“I know you are, and I know it’s for the right reasons.” She heads back to the kitchen and opens the cabinet next to the sink, where the glasses are. I don’t ask how she knows where to find them. She must have gone searching when she was here before.
“I must’ve stayed in the bathroom forever. I didn’t know what to do. My phone and wallet and keys were in Kristi’s purse, and she had it outside—but the hot tub… I couldn’t go out there. I knew Kristi wanted to hook up with you, and I just couldn’t—” She shakes her head. “I felt so dumb. I never thought I’d meet you again, and I’d certainly never dreamed it would go like that.”
I hate that she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. I wonder if she’s shed any in the days since I’ve last seen her. If she has, it’s my fault. “We don’t have to talk about this—”
“I want to. I need to.” She turns on the faucet and pours herself a glass of water, filling one for me, too. She takes a deep breath. “Eventually Miller’s pizza came. I thought maybe you’d all come back inside, but you didn’t. I snuck out and went upstairs, thinking I could wait it out and grab my things from Kristi’s purse.” She takes a sip of her water.
“But she brought it to my room,” I supply. Jesus. My stomach feels like someone’s kicking a lead balloon around inside it.
Poppy nods. “I didn’t know that, though. I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was late—or early, depending on how you look at it. I went downstairs, hoping I’d find it out by the hot tub, but of course it wasn’t there. So I had to stay.”
I consider what that must have been like, being stuck in someone else’s house with no way out. And God only knows what she imagined we were doing.
“And then in the morning I ignored you. Christ. Why do you even want to know me?”
“That one night doesn’t define who you are. I should’ve insisted Kristi give me my things. But I didn’t. I didn’t have to come back here, but I made the choice to. Those consequences are my own to deal with. I should’ve been honest with you right from the start, just like you should’ve been honest with me about Tash, but we weren’t.”
“I didn’t want to mess things up.”
She gives me a small, sad smile. “Neither did I. I liked that you wanted me to treat you. I convinced myself it would be okay if I could just keep the professional boundaries. And then I didn’t need to any more when you asked me out. I should’ve pushed for information about Tash, but I didn’t.”
When I give her a probing look, her gaze drops.
“I could’ve and should’ve asked you about the DO NOT FUCKING REPLY contact that kept popping up on your phone. I knew it couldn’t be good with the way you reacted.
“And the night before you left for the away series, I knew you were lying about talking to a telemarketer, but I didn’t say anything then, either.”
“I didn’t want you to worry while I was away.”
“But I did.”
She’s still looking at the floor, where her toes are curled under against the pale ceramic.
“I’m sorry I did that to you.” All I want is to touch her. “Why don’t we sit down?” I gesture to the white couch. If we’re finally going to hash out the Tash business, I think I need to be sitting down.
She expels a breath. “Okay.”
“Can I get you something else to drink?”
“A glass of wine might be nice.”
“Should I be worried that you need alcohol for this conversation?” I ask, hoping to alleviate some of the tension.
She smiles a little. “You should only be worried if I ask for shots.”
I retrieve two wine glasses—they’re relatively unused because I’m generally a scotch or beer drinker, or straight from the bottle if I can’t manage my shit. But I’ve been a lot better about that lately. Miller and Randy have been keeping me in line so I don’t go off the edge like I sometimes do.
Poppy sits tucked up in the corner of the white couch when I return with our drinks. One of the throw pillows the interior designer said I needed as an accent is clutched in her lap. She’s so fucking beautiful. I want to keep her in my life, and I get that in order to do that I need to let her in, even if it means she sees all the broken parts of me.
I pass her the glass, and she cups the bowl to take a sip. She doesn’t put it down after that, just twirls the stem between her fingers.
I sit down in the middle of the couch. I want to get closer, but we’re not there yet. “Where do you want me to start?”
Poppy looks down at the glass and sighs. “I just want the truth, Lance. So why don’t you start with that?”
“The truth about Tash?”
“Tash. The rumors. Any of it. All of it.”
Fuck. This is the stuff I don’t want to deal with. But I have to, one way or another. I hope that what I tell her makes things better, not worse.
“You mean the rumors about how I fuck?”
She cringes, probably because I’ve chosen to word that in the worst way possible.
My knees are bouncing so hard her wine swishes in her glass. I set mine on the table.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I really don’t like to be touched. Like at all. Especially by women. After my brother died, I could only ever associate hands on me with my mum’s anger. So dealing with girls was really fucked up. I knew there was something wrong with my head, ’cause I didn’t enjoy sex the way all the other guys on my team seemed to.”
“But you must have found a way to get over that?” There’s a hardness to Poppy’s voice, tension that makes her words sharp and heavy.
“I thought maybe I could, but it didn’t really work. I had this party once…and there were these two girls.” I study my hands, unable to look at her. “They wanted me to—uh…anyway, that wasn’t any better. It was worse. There were so many fucking hands to manage. The fucking panic—I hated it.”
“Did Tash know this?”
“Aye.”
