlikethey’refriends,andmyheartflipsover.
“Good,”shechirpsbeforelookingatme,expressionsobering.“Ihaven’tseenhimyet.”
Ileaninandlowermyvoice.“WhichoneisTable16?”
Sheindicatesatableacrosstheroom.“We’reontheothersideoftheroom,thankfuck.”Sheshakesherhead,nostrilsflaring.“WhenIseethatguy,I’mgoingtofuckingdestroyhim.”
“Getinline,”Jamietellsher,eyesflashing.
“Nooneisgoingtodestroyanyone,”Itellthem,andI’msmilingbecauseIlovebothofthesepeople.“We’renotgoingtomakeascene,becausewe’lllooklikeassholes.”Istraightenupandliftmychin.“We’regoingtoignorehim.”
“But—”Hazelstarts.
“Ignoring.”Inodandsmileather.
Hereyesnarrow,andafteralongmoment,sherelents.“Let’sgetsomebooze.”
Minuteslater,Hazel,Jamie,andIareatourtable,chattingwithplayersandsippingchampagne,whenRoryapproaches.
Purplebruisingsurroundshislefteye,andthere’saredscrapeacrosshisjaw.Evenwithhiswoundsfromlastnight,hecleansupnicelyinhistuxandfreshhaircut.
“Hey,Pips.”Hewrapsmeinabighug.“Youlooksomuchbetterwhenyouaren’twearingthatuglyVancouverjersey.”
AlaughburstsoutofmebeforeIcanstopit.IspareaglanceupatJamie,andherollshiseyes.Thecornerofhismouthtwitches,though.
RorypullsbackandnodsatJamie.“Streicher.”Hetuckshishandsinhispockets,studyingthedamagehedidonJamie’sface.“Niceshiner.”
Jamietipshischinbackathim.“Likewise.”
Abeatpasses,andIwaitforthefamiliartensionthatrunsbetweenthem,butitdoesn’tshowup.
Jamieclearshisthroat.“WegotoHazel’shotyogaclassesonSundays,”hetellsRory.Hazel’sjustoutofearshot,talkingwithAlexei.“Itmighthelpyougetinbettershape.”
Rorylaughs.“Youfuckingasshole.”
Jamiealmostsmilesatthat.Iglancebetweenthem,fascinated.Menaresoweird.
“Hartley?”Roryraiseshisvoice,gazestrayingtoHazel.Hismouthtipsintoateasinggrin,butthere’smoretohisexpression.Sincerity,likehewantstomakesureshewantshimthere.“Thatokaywithyou,ifIjoinyoga?”
Shestudieshimbeforeshruggingwithacoolexpression,likeshedoesn’tcare.“Whatever.”
Inonehand,sheholdsadrink,buttheotherisatherside,herpointerfingerrubbingthepadofherthumbinquickcircles.Hernervoustell.
Shelikeshim.Excitementfluttersinmystomach.Hazelneverlikesguys,preferringtousethemandcastthemaside.
Rory’seyesaresoftashewatchesher.HisexpressionisalotlikehowJamielooksatme.
“Youlookbeautiful,”Rorysaystoherinfrontofeveryone,andthereisn’talickofteasinginhistone.
Sheblinks,takenabackbythissideofhim.“Thanks.”She’sflushingandcanbarelymeethisgaze,andIhidemysmilebyturningtolookatJamie.
Heshootsmeaquickwink.Heseesit,too.
Theemceeasksgueststotaketheirseats,anddinnerbegins.OveratTable16,there’sanemptyseat.Zachhasn’tarrived.
Myhandstwistinmylap.Maybehebailed.
Therearespeeches,apresentationaboutthecharity’sworkthisyear,andavideoofplayersandothercelebritiesatthelocalchildren’shospital.Atonepoint,Jamieappearsonscreen,sittingonatinychair,lettingalittlegirlputatiaraonhim,andit’ssofreakingcutethatmyhearthurts.
Hishandcomestomylapaswelistentothelastofthespeeches,andhegivesmethatquiet,privatesmile.
Myheartflutters,andIknowIhavetotellhimhowIfeel.Soon.Whenthetimeisright.
Whenthespeechesareover,therealpartystarts.Musicplays,anddrinksflow.IeatallthedessertsJamiekeepsbringingme,andHaydenmakesmeandHazellaughsohardwecan’tbreathe.Zach’sseatathistableremainsempty,andIrelaxmore.IglanceoveratJamie,andhe’stalkingwithCoachWard,wholookstoohandsomeinhistuxtoeverhavebeenahockeyplayer.Jamie’satease,surroundedbyalltheseguyswhoclearlyadmirehim,andIfeelarushofgratitudethathehasthem.
IfinishthelastofmychampagneandcatchJamie’seye,motioningtohimthatI’mgoingtousetheladies’room.WhenIstepoutofthewashroommomentslater,Jamie’sleaningonanearbytable,waitingpatiently.
“Youdidn’thavetoaccompanyme,”Itellhim.
Heshrugs.“Youwerelookingalittlewobblythere,songbird.”
Igiggle.“I’mnotdrunk.I’mjustfeelingalittlesillytonight.”Zachdidn’tshow,andIfeellikeaweighthaslifted.Myheadbuzzespleasantly,butI’mnotdrunk.
“Youcanbeboth.Idon’tcare.”Hereachesupandbrushesmyhairoffmyshoulder.Amusementglittersinhiseyes.“I’llholdyourhairbackwhileyoubarf.”
Mychestshakeswithlaughter.Ilovethissillysideofhim.“I’mnotgoingtobarf.”Iloopmyhandaroundhisarm,feelingfloatyandhappy.Zachdidn’tshowup,andthisgalahasbeensofun.Ifeelbeautifulandspecial.
Justoutsidethedoorsleadingintotheballroom,someonestepsinourpath,andmypulseflatlines.Inaninstant,thefloaty,happyfeelingsevaporate,leavingmehollow.
Zach.
Ican’tbreathe.Besideme,Jamiestiffens.
“Pippa,”Zachsays.Hiseyesmoveovermeinwonder,likeheseesmeinanewlight.
ThenewPippa.Insteadofsneakersandjeans,I’mwearinganexpensivedress,withmyhairinglamorouswaves,withaprofessionalhockeyplayerhoveringoverme.Zachlooksatmelikemyvaluehasgoneup.
Angerflickersinmystomach,becausenoneofthismatters.Thedressdoesn’tmatter,thehairandmakeupdon’tmatter.Itdoesn’tevenmatterthatJamie’saprofessionalathlete,becausehe’ssomuchmorethanthat.
I’msomuchmorethanallofthis.Jamiecaredaboutmelongbeforetonight.IrememberthewayhelookedatmeafterIplayedthatsongforhiminhislivingroominthemiddleofthenight.That’swhatmatterstoJamie.Therealstuff.Notallofthisartifice.
“CanItalktoyou?”ZachsparesJamieaglance,lipcurling.“Alone?”
“No,”JamieandIsayinunison.
Myhandslipsintohis,andhegivesmeareassuringsqueeze.Igivehimonerightback.
“Okay.”IrritationflashesacrossZach’sface,andthefamiliarityofitmakesmefeelsick.
Inmyhead,Iscrambleforthecalm,coolgameplanIlaidouthoursago.IgnoreZach.Hedoesn’tmatter.Don’tmakeascene.
Ragedrumsinmyblood,andmymolarsgrit.ThisguymademefeellikeIwasn’tenough.Hebrokemyheart,andthenheinvitedmetothatstupidwrappartysohecouldshoveitinmyface.HaveyoumetLayla?HetooksomethingIcreated,laughedatme,andthenmadeithis.
“AllthatstuffwithLayla,”Zachstarts,shakinghishead.“It’snotworkingout.Imadeamistake.”Heshiftsonhisfeet.“She’snotyou.”
Somethingsplintersthroughmyrage.She’snotme—isthatbecauseshestooduptohim?Didshewanttobetreatedasanequal,insteadofsomegroupiemusesolelyforhisuse?
Ithoughtthismomentwouldbesweeterthanitis.IthoughtI’dfeelvindicated,butinstead,I’msadforLayla.
I’malsoreallyfuckingangry.
MyeyesnarrowasIstudyhim,watchinghimgetmoreandmoreuncomfortable.Heexpectedmetowiltandfoldforhim,nodoubt.
Imadeamistake,hesaid,butIwonderwhathethinksthemistakewas.
He’snotsorryforhurtingme.He’snotsorryforwhathedid.He’sjustsorryitdidn’tworkoutthewayhewanted.
“What’sgoingon?”Hazel’sstandingtenfeetaway,gazedartingfromZachtometoJamie.
“Pippa’shandlingit,”Jamietellsher,andwhenImeethiseyes,Iseethathebelievesit.
JamieknowsIcanstickupformyself.
Hazelfoldsherarmsoverherchestandstandsonmyotherside.SheandJamieareliketwobodyguards,hovering.
“Let’stryitallagain.”Zach’swordsrushout,tingedinfranticdesperation.“It’llbedifferent.”Histhroatworksagain,andheclingstomygaze
Shit,hemustreallybeintrouble.Idothementalmath.Thetourisoverandhisrecordlabelislikelyplanningthenextone.Andinthemeantime,he’llberecordinganewalbum.
Oh.Thereitis.Hedoesn’thavesomeonetofeedhimideaswithoutwantingcredit.
ToobadI’mnotthatgirlanymore.Thatragefrombeforeechoesthroughme.
“Youtookmysong.”Myvoiceisconfident,andIchannelJamie’sglare.“Iheardit.ThesongIplayedforyou?Youmadeityours.”
Zachrearsback,bemused.“What,that?Thatwasn’tasong,Pippa.Thatwasamess,andwecleaneditup.”
Theangerpoursbackintomyblood,andIblinkathim.
Hewavesmeoff.“Artiststakefromeachotherallthetime.Nothinginartisoriginal.”
Hesaysitinsuchacondescendingway,likeIhavenoideahowthemusicindustryworks.Myheartpounds,andI’veneverbeensopissed.Allthehurtfromthepastfewmonthsswirlsinmelikeawhirlpool,gatheringenergy.IfeellikeI’mabouttobreathefireandtorchthiswholehotel.
Hazelmakesafuriousnoiseinherthroat.“Finishhim,”shesaysunderherbreath,likeinthevideogamesweusedtoplayasteenagers.
Somethingstrongcoursesthroughme,andIletitfree.
“Youdon’twantthebestforme,”ItellZach,awrysmiletwistingontomymouth.“Youwantthebestforyou.Youalwayshave.”
