* * *

  I woke about ten minutes before my normally scheduled alarm. I waited for the panic, but it didn’t come. I was naked and alone in my bed. I sat up, clutching the sheets to my chest, fighting off the fog of sleep to remember… Fox had fallen asleep on top of me. Inside of me.

  I’d been stroking his hair, and I must have dozed off myself.

  But sometime in the night, he’d woken up and tucked me properly into bed—we’d definitely been on top of the sheets, but his warmth had kept me from feeling chilly. And then he’d left me in bed, alone. I squelched the flare of worry. Waking up alone didn’t mean anything when it had to do with Fox.

  I stretched, relishing the delicious soreness that lingered in my limbs. Muscles I hadn’t used in a while made their presence known. I felt good, though. Better than good. Well, I supposed a couple of orgasms would do that to a girl.

  But I was worried about seeing Fox again. If he’d stayed in the bed with me and we’d woken up together, that would have been one thing. But to wake up alone…that was something else. Being with him had been better than I’d ever imagined. I hadn’t expected to feel so connected to him. Like all he cared about in the world was me.

  That first time in the kitchen, that had been raw and desperate. But what happened after… that was connection. The whole time he’d been inside me, looking at me…I knew he’d been seeing me.

  What I wanted to do was crawl back in bed and rewind the clock. Have him back. Instead I sighed as I slipped from the bed and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. When was the last time I’d had sex that good?

  Sex with Ryan had been…selfish. Mostly about him. I didn’t believe in faking it, and I’d never had to bother trying because it hadn’t concerned him. Usually when he was done, he’d roll away and fall asleep. I admitted to myself that I was partly to blame. It could take a while for me to get into things mentally and physically. It had been frustrating for Ryan. Though I hadn’t had that problem last night.

  With Ryan, there had been a few times when my patience with his fumbling attempts had run out, and I’d pushed him to use lube and get it over with. He’d quickly adopted that attitude in the bedroom, doing away with foreplay, leaving me only moderately satisfied most of the time. It had made me more than willing to put sex off in favor of what I considered more important tasks, like classwork or assignments for the station.

  Gathering my courage to venture outside my bedroom, I promised myself that things with Fox didn’t have to change because of what had happened. He had been overwhelmed and on edge with his sudden elevation to the major league team, and in desperate need of something to relieve the tension. And what was your excuse, other than wanting him? Alcohol and my own desire for physical intimacy had combined with his need to result in some slightly blurred lines. But we could go back, right? It was only sex. Only the best sex you’ve ever had.

  But who said we couldn’t step back across that line? I didn’t have time for a relationship. And since he was just starting with the team and would have a full schedule of his own, there was no reason we had to turn our night into a big thing. On the contrary. Maybe trying to force it into the kind of relationship that was more than just friendship might be the very thing that would destroy what we had. We were adults. We were friends. We could and would be mature about this. Except you know what his O face looks like. And he’s come inside of you. God, had he. Four times. Each time, he’d whispered my name on a curse before letting the waves of bliss crash in on us.

  I pushed open my bedroom door and crossed to the kitchen. The pot of coffee I’d made the night before, long forgotten, was still there. I dumped it into the sink and washed the carafe out so I could brew a fresh batch. As I was pouring the grounds into the filter, Fox emerged from the bathroom, wearing, like me, a T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

  “Morning,” he said, looking away from me as he shuffled into the kitchen to grab some cereal from on top of the fridge.

  Okay…so he was going to pretend everything was okay?

  “Morning,” I said with a blush. We’d left the remnants of our pizza on the counter the night before, in our haste to get to the bedroom. I pulled the trash bin out from under the sink, and brushed the half-finished crusts into it.

  He cleared his throat. “So, uh…last night was…fun,” Fox said before stuffing a spoonful of Corn Flakes into his mouth.

  I stood straight, and forced myself to breathe for a full five count before turning to face him.

  “I had fun, too,” I said. Why was this so awkward? Because you’re not meant to see your best friend naked. Even if he did have a spectacular body. “It was…good. Great,” I blathered. Oh, real smooth, Sash.

  “Me too,” Fox admitted. “It’s, uh, worked something out of my system.”

  I frowned, unsure how to take that. “I slept well after. I didn’t even notice you leave.”

  Did he just wince? “I had to use the bathroom,” he told me. “And then when I realized what time it was and how soon I had to get up for practice and that press conference, I didn’t want to disturb you. I really wasn’t trying to avoid you or anything like that. I wasn’t even gone all that long. Like you said, I slept well, too.”

  His rambling made me relax and laugh. “I know you weren’t trying to avoid me,” I reassured him. “Look, I think we both know that last night was a one-time thing. It was great, but neither of us has the time right now to try and make it into something…more. I’m super busy with my internship and classes, and now this thing with Echo. You’re going to be traveling a lot more for the team, and practicing—”

  His eyes narrowed. “Right. Traveling.”

  I crossed to him and put a hand on his arm, more aware of the feel of him, the swell of his muscle, the tension from holding his bowl of cereal, than I would have been before. “You’re going to be great and…busy,” I added. “Last night was terrific, like I said, but one time.” I breathed deep. “We’re okay.”

