Page 39 of Hat Trick
"No." I bite my tongue. I want to proclaim that I never would, but I had tried to last night. God, what I did was so inappropriate. He's not exactly my boss, but he kind of is. Sleeping with any one of the boys would be a terrible mistake. It would complicate everything in the household, for everyone.
I finally look him in the eye. "I'm sorry. I was worried about him after the fight and went to check to make sure he was okay. He asked me to stay with him...sort of..." he didn't really say anything with words. "I'll admit I made a move on him, but he rejected me. And I'm really very sorry. I never should have. Crossing that line would make things awkward for all of us. I wasn't thinking. It'll never happen again." Those traitorous tears threaten to appear again. The pain of his rejection is still so fresh. Then admitting it out loud coats me in shame and regret. I need this job and I'm about to get fired because I couldn't keep it in my pants.
I open the refrigerator door and stare inside, hiding my tears.
"Hey," Carter whispers, coming up behind me and running his hands up and down my arms reassuringly. It only makes the tears come faster. He must feel my sobs because he turns me around in his arms and holds me to his chest.
"Shhh...it's okay." He whispers to me with his deep baritone, his hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. As my tears slow down, his hands stop.
"He really turned you down?"
I groan and roll my eyes before pulling out of his arms and wiping my cheeks. "Ireallydon't want to talk about it." Carter glances in the direction of Gabe's room with a funny look on his face. We're silent for a few moments while I finish cutting up strawberries and blueberries with yogurt for Annie.
"I like you for him." Carter says suddenly. I wrinkle my nose and give him a look. "I thought I'd be jealous when I saw you together, but the jealousy never came. I like you for him. He carries the weight of every game, of the entire team, the entire fandom on his shoulders. If we win a game, those of us that score take the victory. If we lose, it's all his fault. Never in any outcome does he get to be the hero. Having millions of people blame you for their team losing...it's a lot. We all know we're a team, and the puck has to get past his defense to even get a chance on goal, but at the end of the day he takes all the blame and responsibility. And he never lets people in. He knows we have his back and that we're a team, but he's still an island. He let you in last night. He let you take care of him." Carter rubs the back of his neck. "I'm not sure what's going on with rejecting you, but you spent the night with him. He doesn't do that. Ever."
I look up at Carter, blinking through the remnants of my tears. "You're not angry?"
"I thought I would be, but I'm really not. If you help him feel more supported and less alone, I'm all for it."
I return my focus to Annie, who's happily palming her food and babbling away to herself. I'm still confused as to what happened last night, and I don't know what this means for any of us, but I'm not getting fired. And Carter's not angry. That's enough for today.
Just then, a sleepy Gabe shuffles into the kitchen wearing only athletic shorts. I avoid eye contact, choosing to focus on Annie, until a warm palm envelopes my hip and a split lip kisses my cheek. "Good morning." Gabe says, his voice low and gravelly with sleep. My body is instantly at war with itself. His voice, the touch of his rough fingers on the sliver of exposed stomach sends heat and lust straight to my core. The confusing mixture of rejection and affection causes my heart to clench and tears to prick my eyes.
Self-preservation kicks in and I have to get away. "You got Annie?" I ask Carter, my voice cracking. Gabe has his back to me while he pours his coffee, but Carter can see the despair on my face. He gives me a worried look but simply nods. I can't run out of there faster. I shut myself in my room and sit on my bed, head in my hands, hurt, embarrassed, confused, afraid. I have a hundred emotions churning inside of me, vying for my attention, but I don't know which one to process first. I just hold my head in my hands and cry.
Chapter twenty-three
Gabe
"Dude, I don't know what game you're playing but it ends now." Carter glares at me, arms folded over his chest.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" It's too early and I'm not nearly caffeinated enough to guess at his charades.
"Rejecting Emily last night but forcing her to sleep with you? That girl is in her room crying right now because you have the emotional maturity of a puck. You either want her or you don't, but don't keep playing around with her emotions. Go fix this." He demands. I know my Captain. It's not a request.
"She is?" I scratch the back of my neck. I didn't mean to make her cry. I mean, I thought I might have felt a tear or two on my chest last night but thought I could make it better by holding her. I don't do girlfriends. I don't know how to do this whole courting thing. Shit, maybe I do have the emotional intelligence of a puck.
"Fuck," I groan.
"Language!" Carter shouts back, covering Annie's ears.
"Sorry, Annie girl." I set my coffee down on the kitchen island and go to Emily's door. Do I knock? Do I barge in and demand she be with me? I'm not going to change myself into a version I think she'll like. I barge in, causing her to jump in surprise, before her shoulders fall and she turns away from me.
I kneel on her bed, towering over her, until she scoots back. I crawl towards her, caging her in until she's pressed against the headboard.
"I didn't reject you last night." I growl, staring into her wide eyes. She's not afraid of me, but she doesn't know what this is.
She scoffs. "What do you call turning down free sex?"
"I don't want 'free sex'." I say, mimicking her high, sweet voice.
She scrunches her adorable little nose in confusion. I have her completely caged in, flat on her back, her delicious chest heaving with labored breaths. I get a wild thrill at having her so completely at my mercy.
"When we fuck...and we will...fuck...it will be in my jersey. It will be a claiming. You're my woman. And I can't do that with a busted lip and bruised ribs."
Her wide eyes grow wider as her cold little hands touch my ribs gently in concern. I hiss. "Are you okay?" She asks a little too breathlessly for my cock to resist. I give her a single, silent nod.
"I...I can't." She says suddenly. Now I guess it's my turn to feel the sting of rejection. I shouldn't be surprised. I haven't exactly been wooing her these last few weeks. Fuck, I've been a downright ass to her. I called her a fucking puck bunny for god's sake. But she said 'can't', not 'won't'. Not 'didn't want to'.