“But she brought other girls anyway? Even though she knew how you felt about it?”
“Aye.” The memories make my skin crawl. “And it just made the rumors worse, because then there was some actual truth to them.”
“She’s a horrible person.”
“She has a lot of issues. Anyway, that’s done now. And I have a new roommate when we travel. One of the guys with a girlfriend, so I don’t have to deal with the, uh…bunnies and that awkwardness.”
“That’s good.” Poppy raises the glass to her lips.
“And I’ve been staying away from the bar after games.”
“I don’t expect you to become a recluse.”
“I know. I just want to stay away from any problems.”
Poppy sets down her glass. “You have to give me a chance to trust you, and hiding in your room, not interacting with your teammates isn’t going to do that. All it’s going to do is make you resentful eventually.”
“Resentful of what?”
“Of me, for taking you away from your friends. I don’t want to confine you. If we’re going to try to make this work, it can’t be about you hiding from Tash, or the bunnies. And it can’t be you keeping me separate from the rest of your life.”
“I meant it when I said I’m not going to talk to her anymore. I’m done.”
“Has she contacted you since you saw her in LA?” Poppy bites her bottom lip.
“I got one call from an unknown number, but whoever it was didn’t leave a voicemail.”
“And if she comes to your next LA game? How will you handle that?”
“How do you want me to handle it?” My knee is bouncing. Even if we’re not involved, erasing Tash from my life isn’t exactly easy.
“I want you to be honest with me if you think you’re going to see her. I want to be able to trust that you’re not going to fall back into old patterns every time you cross paths.”
“I mean it when I say I’m done with her, Poppy. I didn’t really understand how bad she made me feel until you came along. I get
how toxic she is for me, and I told her that. I want what we have to work. I know you can’t come to every LA game, but maybe you can come to some of them? The ones on the weekend maybe?”
Poppy glances at her wine and then back at me. “It doesn’t have to be LA games.”
“Whatever games you want to come to, I’ll get you tickets, if that’s what you want. But the bunnies are always there. I don’t have control over that.”
“I know. But who cares about them?” Her eyes flash. “And I only want to be at games if you want me there.”
“I only got one penalty tonight because I was trying to be good for you.”
A tender smile turns up the corner of her mouth. “I don’t want to be hidden away. Tonight was good for me. Meeting some of the other girls, your teammates, it was nice to feel included in your life.” Her eyes drop to the pillow she’s holding. “Unless that’s not what you want out of this.”
I hadn’t considered that keeping her all to myself could be a negative thing. “I just wanted to protect you from all the bad stuff.”
“I can handle the bad stuff, Lance, if you let me. We can handle it together.”
“The bunnies can be nasty.”
“I know. I heard a few of them tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t take the blame for other people’s words and choices.”
“That’s not always easy.”
“Nothing good is easy; otherwise we wouldn’t appreciate the effort it takes to make it work.”
“So what now? Where do we go from here?”
She sets down her glass and leans closer. “Forward. If that’s what you want.”
“And you really want to do that?” I want to touch her. I want her to touch me. To ground me in this moment.
She laces her fingers with mine. “The past is in the past. We can leave it there if we’re done with it, can’t we?”
“What if I don’t want to?”
She cocks her head to the side, uncertain.
“I’ve buried a lot of my past because it wasn’t good, Poppy. But I don’t want to bury anything about you. Now that I have it back, you’re probably my best childhood memory. And to have you here as part of my present gives me hope that you’ll be in my future, too.”
CHAPTER 25
WHERE WE BEGIN
POPPY
Lance brings my fingers to his lips. This won’t be easy or simple. Loving him isn’t going to be a fairytale story where we ride off into the sunset and everything is perfect.
I know this.
We’re both full of fire, and his past is full of pain he carries with him. But I’m willing to try, because I want him. And more than that, this man is the kind of beautiful I need in my life.
“Let’s only keep the good ones then,” I suggest.
“Okay. I like that idea.” His lips brush my knuckle as he speaks. “I want to kiss you.”
“You already are.”
His smile grows and his lashes lower as he dips in close. “I mean your pretty lips.”
“Then you should do that.” I wait for the gentle, warm press.
“Want or let?” he asks.
“Need.”
And then he’s wrapped around me, lips on mine, tongue stroking slow inside my mouth, his low moan vibrating through my entire body.
It’s a new first kiss. His brief absence from my life is washed away.
He pulls back to ask, “Can I take you upstairs?”
At my nod, he links our hands. It takes forever to get up the stairs because we can’t stop kissing. When he pushes the door to his room open he mutters a curse. “I didn’t think…”
His room is a mess. Clothes are strewn on the floor by the dresser. His bed is unmade. The light in the bathroom is on, and discarded towels are hanging on the edge of the tub. It’s a big tub. A nice soaker.
“Wow. You’re a real neat freak, huh?”
“Let me tidy up a bit, aye?”
He starts to move away, but I clutch his hand tighter. “Why bother when we’re going to mess it all up anyway?”
“You make a good point.”
