“Eloise, you want to go sit by ourselves in the insta-love section and let these two second-chancers keep droning on?” Kyleigh jokes. She rests her back against the glass so she’s standing in front of us and can hear us easier.

  “I didn’t mean any offense,” Jade says.

  “In truth, Tweetie and I were an insta-love connection, but we lost our way.” I place my hand on Jade’s. “Thank you for your words of encouragement. I hope we’re as great at this as you and Henry.”

  “You will be.”

  “And we’re super happy he chose you. I can’t even imagine if we didn’t like the person Tweetie ended up with,” Kyleigh says, as though she was scared for a moment. “We have a pretty kickass girl squad going.”

  I know I’m not nearly as close to them as they all seem to be, especially since Jade and Eloise were friends long before they met their men, but I do feel a friendship growing. Hopefully Tweetie gets signed with Chicago again and he can stay here. Although I need to figure out what I’m going to do. We can’t keep this a secret forever.

  “You’re going to the gala, right?” Eloise asks. “Because we’re all going dress shopping.”

  “Eloise dresses us,” Kyleigh says.

  “I haven’t talked to Tweetie about it. I mean, I’m not sure we can go together.” I look around again. “But I’d love to go shopping with you. Even if I’m going solo.”

  The gala is in two weeks, and it’s for a charity that the Falcons’ owners, the Gershwin family, supports. Florida is in town for the annual outdoor game, so the Fury bought two tables, and everyone is coming up. I haven’t seen Saige in a while, so I’m excited.

  “Great!” Eloise gives me a big smile.

  Someone clears their throat, and Kyleigh looks up behind us. “Hi, Mr. Caldron.”

  “Call me Bud, Kyleigh,” he says, and my stomach sours.

  She smiles, and he says hi to all the other women before sitting next to me. He doesn’t fully relax, and something in my gut tells me he sought me out.

  The guys are off the ice now, waiting until the game starts to come back out.

  “Hi, Bud,” I say. “I didn’t know you sat down here?”

  “I don’t.” He looks around as though he’s disgusted. “I sit in the suite. So, what do you know about this post on Tweetie’s socials?”

  I knew this was going to be a problem and told Tweetie he should take it down. But if you know him, that wasn’t going to happen. He’s been bombarded with questions about who the woman in the picture is and women saying they have broken hearts and blah, blah, blah.

  “I don’t,” I lie. “I don’t manage his social media. Not his personal account anyway.”

  “You used to though, right?”

  His question throws me for a second, but I managed a lot of athletes’ accounts back in the day when I worked with Saige.

  “Years ago.”

  “You know, Tedi, I don’t care much for things happening on my watch that I don’t know about. Now, I am thankful that Nick Herington sent you down here, but I feel as if we’re constantly butting heads.”

  How can he think that when I’ve done everything he’s asked? “The entire campaign is on Tweetie. I’ve showcased him as the player he is for you. I thought that’s what you wanted?”

  His eyes never leave the ice, and his hands steeple in front of him. “I wanted you to show a man in his last year. I wanted to show the insecurity, the wins, and the grit it takes to be an older player in this league.”

  I turn toward him, and I know Eloise is listening, but I don’t really care. “I’m sorry, Bud, but what does this have to do with the picture Tweetie put up on his socials?”

  He sighs and looks up at the Jumbotron, then back down at me. “A taken player doesn’t get the same attention as a single one. No one wants to see the man they want in their bed loving on someone else. You should know that. And honestly, I feel like all you’ve done is highlight him so another team will want him.”

  His thoughts are all over the place, but he’s not wrong. Still though, I did center my campaign around Tweetie as he asked.

  “I did tell you that we should focus on the entire team. If you don’t sign Tweetie for another contract, you might just lose those fans as a result. I really wish you would’ve trusted me.”

  He laughs, a condescending cackle that makes my fists clench. “I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’m gonna be honest, I think this is Tweetie’s last year.”

