Page 33 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly

Being at Nadia’s is a great reminder of everything I don’t like about her.

She looks stunning, for one thing. She matches the décor, for God’s sake.

She’s a symphony of pastel colors in the same tones as the art on the walls.

In addition, she has that whole high cheekbones and dewy thing going on in a very big way.

She probably does a seventy-two-step Korean skincare routine at night and wakes up early to do it again in the morning. She probably drinks apple cider vinegar every day, and she probably likes how it tastes.

My skin would be dewy too if I had the time for all that.

The reunion isn’t as fiery as I was expecting, and I think that’s a good thing.

Fieriness is a sign of passion, and that’s the last thing I want to see anywhere near Sev, unless it’s coming from me.

Truth be told, Nadia looks pretty done with Sev.

She hardly talks to him, and when he asks a question, she blinks slowly and points a long, bony finger in the direction the answer lies.

Despite the fact that I’m in no way looking to help smooth things over between them, and I am about eighty-seven percent sure Sev is as much in the wrong as she is, it does take rather a lot of effort to tamp down the irrational urge to defend him.

I manage, but only just.

Fortunately, she had all his things boxed up and lining the entrance when we got here, which was either very nice of her—unlikely—or another sign of her being done with him.

The strange thing is, aside from the boxes, the rest of the house looks exactly the same as it did when he lived here. Not a single thing has been altered by Sev moving out.

How is that possible? How do you live in a place for two years and not leave a mark? I mean, how do you manage to reside somewhere for that long and not put a single thing you own up on a wall or buy a lamp or a piece of furniture?

“Are you okay?” I ask once Sev and I are on our way, bumping along in the barely road-worthy white van he managed to get, and I quote, “an unreal deal,” on.

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be? ”

“Because, Sev, you just saw the girl you dated for years, a girl who wanted to marry you, and said goodbye to her. You might never see her again, and if you do, it will be different. She won’t be someone you know anymore. She’ll be someone from your past. It’s a big deal.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, but his brows pinch in a way that makes him look bewildered.

“I’m not a complete asshole, okay,” he says. “I know that. At least, it’s not just that I’m an asshole—I have a little shit in my life who’s been hellbent on distracting me, and it’s making it hard for me to think straight.”

Oh my God. I love that for me.

“Am I distracting you?” I ask, running the nail of my pointer finger gently along the outer seam of his jeans.

He forces a puff of air through his nostrils. “You know you are.”

“Do you like it?”

He doesn’t answer, but his jaw tics, which I take to mean yes.

He gestures to the back of the van. “It’ll only be for a few days. I’ll get a storage unit and put my shit in there. I haven’t had time to arrange it yet, but I’ll make sure I get all this out of your hair.”

When he says it, it dawns on me that the reason Nadia’s house didn’t look any different with Sev’s things in it than it did without them is that Sev didn’t really live there.

At least, he never intended to. Or he never felt comfortable enough to do so.

The arrangement felt impermanent to him.

A temporary stop until the next thing happened to him.

I’m going to make sure our place is different.

“No. That’s not what I want.”

One side of his mouth pulls up enough to crease his cheek. “Huh?”

“When we get home, I want you to unpack. Properly. I want you to find a place for all your things, collapse your boxes, and put them in the recycling. You’re living with me now. I want you to feel like you’re home.”

His mouth pulls up again. Not as sharply this time, but he still looks mighty confused.

The more I think about it, the more I realize Sev probably hasn’t felt at home anywhere for a really long time.

For years, he’s been living out of kitbags in hotels and with women he found himself in serious relationships with when, really, they shouldn’t have made it past the situationship stage.

Before that, he was in college, working over the breaks and vacations, and before that, he spent more time at our house than he did at his own .

“The apartment is yours now too, Sev. I meant what I said about not bringing hookups back there, but other than that, you can do whatever you like in our home.”

“Yeah right,” he cackles, keeping his face turned forward but raising his chin slightly.

“I mean it.”

I do. I want our place to feel different from all the other places he’s lived. I want him to feel like he has a place where he belongs. With me.

“Hmm.” A brow arches provocatively. “I bet you’ll freak out in under two minutes when you see my collection of hockey jerseys.”

Nice try, handsome. It’s going to take a lot more than that to get me to freak out.

“Are they framed?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, then we can hang them in the hallway, under my helmets. A little gallery of hockey memorabilia. It’ll look nice. What else do you have? Do your worst, I can handle it.”

“Well,” he says, dragging the word out, “I have a lot more hair products than you might think I need…”

“That’s fine too. I’ll buy another shelf for your shower if you need it. You know I love your hair, Sev, and by the way—can’t remember if I’ve mentioned it before—but I know you grew it out for me, and I appreciate it.”

I pat his thigh lightly. He doesn’t move for two heartbeats, and then his leg falls open to lean into my touch. Not a lot, just a little, but it’s enough.

“I was drunk that night, but not so much that I forgot anything. I remember everything that happened. Everything we spoke about.” I raise my hand and run my fingers through his hair, tucking a lock behind his ear. “I love that you did this for me. Thanks, baby.”

He remembers himself and moves his leg to where it was before I touched him.

I let him.

He opens his mouth to argue, thinks better of it, and changes the subject instead. “I also have a blanket that I like that’s super ugly and doesn’t go with anything in your place.”

“That’s okay. You can put it on the couch if you want, or on your bed. It’s up to you.”

He stops at a red light and turns to face me, keeping his hands on the wheel. “You’re being so reasonable right now, Tee, it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“I’m actually a very reasonable person, Sev, you just haven’t brought out the best in me for a long time. ”

“What abo—”

“Yes,” I say firmly.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to. I know that if you want it and it makes you happy, the answer is yes.”

“As long as it’s not a blond guy whose name I can’t remember.”

“Right. No guys, no girls, no one but me anywhere near your dick, but other than that, you can do whatever you want, and you can have whatever you want.”

He frowns and huffs, reluctant to believe what I’m saying. “So, like, are you saying you’d let me get a dog if I wanted?”

“Would it make you happy?”

“Yeah, I love dogs. It’s my dream to have one.”

“Then yes, you can get one. All we need to do is talk to Mae and see how she feels about dog-sitting. Take it from me, you do not want to buy a pet until you have a carer sorted out for it. The stress isn’t worth it.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. If I get a dog, I want it to have a good life.”

See how adorable he is?

See what a good man he is?

God, I love him so much.

I dig my phone out of my pocket and start scrolling, determined that nothing and no one will stop me from making his dreams come true. “What kind of dog do you want? Big, small? Do you have a breed in mind?”

He scoffs, but his eyes are full of hope. Hope you don’t usually see in men. Hope you see in boys who still believe amazing things happen when you least expect them.

“I like big dogs,” he says cautiously, “and I want a rescue. I want a dog that no one else wanted.”

“Hmm,” I say, flicking through posts on pet ownership.

“In that case, we might have to consider buying a house with a backyard. Big dogs can live happily in an apartment, but you have to take them out several times per day, and with how much we’re away, I don’t know if living in an apartment would work. ”

“Maybe we should wait until we retire to get a dog,” he suggests. “That’s always been my plan.”

“Yeah, maybe. Let’s make a deal though. When we retire, the first thing we do is buy a house and get you a dog.”

He laughs softly. “You really think we’ll still be living together by the time we retire?”

It’s my turn to scoff. “Oh, we’ll still be living together, big boy. You’ll see.”

He rolls his eyes and fights a smile. He loses.

He liked it when I called him big boy. Good to know.

“You’re impossible. D’you know that?”

“I have heard that once or twice,” I admit.