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CHAPTER

ELEVEN

REECE

G etting Bree to move into my home would probably stand as one of the top five ideas I’d had in my life.

The medical staff worked their butts off to keep Mom out of pain and Bree and Claudia kept her company.

When we had to leave for a stretch of away games, I left feeling confident that everything was handled because Bree handled shit.

And sweet Jesus, we fucked hardcore every night until I had to leave.

It never got old. The opposite. It got better the more I learned what she liked and what she loved.

She picked up on the things that did it for me, making sure to hit those every time.

I’d been in relationships before, but nothing like this and it wasn’t even real.

I never planned to do another real one again for the rest of my life.

She got me. I got her. We had mutual respect.

The years I had on her didn’t factor into this at all because her life required her to be older than her age and I reaped the benefits.

Now I had to get my head in the game. We were coming to the end of a three-night stretch with the Jets.

Andreas caught the puck on a breakaway, heading right for me.

We’d taken the first night. The Jets barely squeaked by yesterday.

If he scored, they took this two games to one.

If I stopped it, then it went into overtime and it was up to Bishop, Bonner, and Jones to bring the win home, with me guarding the goal.

He slapped at the puck, sailing it across the ice.

I dropped down to my knees, deflecting the puck right as the buzzer sounded.

Tie.

The men took their positions, with Bishop gaining control of the puck. He slapped it to an open Bonner, who sailed it to Jones when Bonner lost the shot. I watched Jones’s mastery as he lined up and cracked his stick against the ice, sending that puck gliding right into their goal.

Victory. The Jets fans were none-too-pleased, judging by the boos echoing around the arena. We smiled and waved to the few Copperhead fans in the audience as we left the ice.

Coach arranged our flight home for right after the game, leaving us just enough time to shower and head back to the hotel to grab our bags before hopping the bus for the airport.

I couldn’t wait to get back home. I wanted to see my mom, I looked forward to reading Benny a story, and my dick ached to be inside Bree again.

That woman had the most addictive pussy—like crack.

But the best part was when I finished fucking her crack pussy, we’d lie in bed talking about our day.

The big stuff and the little shit most people wouldn’t bother with.

Bree sent a text to my phone. It just said: Great game.

She’d watched me play.

Why’d that feel so good to know she watched me play?

I sat there with a stupid grin on my face staring at my phone screen when Antonov dropped down in the seat next to me.

“Smiling at your phone. Not something I’m used to seeing from your grumpy pus.”

“I’m rarely grumpy. I just don’t put up with bullshit. ”

He snickered. “Fair enough. So what brought on this rogue smile?”

“It’s just a text from Bree. She watched the game.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t see this thing lasting between the two of you.”

“I know a good woman when I meet one,” I replied.

“It’s more than that. We all see it. Truthfully, I’m a bit jealous that the beautiful Bree picked you—a goalie .”

Okay, enough. I shoved my hand in his face to shut him up. He laughed while pushing it away.

“Just know,” he finished, “when you’re done with her, she has a long line of suitors to choose from.”

“Go,” I blurted out. The last thing I wanted to do was think about ending this thing with Bree.

For one, it meant my mom—shit, I’d never be ready to finish that thought.

And then to not have Benny around as often or share Bree’s friendship with one of my teammates while she fucked him and not me any longer?

I hated that.

I fucked Bree. No other man. Somehow, I’d have to find a way to stretch out this arrangement. There had to be something else she wanted out of life.

Given the hour and that we’d played our asses off tonight, just like the rest of the men, I closed my eyes, drifting off until we were woken up to land.

Once on the ground, I caught a ride home from Jones. Bree kept the porch light on for me. For security, I had lights hooked up to motion sensors and cameras recording twenty-four/seven, but I liked the idea of having the porch light on for me.

After unlocking the door, I stepped into the stillness of the house, my bag slung over my shoulder. I locked up behind me, reset the alarm, and let out a long, quiet sigh. Home. This kind of peace only came from being in my own space. And the best part? I’d be sleeping in my own bed tonight .

Before heading upstairs, I made my way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find something to snack on, but I didn’t have to look. Bree had an aluminum pan on the top shelf—my height—with heating instructions taped to the top for reheating in the air fryer.