  Eloise sucks in a breath and makes a mouse-like whimper beside me.

  “I think you’re wrong,” I say.

  “That’s your opinion.” He pauses, and I’m hoping he gets up and leaves. “I suggest you tell him to take down the picture of the tattooed girl and be back to the single Tweetie that everyone loves. The playboy sells, not the boring married man. If people aren’t going to care about him, why would I resign him at his age? Now, I’ve given you some leeway on this since Nick said you were the best, but we’re going to start doing what I want.”

  “Which is what exactly?” I hear the snap in my voice, and I try to rear it back.

  “I want to see his faults as well as his accolades. No one likes a perfect man, Tedi. Women want a man they have to fix. Men want someone they can relate to. Do you think those guys at the bar are enthralled with how great you’re making him look, as if he’s a superhero? It just makes them feel shitty about their beer-bellied, shitty-job selves. You should realize that, since once upon a time, you tried to fix a broken man.” He turns to me and cocks his eyebrow.

  I open my mouth, but he puts up his hand. “Let me save you the excuses. I have eyes and ears all over this league. Again, Tedi, I like you, but you fight me too much. Start doing what I’m saying, or I’ll make another call up to your boss.”

  He stands and walks away.

  I slink down in my seat before I storm up the stairs, jump on his back, and throw him to the floor.

  “I hate him,” Eloise says. “And you don’t think⁠—”

  “Can we keep it to ourselves right now?” I’m going to tell Tweetie, but he’s not going to want anyone else to know about it.

  “Of course.” She nods, giving me a concerned look.

  The lights dim, and the announcer comes on. I sit up straight, excited to see Tweetie play, but the entire time, I will myself to believe that this will not make him spiral. Whatever happens, wherever he ends up, we’ll get through to the other side together this time.

  Fifty-Eight

  Tweetie

  “I have no idea how you have the energy for this, but I am not complaining,” Tedi says, her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades harder with every one of my thrusts.

  Her back is to the wall, and she’s wearing my T-shirt. I made a mental note to get her my jersey even if she’s just wearing it in private.

  We didn’t make it two steps into my condo before we were on each other, stripping one another out of our clothes. The only time we parted was when I ran to my bedroom to grab a condom.

  “Fuck, Tweetie. It feels so good.”

  “You feel good.” And she does. It was always different with Tedi. Still is.

  The urgency, the feral need, the feeling of never getting enough of her—it’s addicting, and I love every fucking minute of it.

  She slides her hand down between us.

  I groan. “Yeah, babe, touch yourself.”

  Her head hits the wall, and her free arm wraps around my neck. Both of us glance down. I watch her circle her clit while my cock drags in and out of her. I’m barely holding on.

  “God, I’m so wet.”

  The only noise in my condo is our breathing and the sound of me driving into her. She’s moaning and whimpering, and I don’t relent, because she’s close, and I can’t wait to see her come apart around me.

  She clenches around me, and her eyes shut, my name slipping from her lips, then her body goes limp in my arms for a moment.

  Before she’s fully recovered, she slips her hand out from between us and runs her arousal over my lips. I suck her fingers with a moan. The taste of her makes my balls draw tight, and with one final thrust, I still, unable to hold it back any longer. She tightens her legs, giving my arms a reprieve while I empty myself into the condom.

  Tedi nuzzles her head into my neck, her labored breaths easing back to a normal rhythm. “I love you.”

  “I love you back.” I run my hand up her side.

  I’m still trying to believe that we’re here. That Tedi’s in my condo and we’re making a go of this. A part of me still thinks I’m dreaming.

  She loosens her legs, and I lower her to the floor.

  “I’ll be right back.” I head to the bathroom to get rid of the condom.

  When I drop it in the trash, she’s at my back, her arms wrapping around my waist and her cheek on my shoulder blade. Perfection. This feels like perfection. As if she couldn’t stay away from me for such a short amount of time, so she’s joining me.

