Page 156 of If You Claim Me
CHAPTER 42
DRED
“Ivote this is where we watch all the playoff games.” Tally stretches out in the leather recliner in the theater room at Meems’s, her bowl of popcorn on the tray in front of her and a margarita in her hand.
“I agree,” says Rix.
“Same!” Hammer drops into the seat next to Rix.
“We should have movie nights here in the offseason,” Essie suggests.
“I love that idea!” Hemi hits the button to adjust her leg rest.
“It’s a great room,” I agree. But I don’t make any promises. I have no idea what things will look like next week, let alone during playoffs.
It took more than twenty-four hours for Connor to finally call me after the shitty game against Ottawa, and all he asked about was Meems. He didn’t want to talk about the game, nor did he ask how I’m handling all of this. I don’t know where the Connor I married has gone, and it’s eating me alive.
“I can’t wait until the boys are home tomorrow.” Rix passes around the box of cookies Tristan sent her.
“I’m sure the produce in your fridge is also excited for his return,” Tally mutters, not quite under her breath.
Rix throws her arms in the air. “It was one time!”
“One unforgettable time,” Tally adds.
“Gotta admit, I’m not the biggest fan of these long on-the-road stretches, and neither are my lady parts,” Hemi says.
“Same. Batdick is nice and all, but he leaves a lot to be desired in the post-orgasm-cuddles department.” Hammer sighs.
Essie’s eyes light up. “Hollis is totally a cuddlebug, isn’t he?”
“The biggest,” Hammer confirms.
Essie gets a dreamy look on her face. “So is Nate. We could probably get away with a double bed because he’s always wrapped around me all night long.”
“Dallas will lie on top of me on the couch and tell me he’s still not close enough.” Hemi laughs.
“Tris and I always start out cuddling, but he’s like a furnace, so I have to worm my way out of his hold. But he requires a point of contact throughout the night, and I always wake up in his arms again,” Rix admits.
“That’s really sweet.” Tally presses her hand to her heart. “I have a full-body pillow that I cuddle with every night, and I look forward to the day I replace it with a real-life boyfriend.”
“It’ll happen,” Essie assures her.
“What about Connor? Is he a cuddler?” Hemi asks.
“Um… I’m probably more the cuddler of the two of us, but he entertains it.” I’m questioning all of it now, though. Every night he stretched out his arm and invited me over—was it because he wanted to, or because I wanted him to?
The night before he left for the away series, he fucked me in the dark and let me fall asleep in his arms, but I woke in the middle of the night to find him turned on his side, away from me. And he left the next morning without saying goodbye.
I’d grown accustomed to the closeness and started taking it for granted—the little notes he’d leave inside my books during away games, and lunch showing up out of the blue at work has stopped with this series. Now there’s just silence or short, tenseconversations, mostly over text. No banter. No back-and-forth. NoI can’t wait to spend time with you in the dark.
I keep trying to convince myself it’s just the stress of Meems’s surgery. But I’m far too aware of my own history of shutting down for self-preservation to believe I’m wrong. By shutting me out, is he trying to protect his heart the same way I’ve always protected mine? I wish the contract wasn’t this wall of uncertainty between us, making it impossible for me to trust my intuition.
The Babes and I settle in to watch the game, and I cross my fingers that tonight goes well. I don’t know what to expect when Connor gets home tomorrow, and I’m hopeful a win will ease some of the tension, at least for him and the team. The first period goes well, with the Terror shutting out Montreal and scoring a goal. That trend continues in the second period, and Connor seems to be keeping himself in check. He has some chippy moments, but he avoids a penalty.
Everything goes sideways seven minutes into the third period, though, when Flip gets tripped and ends up slammed into the boards by another player.
There’s a chorus of gasps that echo through the arena—and the women in this room.
