Page 34 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly

We get home, carry Sev’s boxes in, and spend the next few hours unpacking and trying to make sense of how Nadia organized things. It appears she’s gone to some length to ensure that each box contains items that are completely unrelated to each other.

I kind of admire the audacity.

Not that I’d ever admit it aloud.

When we’ve worked through the worst of it, I get my toolbox and spirit level out and mark out where Sev’s framed jerseys should hang. It’s a bit of an effort making sure they’re all lined up and equidistant from each other, but it’s worth it to see the smile on Sev’s face when it’s done.

Plus, I’m a million percent sure I look hot as fuck handling a drill, so that doesn’t hurt.

“Wow,” he says quietly, walking down the hall, tapping my helmets as he goes. “It looks really cool.”

“It does,” I agree .

“Are you sure it’s okay? It’ll leave marks on the wall when I move out.”

“I’m sure you’re not moving out,” I remind him patiently. “So yeah, I’m sure it’s okay. Now, where’s that blanket? Let’s find a place for it.”

He pulls the blanket out of a box that contains a half-empty bottle of shampoo, four pairs of mismatched socks, a phone charger, shin pads, and a car magazine.

I admit I’m expecting the worst, so I’m pleasantly surprised when I see the blanket. It’s crocheted in autumnal tones. The pattern on each square is unique, but the colors balance each other. It’s old, soft from years of heavy use, but in good condition.

Even if it didn’t belong to Sev, I’d like it.

I bundle the blanket currently folded over the back of my couch into the wash, and replace it with Sev’s blanket.

It’s unlike anything else he owns, but somehow, it feels like him.

I know without asking that the blanket means something to him.

Something he’s slept under. Something that’s kept him warm.

Something he’s moved from place to place over the years, even though he didn’t have anywhere to put it.

I step back from the couch and admire it. “Looks good. ”

“Thanks, Tee.” Something unfamiliar, almost nostalgic, casts dark shadows in his eyes. “It’s, uh, it’s something my mom made for me before she…stopped doing things like that. I know it’s not pretty or whatever, so if you don’t like it, I can keep it in my room.”

I look at him and see a different version of him than what most people see. On the ice, he’s a force. An enforcer. A big, wild man who takes up a lot of space and seems to ooze confidence.

It’s not like that version of him doesn’t exist. It does. It’s just that it’s not the only version of him. There are other versions too. Versions that matter. Parts of him that got hurt somewhere along the line and haven’t healed because he’s never stayed still long enough to let it happen.

“What happened to you that made you think you and your things don’t deserve a place to call home, Sev?” I ask.

He makes a gruff sound and avoids eye contact. “Dunno.” I stay silent until he realizes it’s still his turn to talk. “Nothing. I don’t think that… It’s just how it is. You know me, Tee, it’s just the way I am. It’s not that deep.”

Like hell it isn’t .

“I’ll let you off this time because you’ve had a long day and we have a big game tomorrow, but if we’re going to make this work, I’ll need to know these kinds of things about you. So you’re going to have to get used to talking about them, okay?”

He drops his head, chin almost touching his chest, and exhales deeply. When he looks up, he looks more or less like a meme of a man suffering from extreme exhaustion.

I decide to take a shower and give him a little time to recover from the excitement of the day.

He’s on the couch, and there are boxes of takeout on the coffee table when I come out.

I’m wearing soft jersey pajama pants and a matching T-shirt.

I deliberated over my attire for ages. I considered wearing his jersey again, but I decided to save that for a day when he has more energy.

I think I’ve made the right choice. As much as I remain wholly committed to his seduction, I don’t want to neglect the emotional side of our relationship.

He clocks me, gaze hitting my chest and traveling slowly down my body and quickly back up again.

“Disappointed to see so much clothing?” I ask.

It takes him a moment to work out what the correct response is. “No,” he says, voice lilting up like it’s a question .

“Liar.” I take a seat beside him and break a pair of chopsticks apart, digging into the selection of sushi he ordered. “Mm, thanks, Sev. This is exactly what I wanted.”

We eat in companionable silence, and I spend the entire time thinking how right we are for each other. The evidence is staggering. He doesn’t like wasabi, and I love it. He likes a ton of ginger, and I only need a tiny bit with each piece of sushi. We both love soy sauce.

We’re perfect together.