Heblinks,stunned.
“Wewereneverequals.”Eventhoughmyhandsareshaking,myshouldersslideback,andthatflameinmychestflickersbrighter,hotter.“Andwestillaren’t,arewe?Youthinkyou’redoingmeafavor.”
Heblanchesbeforescoffing,andhe’sneverlookeduglierthanwhenhe’slookingdownatmelikethis,likeI’mnothing.“Iamdoingyouafavor.”Hesnorts,andithurts.“Whatareyoudoingnow?Nothinginmusic.”
“SherecordedademowithIvyMatthews,”Jamiecutsinwithasharptone.
Hiswordshittheirmark,becauseZachlooksstunnedalloveragain.Ivyishiswhitewhale,andIgother.Evenifnothingcomesofmydemowithher,shechosemeandnothim.
IgiveZachasadsmile.Idon’twanttobemadathimanymore,becausewhilethisangerenergizesme,it’sgoingtoleavemedrained.Ijustwanttoberidofhim,tomoveontoabetterlife.
“Goodbye,Zach.”IlookupatJamieandseetheprideinhiseyes.“Let’sgo,”ItellhimandHazel,andJamie’sarmcomesaroundmyshoulders.
Idon’tlookbackaswewalkaway.CHAPTER67JAMIE
I’minaweofPippa.
Youdon’twantthebestforme.Youwantthebestforyou.Youneversawusasequals.
Ilovethiswoman,andIneedtotellher.Whenwelayinbedlastnight,Ialmostsaidit,butIheldback.Now,intheelevatoruptooursuite,Icanbarelykeepfromblurtingitout.
IlovetakingcareofPippa,butshedoesn’tneedme.Shecantakecareofherself,andIloveherforthat.Inmymind,Iseeourfuturetogether,andIwantittoobadly.
Pippa’smyforeverperson.Iknowthatnow.IthinkIalwaysknewit.
“You’reincredible,”Itellher,andasmileliftsonherface.
“Becauseofyou.”
“No.”Ishakemyhead.“Thatwasallyou,songbird.”Iwalkherbackagainstthewall,holdinghereyes.Electricitysimmersaroundus,andIlovethewayshelooksupatme,sotrustingandsweet.“HaveItoldyouhowfuckingbeautifulyouare?”Imurmur,brushingherhairbackbeforekissingherneck.
Shelaughsquietlyundermytouch.“Yes.”
“Good.”Iniphershoulder.Herbreathcatches,andIlovethesoundofit.
I’msogoneforthisgirl.Iloveeverysoundshemakes.
ThedoorsopenonourfloorandItakeherhand,leadinghertothesuite.Inside,hergazeroamsthespace.Thefireplaceison,there’sabottleofchampagnewaitinginanicebucket,andthroughthewindows,theski-hilllightstwinkle.
Shepressesherhandstogetherinfrontofherchestwithadreamylookonherface.“Ineverwanttoleavethisplace.”
I’mbuyingaplaceinWhistler,Idecide,forweekends.Aplacejustlikethis—cozycabinstyle—wherePippaandDaisyandIcancometorelax.What’sthepointofmakingmillionsifIdon’tspenditonthepeopleIlove,doingthethingsthatmatter?
Thisiswhatmatters.
Inthebedroom,Ilacemyfingersinhers,heartpoundingasIkissher,sinkingintoherwarm,welcomingmouth,lovingeverycatchofherbreath,everyquietmoan.Iworkherzipperdown,lettingthedresspoolatherfeet.
Pippastandsthereinthatlingerie,lookingfuckingdelectable.Everycellinmybodysingsforthisgoddess.Irunmyhandthroughmyhairasdesirepulsesinmyblood.
“Fuck,”Ibreathe,memorizinghowhertitsswelloverthelace,howthepantieshughercurves,howherperfectpinknipplesarebarelyvisible.Ibrushmythumboveroneofthepeaks,andhereyelidsfallhalfway.
There’salingeriestorenearourapartment—I’vepasseditandthoughtaboutherahundredtimes.I’mgoingtheretomorrow,Idecide,tobuyhalfthestoreforPippa.MyjawtensesasIpicturePippawearingpantiesIboughtforher.HergaspingasItearthemoff.
JesusChrist,thatisfuckinghot.
MyprettyPippaundoesmybowtie,andIfeelatwistofaffection.Undressingeachotherfeelsfamiliar,andIthinkbacktowhenthevaletreferredtoherasmywife.
Ilikedthat.Mymouthtipsupassheundoesmyshirtbuttons.Ilikedthatalot.Ipicturethiswomanwithmyringonherfinger,andsomethingpossessivebeatsinmychest.
Ilikethatimage,too.
Shepushesmyjacketandshirtoff,andtheyfalltothefloorbeforeherhandslidesovermycock.
“Ilovehowhardyouget,”shebreathes,watchingherhandworkmeovermypantsbeforeglancingupatmewithaplayfulsmile.
Oh,yeah.She’sgettingaring.Abigone.Loudandflashy.Disgustinglyover-the-top.She’llhateit,I’msure,butIwantpeopleseeingitfromamileaway.Fromspace.Iwantittosignaltoeveryonethatshe’staken.
“Whatareyougrinningat?”sheasksme,smiling.
She’ssopretty.Iwon’tforcehertoweararingshedoesn’tlike.Icouldneverdothat.Shecanwearwhateverringshewants.
Irestmyforeheadagainsthersasshestrokesme.Needtightensinmybody,andmybloodbeatsforher.
“Wait.”
Herhandstills.“Whatisit?”
MynostrilsflareasIdragabreathin.MyfeelingsforPippaswellandpitch,crashinglikewavesonastormyocean,desperatetogetout.WithouttellingherthetruthofhowIfeel—allofit—intimacybetweenusfeelsincomplete.Ipullbackandsearchhereyes.
“Iloveyou.”MywordsareaquietmurmurasIwatchherreaction,andmyheartslamsagainstthefrontwallofmychest.I’veneversaidthosewordstoagirl.I’veneverfeltthisway,andit’sexhilaratingandterrifying.“Iloveyousofuckingmuch,Pippa.I’minlovewithyou.Iwanteverythingwithyou.”
Herlipspart,andherchestrisesandfallsfastasmywordssinkin.Pleasefeelthesameway,Ipraytotheuniverse.
“You’reeverythingtome.”MyPippa.Mydistraction,thegirlI’vealwaysbeenpowerlessagainst.“Iwantyouinmylife.Youmakemeso,sofuckinghappy,songbird,andIhopeImakeyouhappy,too.”
“Youdo,”shesaysimmediately,andherhandsslipintothebackofmyhair.“Youdomakemehappy.You’reeverythingtome,too.Iloveyou,too,”shewhispers.
Myheartburstsopen,expandinginmychest.“Iwashopingyou’dsaythat.”
Mymouthfallstohers,andthesoftnoiseinherthroathasmybloodhumming.Shelovesme,andIdon’thavetokeepitinanymore.Shelovesme,andwe’redoingthis.
Shelovesme,andthisisforever.
Myhandsfalltoherchest,andmythumbsrubtwincirclesonhernipplesoverthefabricofherbra.Shearchesintomyhands,swayingonherfeet.Adarkchucklerumblesoutofme,andIsliponehandintoherpanties.
Herpussyissoaked.Shemoans,wincingwithpleasureasIstrokethroughher,draggingslow,delicatefrictionoverher.
“Shit,”Ibreathe.“You’resowet.”
Shenods,lookingupatmelikeI’malifeline.Sheclutchesmeforstability,andIwrapanarmaroundhershoulderstoholdheruprightwhileItouchher.She’ssosoft,sowet,sowarm,andIcan’tgetenough.
“You’vecometwicetoday,”Itellherinalow,teasingtone.“Lookhowworkedupyouare.”
Shenodsagain,wettingherlips,andit’sthatflashofhertonguethathasmedrippingwithpre-cum.IpullmyhandoutofherpantiesandwatchherexpressionglazeasIsuckthewetnessoffmyfingers.Igroanathertaste,givingherawickedsmile,revelinginherlookofdisbeliefandawe.
“Needyounaked,songbird,”Itellher,unhookingherbraandslippingherpantiesdown.“NeedyoubareformesoIcanmakeyoucomeagain.”Iguideherdownontothebedneartheedge,hoveringoverherandseekingoneofherpinchednippleswithmylips,workingtheotherwithmyfingers.
“Thatalwaysfeelssogood.”Herwordsarealow,strainedwhisper,andmyballsachewithneedatthedesperate,pleasuredtoneinhervoice.
IlovepleasingPippa.Ilovemakingherfeelgood,andIlovebeingtheonlymantohavedoneitsowell.Herhairisspreadoutacrossthepillow,andit’soneofthemostbreathtakingthingsI’veeverseen,Pippabeneathme,lookingupatmelikethis.Itmakesmyheartache.
“Openyourlegsforme,baby,”Iwhisperagainstherbreast.“OpenyourlegssoIcankeepmakingyoufeelgood.”
Sheobliges,andadarksatisfactionweavesthroughmeatherfollowingmyinstructionssoobediently.Sotrusting,likesheknowsI’dneverhurther.
HerabstightenasIrubherclit.
“Jamie,”shemoansinfrustration,andIchucklebeforeloweringmymouthtoher.
Hertastehitsmytongue,andIgroanintoher,pushingherthighswidersoIcangetdeeper.Mytonguesweepsupanddownherslit,circlingherclit,dippingintohertightcenter,slickingovereverysensitivenerveendinguntilherhandsareinmyhair,tugging.
“Can’tgetenough,”shegasps.
“Good.”Isuckherclit,andherbackarchesoffthebed.“NeithercanI.”
WhileIworkmytongueoverher,Iunbucklemybeltandpullmycockout,givingitafewhardstrokes.
Jesus.I’mclose.I’mtooclose.
“You’replayingwithme.”Hervoiceisthin,breathy,accusing.“You’reteasingme.”
“YoufuckingbetIam.”Idrawslow,lightcirclesonherclitbeforesuckinghard,andherhipstilt,pressingherfurtherontomymouth.“You’reminetoplaywith.Isn’tthatright,songbird?”
Shenods,pullingmyhair,andthesensationshootsdownmyspine.Isuckherclitinapulsingrhythm,andherthighsshakearoundmyhead.Aroundmyfingers,hermusclesflex.
“Useyourwords,baby.SayitsoIcanhearyou.”
“Yes,”shemoansasIrubherG-spot.“I’myourstoplaywith.I’myours.”
