by Meghan Quinn
I squeeze my legs together when we reach her front door. Fuck, that would hurt. “Damn, if I would’ve known the psychotic nightmare you’d turn into, I never would’ve asked you out.” I pull her in by her hips, smiles on both of our faces.
“You should always do your research, Hayden, especially a man in your position. You never know who the psychos are going to be. We might seem normal at first, but that’s how we get you. Then, we flip a switch and tear your world apart.”
“Noted.” Sighing, I press my forehead against hers. “Did you have fun?”
All joking aside, she grips my shirt and nods. “I had an amazing time. Thank you for taking me and giving me some memorable moments to lock away forever.”
“Memorable moments, huh?”
She nods and plays with the collar of my shirt. “Being fucked in a dressing room. Blow jobs in town cars. Sex in the shower.” She moans. “That was my favorite.”
Town car blow job was a close second for me.
“Are all your memories sexual?”
“Mostly, since you held out on me for so long, but spending time with Calder and Rachel was amazing. Seeing Hamilton was so much fun. Going to the top of the Statue of Liberty and geeking out like tourists is right up there. Oh, and don’t forget about the pizza. Ugh, the pizza was so good.”
“The pizza, let’s fly back for the pizza.”
“Okay.” She attempts to pull me back to the car but I stop her. “Ugh, you’re no fun. Where’s your adventure?”
“I have no idea why I’m the responsible one here. I’m not the one who has to get up early tomorrow and be present enough to perform medical tasks on real-live human beings.”
“Well . . . when you put it like that.” She twists her lips to the side. “Damn it, Hayden. Ugh, you’re right. Putting in an IV with zero sleep isn’t very responsible or fun.”
“I prefer my nurses to be well rested.” I lean closer to her ear and add, “And fucked.”
Shivering in my arms, she looks at me through her eyelashes. “Well, you took care of the second half of the sentence.”
“And I’m trying to take care of the first half.” Hooking my finger under her chin, I bring my lips to hers, sweetly kissing her, not diving too deep, and not pressing too hard. “Go on, go get some sleep. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”
She nods and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her slight shoulders and breathe her in one more time. “Thank you again for the past two days. It was exactly what I needed.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” I want to talk about our future. I want to tell her we need to have a serious conversation. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I push them down. If I tell her we need to talk, she’s going to worry. She’ll want the conversation now instead of getting the sleep she desperately needs. So I keep my mouth shut. We have time, and it doesn’t have to be discussed right now.
“Dinner tomorrow?”
“I’ll cook. Come to my place after work?”
“I’ll be there.” Reaching up she presses a gentle kiss on my chin and steps away. “Have a good night.” Winking, she takes her suitcase and unlocks her door. Hands in my pockets, I watch her every move until she waves and shuts the door on me.
Hopping off her front porch, I jog to the waiting car the whole time wishing I was snuggling next to Adalyn rather than going back to an empty cottage.
One night, that’s all. One night isn’t going to change anything.
Chapter Fifteen
ADALYN
Oh that feels so good.
I love it when the water is so hot in a shower that it feels like it’s blistering my back. I once saw a piece on The Today Show that talked about taking cold showers in the morning to wake you up, get you started for the day.
What a load of crap.
I tried it once and I was miserable. Such a bear. All my coworkers steered clear of me that day, because who in their right mind wants to take a cold shower in the morning?
Sadists, that’s who.
I go for the opposite, and you know what, a blistering hot shower is better.
There I said it, I put it out in the universe.
Hot showers wake you up if you do them right. Turn them scorching, singe your skin, and then you are good to go. Trust me on this.
Turning the shower off, I wring out my hair and reach for my towel just as my phone starts to ring on the bathroom counter. I always bring my phone into the bathroom with me so I know how much more time I have to fuck around before I actually have to get ready for work.
Stepping on the yellow bathroom mat, I glance at the screen and see Emma’s face pop up. Smiling, I answer it.
“Hey girl.”
“Ugh, I miss you,” Emma groans. “We haven’t had our morning chats in so long.” It’s been a ritual of ours when getting ready for our early shifts, we call each other at least twice a week to catch up. It’s been a while.
“That’s because you were on a little mini vacay with Tucker. Not my fault.”
“It was worth it, but I don’t want to talk about that, I want to talk about your New York City getaway with the famous Hayden Holmes.”
Needing to dry off, I put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter. “It was amazing. I got to hang out with his friend, Calder, who is also his teammate along with Calder’s girlfriend, Rachel. They were so much fun—”
“Not as much fun as me.”
“Never.” I chuckle. “No one is as much fun as you.”
“Good answer. You may continue.”
Just a little friend reassurance break. Like anyone could take her place. Emma is my girl. We’ve been through far too much together, especially during our first year of nursing school.
“We also did some silly touristy things like the Statue of Liberty and touring Ellis Island. And his photo shoot. Oh my God, Emma. I know you’re madly in love with Tucker, but I am one hundred percent positive if you were there, you might have considered leaving him.”
“That good?”
