“Yes. Thank you.” Hunter steps forward.
“Some hot chocolate. Grilled cheeses. Some hot apple turnovers. And I think a few more goodies. It’s all on the house of course for the inconvenience we’ve caused you, Miss Kincade.”
“Thank you.” I nod and give a tight smile, more than relieved to have an innocent bystander back up my story with Callum.
“Maintenance just told me your room will be ready in five minutes. I was asked to escort you down there to make sure all your things are okay and to your liking.”
“Oh.” I hold the top of the robe closed and wonder if this is a blessing or a curse.
The blessing being that Hunter and I have never done that after part of sex before. It used to be sex, clean up, exchange a few words, maybe not . . . and then one of us would leave. Sure, we enjoyed each other, but there was nothing else between us.
The curse being that we’ve never done the after part of sex before either.
I glance back to the clothes on the floor and wonder how I retain my dignity while I scramble to pick them all up.
Callum assesses the situation and nods. “It’s late,” he says before shuffling down the hall toward his room, a few rooms down.
Hunter moves a hand to my lower back as the server moves the cart into the room. “Stay and eat?”
I shake my head, suddenly in a state of limbo—embarrassed, worried, confused. “I’m fine. I’ve got to go to my room—he said so—and . . .”
“Dekker.”
“No, It’s late. I should go make sure my room and things are okay.”
“I’ll walk you down there.”
“No. I’ve got it.” I step away from him, suddenly uncomfortable in everything. Needing space to clear my head and the emotions I know are most likely one-sided. At the situation I’ve just put myself in.
Shit.
“Dekker?” he asks.
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll take her down,” Hunter reasserts.
“No,” I say with more force than I should before turning to the hotel staffer. “Can you give me a minute? I’ll be right there.”
The staffer nods and I shut the door to buy me a few minutes to gather my stuff.
“Dekker?” Hunter says as I move around his room like a madwoman gathering my wet clothes and shoes.
“It’s fine. We’re fine,” I mutter and smile.
“So you’ve said.”
“If Callum talks—”
“Then what?” Hunter asks, his voice resonating around the room. “If he talks, then what’s the big deal? You’re a grown woman who can have sex with whomever she chooses. Why does it matter?”
“Because it does.” I fight the sudden burning of tears and hate that they’re there. Because I don’t cry over men. I don’t cry over things that can never be. And I certainly refuse to cry over Hunter Maddox.
“Gotcha.” He sighs as he moves with me through the room. “Ah, I forgot.” He tsks as I survey the room one last time. “This was a mistake, right? It shouldn’t have happened. It can’t happen again. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”
I expect to meet his eyes and find amusement in them, but there’s nothing but a gravity that unnerves me. I can’t tell if he’s angry or confused, but it’s something I’ve never seen before, and that in and of itself has me needing to get some space from him to figure out why there’s an awkwardness here.
“Hunter . . . I’m here for work and—”
“I wasn’t aware you were on the clock at two in the morning.”
“It’s not that. It’s just—”
“Just like old times, huh? Great sex. Poor communication. It’s best you leave before the fighting starts.” He takes a step forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Good night, Dekker.”
I stare at him as he opens the door. The second course of rejection from him tastes just as bitter as the first time. Maybe even worse.
The hotel clerk in the hallway rocks on his heels as he senses the discomfort between Hunter and me. I give him a half-smile and then turn back to face Hunter. Our eyes hold unspoken words exchanging between us—I’m sorry. Why is it like this? Why can’t we figure out how to do this right?
At least that’s what I think they say, because I second-guess every single one of them as I head to my hotel room.
Maybe this was the best way to end tonight.
Hockey.
Callum knocking on the door. The room service man shortly after.
Party.
Maybe a quick exit where neither of us had to talk about what’s next, and how we move on from here is for the best.
Fucking.
Because I just screwed up by sleeping with Hunter.
No repeat.
And the worst part? I know that I did, but I wish I was still in the hotel room with Hunter right now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HUNTER
THE CURL OF STEAM COMES off my coffee as I sit slumped in the chair where I moved it in front of the windows of my hotel room.
The city of Boston waits to wake up as I replay the last twenty-four hours in my mind and anticipate the sun to light up the sky.
Sleep was hopeless.
It is most nights as of late.
I’ve watched film of last night’s game twice. My notes are taken. My critiques of my performance ten times worse than my father’s. Maybe next game I can prove him differently.
Who can sleep when the world is burning down around them? When my brother’s dying, my parents live in an alternate reality, and I’m constantly fucking up one thing after another.
When I simply don’t want to care anymore.
It’s the white noise I’ve grown used to living with. The constant. The things I’ll never be able to change but will always try to.
“Christ,” I mutter and roll my shoulders, my body exhausted but my mind going a million miles an hour.
The lone difference tonight in my thoughts is Dekker. For the first time in as long as I can remember, the shit in my head is quieter. Or maybe not quieter, but not as choking. The anger, the guilt, the unease . . . they took a backseat for a snowball fight, her hand holding mine in the rideshare, and then the incredible sex soon after.
Or maybe it’s the relief in finally admitting to someone an ounce of my truth.
Either way it—us together—was like old times and yet so very different.
Is that what’s bugging me? The difference between us this time?
I already knew having sex wasn’t going to sate the hunger I had for her. I already knew one taste of her, one thrust into her pussy, and I’d only want more.
That’s how it has always been with her. That’s how it always will be.
What I didn’t expect was for the same damn heartache I had when we broke things off last time to return with a goddamn vengeance. The heartache I didn’t have to admit to last time because she walked out before I could.
But there was something different than that tonight. Something new.
I let the coffee scald my tongue when I drink it. I let it hurt and burn, as I force myself to acknowledge the one thing I pretend I don’t notice. Experience daily.
I have women at my fingertips, fans are everywhere I go, and I have teammates around me almost every waking minute of each day, but fuck if Dekker walking out of here tonight without a glance back didn’t make me realize how fucking lonely I am.