“Goodgirl.That’swhatIliketohear.Youwanttocome?”
Herhandstighteninmyhair.“Yes.”
“Asknicely.”
“Please,”shebegs.“Pleasemakemecome.Please,baby.”
Irelent,suckinghardonherclitwhiledraggingmytongueoverit,workingherG-spotinthesteady,pulsatingrhythmthatmakesherlosehermind.
Myfreehanddriftsbeneathher,betweenhercheeks,teasing,andherheadliftssoshecanseeme.
“Didheevertouchyouhere,songbird?”
Thepadofmyfingerdragsacrossherbackentrance,wetfromherarousal,andshesqueaks,shakingherhead.
“Doyouwantmeto?”Icirclethetightbud,rubbinggentlefriction.
Hereyescloseassheletsoutahigh,desperatemoanI’veneverheardbefore.“Yes,please.”
Ieasemyfingerinsideherass,soslowandcautious,andasIbegintostroke,shetightensuparoundme.
“Good?”Iask,smiling.
She’sfranticallynodding,breathinghard,sayingthingslikepleaseandyes.Islidemytongueoverherclitagain,sucking,andwithinseconds,shebowsoffthebed,lettingoutahigh,desperatemoanandclenchingupallovermyfingers.Myfaceissoakedwithherarousalasherthighstremoraroundme,andI’msohardithurts.
“Jamie.”Shereachesforme,chestheavingwhileshecatchesherbreath.“Ineedyouhere.”
Ikneelonthebed,settlingoverher,kissingatraildownherneckandchest.
“Youcamethreetimestoday,”Itellher,smiling.
Hereyessparkandshesmilesdownatme.“Youmademecomethreetimestoday.”
Pridepulsesinmychest.“Fuckingright,Idid,”Ibiteout,andIlowermyhips,slidingmycockagainstherslickcenter.SheshakeswhenIrubagainstherclit,andherlegsfallopenwider.
Shereachesdowntoanglemeatherentrance,andI’malreadymindlesslypushinginsideher,mycockthrobbingathowtightandwetandwarmsheis.
“Ohmygod.”Herhandsareinmyhairandthelookofagonizedblissonherfacemakesmyballstighten.“Ohmygod,”sherepeats.
Ashredofsanityslicesthrough.
“Condom,”Igroan.I’mnotwearingone.I’mhalfwayinsideherandshakingwithneed,butI’dneverdothiswithouthergreenlight.
“I’monthepill.”Shesobers,andhertonguedartsouttolickherlips.“I’venevergonewithoutacondombefore.”
Mybrainstutters,andeverybaseinstinctroarstolife.Morethananything,Iwanttocomeinsideher.Iwanttomakehermine,fullyandcompletely.
“Meneither,”Itellher,swallowing.Mycockpulsesinsideher,andherbreathcatches.
Shenods,urgingmeon,andherhipstilt,seekingmore.Isinkintherestoftheway,andeverythoughtinmyheadburnsaway.
FuckingPippabareisthehighestplaneofheaven.Thenoisethatripsthroughmythroatisunearthly.WhenIpulloutandpushbackin,sheletsoutalowmoan.
“Doweneedtodothatthing?”IaskthroughclenchedteethasIthrust.Herscentwaftsintomynose,anditonlymakesmeharder.She’ssowetIcanhearmyselfmovinginandoutofher,andthesharppinpricksofpainfromhernailsdiggingintomybackshovemeclosertomyrelease.
Ican’tholdonformuchlonger.
“Whatthing?”shegasps.
“The—”Iscrambleforthewords,butallIcanthinkaboutishowfuckingincredibleshefeelsaroundme.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossibletofeelthisheightenedsenseofpleasure.It’ssharperthananypainfromanyinjury.Cominginsideherisgoingtotearmybrainoutofmyskull.“Whereyougetstuckinyourhead,”Imanage.“Thegroundingthingwedo.”
She’sshakingherhead,andthemovementiserratic.“Idon’tneedhelp.I’mclose,Jamie.”
Thankfuck,becauseIcan’thandlethisformuchlonger.Heatcoilslowinsideme,twistingandpulsing.“Touchyourself.Showmewhatyoucando.Iwanttoseeyoumakeyourselfcomewhilebeingfucked.”
Herhandfallsbetweenustowherewejoin,andmybreathisahissassheclenchesuponme.Herfingersworkherclitinsoft,fastcircles,andherexpressionisglorious—wincingwithpleasureanddesperationaswechaseourreleases
HerlipsmakeanOasshestaresupatmelikeshecan’tbelieveit.Mycontrolslips,andIstrokeintoherharder.ThenecklaceIboughtherbounceswithhertitsasIfuckher,andpridepoundsinmyblood.
“Iloveyousomuch.”Myvoiceisrough.Thepressureatthebaseofmyspinebuildsrapidly.“Sofuckingmuch,Pippa.”
She’snodding,overandoveragain.“Iloveyou.Ohmygod.”Hermouthfallsopen.“I’mgoingtocome.”
Onachokedgasp,sheclampsdownonmycock,andmyreleasebarrelstowardme.Myworldnarrowstoher—herfullbreasts,herplushlips,herbeautifulblue-grayeyes,cloudedwithlustandclingingtomygaze.Idriveintoher,uncontrolledandclaiming,asmyreleaseclosesinonme.
Ishatterintoamillionpieces,cominginsidePippa.Myforeheadfallstohers,andI’mmoaningasmyvisiongoeswhite.ThemostintensepleasureofmylifecutsthrougheverycellinmybodyasIfillher,grittingouthername.
Myworldcomesbackintofocus,andIheaveforair,staringdownatPippaindisbelief.“Holyfuck.”
Alaughburstsoutofher,andthenIstartlaughing,andthenwe’relaughingtogether.Thatwasthemostintensephysicalexperienceofmylife,andwe’regigglingwitheachother.
Ilovethisgirl.WithPippa,I’veneverfeltsocomplete.EverythingIsecretlywanted,Ihave.
I’mneverlettinghergo.CHAPTER68PIPPA
Iwakeupthenextmorninginahuge,comfybed,tuckedagainstJamie’schest.Sunlightstreamsinthroughthewindows,andmybodyfeelsbothrelaxedanddeliciouslysorefromwhatwedidlastnight…andagaininthemiddleofthenight.
“Morning,”Jamiemurmursintomyhair,andIsmileagainsthisskin,tracingmyfingersdownthetrailofchesthairleadingintohisboxers.
“Goodmorning.”Myvoiceissoftandalittleshyafterlastnight.
Hesaidhelovedme.
Isaiditback.
Ipeekupathim.He’slookingdownatmewithhisownsmile,andmyheartflutters.Ihopethatthrillwillnevergoaway.Ibrushmyfingersaroundthebruiseonhiseye,studyingtheshadesofgreeninhiseyesashegazesbackatme
“Howareyoufeeling?”heasks,andhishandslidesovermyhip.
Thewayheasksit,andbecauseit’sJamie,whoturnedouttoberelentlesslycaring,Iknowhe’saskingabouteverything—Zach,thesex,theIloveyous
“Alittlesore,”Iadmit,“butIdon’tregretathing.”
“Good.”Hestudiesmyfacelikenooneelsehas,andIrealizehe’sbeendoingthissincethedayIsteppedintohisapartmentallthosemonthsago.
Myfingerswanderuphischest,andgoosebumpsbreakoutoverhismuscles.“You?”
HisAdam’sapplebobs,andthere’saflashofvulnerabilityacrosshisface.“Justoneregret.”
Ifreeze.
“Iwantedtoaskyoutograd,”hesaysbeforeIcanletmyselfdeflate.“Backinhighschool.”
MybrowssnaptogetherandIcanfeeltheshockallovermyface.“No.”
Gradisthebigdinneranddanceforallthegraduatingstudents,theCanadianversionofprom.Thegradetwelvestudentsareallowedtobringdates.
“Yes,”heemphasizes,andthewayheblinksandlooksawaymakesmethinkhe’salittleflustered.“I’dlookforyouatparties,Pippa.Iwenttoallthebandconcertsjusttowatchyousingandplay.IaskedaroundaboutwhetheryouandZachweretogether,butnooneknew.Ithoughttherewasachanceyouweresingle,andImusteredupthecouragetoaskyoutograd,andthenIsawhimholdingyourhand.”
Inmymind,I’mbackthereinthehighschoolcafeteriaasZachslipsmyhandintohisoutoftheblue,andmyhearttwists.
Jamiemakesafrustratednoiseinhisthroat,andhisbrowfurrows.Cute.Sofreakingcute.
“Iletitgo,butIthoughtaboutyouforyearsafterthat.”Hismouthtipsup.“Whenyoushowedupasmynewassistant,IthoughtIwashallucinating.”
Thisallsinksin,andasurprisedlaughfallsfrommylips.“Youweregoingtoaskmetograd?”
Aflushspreadsoverhischeekboneslikehe’sembarrassed,andIlovehim.Ilovethisguysomuch.Abroadsmilepullsatmymouth,andmychestisabouttoexplodewithhappiness.
“Ihadthebiggestcrushonyouinhighschool,”Itellhim.
Hefrowns.“No.”
“Yes.”Ishakemyheadathim,smiling.“Jamie,youhavenoideawhatyoulooklike,doyou?”
Helaughs,asharp,bright,joyfullaughofreliefandamusementthatgoesstraighttomyheart.“Comehere.”Hepullsmeontopofhim,andmylegsfalloneithersideofhiships,straddlinghim.
Welookateachotherforamoment,hishandinmyhairandmineinhis,brushingitoffhisforehead.
“DoyourememberwhenIspilledtheSlurpeeonmyself?”Iaskhim.
Hechuckles.“Yes.Iwasabouttogogetnapkinstotrytohelpyou,butyouranoff.”
IfIhadstayedafewsecondslonger,maybeeverythingwouldhavebeendifferent.ButthenIwouldn’thavelearnedsometoughbutimportantlessonswithZach.
IleandowntokissJamie,andIfeelhissmileagainstmylips.
“Songbird?”
“Mmm?”Mylipsskateoverhisstubble,andthesensationmakesmesigh.
“Iloveyousomuch.”
WhenIopenmyeyes,Icanseethetruthofitinhisgaze.MyheartsqueezesfortheguyIneverthoughtI’dget.
“Iloveyou,too.”Idropakissonhismouth.“Handsome,”Iadd,andinasplitsecond,heflipsmeontomybackasIyelpwithlaughter.CHAPTER69JAMIE
PippaandIaredrivinghomeonthewindingSeatoSkyHighway,listeningtomusic,talking,andadmiringtheforestedmountainsandclearbluelakes.