  We stay like that for a minute, basking in the feeling of being here, together.

  “Now, get out. I have to go to the bathroom so I don’t get a UTI.” She giggles, kissing my back before unwinding herself off me.

  “Still shutting the door?” I ask, stepping around her to give her the bathroom.

  “Yep.” She pushes the door shut.

  I grab our clothes off the floor by the front door, walk to my bedroom, and toss them on the bed. She’s in the doorway moments later, watching me shove my legs into a pair of sweats.

  “Do you have anything for me?” She steps in, stripping the T-shirt off her body.

  “Are you kidding? What’s mine is yours.”

  She goes to my dresser and opens a drawer.

  “Fair warning though, I might go all caveman alpha male seeing you in my clothes.”

  She thumbs through the T-shirts, doesn’t pull anything out, and shuts the drawer. Instead, she walks to my closet, and I hear her pushing aside the hangers, as if she’s searching for something specific. I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her.

  She sighs and pulls a sweatshirt off a hanger. Turning around, she holds it up to herself, and I laugh.

  It’s her favorite sweatshirt of mine. Old and worn and the one I toyed with getting rid of so many times but couldn’t.

  “Do you remember?” She tosses it over her head and saunters across the room to me.

  “I do.” I give her a warm smile.

  We were on vacation and got stuck in a rainstorm. Running into the nearest store, we bought two sweatshirts. Then we got back to where we were staying and used the excuse of getting warm to strip and slide under the blankets for some skin-to-skin contact. It’s one of my favorite memories with her and one of the reasons that sweatshirt still hangs in my closet.

  Tedi claimed both of them as hers after that. I wasn’t complaining.

  She drops one leg on the right of my hip and the other one on my left, straddling my lap.

  “Are you hungry?” My hands find her ass, tugging her the rest of the way to me.

  “Yeah, but nothing crazy. What’s with this Chicago pizza I keep hearing about?”

  “It’s deep dish, and it’s so good. And you have to try it.”

  She nods, kisses me, and crawls off my lap, situating herself beside me against the headboard. “I like your place. Right next to Colts’ stadium, huh?”

  I eye her, and she laughs. Fucking Decker Davis. I’m not sure I can ever look at him the same. Then I grab my phone from the pocket of my jeans and pull up the pizza place I usually order from.

  “Hey, someone came to see me in the stands today.”

  I glance from my phone to her. “You sound hesitant. Did someone hit on you?”

  “God, no.” She acts as if the idea is ludicrous, but I catch guys checking her out all the time. “It was Bud.”

  I roll my eyes, click the order button, and toss my phone on the bed.

  She brings the sweatshirt over her legs and crosses her ankles. “I don’t want to ruin tonight, but I think you need to know.”

  “Okkaayy…”

  “Bud is upset about the post you made. The one with⁠—”

  “I know which one.” Anger is the first emotion that arises because I’m not letting hockey dictate my life anymore.

  She scoots closer to me, taking my hand. “He has a point.” I open my mouth to argue, but she puts up her hand. “I’m not saying you have to delete it, but I want you to know what you’re up against if you don’t.”

  I trust Tedi, I always have. She’s probably the reason I’m such a popular player. She taught me how to show people the person I am through my posts. It’s the only reason I started doing it myself after I lost her. “Go ahead.”

  “Bud isn’t set on signing you next year. He’s almost throwing it around like if you want a contract, you play by his rules.”

  I slide my hand out of hers, both of my hands going into my hair. “He’s holding that over my head?”

  “I know. He’s a controlling asshole. He’s not happy with the way I’m showcasing you either. He said you seem too perfect and people can’t relate.” She shrugs. “I’m biased, and maybe I’ve been doing that without realizing it, but I do have some ideas that might help him be happy. What it comes down to is that he’s threatening both of our jobs. He says if I don’t do what he wants, he’s calling my boss, and if you don’t delete the post, he might not give you a contract.”

  I whip my head around and steady my gaze on her. “I’m not deleting it.”

