Derrick laughs. “Murder for sure. The first time Pete and Sven started hitting each other instead of the other team, I would have knocked their heads together and let them bleed out on the ice.” He lets out a soft growl of frustration. “Where’s their sense of loyalty? Players used to fight to stand up for our own. That’s the world I want to live in. Not this free-for-all bullshit.” He exhales another weary sigh and lifts his beer, frowning as he studies the empty bottle. “You want to grab another somewhere? I know you’re not supposed to be drinking during camp, but…”
“Actually, I should jump in the shower and get to bed soon,” I say. “Big day tomorrow. But I’ll take a rain check. Maybe Saturday night?”
He nods. “Sure. I have to head to Jersey on Sunday for my dad’s birthday, so I can’t stay out all night like we used to, but a wild-ish Saturday sounds good. I’ll touch base with you about a time later in the week. Maybe I’ll have good news by then. I’m going to do everything I can to convince the higher-ups to give things a little more time.”
“And I’ll try to get the rest of the guys in line without saying anything I shouldn’t. Hopefully it’s not too late to save this team. I’d hate to see it go down like this.”
“Me, too.” He collects his empty and stands, but pauses before he heads to the kitchen, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “When did you start drawing in your spare time? That art bag looks just like Evie’s.”
“What?” My heart catapults back into my throat again as I lean forward, following his gaze to see Evie’s black portfolio bag leaning against the side of the couch I’m currently seated on. “Oh, that.” I stand, waving a dismissive hand. “I picked it up last weekend. Just thought I should practice a little, so I won’t let Evie down with my stick figure portraits.”
His frown deepens. “You know she doesn’t care about that kind of stuff, right? When she’s in therapy mode, it’s about how drawing makes you feel, how it helps you process emotions, not what it looks like.”
I take his bottle as I start toward the door, needing to get him out of here before he realizes that bag doesn’t just look like Evie’s, it actually is Evie’s, and that his little sister is currently naked in my bedroom.
“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to give it my best effort,” I say. “And sketching is kind of relaxing. I might keep it up after art therapy is over.”
Derrick makes a surprised sound.
“What?” I ask. “Don’t see me as the artsy type?”
“No, I don’t,” he says with a laugh as we stop in front of the door. “But people can surprise you. I’ve been reminded of that a lot lately.” He reaches for the door, but hesitates with his hand on the knob, making me pray Evie’s intending to wait for me to fetch her before she emerges from my bedroom. “What do you think about an age gap? Between you and the women you date? Is eight years too much? It feels like a long time to me, but…maybe it’s not anymore, now that we’re in our thirties.”
I clear my throat and will an innocent expression onto my face. “Yeah, I think that’s fine. Eight years is mid-twenties, and I’m pretty sure our moms were married and had us by then.”
Derrick’s expression sours. “My mom isn’t a great example of successful adulting, but that’s a good point. Something to think about.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks for the talk. And sorry to show up out of the blue. The train got held up in the station right by your stop and it felt like a sign.”
“No worries,” I say, opening the door. “Catch you later, man.”
“Later,” he says, and finally steps out into the hall.
I wait until I hear the elevator ding outside and Derrick is presumably on his way down to the ground floor, before I spin back to the kitchen. I drop the beers beside the sink before I call out, “All clear!”
Almost instantly, Evie—now, sadly, fully dressed—explodes from my room. “That was way too close,” she says, bustling out to grab her portfolio bag. She holds it up to me, revealing the giant “E” painted on the other side. “If it had been turned the other way, we would have been toast. We’re playing with fire meeting up here.”
“Agreed,” I say, moving around the island to meet her as she shrugs on her backpack. “I’ll definitely book a hotel for Friday night.”
She exhales. “Are you sure you still want to do this? I mean…what with everything going on with the team?” Her expression softens with sympathy. “I heard what Derrick said. Everything he said. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s…not great.” I rub at the tight muscles at the back of my neck. “But I’m not giving up yet. And hell yes, I still want to meet up on Friday. It’ll give me something to look forward to.”
Evie nibbles her bottom lip. “Yeah. Me, too. I um…” Her cheeks flush as she nods over her shoulder toward the couch and the carpet on the other side. “I had a nice time tonight.”
I grin. “Me, too. You are…so sexy.”
“You, too,” she says, her shy smile widening. “Next time, I promise I’ll return the favor.”
“You don’t have to. I enjoy making you feel good.”
“I know I don’t have to,” she says. “I want to. It makes me feel…powerful. Knowing I’m driving you crazy.”
“You certainly do that,” I say, my cock thickening again as she stops in front of me, tipping her head back for a kiss. “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”
“I’d be too stressed about Derrick coming back,” she says, humming against my mouth as I kiss her soft and sweet. “But Friday, I’m all yours.”
“Sounds good.”
“It does and I mean it, Ian,” she says softly, resting her hand on my chest. “I want to be all yours. I’m ready if you are. I think we should take care of this V-Card.”
“All right. Then that’s what we’ll do,” I say, the thought of being Evie’s first filling me with a mix of anticipation and an odd, unsettled feeling that has me so distracted she’s been gone nearly ten minutes by the time I remember the sock I tucked under the cushion.
I fish it out and sit staring at it for way too long, wondering if it’s a bad sign that I kind of want to keep it. Even her socks are…weirdly adorable.
“Trouble,” I mutter to myself. “You’re headed for trouble.”
But am I going to change course?
Hell, no.
Chapter 21
Evie
Wednesday’s art therapy goes even better than Monday’s, but I overhear the gossip as the players work on their “found family trees”—a tree filled with people they trust to be there for them, whether they’re blood relatives or not.
Seems the two Svens got into it not once, but twice, during practice and Pete broke his stick in a fit of rage after the assistant coach called him out for repeatedly making dangerous passes through center ice.