I’veneverbeensofuckinghappy.I’veneverfeltlikethis,andwhenIthinkabouthowhardItriedtoresisther,Ilaugh.
“Whatareyougrinningat?”Pippaasksfromthepassengerseat.
I’mlaughingatthefactthatIthoughtIcouldeverwalkawayfromher.I’mlaughingbecauseIsomehowthoughtpiningafterherfortherestofmylifewasabetteroptionthanthis.Betterthanbeingtogether.Betterthantellingeachotherhowwefeel.
“Justhappy,”Isay,andshesmilesbackatme.
“Me,too.”
“Good.”
Myphoneringsthroughthecar’sBluetooth.It’smymom’snumber.
“Hi,”Ianswer.“We’reonourwayhome.Weshouldbethereinanhourandahalf.”
“IsthisJamie?”awoman’svoiceasks,andPippaandIfrownateachother
Alarmrisesinme,floodingmyveins.“Yes?”
“I’mcallingfromtheemergencyroomatLionsGateHospital,”shecontinues.
Thealarmblares,andmymouthgoesdry.That’sthehospitalinNorthVancouver.We’reapproachingalookoutpointonthehighway,soIpullofftopark.
“Yourmomhadapanicattack.She’sokay,butwe’dlikesomeonetopickherup.”
MymindreelsasIwhite-knucklethesteeringwheel.She’sbetter.Shehasatherapist,andshewaslookingintomedication.Shehasn’thadapanicattacksincethatnightthatPippaandIwentover.We’repastthis.
She’sbetter.
Pippa’shandisonmyshoulder,andhereyesarefullofconcern.
“Okay,”Isay,becauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetodo.
“Hercarhasbeentowedtoalocalshop,”thewomancontinues,andsomethinginmychestcrumples.
“Shewasdriving?”IstareatPippawithshock.She’sworryingherbottomlipwithherteeth.
“Itseemsthatshehadapanicattackwhiledriving,andthenhitapoliceofficer’scar.”
Mystomachdrops.Ican’tbelievethis.Thisdoesn’tfeelreal.
“Fuck,”Imutter,rakingmyhandthroughmyhair.“Whatabouthermedication?Didshenottakeittoday?”
There’salongpause,andmystomachsinksfurther.
“I’mnotawareofanymedication,”thewomansays.“Shedidn’tlistanyontheintakeform.”
Sheliedtome.AlltheavoidantconversationswhereIthoughtshejustneededspace.Shenevergotmedication.Aheadachegrowsbehindmyeyes.ThisissomuchworsethanIcouldhaveimagined.Shewasdrivingandhitacopcar.She’ssupposedtobetakingcareofDaisy—
Mypulseexplodes.“Wasthereadoginthecar?”
IfsomethinghappenedtoDaisy,Icouldn’tbearit.I’dneverforgivemyself.
“No,”thewomananswers.“Shesaidthedogisathome.”
PippaandIlookateachotherinrelief.That’ssomething,atleast.
“We’llbethereassoonaswecan,”Itellthewoman.
Wehangup,andIlookoveratPippa.Ifeellostandconfused,andsuddenly,I’mtenyearsoldagain,cominghomefromschooltomymomsleepingatthreeintheafternoon,blindsdrawnclosed.There’sasinkingfeelingofdisappointmentanddreadinmygut.
“Ithoughtshewasbetter,”ItellPippa.“Ithoughtshehadahandleonit.”
“Iknow.”Shenods,stillwearingthatworriedlook.“Idid,too.Gettingbetterwon’tbealinearprocess,though.”
I’msilent,becauseIdon’twanttopointoutthatmaybeshewasnevergettingbettertobeginwith.
Overthenexthourandahalf,wedriveinsilenceasIturnovereverythingIthoughttobetrue.
Ithoughtmymomwasbetterandthatshedidn’tneedmemicromanagingherlife.
IthoughtIcouldhandleeverything.
Foronce,IthoughtIcouldhavesomethingformyself.
***
“I’msendingyouhome,”ItellPippaasweapproachthehospital.I’mvibratingwithstress,worry,andfrustration.“Ineedtodealwiththisalone.I’llorderyouanUber.”
Fromthepassengerseat,shestaresatmeindisbelief.“No.”
“Yes.”Tensionknotsinmygut.Myinstinctstotakeoverandfixthingsareatanall-timehigh.EvenIcansee,though,thatwhatI’vebeendoinguntilnowisn’tworking.
I’msofuckinglost.Idon’tknowwhattodo.
“I’mnotgoinghome,”Pippasays,foldingherarms.Hertoneisstubborn,andIblowalongbreathout.
Ifmymomcan’tmakeprogress,oreventry,Idon’tseehowPippaandIwillwork,andthat’sbreakingmyfuckingheart.Maybeitwon’thurtourrelationshiprightnow,buteventually,itwill.Ican’tdothattoPippa.Ican’tcontinuetochoosemymomoverher.Ican’tputeveryounceofmyenergytowardworryingaboutmymom.
Paintwistsinmychest.Everythingwetoldeachotheryesterdaywasfornothing.
“Fine.”We’repullingintothehospitalparkinglot.“Stayinthecar,then.”
Hurtflashesinhereyes.“No.”
Idon’thavetheenergytoarguewithher.“Fine.”
InsidetheER,thefrontdesknursegivesusdirectionstomymom’sroom,andwehurrydownthehall.
Wereachthedoor,andPippatouchesmyarm.“I’mgoingtowaitoutside,”shesays.“I’mhereifyouneedanything.”
Isteelmyselfforwhatevershitstormiswaitinginsidethisroom.“Thankyou.”
Inherroom,mymomischattinghappilywiththenurses,laughingandsmiling.It’safuckingpartyinhere.Sheseesmeandsighs,rollinghereyes.
“Ohmygoodness.”Shelookstothenurses.“Candace,Itoldyounottocallhim!”Shewincesatmyblackeye.“Ugh,lookatthatthing.Howwasyourtrip?”
Istareatherindisbelief,andsomethingangryandfrustrateddripsintomyblood.
“Canwehaveamomentalone?”Iaskthenurses,andtheyfilterout.
Whenwe’realone,mymomshiftsundermygaze.“Honey,I’mfine—”
“Don’tsayyou’refine.”Ifeelsick.“Don’tsayyou’reokay,thatitwasnothing,thatyoudon’tneedhelp.”
Shelaughsinsurprise,butthere’snohumorinit.“Idon’tneedhelp.”
“Youhitapolicecar.”
It’squietforamoment,andwejuststareateachother.There’sashiftinsideme,andwhenIreachforthatendlesspatience,itisn’tthere.Instead,Ifindbetrayalandfrustration.
Somethingneedstochange,anduntilnow,it’sbeenme.Withmymom,I’malwaystheonewhobends.I’vebeenencouragingPippatostickupforherself,putherselffirst,dowhat’sbestforhercareerandherlife,butIhaven’tbeenfollowingmyownadvice.
“Imovedhereforyou,”Itellher,butI’msayingittomyself,too.
Shewavesahand.“YoumovedherebecauseyoumissedVancouver.”
“No.”Ifoldmyarmsovermychest.Icanfeelhowhardmyheartisbeating.“Imovedhereforyoubecauseyoustartedhavingpanicattacksandyouclearlycouldn’thandleityourself.”
SheblinkslikeI’veslappedher,andalthoughmyheartpinchestoseeherhurtlikethis,sheneedstohearthetruth.She’sbeenrunningfromitforsolong.
“Youhadapanicattackandgotintoacaraccident,soImovedmyentirelifebackheretotakecareofyou.”
Herjawtensesasshestaresatthefloor,andit’slikelookinginamirror.AknotuntiesinmychestasItellthetruth.Herfingersgotoherbracelet,turningthebeads.Shewon’tmeetmyeye.
“Thenurseonthephonesaidyouweren’tonmedication.”
“Idon’tneedthatstuff,”mymommutters.“Itriedit.”She’sreferringtoyearsago,whenherdepressionwasatitsworst.“Itmademeallloopy.”
“Thatwasfifteenyearsago.”Myvoiceisrough.“Therearenewmedsnowandnewresearch.Doctorswhospecializeinanxiety.”Ipause,abouttoaskaquestionIthinkIknowtheanswerto.“Didyoufindanewtherapistlikeyousaid?”
Shestaresatthebeadsasshespinsthem.“Itdidn’tworkout.”
“Sothat’sano.”Iblowabreathout.
Iseeitsoclearly,alllaidoutinfrontofme.She’sgoingtokeepgettingworse,andI’llchipawayatmylifeuntilthere’snothingleftbecauseIdon’twanttohurtherfeelings.Andinthemeantime,I’lltellmyselfIcan’thavethewomanIlovebecauseIdon’thavetimeforher.
Myhearthurts.IlovePippa,andIdon’twanttogiveherup.Ilovemymom,andIdon’twanttoseehergetworse.
“Whywereyoudrivingalone?”Iasksoftly.
Amuscleticksinherjaw,andhereyesstayonherbracelet.“Ineededsomethingfromthestore.Itwasjustaquicktrip.”
Shecouldhaveseriouslyhurtherself,orsomeoneelse.IfDaisywasinthecar—
Ican’teventhinkaboutthat.Ilovethatdogsomuch.
“Youknowyougetpanicattackswhiledriving,andyetyougotbehindthewheel.HowisthisanydifferentfromwhatDaddid?”
HerheadsnapsupbecauseI’vehitanerve.Good.
“Jamie.”Hertoneissharp.
I’veneverspokentoherlikethis.Wenevertalkabouthim.
Itakeastepforward,foldingmyarmsovermychest.“You’reignoringtheproblem,andit’sgettingworse.Youliedtomeaboutfindingatherapist.”
Hermouthflattens.“Ilooked.”Hervoiceissmall.“IlookedandthenIjust—”Shefreezesup,shakingherhead.“Icouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Shethrowsherhandsup,discomfortradiatingoffherinwaves,butIdon’tcare.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthisanymore.”
Mypulseraces.“Youneverwanttotalkaboutit.”
“Thisisnotyourproblem.Letmedealwithit.”
Myheadisabouttoexplode.