  She nods. “I figured. But⁠—”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to let Bud Caldron bully me. Fuck him. Another team will want me if he doesn’t.” I’m not going to let anyone come between us again. My job will not affect us, but damn, I’m gonna miss Chicago and the guys.

  “I don’t understand him. You’ve gotten a lot of fans who are happy with that post. I’m not sure why… well…”

  “What?”

  She blows out a breath. “All publicity is good publicity. And although you’ve never been the bad boy who’s going out and doing illegal shit, you are… were… the guy who got them publicity for just being you. You’re always around the city. Not a homebody. You’re accessible to your fans.”

  “That’s exactly what we did in Florida to get my name out there, remember?”

  “I know, but Bud believes he needs you single, and apparently he wants you to show your age.”

  My face contorts with disgust. “What?”

  She nods. I can tell from how many deep breaths she’s taking that she doesn’t want to tell me any of this. “He wants me to show you struggling more. As if you’re toying with retirement because you’re falling short.” She bites her lips. “I’d never do that. Plus, it’s bullshit. You’re the strongest one out there. The best player.”

  I quirk my eyebrow. “You’re definitely biased.”

  “I am, but everyone loves you, Tweetie. And the post thing is your decision. I’m not going to be upset if you take it down. I don’t need you to publicly claim me.” She shakes her head. “But for the campaign, I have other ideas to make you more relatable that don’t involve any of the shit Bud wants. I just wanted to run it by you first because if you want me to do what Bud wants and go that way, I will. If staying in Chicago is that important to you and you want that contract, I’ll make it happen.”

  “Fuck that. I don’t give a shit about Bud. And yeah, I love Chicago. I love these guys.” I grab her hand and pull her onto my lap. “But I want this more than anything.” I wave my finger between us. “Maybe I’ll retire, move to New York with you.”

  She studies me for a beat. “There’s one more thing.”

  I rock my head back. “Whhaattt?”

  “We can’t go to the gala together. We have to go separately. Bud seems to know something is up.”

  I frown. “Why do you think that?”

  “He’s sniffing around. Mentioned how I used to do your social media back in Florida. I don’t know, just a feeling I have.” She takes my hands, lifting them and entwining her fingers through mine. She watches our hands move together for a second before her gaze meets mine again. “I want us out there, but I have to tell my boss first, and I’d rather be the one in charge of your campaign. If we have any shot of you staying in Chicago, I need to be here running this for you.”

  “Tedi, I⁠—”

  “I know, Tweetie. I know I’m more important, but you playing where you want is more important to me. I love you so much, I want this for you.” She leans forward. “Secrets can be fun.” She kisses me on the neck. “Sneaking around.” She kisses my jaw, then her lips are millimeters from mine. “We know what we have. We don’t need to share it with the world to know it’s true.” She presses her lips to mine, then draws back, waiting for my answer.

  And fuck, of course I want to stay in Chicago. Especially if we win the Cup. I want the last years of my career to count.

  “Okay,” I agree, but I remind myself if this goes south, I’m tugging Tedi into a life raft and we’re getting the hell out of Dodge.

  This time, I’ll save us before anything touches us.

  Fifty-Nine

  Tedi

  There’s a knock on my door, so I stop in my second bedroom and peek my head in. “Are you ready?”

  “Just grabbing my lip gloss,” Lyric says with a smile. She looks beautiful in the dress that Eloise picked out when I told her Lyric was flying in from New York to be Tweetie’s date to the gala.

  “You look great. I’ll get the door.” My heels hang off my fingers as I pad across my apartment and open the door.

  The girls all thought I was crazy when I first mentioned Lyric being Tweetie’s date. Tweetie isn’t exactly on board either, but he needs some kind of cover after he put that picture of my tattoo on his socials. And Lyric is my best friend in New York, and I trust her implicitly. She knows my past with Tweetie, and I’ve filled her in on everything going on. She’s more than happy to help us.