  I kissed his cheek and rested my forehead against his cheekbone for a moment. I had to work to ignore the flash of heat in my belly as I recalled the way he’d rested his head against mine as he’d slid into me last night. The pressure of his lips pressing a kiss to my temple distracted me from my thoughts.

  “Thanks, Sash.”

  I smiled at him then, watching him scrunch up his nose.

  “By the way,” he continued in a whisper, “you might want to hop in the shower when you’re done with your coffee. After all, you spent the night having hot, sweaty sex.” His voice was hoarse as he teased me.

  I pulled back, knowing my face was red, and gave him a playful jab on the arm. “Shut up,” was all I could think to respond with. He laughed and went back to eating his cereal. “And what about you? You have to head to the rink soon. Were you planning on showering before you go?”

  He answered with his mouth full. “Why? Are you inviting me to join you?” He waggled his eyebrows, but his eyes focused intently on me. I closed my eyes, and pressed my lips together to fight the urge to laugh. “Come on. I know you think that was funny. I’m hilarious, and I know your tells.” A chuckle slipped out of me. “See? And, no, I wasn’t planning on showering before I leave. I’m just going to get sweaty and gross at practice this morning, and will have to shower before the press conference anyway.” I looked up and registered her glare but waved it off, nearly dumping my next spoonful of Corn Flakes onto the floor.

  “All right. Well, I’m going to go shower now. You better leave me some of the coffee,” I warned him before walking out of the kitchen, still fighting the urge to smile. He raised his empty spoon in a salute as he chewed.

  Safely in the bathroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. My skin heated and my nerves jittered. And I was a little light-headed.

  Yes, there was some awkwardness. But we were still Fox and Sasha. We would be okay.

  With a sigh, I pushed away from the door and crossed to the shower, turning the water on. Now was not the time to be disappointed that he hadn’t joined me. No, I’d meant what I said about being adults. We couldn’t let what happened distract either of us. Except... I still wanted him.

  Fox

  * * *

  It was a relief to me when I arrived at the team’s press conference and discovered that most of the attention was focused on Henri and the exiting goalie. I mostly just sat off to the side, presumably out of frame for most of the broadcasts. There were only three questions that came my way, and they were mostly about my family.

  “How do your parents feel about your big break?” one reporter asked. “It must have been intimidating, when you told them that, of all things, you wanted to play hockey.” There was a murmur of laughter from the crowd, and even I smiled.

  “Bryce helped me out with breaking the news on that one,” I joked. “He’d already had to go through it when he told them he wanted to play tennis, so… I think they were surprised. But they’ve always been pretty great about making sure we all had the opportunities to explore our interests and talents, whatever they have been.”

  Another reporter jumped in. “As the first Coulter to branch out into hockey, do you feel like there’s as much pressure on you to perform to your family’s high standards, or is it easier not having a specific relative to compare yourself to in that regard?”

  “I don’t know that I have anything I can compare it to, to be honest,” I said with a shrug. “Dax and Echo have both gone down that road where my grandfather’s concerned, but I’m not either of them, so I can’t say I know what it was like for them with any certainty. I only know what it’s been like for me.”

  “And how would you describe that?” the reporter hastily followed up.

  “It’s been… I’m definitely hard on myself. But we all have a tendency to be hard on ourselves, and maybe that’s what pushes us to do the best we can. All I know is I’ve always loved hockey, and I’m really excited for the opportunity I’m being given,” I finished, getting myself back on track and looking to Coach Tremblay. Coach didn’t look too irritated and took back his command of the press in the room.

  After it was over, I tried to apologize to Coach about my little tangent, but Tremblay cut me off and assured me I’d done fine, and that he’d see me suited up on the bench for the game in a few hours.

  I found some time between the end of the press conference and the time I would need to suit up for the game to call my parents and check in.

  “I know that I got a little off-track there,” I started off. I’d never been as savvy as Echo or Bryce when it came to handling the media. Nor had I been the focus of its spotlight before, either. Dax had been, and probably still was. The most prominent of the siblings when it came to the media and instantaneous recognition, but since he and Asha had become a couple, he’d become a master of handling reporters and the press. Even Gage seemed to be more natural, when it came to answering questions about himself.

  “You did fine,” my father said, interrupting my rambling. “You expressed yourself. And you’re probably right about us Coulters in general. We do have a tendency to be hard on ourselves,” he admitted with a little laugh.

  “I’ll work on it before my next press conference, which hopefully won’t be for a while,” I added. “I’m sitting on the bench tonight, and that’s where it sounds like I’ll be most nights, so it probably will be a while.”

  “For the team, maybe,” my father said somberly.

  “As opposed to…?”

  “Your mother and I have been talking with my doctors, and…I’m going to have to step down from the company. At least, take on a less-demanding role for a while,” he said. “I have to figure things out with the lawyers, and there’ll be more than a few meetings to decide who’ll take over for me as president…but we’re going to have to make a public announcement sometime soon.”

  I swallowed before asking, “How soon?”

  “A couple of weeks. Not long.”