“Idon’twantyoutoshoulderthisalone,becauseIloveyouandIoweyoueverything,butyouhavetogivemesomething.”Iscrubahanddownmyface,andmychestsinksfurtherindefeat.“Idon’tknowwhattodoanymore.Ifyoucan’ttakecareofyourself,ifI’malwaysworryingaboutyou,Ican’thaveanormallife.YouknowwhatItoldmyselfforyears,Mom?ItoldmyselfthatIcan’tmeetanyoneorgetmarrieduntilIretirefromhockeybecauseIneedtofocusonmycareerandtakingcareofyou.”
Painflashesthroughhereyes.
“I’minlovewithPippa.”MyvoicesoftensasIthinkaboutthewomanoutsidethisroom.“Iloveher,andIwanttobewithher,butIworrythatit’sgoingtogetinthewayoftakingcareofyou.”Irubtheacheinmychest.“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”
Mymom’sfacefalls,andshelookssoheartbroken.
Iswallowpastathickthroatandtakeaseatbesideheronthebed.“Iloveyousomuch.Itkillsmetowatchthishappen.”
Sherunsherfingersalongthebeadsonherwristandtakesaslow,deepbreath.
“Ifeltsomuchguiltforwhathappenedwithyourfather,”shewhispers,squeezinghereyesclosedwiththepain.“Ifyouhadbeeninthecar,Ineverwouldhaveforgivenmyself.”
“Iknow.”She’sneversaidthisoutloud,butsomehow,Iknowit.
“Ihaveneverbeenthemotheryouneeded.”Atearleaksoutofhereye,andshewipesitawayfastbeforesheshakesherheadtoherself.“Ithoughtthatstuffwasbehindme.”Hereyesarewaterywhenshemeetsmine,andherthroatworks.Iknowshemeansthedepressionandanxiety.“Iwantedittobebehindmesobadly.”
“YoualwaysfeltguiltbecauseyounevermadeDadgetthehelpheneeded,right?”Iask.
Shemeetsmyeyesandnods.
“Howiswhatyou’redoinganydifferent?”Myvoiceissoftbecausethisisgoingtobethehardesttruthtostomach.“Youknowdeepdownyouneedhelpandyou’reignoringtheproblem.”
Inhereyes,Iseeitall:guilt,worry,regret,self-hatred,andresignation
“Yeah,”shesays,deflating.“You’reright.”
“Idon’twanttoberight.”
Aruefulsmileghostsoverherface.“It’shardadmittingthatthere’saproblem.”Shestopsherself.“ThatIhaveaproblem.”
“Iknow.”
Hergazeliftstomine.“Iwantyoutohaveeverything.”
“IwantyoutogetatherapistandtacklethislikeIknowyoucan.”IthinkaboutPippaandthestuffshe’sbeenthroughwithherex,howhetriedtodecimateherconfidence,butsheroseupstrongerandbrighter.“Havingtheseissuesdoesn’tmakeyouweak.Itmakesyoustronger,andIknowyoucandothis.”
Amomentpasseswherewejustlookateachother.Thingshavechangedforthebetter.Icanfeelit.
“YoulovePippa?”sheaskssoftly,eyesroamingovermewithwarmadmiration.
Ihuff.“That’swhatyougotfromallofthis?”
Shelaughslightlyandsighs.“I’mgoingtogetatherapist,I’mgoingtotalktothemaboutmedication,andI’mgoingtogivethisaserioustry.BecauseIdon’twanttodrowninthisanymore,andIwantyoutobehappy.”Throughhersadnessandshame,hereyessparkwithteasing.“So,youlovePippa?”
Ismileandmyheartexpands,fillingeverycorneroftheroom.“Yep.IlovePippa.”
“Andshelovesyou?”
“Yep,”Pippacallsfromthehall.
Webothburstoutlaughing.
Pippapokesherheadinthedoorwithanembarrassedsmile.She’sblushing.“Sorry.”
Mymomwavesherin.“Comein,comein.”
Pippawandersintotheroomandleansagainstthetablenearthedoor.
“Didyoutwohavefunatthegala?”mymomasks.
PippaandIlookateachother,smiling.
“Yes.”Shesmileswider,andIwonderwhatpartshe’sremembering.“Jamielookedveryhandsome.”
“AndPippalookedverybeautiful.”Iliftmyeyebrowsather.“Shealwaysdoes.”
“Iwanttoseephotos,”mymomsays,glancingbetweenuswithapleasedsmile.“Andyouloveeachother?”
IholdPippa’sgazewhilemyheartdoesbackflips.“Yep.”
Mymommakesahappyhummingnoise.“Ihopedthatwouldhappen.”
“Metoo,”Iadmit.
MygazefallstoPippa’slefthand,andIwonderifit’stoosoontothinkaboutbuyingheraring.
Probably.
Butmaybenot.
Weleavethehospitalanddrivemymomhome,andwhenDaisyseesus,sheracesoverandjumpsintomyarms,wigglinglikecrazywithexcitementasPippaandmymomlaugh.
Pippawouldn’tleavemysidetoday,evenwhenIstubbornlydemandedtosendherhomeinaflurryofpanicandshame.She’sbeenthereformesincedayone,evenbeforeweweretogether,andIknowthatevenifmymom’srecoverytakeslongerthanexpected,I’mnotaloneinit.
Pippaisn’tjusttheloveofmylife;she’smyfamily.CHAPTER70PIPPA
Amonthlater,myparents,Hazel,Donna,andIheaduptotheboxatthearenaafteroneofJamie’sgames.Wesatbehindthenet,andwhenJamiewavedatusthroughtheglass,Ithoughtmydadwasgoingtostartcryingfromexcitement.
Jamiehadsuggestedmyparentscomeoutforavisit,insistingonputtingthemupinanearbyhotel.Lastnight,hetookusalloutfordinner.It’slikehewantstogettoknowthembetter.
Irescindedmyapplicationforthemarketingjob,andJamiespokewiththeteamtoextendmycontractuntilIfigureoutaplanwithregardstomusic.There’sbeenradiosilencefromIvyMatthews,andalthoughI’mdisappointed,it’snotholdingmebackfromwritingmore.
I’veplayedsixopenmicsaroundthecityinthepastmonth.I’mdoingthis,andI’mgoingtogiveiteverything,becauseitmatters.
Nervesbuzzinmystomachaswestepintothebox.I’mstallingontellingmyparentsallofthisbecauseIknowtheywon’treactwell.
Inthebox,mymomchatswithDonna,Hazel,andafewothers.TheplayerswhovisitedSilverFallsforNewYear’sgreetmydadlikeanoldfriendandthankhimagainforthebreakfasthemadeforeveryone,andtheplayershehasn’tmetintroducethemselvesimmediately.WhenJamiefinallyarrives,hedoesn’tlooksurprisedtoseemydaddeepinconversationwithWardaboutthedefensiveplaystonight.
“Hi,baby.”Jamiedropsakissontomylips,andIsmile.
“Hi.Didyoutelleveryonetocomesayhitomydad?”
Thecornersofhislipscurveup.“Yep.”
Thisman.Seriously.He’sperfect.“Thankyou.”
Hisgazeissowarmandpleasedasitroamsovermyface,myhair.“Foryou,songbird?Anything.”
Iflushwithpleasure.I’msohappywiththisguy.
Donnaandmymomcacklewithlaughter.“They’regettingonlikeahouseonfire,”IwhispertoJamie,smiling,andhiseyeswarmasheregardshismom.
Afterthecaraccident,Donnagotseriousabouttacklingheranxietyandpanicattacks.Twiceaweek,Jamiedriveshertocounseling,patientlywaitinginthecar,andafterward,theygoforlunch.Ifhe’soutoftown,Idriveher.He’sevenjoinedafewsessionsattherequestofDonna’scounselor,andalthoughtheyhavealotofgroundtocover,itseemslikethey’remakingprogress.Donnatalksmoreopenlyaboutherissuesnow.Iheardhermentioningittomymomduringthegame.
IsmileupatJamie.“Thankyouforputtingmyparentsupinahotel.”
“Happyto.”Hislipsbrushmyearashelowershisvoice.“Idon’twantyoutobequiettonight.”
AshiverrunsdownmyspineasIbitebackacheekygrin.Mythighssqueezetogether,thinkingabouthistonguebetweenmylegslastnight,andthenhimtakingmeagainstthewallafter,withmylegswrappedaroundhiswaist.TellinghimIlovedhimunleashedsomethinginJamie,andhe’sbeenshowinghisloveformeinmany,manyways.
I’mnotcomplaining.
“We’regoingtothebar,”Haydencutsin.Hepointsatmyparents.“Ken?Maureen?Donna?You’recomingwithus,right?”
Mydadisabouttofaintwithhappiness.
***
TheFilthyFlamingoisfullofnoise,laughter,conversation,andmusic,punctuatedbytheoccasionaldrinkgettingknockedover.Theteam’sallhere,evenWard.He’sstillinconversationwithmydad,buthiseyeslingeronJordanbehindthebar.
Jordan’scasualsexguyisonthesmallstage,playingguitarandsinging,andIlistentothenewsonghe’stryingout.It’saboutwantingmorefromagirlwhoisn’tinterested,andhiseyesalsolingeronJordantheentiretime.Hereallyneedstotunehisguitar.
“Folks,I’mgoingtotakeashortbreak,”hesaysintothemic,andhiseyesmeetmine.“ButI’mhopingourfriendPippacanplayforyouinthemeantime.”
Myeyesgowideaseveryoneturnstome.Hazelgivesmeanencouragingnod.
“Yeah,Pippa,”oneoftheplayerscheers.Oneofthedrunkerplayershowlslikeawolf.
Myparentsstareatmeinconfusion.TheyknowaboutmeperformingonNewYear’sEve—everyoneinSilverFallsdoes—buttheydon’tknowit’saregularthing.
Theyhaven’tseenmeplayliveinyears.Mypulsepicksupasnervesdanceinmystomach.Theycallitahobby,andtheystillthinkI’mgoingtohaveacareerinmarketing.
IfIwanttobeinthemusicindustry,though,Ihavetoplayinfrontofpeople,evenifI’mscared.
Istand,andthepeoplearoundmecheer.Myparentslookbaffledattheresponse.MypulsedrumsinmyearsasImakemywayuptothestage.IknowwhatsongI’mgoingtoplaybecauseit’sallsoclearnow.WhenIwrotesongaftersongaboutJamie,thatwasmetellinghimIlovedhim.WhenIwroteasongaboutstrugglingwiththeexpectationsofothers,thatwasmethrashingagainstthecageplacedaroundme.
“Hi,”Isayintothemic,strummingtheguitar.“I’mPippaHartley.”
Afewpeoplechuckle,becauseI’mfriendswitheveryoneinthisroom.
