Page 2

Eleven Years Later

I pull in next to the familiar dark gray truck that I know belongs to Tripp Talmage.

When he texted me last night and asked me to meet at this café, I was a little weirded out.

The surly goalie might be my brother’s good friend and teammate, but I have never had a deep conversation with the guy, and we certainly don’t hang out outside of team events.

He said it was important though …

so here I am.

His truck door opens, and he steps down, closing the door behind him.

Before I can open my own door, he does it for me, greeting me with his small, shy grin.

“Saylor,” his deep Southern voice drawls, “thanks for coming out.”

“Of course,” I say pleasantly, climbing out of my car.

“Though I’m not sure what earned me a coffee date with the big, broody Tripp T,” I say just as he closes my car door behind me.

Tripp is a good-looking man—there’s no doubting that.

Whether he’s fully decked out in his goalie gear, standing in front of his battle station confidently, or when he’s got on a ball cap and his hoodie, like today, he’s hot.

He also happens to be one of the quieter ones on the team and probably the very last one of my brother’s friends I’d ever expect to ask me on a date.

Well, maybe besides Ryder Cambridge, who is Smith’s ride or die.

He’s absolute eye candy, but there’s no way he’d ever entertain taking me out since he’s so damn loyal to my brother.

We make our way to the door, and Tripp pulls it open, holding it as I walk inside.

“Let’s order first?” I suggest, and he gives me a curt, subtle nod before walking up to the counter.

I look over the menu, my eyes wide because I’ve never been here and I’m overwhelmed as hell.

There are more options than I know what to do with.

“Can you just do, like … an iced mocha?” I frown.

“A medium one?”

“Sure, no problem,” the redheaded girl answers sweetly.

Her eyes move to Tripp, and she drinks him in like he’s an extra-large latte waiting to be slurped.

“And for you?” she mumbles nervously, clearing her throat.

“Uh … same as her, I guess?” he mutters, handing her his card.

With a shaky hand, she takes the card from him and finishes the transaction.

As she spins the screen toward him for the tip amount, my eyes bug out when he leaves her one hundred dollars.

Shit, for one hundred bucks …

I could make him a coffee too.

“You didn’t have to buy my coffee,” I say, still unsure of why I’m here.

He doesn’t seem overly enthused to see me, confusing me more.

“All good,” he says lowly, and that’s it.

Those two words are all I get before we stand in silence, waiting for our drinks.

Once the barista slides them across the counter to us, we take them before choosing a booth in the corner—or I should say, he chooses it, and I slide in the seat across from him.

He leans forward on his elbows, keeping his voice low.

“Do you have any idea why I asked you to meet me?”

I take a sip from my drink, impressed with how smooth it tastes.

Sometimes, I find, in places like this, the coffee is high-octane shit that tastes similar to what I’d imagine a tire would.

This though? I can work with this.

It’s odd to see someone seem so confident and yet so quiet at the same time.

No matter where he is, he seems unimpressed.

Being here with me right now is no exception.

Besides, there’s a hint of something else in his eyes as he looks across the table at me.

I don’t get it, but maybe I will soon.

“I mean, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you heard some things about me and are intrigued.” I shrug.

“I’m a good time, Tripp. I’ll admit I have a bit of a record, being that girl.”

He scowls.

“You think … you think I asked you out to try to sleep with you?”

“Uh, yeah?” I say and take a long gulp from my cup.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says bluntly, almost making me spit my coffee out from his sheer boldness.

“Well, all righty then,” I mumble.

“Way to let a girl down easy, Trippy. Would you like me to put a paper bag over my head so that you don’t have to stare at me?”

“What?” He frowns, taking his own coffee in his hand and bringing it closer to him.

“No, I didn’t mean—that isn’t why I wouldn’t ask you out. You’re hot and all, but you’re Sawyer’s sister. You’re forbidden fruit.”

“Eh, most of his buddies over the years would beg to differ,” I say nonchalantly.

It’s no secret that I have a history of “accidentally” seducing his friends and teammates.

I don’t mean to. Sometimes, a guy is nice to me, we have a good time, and—bam—my panties come off.

I always think each one will be different, but it never happens that way.

He takes a sip from his coffee, swallowing it and taking another.

“Not bad,” he whispers before sitting back.

“So, obviously, you dated Rowan Epscott for a while. That’s no secret.”

I swear I must flinch.

Hearing that asshole’s name is a direct slap in the face.

It’s been weeks since he broke up with me, and I’d be perfectly content with going the rest of my life without seeing him.

I’m no angel, nor do I typically get attached.

But with him, he charmed my pants right off …

literally. I fell hard.

Not in love, but into deep lust. Then, one day, he basically made me feel like a cling-on, and he dumped my ass—in front of a few of his friends.

All while talking crudely about our sex life.

I was disgusted and hurt.

I wanted to strangle him with my own two hands.

“Yeah, and?” I toss back sharply.