“Oh no,” I trill once we’ve tossed the boxes and cleaned up. “It looks like your blanket is a lot smaller than mine is, so I guess I’ll have no choice but to sit really close to you so we can both get under it.”

He rolls his eyes, a swirl of black tourmaline flicking upward, accompanied by a forced grumble.

Despite that, when he’s made himself comfortable, he holds the blanket up for me to curl under.

I scoot up as close to him as possible, twisting my upper body so my head is on his chest and one arm is wrapped around his waist.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He makes the same sound again, but he lets his arm fall heavily over my shoulders.

It’s official. We’re cuddling .

I’m so happy that it takes every ounce of self-control I have to stop myself from making a revolting, gurgling sound. I manage by pressing my lips firmly against the bulk of Sev’s chest.

If I died now and went to heaven, nothing would change.

I’d still be on the couch, curled up with Sev, head on his chest, arms around each other.

Paradise could be exactly like this. I mean, maybe there’d be more fluffy white clouds floating around, and there’d probably be one of those Top Ten Legendary Saves shows on TV, and obviously, they’d all be saves I made, but other than that, it would be exactly like this.

My cheek is nestled into the meat of his chest. His T-shirt is soft, his pec a hard shelf that props my head up. I hear his heartbeat, a soft doo doof that answers mine almost exactly.

My heart’s beating faster than normal. His is too.

I don’t move for the longest time because I’m too afraid to do anything that will break the spell, wake him up, and remind him he thinks it’s his job to push me away.

Eventually, I get a crick in my shoulder, and I’m left with no choice but to move the arm I have resting on him. As I do, he catches my wrist, tugging on a few of the hair ties he finds there .

“What’s with the hair-tie thievery?” he asks.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Am I going to regret it if I say the truth?”

“Dunno. Will it bother you if I tell you that I love it when you wear your hair up ’cause it makes your face look all angular and hot, and honestly, I eat that shit up. But when you wear it down, oof , it fucks me up in a very, very specific way I find hard to recover from.”

“Teddy,” he warns.

“Do you want to know why I have your hair ties on my wrist or not?”

“Didn’t you just tell me?”

“No, that’s why I take them, not why I keep them.”

“ Fine . Why do you keep them?”

I lift my head and sit up, looking straight into his eyes.

What I see there makes me nervous to say it.

So nervous that before I open my mouth to speak, I know my voice is going to be shaky and softer than usual.

Part of me doesn’t want to say it. Even though I’ve laid so many of my cards on the table already, this is different.

“I keep them because…” Shit. I was right about my voice.

“When you kiss me for real for the first time, I want your hair to be down like it is now. I’ve been daydreaming about that kiss for as long as I can remember, Sev, and when it happens, I want to press my body ag ainst yours and open my mouth—myself—to you, and I want to knot my fingers in your hair.

Hard. I want to do it hard enough that it pulls.

I know I’ll need to because just thinking about it makes me so weak that I’ll know I’ll need something to hold on to to keep myself upright.

And afterward, when the kiss is over, I want your hair to be all messed up, so if anyone sees you, they’ll know your lover’s hands have been in your hair. ”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tee, you can’t talk like that.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Let’s pretend I don’t. Explain it to me like I’m five.”

He moves his hand from his nose and looks at me hard. “Nate doesn’t want us to be together. You know that.”

I feel a familiar flash of rage at his words, not because he said them, and not because I know it’s true, but because Sev seems under the impression that Nate’s preference is more important than mine.

“He’s my brother, not my keeper, Sev. He doesn’t get to decide my future, and besides, he loves me. He wants me to be happy.”

“He does love you. He loves you like crazy.” He’s quiet for a while, and the air in the room grows heavy with tension. I breathe through my nose to calm myself as I wait for him to continue. “That’s why he doesn’t want me to be with you.”

“That’s ridiculous! He loves me? That’s why we can’t be together?

Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? It doesn’t even make sense.

Can you hear yourself right now?” I take hold of his arm and squeeze firmly.

“We could be good together, Sev. We could be life-changing—the real deal, the rest of our lives—and you’re sitting here spouting crap about Nate and his precious little feelings. ”

Sev’s face transforms into a series of hard lines. Hard lines only. No emotion. Only rigidity and a dim, distant expression that looks a lot like acceptance.