  “Dad, I know everything is crazy, and you need time off to get healthy. Do you want me to maybe, try and fill in for a bit? I’m not Bryce, or Echo—hell, or even Dax—but I could study up quick.”

  Dad exhaled softly, and I could hear the slight smile in his voice. Instead of saying “Yes, I could use the help,” he said, “Thank you, Fox. But I'm not going to ask you to do that. You have to focus on hockey. That’s always been the most important thing to you. Your mother is actually going to step into my spot for a while. She’s going to hand off the charity work to your grandmother, and fill in for me. She’s extremely adept.”

  As my father spoke, I couldn’t explain why the hole in my chest only seemed to widen. Yes, it was true, I had absolutely zero interest in working at Legacy Sports. It wasn’t my dream. I wasn’t even sure that I was smart enough to do it. But like my siblings before me, I at least wanted to be asked. I wanted my parents to believe in me. Right now, it looked as if they didn’t. To my family, I was just Fox. Affable, but not one that they would trust with the legacy of the family. The legacy of the Coulter name. It stung almost as badly as knowing I only got called up to the Brawlers as a second choice.

  Although it hurt, there was no way I was going to show my father that. The old man had enough to worry about without tending to my ego, too. This wasn't really about ego. All I wanted was to be considered capable of stepping up when it was needed. Right now, I was almost worse than the black sheep—I was poor old Fox.

  I forced a smile, though. “Okay. Well, I know you have Bryce and Echo to call on, but if you did need me, I could do it.”

  There was a long pause. “Son, we know you could.”

  I wasn’t certain, but that sounded like a note of dishonesty in my father’s voice. I cleared my throat. “Well, uh…give me a heads-up when you know for sure, okay?” I requested.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be calling all of you kids before it goes public.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too, son. And congratulations. You’ll do great. One of your first home games, your mother and I will be there. Promise.”

  10

  Fox

  Two whole weeks went by without a fuckup. Not that I was trying for one. I was on the bench, so I couldn’t screw up. And as for Sasha, I’d managed to keep my hands off her. At least in reality. And that shit wasn’t easy. Especially with her running around looking hot and sexy. And fuckable. Every time she laughed, I was desperate to touch her. But every night in my dreams, man oh man, did I touch her. I touched her in all kinds of ways. Ways she’d hinted about with the brunette.

  When Dad finally made his announcement, I felt weird about not telling Sasha. I told her everything. Or I used to…before we’d screwed like mad in her kitchen. It was only about two weeks later that my father announced his illness to the world. We’d kept our discussions focused on work, her big semester project, and how I was adjusting to the new team. Never to that night, and not once about my father.

  When I asked about her story, though, she would vaguely say that it was coming together and she was pleased, and then she’d turn the conversation to me and how things were going with the team. “Is it weird with your friends, still?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “A little. They were extra-hard on me during a scrimmage this week. But I was able to keep their shots from going in.”

  She nodded, even as she frowned. “I’m sorry shit is so weird because of me.”

  “Hey,” I said, putting a hand on her knee then immediately withdrawing it. “You didn’t fuck up. Besides, things got a little better after that,” I had added with a shrug.

  “Well, I’m still sorry I have to miss the first game. I didn’t make you a sign.”

  “I know, it’s cool.” A part of me was relieved it would be an away game, and that I wouldn’t have the extra pressure of my family coming to see me. Sasha, though, I would have liked to have there.

  “It’s not something I need right now, and it isn’t something they need right now,” I’d said.

  She was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad? Is there anything I can do?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’ll be okay. He just has to rest.”

  She frowned. “Okay. But you know if you want to talk, I’m here, right?”

  Heat prickled under my skin. I didn’t want to talk. “Yeah, I hear you. I promise, if I ever want to talk, you’re my gal.”

  Sasha

  * * *

  Fox might not feel like talking, but that didn’t mean I didn’t worry. “How long has he been sick?” I asked Echo at my next fitting.

  “A while. My parents told me but wanted to keep it quiet as long as possible. They didn’t even tell the boys for…months,” Echo explained as she sorted through her fabric samples.

  I was wearing the prototype runner’s outfit Echo had designed, but after having learned more about the fabric manufacturer’s dyeing processes, she was worried the material wouldn’t wear well.

  “So you don’t think it…means anything that Fox didn’t give me a heads-up?” I asked. “I mean…he’s my best friend and my roommate. If something like this was bothering him…I want to make sure he knows he can trust me with it.”

  Echo frowned at me. “Of course, he knows that. I don’t think he talks to anyone the way he talks to you, to be honest. If he didn’t tell you…my guess is he hasn’t sorted it out, himself.”

  I got that in a way. “But to let me find out the way I did? The guys in sports were going through the interview footage, and they pulled me in because they know I know your family. It was…” I sighed. “It was surprising and…scary, I guess. Our families have always been pretty close, and it was just unexpected.”

  “It’s not as serious as the media are making it out to be,” Echo tried to reassure me. “He’s undergoing treatment, and he’s actually doing a bit better—feeling better, that is. It’s not something that can be cured. The main reason they had to finally go public with it is because he has to step down from the company for a while. The treatments take a toll. It was a business move more than anything.”