“Ugh, so good.” I sit on the lid of the toilet, towel wrapped around me, and start applying lotion to my body, prepping my face for what little makeup I put on. “He was in underwear and that was it. The lights made every indent and crevice of muscle stand out, and then he starts pulling down the waistband of his briefs.”
“Oh damn.”
“Oh damn is right.” Opening my drawer, I shuffle around for my brush, not paying attention to what I’m doing. “It was so hot. Every woman in the area stopped what they were doing and watched.” My hand connects with something plastic and I move it to the side still searching for my brush.
“Please tell me you guys had sex. For the love of God, tell me you finally did it.”
Laughing, I stand to look in the drawer. “Oh yeah, we had—” I pause, my words falling from my lips when I focus on the plastic thing my hand was hitting. Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
“Adalyn, are you there?”
“I . . . am.”
Picking up my birth control pills with shaky hands, I slowly open the top.
“Is everything okay?”
Swallowing hard, eyeing the pills in the pack that should have been taken, I shake my head. “No, it’s not.”
“What’s going on? Do I need to drive over there?”
Deflated, I lean against my bathroom wall and fall to the floor. “Emma . . .”
“Yes? What’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath, I count the amount of pills I’ve forgotten to take.
Six.
Six freaking pills!
How on earth could I forget six freaking birth control pills?
“Umm, let’s say someone forget to take their birth control pills and then had . . . um, unprotected sex against a wall in a dressing room. What are the chances they could get pregnant?”
“Please tell me you’re asking for a friend.”
“I wish I was.”
“Oh Adalyn, what the
hell were you thinking?”
Pressing my hand against my forehead, I groan. “I wasn’t thinking. The man had me so horny from his photo shoot and holding out on me, that I kind of just jumped his bones the minute the opportunity presented itself.”
“Which was in a dressing room against a wall?”
“Yes, but for what it’s worth, it was the best sex I’ve ever had . . . until he took me back to the hotel and fucked me in the shower.”
“Let me guess, no condom?”
Oh Jesus Christ.
What the hell was I thinking? Did I really lose all common sense the minute Hayden’s penis made an appearance?
Thinking back . . . I cringe. Yup. All common sense when out the door once pants were shucked. I’m one of those girls. One of those girls you look at and think in this day of age, how can you possibly forget about birth control or condoms? And I’m a freaking nurse. I should know better. Ugh, I do know better.
Two words: Hayden’s cock.
Oh God, it is such a nice cock. Long and thick with the perfect head. Slightly curved up so every time he pulsed inside me, it was reaching for that one spot, that one spot he hit every time.
“Oh Adalyn.” I don’t have to answer; my silence is enough. She knows. “How is that possible?”
Burying my head in my knees, I say, “It was the dick. The dick did it to me.”
Sighing on the other end of the phone, Emma says, “Damn the dick. Damn all the dicks.”
My sentiment exactly.
I’m not pregnant.
Nope.
After my revelation this morning, my minor slip-up on the no-baby train, I have convinced myself I am in fact not pregnant. There is no way Hayden’s athletic sperm, which I’m sure is super healthy and ready to impregnate, broke through my superior eggs. Nope, my eggs are on total lockdown.
Not only do my eggs laugh at little sperm who try to break through, but they are reinforced with steel metal and surrounded by sperm-eating acid.
You read that correctly: sperm-eating acid.
There are only a few of us who possess such defenses in our uteruses, and I am one of them. A medical marvel I must say.
And to hammer it home, I’ve spent the entire morning talking to my uterus, telling her that she’s still a single lady and she’s not eating for two.
It has helped. I’ve completely forgotten about forgetting to take my pills, or letting Hayden pound into me thrust after thrust with nothing separating my superior eggs from his athletic man-sperm.
Yup, not thinking about it at all.
Not one bit.
Leaning against the wall of a hospital, I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’m so pregnant.
My nipples have been tingling all morning, isn’t that a sign? That has to be a sign. And my scrubs are tighter. It’s not my imagination, they are tighter and yeah, I might have been eating more cake than normal, but it’s because I’m pregnant.
There is life inside of me.
Shit . . .
I can’t think like that. You are not pregnant, Adalyn.
Repeat after me: you are not pregnant. You are not pregnant.
“Hey there.” Logan bumps my shoulder, leaning against the stark hospital wall with me, glancing at the clipboard clutched to my chest. “Holding back some secret information?”
“What?” I take in the clipboard I have a death grip on. “Uh, no, just . . . God, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Ah.” Logan knowingly nods his head. “So you’ve heard.”
So I’ve heard? Heard what? Oh God, can he tell I’m pregnant already?
I know, I’m in the medical field, I know how babies are conceived, it doesn’t show that quickly but I’m borderline hysterical right now so my mind is not quite making any sense.
“When I saw it trending on Twitter, I immediately thought of you.”
Okay, my possible pregnancy is definitely not trending on Twitter, because not enough people would care to make an idiot nurse who forgot to take birth control pills a trending topic. Although, as a society, we should continue to educate the youth about pregnancy. And I would be a prime example of what not to do.
Wanting to play it cool, as if I’m in the know, I say, “Oh yeah, why did you think of me immediately?”
