Page 160 of Pucking Around

“No,” I say, crawling to the edge of the bed and holding out my hands to him.

He stays back, glaring down at them.

“I care aboutyou, Ilmari. Your happiness, your future, your peace of mind. Hating him hurts you. It’s a wound you carry. And I’m a doctor. I can’t help but want to heal a wound when I see it,” I add with a shrug.

His shoulders relax a little as he steps in, taking my hands in both of his. Slowly, he lifts them up, placing kisses on my knuckles. “I have lived so long with this hate,” he admits, his voice soft.

I nod, lifting one hand away to stroke his face. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you have to live with it forever. And I’m here for you. I’ve got strong shoulders too. I can help you carry it…if you want,” I add softly.

He cups my face, his gaze tender as he looks down at me. Slowly, he nods. The wound isn’t healed. Not by far…but it’s a start.

It turnsout Ilmari is something of a skin care snob. I’ve been in his bathroom for the last half hour, treating myself to some kind of Nordic charcoal face mask. I peek around the corner of the open bathroom doorway and see his bare legs stretched out on the bed. Last I checked, he was reading his e-book and popping raspberries like candy.

As I rinse the mask off my face, the doorbell rings.

“Are you expecting someone?” he calls from the other room.

“No,” I garble back, my face sudsy as I scrub off the charcoal mask.

I’m about to pop the cap off a fancy European toner product when I hear him shouting.

“Rakas!” There’s a sense of urgency to his tone.

I hurry out of his bedroom into the main living area. Mars is standing shirtless at his front door, not the back, arms crossed over his muscled chest. I peek past him to see Jake, Caleb, and the dog on the other side of the door. Poseidon presses his nose against the glass, yipping as he sees me. I can’t help but smile.

“How do they know where I live?” Mars mutters.

“We can hear you, asshole!” Jake huffs. “Seattle, make him open the door.”

“For the record, I had nothing to do with this,” Caleb calls.

“Yeah, it was all Sy’s idea,” Jake adds.

Poseidon yips again, whining as he dances at their feet.

“How do they know, Rakas?” Mars says again.

“Because I told them, obviously,” I reply. “Mars, just open the door.”

“Come on,” Jake calls. “The ice cream is melting!”

With a heavy sigh, Mars unlocks the door and stands back. Poseidon comes blasting in, desperate to get to me.

“Hi, my angel puppy,” I coo. “Who’s the bestest boy in the whole world?”

“That would be me,” Jake teases. “I brought ice cream.” He holds up a bulging plastic grocery bag. “Mars grab the spoons.”

“Why are you here, Compton?” Mars mutters, his arms once again crossed.

“Coach just sent over the tapes for review for Tuesday’s game,” he replies, helping himself to Ilmari’s kitchen as he digs out the spoons. “We figured we’d watch it with you.” He glances around the living area. “You do have a TV, right?”

With another sigh, Mars walks over to the living room and picks up a remote. Giving it a click, a TV magically emerges from within a piece of furniture.

“Cool,” Jake says, watching the TV go up.

Meanwhile, Caleb fishes the ice creams out of the bag. “Come grab yours, Hurricane—”

“No way,” Jake growls. “Not so fast. Mars, get over here.”

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