Ilaunchintothesong,andwhenIlookatmyparents,they’relisteningwithraptattention.Mymomwearsasweetyetsadsmile,andmydadlooksatmelikeI’manNHLplayer.Somethingachesinmychest.Mymomreachesformydad’shand,andhemurmursinherear.Shenodsandsmilesagain.
Isingmyheartout.Isingaboutwantingmore,wantingtobelieveinmyself,wantingtobreakfreeandbemyownperson.IsingaboutgoingforwhatIwantbecauseIdon’twanttoregretasinglemoment.Idon’twanttowasteaseconddoingsomethingotherthanfollowingmypassionandpurpose.
BeinguphereiswhereI’mmeanttobe.Evenifnothingcomesofit.EvenifIplaydivebarsfortherestofmylife.
Jamiewatchesmesingwithaproudlook,likeI’meverythingtohim.
Isingabouthowtakingtheriskmightbeworthit,andwhenI’mdone,thebareruptsincheersandapplause.
Backatthetable,myparentsarespeechless.Theyhaven’tseenmeperformsincehighschool,andbackthen,I’donlyperformcoversongs,neversomethingIwrote.Itakeaseat,andJamieglancesbetweenmeandmyparents,readytojumpinifneeded,butIshakemyhead.
Jamiestoodupforhimselftohismom,andIcanstandupformyselftomyownparents.IfIwantacareerinthemusicindustry,I’mgoingtohavetogetusedtostandingupformyself.
“I’mnottakingthemarketingjob,”Iblurtouttomyparents.
Mymom’sexpressionisguarded.“Wastheoffertoolow?”
“Youneedtonegotiate.”Mydadleansforward.“Theyexpectyoutonegotiatethesalary,Pippa.”
“No.”Ishakemyhead.“Please,letmefinish.”
Concernpassesovertheirfeatures.Besideme,Jamiewaits,lettingmehandlethis.
“Theydidn’tmakeanofferbecauseIrescindedmyapplication.”Itakeadeepbreath,watchingthemprocessthis.Mymomisfreakingout,butshe’shidingit.Icantellfromthelookinhereyes.“Idon’twantthatjob.”
Mydadblinks.“Yousaidyouwantedit.”
“Idon’tthinkIdid.”Iwince.“Ithoughtitwastherightthingtodo.”Igestureovermyshoulderatthestage,andIthinkaboutthatthoughtexerciseJamiehadmedointheforestandalltheincrediblemomentsIpictured.“That’swhatIwanttodo.Iwantacareerinthemusicindustry.Iwanttowritemyownmusicandgoontouraroundtheworldplayingforpeople.Itmakesmehappy.”ImeetJamie’ssteadygaze.“AndIcandoit.I’mtalentedandIworkhard.”
Myparentsaresilentasthissinksin.
“I’msogratefulforeverythingyou’vedoneforme,”Icontinue.“Youworkedsohardtopayformyschool,andI’mgoingtopayyouback.Everypenny.”
“No,”mydadsaysquickly,frowning.“Wedon’twantthat.”
“Agreed,”mymomadds.“Thatmoneywassoyouhadoptions.”
“Exactly.Wealwayswantedyougirlstohaveoptions.”MydadglancesatHazelafewtablesaway.“Wewantedyoutohaveeverythingbecausewedidn’thavethat.”
Mymomtakesadeepbreath,shiftinginherseat,lookinguncomfortable.Iknowshe’sthinkingabouthowshedidn’tgetintotheballetcompanyinhertwenties.Shespentthreedecadesteachingdancewhenitwasn’therpassion.
“Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”Itellher,andsheraisesaneyebrow.MypulseracesbecauseIhatebeinginconflictwiththemlikethis.“I’mtakingareallybigswing,andthere’snoguaranteeit’llworkout.Theoddsareagainstme.”
There’sabeatwhereshejuststudiesme,andit’sthemostseriousI’veeverseenher.“It’sgoingtobehard,Pippa.”
“Iknow.”
“It’sgoingtobethehardestthingyou’veeverdone,andthere’salikelypossibilitythatyou’llendupteachingmusictofive-year-olds.”Hertoneismatter-of-fact,likeshe’sexplainingarecipetome.Painflashesthroughherblue-grayeyes.“It’shardtofailatsomethingyoulove.Ithurtssomuch.”
Mycheststrainsforher,andmyhandstwist.“Iknow,butIstillneedtotry,orI’llregretitforever.”
Sheconsidersthisforalongmoment,andIworrythatshe’sunconvinced,butthenshelooksatmydad.Somethingpassesbetweentheirgazes,somesilentcommunicationhonedoverdecadesofmarriage,andherexpressionsoftens.
“Wedon’twantyoutoworkajobyouhate,”sheadmits.“Wewantyoutobehappy.”Sheglancesupatthestage.“Beingbrokeisreallyhard,honey.”
“She’llneverbebroke,”Jamiecutsin,andthelookhesendsmetellsmehemeansbusiness.
Itrynottolaughathisprotectiveness.
“I’mokaywiththingsbeinghard,”Itellthem.“It’llbeworthit.”
We’reallquietamidthebarnoise.
“You’rereallytalented,sweetheart,”mydadsayswithawistfullookinhiseye.“We’veneverseenyoulikethat.Whileyouwereplaying,Isaidtoyourmom,shelookslikeaproupthere.”
Mymomnods,andshesmilesatmelikesheseesmeinanewlight.“Youlookedlikeyoubelongupthere.”
Somethingunwindsinmychest,threadbythread,untilIfeelfree.“Idobelongupthere.”
Jamie’shandcoversmineinmylap,andIlacemyfingersintohis.Hesendsmeaquickwink,andmyheartjumps.“Sherecordedademowithaproducer,”hetellsthem.
“Youdid?”Mydadlooksbetweenus.
Inod,smilingandsqueezingJamie’shand.“Yep.Idid.”
Myparentsexchangealook.“Wedon’tsayitenough,”mydadsays,andthere’sacatchtohisvoice.“We’reproudofyou.Nomatterwhat.”
“Wereallyare.”Mymomnods.“Weloveyousomuch.”
TheirwordsareeverythingIwantedtohear,andIblinkawaythestinginmyeyes.
“Loveyou,too,”Iwhisper,smiling.
Mydadstands.“Grouphug.”HegesturestoHazelafewtablesaway.“Hazel,honey,you,too.Getoverhere.”
Ilaugh,andmydadpullsallofusintoawarmembrace.
“Hey,youtwo.”Jordan’sbehindus,gesturingtomeandJamie.She’sholdingaPolaroidcamera.“Comehere.Iwanttotakeaphotoofyou.”
Jamiepullsmeagainsthim,andtheblindingflashgoesoffjustashepressesakisstomytemple,makingmesmile.
Thecameraspitsthephotoout,andaminutelater,theimageofusappears.
Thephotoissnatchedoutofmyhands.“I’lltakethat,”Jordansaysbeforeshewalksbehindthebarandtacksthephototothewall.
“Welookhappy,”ItellJamie,andhesmilesatme.
“Weare,songbird.”
***
Thatevening,I’minfrontofthebathroomsink,gettingreadyforbed,whenmyphonepingswithanemail.Ireadit,andmyheartjumpsintomythroat.
“Pippa,”Jamiecallsfromourroom.“Areyoucomingtobed?”
Ireadtheemailagain,handsshaking.
It’shappening.It’sactuallyhappening.
FootstepsapproachandJamieappearsatmyside.“What’swrong?”
Ismileupathim,dazedandelated.“Nothing’swrong.Everything’samazing.”
AlaughburstsoutofmebecauseJamieissogorgeousandhandsomestandinghereinjusthistightblackboxers,andIvyMatthewshasofferedmearecordingcontractwithhernewrecordlabel.
Idon’tevenrecognizemylifeanymore.
WhenIshowJamiemyphone,ahugesmilebreaksoutonhisface.
“Songbird.”HesaysitthesamewayhesaysIloveyou
Emotionwellsupinmyeyes,andI’msmilingsohardithurts.“Yeah.”
“Youdidit.”
“Ididitbecauseofyou.”Atearspillsover.“BecauseyoushowedmeIcould.”
“Youalwayshaditinyou.”Hishandsareinmyhairashetiltsmyfaceuptohim.“Always.”
Isighashekissesme,andmyheartissocomplete.I’mgoingtowriteasongaboutthismoment.
“Iloveyou,”Itellhimforthetenthtimetoday.
Hepullsbacktolookintomyeyes,andhisgazeisfullofaffection.“Pippa,I’velovedyouforalotlongerthanIrealized.”
Inarush,hishandsareonmeandI’moverhisshoulderashewalkstothebedroom.Ilaughupsidedownandgivehimaslaponthebutt.
Hegivesmeasqueeze.“Let’sgomakeupforlosttime.”EPILOGUEPIPPASEVENMONTHSLATER
“ReadyonPippa’sintro,”thestagetechsaysinmyearpiece.
Thearenabuzzeswithenergy.Againsttheblindingstagelights,Icanseethetwinkleofphonesinthecrowd.Mybloodhumswithamillionemotionsatonce,andItakeadeepbreath,groundingmyself.Throughoutthetour,I’vefoundaritualinthemomentsbeforetheshowstarts.
Thelastsevenmonthshavebeeninsane.
IvyMatthewsstartedherownrecordlabel,andwerecordedanalbumtogether.
Mydreamguitarisslungacrossmybody,myfingersrestingonthestringsandtheneck.Alowhumpulsesasthecheersdiedown.Everyone’swaiting,watching.
Wereleasedthealbum,andtheneverythingwentnuts.Twoofthesongspickedupspeedonthecharts,andIvypulledsomestringsintheindustrytogetmetheopeningspotonthistour.Itnormallytakesyearstomakethiskindofprogress,butIvywasdetermined.
Therearenineteenthousand,sevenhundredseatsinthisarena,andtonight,everysingleoneisfull.Sure,they’reheretoseetheartistI’mopeningforonthistour,butI’mstandingonstageinaprettybluedress,playingmusicthatIwrote.
Abroadsmilestretchesacrossmyface,andmyheartswells.I’mhere,livingmydream,andI’msograteful.
“Goodevening,Vancouver,”Isayintothemic,andthecrowdcheers.“It’ssogoodtobehome.I’mPippaHartley.”
Thecrowdcheersagain,andIglancetothewings,whereJamiewatcheswithaVIPpasshangingfromhisneck.Theaffectionandprideinhiseyessetsmeonfire.He’sbeenfollowingmeontourallsummer,buttheopeninggameoftheseasonislaterthisweekinthisveryarena,sowe’lldolongdistanceuntilNovember,whenthetourisover.