Following her directions, once the fryer beeped to alert me my food was ready, I uncapped a bottle of Modelo, tucking in at the island bar to enjoy beef stew over mashed potatoes.

No restaurant compared to a homecooked meal made by someone who not only knew how to cook, but enjoyed it.

I savored every bite, then finished off my beer and slid off my stool. After rinsing the bottle and dropping it into the recycling bin under the sink, I scraped the pan, loaded my fork into the dishwasher, and headed upstairs.

Bree slept, only taking up her half of the bed, on her belly with her knee cocked out from under the blankets.

Quietly as possible, I toed off my shoes and undressed down to my boxer briefs then walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I slid into bed, Bree rolled over, eyes still closed, kissed my cheek, and said, “Glad you’re home.” Then she snuggled into me and fell back asleep.

When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty.

Bree had kept the curtains drawn. Not going to lie, I’d been hoping for a good morning fuck, but with today being Monday, Benny would’ve gone to school.

Consistency in his schedule was crucial for him.

When Bree laid it out for me, she’d said he needed things he could rely on and that better helped him deal when unexpected things popped up, like them moving in with me. It made perfect sense.

The clock read 11:00 a.m. I’d slept the morning away. When I got downstairs, Bree was in the kitchen at the stove. I walked over to her, kissing the side of her head, and looked down in the pot .

“Thanks for dinner last night,” I said and she turned to smile at me.

“Figured you’d be hungry once you got home. Up for pumpkin soup? I’m making grilled cheeses too.”

“I wouldn’t turn it down. I’m going to check in with Ma. Let me know when it’s done?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been making some form of soup every day because she’s been able to keep it down. I can make other things too, if you start to tire of soups for lunch, but as long as she can eat it, I want to keep going with it.”

“Thank you,” I replied earnestly. Knowing Bree was here taking charge while I was away made it possible for me to keep playing during this shit.

“We’ve been video-chatting with her oncologist every couple of days since you’ve been gone. His advice is to try foods she used to eat, so I cooked the beef stew yesterday in the Crock-Pot to get it tender as possible. She kept it down, so I call that a win.”

A kiss on her head wasn’t enough. I pulled her into my arms and backed us up until she bumped gently against the island. Then I kissed her. Slow. Deep. Pouring everything I couldn’t quite say into it. She needed to feel how much it meant to me, having her here, helping, grounding everything.

“Oh— sorry .” Claudia. What were the chances she’d step into the kitchen right at that moment?

“No worries,” I said. “She has five days’ worth of kisses coming to make up for what she missed out on while I was away.”

Claudia laughed. “I was just coming to see about Char’s soup.”

“It’s done. Let me get your grilled cheese done, then I’ll send a tray.”

“Better not. She said her stomach is feeling off today and I worry that the fried smell might send her over the edge. ”

Shit. That got me. “Let me go in with her, if you don’t mind, Claudia. I’ll only eat the soup too.”

Bree nodded. “I’ll make you a sandwich after you leave the room.”

She ladled two bowls of soup for me and my mom, drizzling what looked like thinned-out sour cream from a squirt bottle on top of mine. Mom’s she left plain. I walked the tray into Ma’s room. She looked up and smiled.

“My boy,” she said. “Seeing you makes my day better.”

“Claudia said you’re feeling off today. Anything I can do?”

She sighed. “I’m dying, Baker. There will be good days and bad days, but you have to be prepared for when I start having more bad days than good until I go.”

Why’d she have to be so easy come, easy go about it? My entire world was crumbling and I couldn’t get mad because that would upset her and she didn’t need to deal with my shit when she had so much of her own to bear. I couldn’t eat right now if I wanted to, but she needed to.

I pushed back any emotion trying to break through and asked, “Want to try some of Bree’s soup?”

“I’ll try to eat some.” As she sipped on a spoonful of pumpkin soup, she said, “Bree set me up in the den yesterday so I could watch the game with her and Claudia. It’s early in the season, but I have a good feeling. I think you’ll be back in the playoffs.”

“I hope so. I’ve got a contract negotiation coming up. I’d like to stay with the Copperheads until I have to retire. It’s a great franchise with great athletes.”

“And good friends,” she countered. Yeah, good friends. I never realized how good until all of this started going down.

“Good friends,” I agreed.