Page 21 of Bagging the Blueliner
With that, he pushed through the crowd, disappearing from sight.
Hannah whipped around, the quick motion on heels in her intoxicated state causing her to bump into the dancer beside her. Righting herself, she glared at me with brilliant blue eyes, only made more prominent by her dark eye makeup.
“You’ve ruined everything!” she cried over the music.
Folding my arms across my chest, I wasn’t sorry. “Too bad.”
“Too bad,” she huffed. “Too bad! Who put you in charge? Huh? Last time I checked, I was a thirty-one-year-old woman who didn’t need a babysitter.”
“Could have fooled me. You were openly engaging in sexual acts in public, Hannah. He’s not some random guy. He draws notice. How can you not see how immature you’re acting?”
“I’m immature?” She gaped at me. “You’re immature.”
“Oh, good. Glad we’ve established that.”
Her eyes narrowed, glinting with determination. “Fuck you, Cal. There were three other Speed players here tonight, and I know for a fact that at least one of them was interested before Maddox staked his claim. The night isn’t over yet.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Confused, she asked, “What?”
Without another word, I bent down, placing my shoulder—the non-injured one—to her stomach before rising to my full height. Banding my arm around the back of her knees, I carted her out of the club while she pounded on my back, demanding I put her down.
By the time we passed through the door and into the cool autumn air, Hannah’s body had gone slack, and she went quiet. Jostling her gently, I asked, “Hannah?”
Getting no response, I concluded that she’d passed out. If she was unconscious, she couldn’t tell me how to take her home. I knew she’d moved out of Coach’s house and had her own place now, but hell if I knew where. It was late, so the idea of taking her to Jaxon and Natalie’s was instantly ruled out—they had little kids. Amy and her husband were currently in Europe, so that wasn’t a possibility either.
That left me with only one option.
Sliding her down my body to hold her cradled against my chest instead of over my shoulder, I began walking the three blockstoward my building. Hannah was about to spend the night at my place.
Fuck my life.
Keeping vigil over Hannah all night was a rare form of torture—her features relaxed in sleep only made her look more beautiful. The only thing worse was getting a glimpse of her naked body as I removed her dress and slid one of my T-shirts over her head, trying to make her more comfortable.
Yeah, that was probably unnecessary, but I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t sexual, but it felt infinitely more intimate, gently caring for her.
Giving her my bed, I slept in the lounge chair in the corner. The inability to spread out had my shoulder on fucking fire when I woke up.
Hannah was still asleep, so I forced my stiff muscles to activate, pushing out of the chair, stifling a groan.
As I walked down the stairs of my penthouse apartment, the sun was beginning to rise over downtown Hartford through the wall of windows spanning both floors. Shuffling into the kitchen, I poured myself a cool glass of water before popping some painkillers.
Taking care of my body needed to be top priority at my age if I wanted to continue playing. But instead of coming home last night and taking it easy when I knew we had a quick turnaround, I’d followed Hannah’s ass to the club.
Thank God I had.
That girl had no common sense.
What was she thinking, encouraging Maddox’s hand up her skirt in the middle of a crowded club?
You’re just jealous because you wish it was you.
I knew firsthand how people tracked professional athletes. If they saw them on the street, their phones instantly appeared. If you didn’t record it, did it even happen?
Hannah thought it was all fun and games, with no care for the consequences. She might act tough, but if a video of that intimate moment was plastered all over the internet for the world to see, it would crush her.
She was strong, but nobody was strong enough to brush that off. It would destroy her life.