Ibrushmyfingertipsovermynecklace,theonewiththeblue-graystone.WhenI’monstageorhe’sontheice,thisishowItellhimIlovehim.Ifindmyselfdoingitconstantly,evenwhenhe’snotaround.
“Andthisisasongaboutfallinginlove.”
Thecrowdroars,andIsmileatJamie.
“Pippaandbandonfive,four,three.”
Two,one.
ThebandandIbegintoplaythesongIwroteaboutJamie,andmyheartissofull.
***
Twoeveningslater,we’rebackinthesamearena,excepttheflooriscoverediniceinsteadofaseaofmusicfans.Jamieandtheotherplayersfinishwarmingup,andI’mwaitingbytheentrancetotheice,microphoneinhand.Thehockeyfansarebrimmingwithexcitementafterlastseason.AlthoughtheStormwereeliminatedinthefirstroundofplayoffs,theyhadabetterseasonthanusual,andCoachTateWardhaswonovertheVancouverfans.
“Ready?”theopeningcoordinatorasks,andIgiveheraconfidentnod.MystomachtumbleswiththefamiliarexcitementIalwaysfeeljustbeforesteppingonstage,butitenergizesme.
Shesayssomethingintoherearpiece,andthelightsinthearenadim.Thecrowdcheersastheplayerslineupintheirspots.
“Pleasestandfortheopeninganthem,”theannouncersays.
Thecoordinatorgesturestome.“Ms.Hartley,that’syourcue.”
IglancedownatmyselfinJamie’sjersey,wearinghisnameonmyback,andsmile.
“Ourtalenttonightishomegrown,”theannouncercontinues.“PleasewelcomePippaHartley!”
Istepontotheredcarpet,andthecrowdcheers.AsIheadtomymark,IcatchaglimpseofmyselfupontheJumbotron,grinningfromeartoear.
Jamiestandsonhisskatesclosesttomymark,shufflingontheicetostaywarm.Iflashhimabroadsmileandgivehimaquickwavebeforemyhandautomaticallybrushesmynecklace.Underhisgoaliemask,hiseyesarebright.He’shappytobebackontheice,Icantell.It’sbeenincrediblehavinghimwithmeontourallsummer,butthisiswherehebelongs.
Itakemyspot,andoncethecamerawomanisinherposition,Inodtothecoordinator.Amomentlater,themusicstarts.
MyvoiceisstrongandclearasIsingtheCanadiannationalanthem.Myheartpoundsharderthanever,anditfeelsincredible.It’samomentI’llneverforget,andwhenI’mahundredyearsold,I’llthinkbacktostandinghereontheice,singingmyheartoutintothemicwhileJamielooksonproudly.
Ibeltoutthelastnotes,andwhenI’mdone,thearenaerupts.TheVancouverplayersarewhoopingandcheeringwaymorethanisappropriate,andIcan’thelpbutlaugh.
JamieandIlookateachother,andwe’rewearingmatchingear-to-earsmiles.Hemouthssomethingtome.
Songbird
“PleasegiveitupforPippaHartley,”theannouncersays,andIwaveatthecrowdbeforewalkingtotheentrance,offtheice.“Pippa,ifyoucouldjuststayrightthereamoment.”
Mybrowssnaptogetherinconfusion,butIstopwalking.Attheentrance,thecoordinatorissmilingatme,holdingupahand,mouthingstaythere
ThearenahumsandIlookaround,confused.
“Pippa.”
Jamie’satmyside,nolongerwearinghishelmetorthegoaliepadsonhislegs,andIblinkupathim.Inhisskates,hetowersmorethannormal.
“What’sgoingon?”Iask,pulsestumbling.Everyoneinthearenaiswatching,murmuring.
HisAdam’sapplebobsasheswallows,andhisjawticksagain.He’sbeenactingweirdallday.Nervous,alittlejumpy.IscaredthedaylightsoutofhimearlierwhenIwalkedintothebedroomtooquietly.
Hetakesmyhands.Thearenalightingmakeshimlookevenmorehandsome,withhissharpjaw,thicklashes,andstrongnose.
“First,”hesays,lowenoughsoonlywecanhear,“youwerethegirlIhadacrushoninhighschool.Thegirlwhodidn’tseehowpretty,talented,special,andinterestingshewas.”Histhroatworks.Whattheactualhellishappeningrightnow?“Andthenyouweremyassistant,thedistractingwomanwhodemandedherjobbackandcalledmeadickhead.”
Alaughburstsoutofme,andJamie’seyesdance.
“Idon’tthinkIusedtheworddickhead,”Iwhisper.
Seriously,whatishedoing?Theentirearenaiswatching.
“Youdid,”hesays.“Youdefinitelydid.Andnowyou’remygirlfriend.”MyeyesarelockedonhisandIcan’tlookaway.“ButIwantyoutobemywife,andIwanttobeyourhusband.Iwantustobeafamilyandlivelong,happylivestogether.”
Understandingrushesatmelikeafreighttrain,andJamiedropstohiskneetotiehisskate—
He’snottyinghisskate.Myheartpounds.He’slookingupatme,holdingasmall,blackvelvetbox.Itfitsrightinhisbigpalm,andthere’ssomethingverysparklyinside.Hisfreehandslipsintomine,andhegivesmeawarm,reassuringsqueeze.
IcanalreadyhearthesongI’mgoingtowriteaboutthismoment.
Arushofnoise,cheering,whooping,applauseswellsaroundus,andmygazesnapsbacktoJamie’s.Itquietsdownasthearenawaits.
Myheartisinmythroat,andmyeyesarewellingup.“Iwantthat,too.Allthosethings.”
“Iknowwe’reyoung.”Hiseyessearchmine.“Andthatwehaven’tevenbeentogetherayear.”Thecornerofhismouthpullsup.“Idon’tcare,though.Iloveyou,songbird.There’snodoubtinmymindthatyou’retheoneforme.”
Ican’tevenspeak.I’mjustsmilingathim,blinking,whilemypulsegallops.Thisdoesn’tfeelreal.ThisfeelslikethebestdreamIcouldeverimagine.I’msogladheisn’tmic’dforthis.Eventhougheveryoneiswatching,itfeelslikethismomentisjustforus.
“Ithinkweshouldtrysomethingnew,”hesays,mouthtwitching.HiseyesarethebrightestgreenI’veeverseen.Hisexpressionissosoft,sosweet,soloving.“Weshouldtrybeingmarried.”Hisexpressionbreaksandhehuffswithamusement.“Youshouldseeyourface.”
“Uh.”I’mlaughing.“I’mbusylookingatsomethingelse.”Ican’tgetafullbreathasImeethiseyes.IthinkI’mcrying.I’mnotsure.“Iloveyou,too.”Itfliesoutofmymouth.TellingJamieIlovehimislikebreathing,it’ssoeffortlessandtrue.Atearspillsover,andhishandliftstowipeitaway.“Iwanttomarryyou.”
Jamie’schestswellsandhisexpressionmeltsintosomethinggorgeous.Soproudandhappyandatease.“Iwashopingyou’dsaythat.”
Hestands,andhismouthfindsmineimmediately.Ourkississoft,intimate,andloving.Aroundus,thecrowdisscreaming,cheering,hollering,stampingtheirfeet,rattlingtheglass,whistling.
Idon’tevencarethatthousandsofpeoplearewatching.Probablymore,becausethisisbeingbroadcastonTV.
Everythingwasworthit,alltheheartache,allthepain,allthescarymoments.Theywereallworthitforthis,andI’dgothroughitathousandtimessoIcouldendupwithJamieStreicher.
“Youshouldprobablylookatthering,”hewhispersagainstthecornerofmymouth.
Iglancedownattheboxhe’sholding,andImeltalloveragain.
“It’slikemynecklace.”
Astrikingblue-graystonesitsonawhitegoldband,withtinydiamondsscatteredaroundtheperimeterofthelargecenterstone.It’sdelicate,unique,andperfect.
“Mhm.Iwantedittomatch,soyoucanwearthiseveryday,too.”Hegentlypullsitoutofthebox.“Youwanttotryiton?”
Ican’ttakemyeyesoffthisring.I’veneverseenanythinglikeit.“Yes,please.”
Jamie’sdeepchucklemakesmesmile,andIflushwithpleasureasheslidestheringontomyleftringfinger.Thearenaexplodeswithnoise,andIsweartheiceisshakingundermyfeetfromthevolume.Theplayersaretappingtheirsticksontheice,grinningandwhoopingforus.
“Iloveit.”Ibitemylipasmychestsqueezeswithamillionwarm,flutteryemotions.
Jamieholdsmyhand,andwhenIlookupintohiseyes,Iseeitallinfrontofus.Thisisjustthebeginning,andIcan’twaittoseewhereourincrediblelifegoes.
“Youreadytobemine?”Iask.
“Songbird.”Hesmilesdownatmewiththatbreathtakingsmilethat’sjustforme.HesmilesatmelikeI’madorable,andlikehelovesmemorethananything.“Ialwayshavebeen.”
***
HazelandIareintheboxupstairswithDonna,waitingforthethirdperiodtostart.Donnakeepsgrabbingmyhandandgrinningattheringbeforetearingup.
She’ssoexcited.It’sadorable.
Hazel’sphonebuzzes,andsheunlocksit.Aroundus,otherstaffmembersarepullingouttheirownphonesasnotificationschime.Hazel’seyesmoveacrossherphonescreen,andshegoesrigid.
“Hello.”Inudgeher.
Whenhereyesmeetmine,shelookslikeshe’sabouttobesick.Orfaint.I’mnotsure.
“There’sanewtradememo,”shesaysquietly.Theteamstaffgetanemaileverytimeanewplayeristradedtotheteamsoeachdepartmentcanprepare.
Theemotionlesstonetohervoicemakesmepause.“Whoisit?”
Hermovementsareswiftassheshovesherphoneintoherbackpocket.“RoryMiller.”
Atherside,herfingertipsbrushinfastcircles.Hernervoustell.
Theseasonisabouttogetinteresting.
RoryandHazel’sbookisnext!Inthemeantime,readorlistentoThatKindofGuy,aspicysmalltownfakedatingrom-com!ScantheQRcodebeloworkeepreadingforanexcerpt.
EXCERPTFROMTHATKINDOFGUY
Therewasthetinklingsoundofsomeoneclinkingtheirglass,andtheentirerestaurantquieteddown.Emmettstoodathistablewithhisglassraised.
