Page 79 of Cross-Checked

Walsh takes a sip of his beer, eyes focused on the game on the TV, then glances over at me. “You look like a sad puppy that just got kicked to the curb. This about AJ?”

I glance at Walsh, wondering if I can trust him. It would be great to have someone to talk to about this, and I know this is the real reason he called and said we should grab a beer. As team captain, I’d have done the same thing if I thought any of my teammates were stepping over a line like this.

Keep your fucking mouth shut,I tell myself.

Coming here was a mistake. I should go home and call Renaud, who is supposed to be my best friend. But I’ve hardly talked to him this season while he’s on the IR. And the only person Aidan Renaud worries about is himself—so I don’t know how much he’d be able to help in this situation. He’d probably tell me not to tie myself down in such thorny circumstances, give me some advice about getting back out on the dating scene and findinganywoman who isn’t my boss.

I decide to risk confiding in Walsh, instead. “Can I trust you to give me good, and confidential, advice?”

It’s not that he’s not a trustworthy guy—he’s one of the best. But his sense of right and wrong is so black and white; I worry that he won’t be able to see into the gray areas of this situation.

“Yes, you can trust me not to tell anyone, and to give you my honest opinion.”

I mull over his offer as I take a long gulp of my beer, draining half the glass and hoping that the alcohol will smooth out the erratic beating of my heart and relax my overly tense muscles. Instead, it loosens my tongue.

“I think I’m falling for AJ.”

Walsh doesn’t say anything, but his jaw tenses. Then he picks up his pint glass, tilts it toward the bartender and calls out, “I’m going to need another,” before he drains it.

With my heart still pounding, I take another sip of my beer, directing my gaze to the TV where St. Louis is crushing the third game in their series, while I wait for him to respond.

“So the other day when you said it ‘wasn’t what it looked like’ and that you were just helping her iron her suit, that was...?”

“A partial truth. A couple weeks ago, we realized that we actually live across the hall from each other?—”

“How the fuck did you not know that?”

“Because I’d never seen her in my building. I guess she moved in a few months ago, but I think she’salwaysat work. And it’s not like my schedule has a consistent pattern either. So anyway, when she got hurt and couldn’t use her right hand, I was helping her out a lot.”

I don’t mention how I moved her into my place, helped her get dressed, took her clothes off to look at that bruise on her back, bathed her, and then fucking jerked off in my room thinking about how she was just down the hall. Because looking at it from his perspective, I know there’s no wayanyof that wasn’t crossing a line.

“Um hm,” Walsh says, like he knows exactly where this is going.

“And she helped me out by getting her little brother to be my nanny until the end of the season.” That wasn’t exactly the order of things, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Yourmannyis her brother?”

“Yep. And the night before you saw me coming out of her hotel room, she’d texted me to tell me she was on FaceTime with him, and that Abby was trying to take her first steps. So I rushed over there so I didn’t miss it, and before you ask, no, we didn’trealize our hotel rooms were across the hall from each other until then.”

“The universe has a funny sense of irony,” Walsh says, chuckling.

“You’re telling me.” Slightly relaxing, I take a sip of my beer. “Anyway, we were chatting and eventually we fell asleep. Nothing happened. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“Yeah, because peoplealwaysfall asleep chatting when they’re not already laying down together.”

He has me there. “I already feel bad for your kids when they’re teenagers. Nothing gets by you.”

Lifting an eyebrow, he turns to take his second beer from the bartender. “So then...?”

“So by then, I was getting to know her. Not just the side of her she shows us when she’s at work, but the real her.”

“There’s another side of her?” He asks the question ironically, calling me out for previously thinking she was a one-dimensional person.

I dip my head and laugh into my beer as I bring it to my lips. He doesnotwant to know about the sexy side of her that I’ve explored, and I’d never tell him anything personal about her past that she’s shared with me. “Yeah.”

“So…what? You guys are seeing each other?”

“I mean, it’s only been a few days. Maybe a week if you count the few days before we went to Philly, when I was seeing her a lot more than normal.”

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