His brow pinches together and he lifts off the wall. “Uh, because you’re dating him.”
For a brief second—very brief—I think that maybe my pregnancy is trending on Twitter, but I shake that thought straight from my head.
Don’t be a moron, Adalyn. For Christ’s sake, you’re not pregnant.
“Dating Hayden.” I nod, lips pressed together, still unsure what Logan could be talking about.
“From the blank look in your eyes, I’m going to assume you don’t know.”
Guilty.
“Yeah, I didn’t check the old Twitter yet today.” I’ve had embryos on the mind. “What’s going on? Did his underwear ad go viral?”
“No . . . Adalyn, he was traded.”
My eyes blink rapidly because my ears must be deceiving me. With my finger to my chin, disbelief consuming me, I say, “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say he was traded?”
“Shit, he didn’t tell you?”
“Does this look like someone who is in the know of their boyfriend being traded?” I stare at Logan, at his deep green eyes, trying to make sense of this. Traded. Like . . . to another team? Massaging my forehead with two fingers, I ask, “When you say traded, what exactly do you mean?”
Logan breathes out a heavy sigh and takes me to the nurses station where he sits me down in a chair. This is good, because in case I decide to pass out, the fall is shorter to the ground. No need to be a battered possibly pregnant woman with a boyfriend who has been traded. Battered makes me look pathetic.
Taking my hands in his after removing the clipboard, Logan forces me to look at him. “Addie, he’s been traded to the Quakes.”
“Mm-hmm, I hear ya. The Quakes. Sounds like a fun team.” Swallowing hard, I ask, “By chance, do you happen to know where the Quakes are located?”
Logan pauses, his eyes softening with regret as he says, “Los Angeles.”
I’ve seen hysterical women before, when their eyes bug out of their sockets, their hair looks wild, like they played around with the electrical socket for far too long. They bare their fangs and start hissing at everyone within a three-foot radius. I see hysterical women at least once a week, and I always wonder what it must be like to be in their shoes, to want to chuck a tongue depressor across the room and demand non-latex gloves. But I’ve never been in their position. I’ve never felt so passionate about something that I’ve felt the need to karate chop every throat that crosses my path.
And I’m not saying I’m hysterical, because I’m more in shock than anything, but I can feel the hysterics. I can feel the need to strap on a black belt and take innocent victims under my steely slice of a hand. If a tongue depressor were in reach right now, I would consider stabbing Logan in the ribs with it.
But I’m not there. I’m not at that level. I’m just itching to get there.
“Question.” I prop my chin on my hand, trying to act as casual as possible. “Is this trade final?”
“It’s final, Addie.”
I hold up my finger. “One more question. What is the distance between Binghamton and Los Angeles?”
Pity is written all over Logan’s face when he says, “It’s not drivable.”
Yup.
I start nodding my head, bobbing it up and down, trying to comprehend what Logan is telling me. Hayden, Captain Sexy Cock, is moving to Los Angeles, where palm trees flank the streets and snow is a mythical ice crystal that falls from the sky in far-off lands.
I, Adalyn, General Forgets Her Pills, will be staying in Binghamton, New York, which is located two miles down from Jack Frost’s tundra of an armpit, with a possible demon baby that can bypass sperm-eating acid.
I’m not a mathematician, but I’m
pretty sure the two don’t add up.
“I’m sorry, Addie, but maybe it’s for the best. Because what were you two—”
“Adalyn.”
That voice. It vibrates down my spine, sending chills across my skin. Turning in my chair, I find Hayden standing at the desk, his eyes searing Logan in half from under the bill of his baseball cap.
“Can we talk . . . alone?”
“Oh, hey there . . . Hayden, is it?” I don’t know why I said that. His jaw ticks, his eyes focused on Logan’s hands that are holding on to mine. “I mean, of course I know it’s you.” I laugh awkwardly. “Didn’t recognize you for a second. Hats can be deceiving. It’s why so many celebrities wear them. What better way to hide yourself than under the brim of a hat. Oh, is that why you’re wearing one now?” I zip my lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone it’s you.” Clearing my throat, I say to Logan, “This is my friend, Franklin. He’s from Switzerland and knows nothing about hockey.”
“Adalyn,” Hayden says with more force in his voice. “I need to talk to you.”
I pull on my ear. “I hear ya, but I have some nurse duties to attend to.” I stand and look around, looking for anything to show I’m doing my job. Logan hands me the first thing he sees, a pee cup. I hold it up to Hayden. “Urine isn’t going to collect itself.”
Walking toward a room on the corner, Mr. Glasco’s room, Hayden jogs up to me and pulls on my arm, halting me in place.
“Adalyn, we need to talk.”
“Is there a problem here?” Logan asks, eyeing Hayden’s grip on my arm.
Furious, Hayden, talks from between his teeth. “This is none of your concern.”
“It is because Adalyn is my friend.”
“And she’s my fucking girlfriend,” Hayden spits back.
Shaking his head, Logan mutters under his breath, “Not for long,” and walks away.
“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Hayden asks, pushing Logan to the side.