Ohmygod.Mygutwrenchedwithpanic,mylungsconstricted,andIrememberedtheconversationwehadafewdaysago,rightafterIwokeup.
Ihadforgottenaboutit.
Mymindraced.Here?No.Tonight?Hewasgoingtodoittonight?Butwehadonlytalkedaboutitacoupledaysago.Therewassupposedtobemoreplanninginvolved.Theguycouldhavegivenmesomewarning.
Ispunaround,intendingtosprintbackintomyoffice,lockthedoor,andslidethefilingcabinetinfront.Max,however,thelittlebrat,blockedmeagain
“No,youdon’t,”hesaid,turningmebackaround.Helockedhisarmaroundmyshoulderstoholdmesteady.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Ihissedathim.“Whosesideareyouon?”
HecontinuedsmilingatEmmettwhilewhisperingtomeoutofthecornerofhismouth.“Emmettslippedmeahundredbuckstomakesureyouwerehereforthis.”
Thatbastard.Atinyfractionofmewasimpressed.Ishouldn’thavebeensurprised.Theguywasalwaysstrategizing,alwaysscheming.Thedealwecookedup?Ithadcometohimsonaturally.HehadeverythingfiguredoutbeforeIevensaidyes.Ofcoursehehadthistimedtotheminute.
“Mostofyouknowme,”Emmettwassayingtotherestaurant.“IwasbornandraisedhereinQueen’sCove,andyouknowmyparents,ElizabethandSam.”Hetippedhisglasstothemandsmiled.“Thistownmeansmoretomethanmostofyouwilleverknow.I’vetraveledallover,butI’venevermetafinergroupofpeople.”
Wow,hewaslayingitonthick.Mypulsepickedupspeed.Maybethiswasjustatoasttohiscampaign.
“Ilovethistown,andIlovethepeoplewholivehere.That’swhyI’mrunningformayor.ThepeopleofQueen’sCoveareimportant,andI’mgoingtodoeverythingIcantoprotectthem,includingupgradingtheelectricalgridsothosepoweroutagesareathingofthepast.”
Peoplestartedclapping,andhewaitedforthemtofinish.Irolledmyeyes.InEmmett’shead,hewasJesusChristhimself,heretosaveoursadlittletown.Annoying.
Emmettnodded.“YouknowmeastheQueen’sCoveboywhocausedtroublewithmybrothers,youknowmeastheupcomingmayor,butthere’sasideofmeyoudon’tknow.”
Emmett,theshowmanhewas,letthislastsentencesettleintheroom.Therewasarippleofcuriositythroughouttherestaurant.Mystomachwasinknots,twistingandchurning,andadrenalinedrippedintomybloodstreamfromtheanticipation.Hisfamilyexchangedcuriousglances.
“I’malsoamaninlove.”
Everywomanintheroomexceptmeswooned.Myfacetingled,andIcouldn’ttellwhetheritwasfromexasperation,nerves,ornausea.Dinerswatchedmewithbigsmiles.TheymusthaveseenMiri’sphotoofusonline.
Emmettgavethemallabashfullook.“That’sright.I’vefallenheadoverheelsforthelastpersonIexpected.”Hesethiswineglassonthetableandreachedintohispocket.
Iclosedmyeyes.Why,whydidIagreetodothis?Thiswasmortifying.Noonewasgoingtobelieveit.They’dtakeonelookatmyfaceandknowitwasacompleteloadofcrap.
Emmettpulledoutasmall,navy-bluevelvetbox,andachorusofgaspsroseuparoundtheroom.Helookedstraightatme,andMax’sgrasponmyshoulderstightenedinresponse.Mythroatwasthick.EvenasEmmettinflictedthismortificationonme,Icouldn’tlookawayfromhim.Hewasananchor.Hewastheonlypersonwhoknewthetruth,andwewereinthistogether.
Hegavemeasoftsmileandwalkedacrosstherestauranttome.Theslowthumpofhisbootsechoedonthehardwoodaseveryoneheldtheirbreath.
Maxshovedmeforwardtothecenteroftherestaurant.Everyonecouldseeme.
“Avery,”Emmettsaid,andbehindhim,Elizabethclutchedherhandstohermouthinelation.“Iknowyou’rescared,andyouwantedtokeepusasecret.”Hereachedoutandtookmyhands.“Butbaby,I’mcrazyaboutyou,andIwanttotelltheworld.Youmakemeabetterman.Iwanttospendtherestofmylifewithyou.”Hedroppeddowntoonekneeandmoregaspsroseuparoundtheroom.
“Ohmygod!”Maxsquealedbehindme.
Myheadwasabouttoexplode.Anervouslaughsatrightbelowmyvocalcords,readytobubbleupatanyminute.Mystomachtwistedbackandforth.MyhandsshookinEmmett’s.Everyonestaredatme.EverysinglepersonIconsideredafriendwasheretonight,watchingme,watchingthishappen.
Onbendedkneeinfrontofme,Emmettopenedthebox.
Mymouthfellopen.
Itwasavintagediamondringfromthe1920s,ArtDecostyle.I’dseensimilarstylesonline.Itsparkledbrilliantly,catchingthelightfromeveryangle.Thecenterdiamondwasasoftgray,justlikethecolorofEmmett’seyes.Ahalooftinywhitediamondsencircledthelargerdiamond,withbaguette-stylegemscascadingfromthehalo.
Itwasgorgeous.Itwascomplicated,unique,overthetop,andyetdelicate.Myheartsqueezed.
HowdidheknowwhatIwouldlike?TheonlypersonIhadtoldaboutthiswas—
MygazecuttoHannah,whogavemeasoftsmilewhilebitingherlipinanticipation.Shewiggledhereyebrowsatme.
IswallowedagainandmygazereturnedtoEmmett.Hismoneyandinfluenceknewnoboundsinthistown,itappeared.
“AveryAdams,willyoumarryme?”heasked,loudenoughforeveryonetohear.
Thewholerestaurantwassilent,waitingformyanswer.Emmettwatchedmewithagentle,reverentlookonhisface.Iwasfrozen.MythoughtsmovedthroughJello,slowandsluggish.ThelongerIwassilent,themorethetensiongrew.Shit,whatwasIdoing?Ihadtosaysomething.Ihadtosayyes.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,Chuckfidgetedinhisseatbeforecheckinghisphone,likehewasbored.
Therestaurant.IwasdoingthissoIcouldgettherestaurant.EmmettandIwereinthistogether,andIalwayskeptmyword.Ialwaysheldupmyendofthebargain.
UncertaintyflickeredthroughEmmett’seyesashewaitedformyanswer.HisAdam’sapplebobbed.
“Yes,”Iwhispered.
“Yes?”Hiseyebrowsshotup,andIcouldtellhewasrelievedIdidn’tfuckitallup.“Yes?”
Inoddedandsmileddespitemyself.Itwasfun,playingwithEmmett’ssanityandemotionslikethis.“Yes.”
Heslippedtheringonmyfinger,stood,andbeforeIrealizedit,steppedintomypersonalspaceandputhismouthonmine.
Istoppedbreathing.
Hisarmswrappedaroundme.Emmettwaskissingme.
Aroundus,applauseandcheeringexploded.Emmettwaskissingme.Achampagnebottlepoppedbehindthebar.Emmettwaskissingme.
Hismouthwaswarm,soft,andIfeltthelightestscrapeofstubbleonmyskin,whichsentalittleshiverdownmyspine.Icouldsmellhismasculinescent,andmyhandsinstinctivelycametohischest.Ishiveredagainwhenhisfingerstangledintomyhair.
Beforemybraincouldmakesenseofwhatwashappening,hepulledbackandsmileddownatme.“Nicework,”hemurmuredintomyhair.
ThatKindofGuyisinKindleUnlimited,paperback,andaudio!AUTHOR’SNOTE
ThankyousomuchforreadingBehindtheNet!Ifyouenjoyed,IwouldloveifyoucouldwritemearevieworrateitonAmazon,orshareitwithyourfriends.
SomeonepointedoutthatIwritealotoffemalecharacterwhoarediscoveringordevelopingintheircareers.Loveisimportant,butfeelingworthyandproudofyourselfbecauseoftheworkyouputintosomethingyoulove?That’simportant,too.Noonecantakethatkindofthingawayfromyou.Ihopeyouknow,reader,thatyou’reworthpursuingsomethingyoulove.Yourdreamsarevalid.Ignorethepeoplewhosaydifferently,andlistentothepeoplewhobelieveinyou.
Andnowforafewwordsofgratitude!Thisbookwasso,sofuntowrite.It’sonlybecauseofBrittanyKelleyandGraceReillythatthisbookisn’tcalledBentOvertheBoardsorPuckedBetweenherCrease.ThankyoubothsomuchforencouragingmeandpatientlylisteningwhenIplot-panic.Iloveyouboth.
Amillionthankyou’stomywonderful,insightful,hilariousbetas:Jess,Esther,Marcie,Ycelsa,Brett,andWren.Thankyouallformakingthisbooksomuchbetter,andforlettingmekilloffthehotmesssister(sorry,Esther,Iknowyoulovedher,Imightuseheragainoneday).
ThankyoutoChloeFriedleinforanotherstunningillustration,andEchoGraycefortheperfecttypography!BothofyouareendlesslypatientwithmeandIappreciateitsomuch.
Tomysuperwomanassistant,AllyWhite,whoseorganizedbrainworksonawholeotherlevel,andwhoseexcitementforhockeyromancekeptmegoing.Thankyousomuchforeverythingyoudo.
Tomysoulmates:HelenCamisa,BryanHansen,AlannaGoobie,SarahClarke,AntheaSong,andTim,wholegitimatelythoughthockeyromancewasonewomanvstheentireteam.IloveallofyousofreakingmuchandI’mluckytoknowyou.
Andlastly,thankyou,readers!You’rethereasonIgettolivemydreamofbeingaromanceauthor.Yourexcitementformycharacters,mycovers,andmyfuturebooksmakesmyheartexplodewithsparklesandrainbows.I’msogratefulforallofyou.
RoryandHazel’sbookisnext!AndthenImightheadbacktoQueen’sCovetowriteBeck’sbook,sincey’allareferalforthatguy(Igetit,Iam,too).
Untilnexttime,
xoStephanieABOUTTHEAUTHOR
StephanieArcherwritesspicy,laugh-out-loudromance.Shebelievesinthepowerofbestfriends,stubbornwomen,afreshhaircut,andlove.ShelivesinVancouverwithamanandadog.
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