And then we’re back to kissing, and undressing. Clothing hits the floor, teeth clash and nip. He pauses when I’m in my bra and panties. “Look at you. So beautiful.” His hands roam my body, reacquainting.
“We’ll go slow later, aye?” He walks me backward to the bed.
“Aye,” I mock breathlessly, tilting my head so he can kiss his way along my throat.
He bites my chin and makes a little growling noise that hardens my nipples and heats me from the inside out. Lance lays me out on the bed, pushing the rumpled sheets out of the way. He digs around in the nightstand drawer while we kiss and I touch him.
“You know, if you stop trying to multitask, it would probably be easier.”
He grumbles something into my neck.
“What was that?”
“I don’t wanna stop kissing you.”
“Not even for a second?” His lips are on my jaw now.
“Not even for a second.”
A huge crash shocks a gasp out of me as he pulls the drawer free from the nightstand, and it lands on the floor. Lance holds up a condom with a satisfied smile. Actually, it’s a strip of condoms. “Got what I needed.”
“Do we really need that?” I ask.
He blinks a couple of times. “I dunno, do we not?”
“I’m on the pill.”
“And you think that’s safe enough?”
“Do you?” I run my fingers through his hair, asking the question without putting it into words.
He regards me for a few long seconds. “You trust me?”
“Aye.”
He huffs a little laugh and shakes his head. “Is that yer new favorite word, then?” It comes out with an accent.
“Maybe.” I pause before adding, “Aye.”
He drops his face into the crook of my neck. “Precious, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” He kisses along my neck, and I feel him, hot and hard against me. “If I go in bare, I’m not gonna last long,” he says when he gets to my mouth.”
“That’s okay. We have all night for you to be sweet with me.”
He drops the strip of condoms on the covers and takes my face in his hands. With his eyes on mine he sinks in to me. For a moment I’m lost, and then I’m found in him.
This is nothing like the last time I was with him. This is connection in its purest form. Sensation blends with emotions that have yet to be uttered. But they will, because they’re too big for either of us to contain anymore.
I come just before he does, and the world is devoid of color. There is only this man and this moment.
“Poppy?” Lance’s arm is wrapped around me, anchoring me to his chest, even though I still feel like I’m floating.
“Mmm?”
“I have to tell you something.”
I lift my head at his nervous tone.
He runs a finger from the bridge of my nose to the tip and touches it to my lips. “I’m in love with you.”
“That’s good to know.” I pause, his panicked expression almost comical, except that it’s genuine, so I continue. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”
My words turn his fear into tenderness.
And then he spends the rest of the night, with his touch and his words, explaining exactly how precious I am.
EPILOGUE
FOREVER ISN’T
JUST A WORD
LANCE
One year later
I’m not sure I believe that time heals all wounds. I don’t think it’s as simple as that. Sure, time is a factor in washing away old pain, but it’s what, or who, those losses and wounds are replaced by that makes the real difference.
I won’t put my happiness on Poppy. That’s a burden, not a compliment. But she’s the light I needed to find my way out of the dark spaces in my head. I still go there sometimes, but I have a reason not to s
tay.
She’s also the reason I finally heeded Coach’s advice to talk to someone about my aggression. Because I never want to turn that on her. I never want to put on the person I love the most what someone else forced on me. So I’m dealing with the ghosts from my past so I can have a better future. One that includes Poppy.
This past summer I took her to Scotland to meet my extended family. And we took a side trip to see my father. I hadn’t seen him in a couple years, but Poppy made it manageable. I have some perspective now. We’re all products of our upbringing, but we get to choose who we bring into our lives. I choose Poppy. And I’m really fucking hopeful I’ll be her choice, too.
I’m waiting at the front door, checking the time. According to my messages, Poppy left the Buttersons’ place fifteen minutes ago. The girls got together to look at Miller and Sunny’s wedding pictures. Poppy was there that day, of course, as my plus one. I officiated, as seems to be the trend.
I wipe my palm on my pants and adjust the collar of my shirt, checking my reflection in the mirror one more time. I look fine. Nervous, because I am, but fine.
She should be here any minute. I check the time again.
Just as I mutter where the hell is she? Poppy’s car pulls up beside my Hummer. She’s right, her Mini does look like something my car shat out. I check my pocket and rush to the closet, leaving the door slightly ajar.
My palms are seriously sweaty. I wipe them on my pants, retrieve the small box from my pocket, and wait. And wait some more. I’m more nervous than I was the first time Poppy agreed to go out with me. The stakes are infinitely higher right now.
Finally I hear the beep of the code being punched in. This is it. I’ve been waiting months for this. I suck in a deep breath, prepping for the inevitable.
“Lance? I’m home!” Poppy calls.
I bite my tongue so I don’t answer.
After a few seconds of silence, she calls again. “Baby? You here?”
I’m a big fan of pet names. More than I thought I’d be.
She says something to herself about leaving lights on, and the door to the closet swings open. As soon as she sees me, she screams.
Pucked Off (The Pucked Series) Page 31