“Why would that be a reason to ask me for coffee? I hate that motherfucker.”

Tripp grows visibly uncomfortable, which isn’t his norm.

Usually, he’s like stone.

He is never one to waver or flinch, and yet right now, he’s grimacing.

He taps his fingertips nervously against the table while staring down at them.

I can’t even see his feet, but from the way his body is moving, it’s clear that he’s tapping his foot.

“There’s no easy way for me to tell you this, Saylor. And to be honest, I hate that I have to be the guy to tell you at all. Unfortunately, I’m the one who overheard him mutter a name after he showed a clip of a video to some of the team.” He stops, and his eyes lift to mine.

His face is paler than usual, and I frown, unable to figure out what the hell Tripp is trying to tell me.

“I don’t understand?” I manage, but it’s barely audible.

“What are you even saying?”

“The other day, a few of us were in the locker room, and Rowan started playing a video.” He swallows.

“It was him … with a woman. He was behind her … you know.”

“They were having sex?” I guess, narrowing my eyes as I try to follow along.

“I don’t really care, Tripp. He and I haven’t been together for weeks. He can fuck who he wants, and they can pretend to be satisfied.”

He slides one hand to the back of his neck, squeezing.

“Saylor, the others didn’t know it was you in the video—at least, I don’t think they did. But … I did.”

I stare at him for I don’t know how long.

Understanding what he’s saying, but not being able to fully grasp it enough to respond.

Finally, I open my mouth, and the words slowly fall out.

“What you’re saying is, he took a video of us … having sex.” I force myself to utter that last word, just for clarification.

“That’s what you mean?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“I’m so sorry to say, he did.”

My hands shake, and though my cheeks are flaming hot, my body suddenly feels cold.

The way that he dumped me, I knew he was trash then.

But this? This is a whole other level of garbage.

The kind that doesn’t even deserve to be taken to the dump.

It deserves to be destroyed.

“And you watched it?” I grit my teeth.

“You and others on the team watched him fuck who you thought was some random girl?”

“No!” he says quickly.

“He was holding his phone up, bragging. Once a few of us walked in and saw it, we looked away. We didn’t have to know it was you to know it was wrong.”

My eyes fly to his as Smith comes into my head.

He’s worked so hard to make it into the pros.

I hate that his experience with this team could be put in jeopardy, all because I chose to spread my legs for the devil.

“My brother? Does he—does he know?” I bite down on my lip to stop the cry from erupting out of my throat.

“Will my parents see it?”

“Smith has no idea. Most of the team doesn’t, and the few close to him who do, they know not to say a word, or I’ll turn the team against them.”

My panic must be clear as day.

“Saylor, breathe,” he whispers firmly.

“I snuck into the locker room during practice the next day, and I deleted the videos.”

My eyes bug out.

“Videos? Like … multiple?”

“Trust me, you weren’t the only one he’d pulled that shit on.” He cringes.

“And after I deleted the videos—permanently—I ruined his phone and then threw it in the garbage.” He sighs.

“He still thinks he left it somewhere.”

The room feels like it’s spinning.

I silently try to tell myself it’s not a big deal.

And who really cares if someone saw the video of us having sex?

Because at the end of the day, it’s only sex.

But still, no matter how many times I chant it inside my brain, I can’t calm down.

I feel … dirty. I also feel judged, betrayed, and fooled.

“The one good thing is, I got word this morning that he breached his contract and they’re terminating him from the team.” He surprises me when he reaches across the table, placing his hand over the top of mine.

“He’ll be out of here in the next few days, Saylor.”

I stare at him.

I’m not really looking at him, but more through him.

I’m not shy about my body, but right now, I’m embarrassed as I realize that Tripp and God knows who else watched me with that monster.

“Thank you for, uh … letting me know. I’m going to take off now.” I swallow before sliding out of the booth.

“Lots to do.”

And I’ll likely never show my face around you again.

Before my feet can carry me out of the café, his deep voice stops me.

“Let me drive you home. You’re upset.”

“No thanks.” I shake my head because even being near him right now, knowing I’m on the verge of a breakdown, is sending me into a tizzy.

“Thanks again for telling me.”

“Saylor, please don’t let this break you. This guy? He’s scum. And I promise you, his career will never be what it could have been now that he’s fucked up his contract with the Sharks.” He says assuring words, but they don’t help me—at all.

Sighing, he offers a small, sympathetic smile.

“If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. Okay?”

All of his words are muffled in my ears.

Eventually, I give him a faint nod.

“Thank you,” I utter, knowing I need to get out of here before I have a mental breakdown in front of this man and make an even bigger fool out of myself than I already have.

I should have asked more questions.

I should have found out who had seen the sex video.

Maybe if I knew how many it was, I might feel better.

Or maybe that would have just made it all worse.

Either way, my walk turns into a jog.

And my jog turns into a run.

And my run turns into a sprint.

Because I have to get the hell out of here.

I’m going to get drunk and forget the conversation I just had.