Page 228 of Playing the Pucking Game
Digging deeper, I find my actual pajamas and pull them free.
With everything in hand, I shut myself in the bathroom, turn the shower on hot, and strip down.
I stand under the burning, powerful jets of water for the longest time, hoping it does something for my tight muscles.
It’s only once my skin is wrinkled and my body begs for sleep that I finally cut the water and step out.
I take my time doing my skincare, blow-drying my hair and brushing my teeth.
I tell myself that I’m not putting off going to bed, but I know I am.
The thought of sleeping alone shouldn’t bother me. I’ve done it all my life; it should be normal.
But just a handful of nights with Linc wrapped around me and everything has changed.
Turning the light out, I abandon the mess I’ve made across the counter. That’s tomorrow’s problem.
I head straight for my purse to grab my cell, but the second I round the corner into the bedroom, a blood-curdling scream rips from my throat because someone is sitting in the chair by the window.
Okay, not someone.
Linc is sitting in the chair by the window, waiting for me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I screech. “And how the hell did you get in here?” His smirk grows as my heart slams against my ribs.
“We need to talk,” he states as he pushes from the chair.
“No. Right now, you need to leave, and I need to sleep.”
“I’m not leaving this room until you hear me out.”
“I’m not interested,” I mutter, turning my back on him and moving closer to the bed.
“Why aren’t you wearing my T-shirt?” he growls.
“Really?” I snap, turning back to look at him. “Of all the things, that is the most pressing issue on your mind?”
“I swear to you, Parker, I didn’t know that number was there.”
“It’s not about the number or the woman who wrote it, Linc. She’s not important.”
“Glad we agree on something,” he mutters.
“It’s more than her. It’s…all the women, the life you live, who you are, all the reasons why whatever this is,” I say, gesturing between us, “can’t be anything. It’s fucking crazy, and we’re even crazier for allowing it to get this far.”
He takes a step forward, and I immediately take one back.
“I can’t argue with the crazy. Or who I am and the life I lead. But the reasons that whatever this iscanbe something…I can talk about that all night long. Although, honestly, I’d prefer just to show you.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “This isn’t a joke, Linc. This is our lives. Our futures.”
“I know that,” he argues. “But I don’t see a future for me. Not unless you’re in it.”
58
LINCOLN
My words hang in the air between us.
