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Chapter thirty

Rebecca

“Hey, long time no see,” Sutton greets me as I set my tray down and slide into the booth across from her at the deli down the street from the arena.

“Sorry. Sorry.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before taking a sip of water from my water bottle.

She waves my apology away. “I’m not mad. Just sad we haven’t been able to catch up sooner.” She takes a bite of her sandwich. “Ansley is on her way. Her meeting just got out, but she said not to wait for her to eat.”

I nod, popping a chip into my mouth.

“Hey, guys,” Ansley says, walking up to our table a few minutes later.

Sutton slides over, and Ansley takes a seat next to her, setting her salad and drink down.

“So, you and Holt, eh?” Sutton asks, grinning at me.

I clear my throat. I was wondering when this topic was going to come up.

“Tell us all the details,” Ansley says, her eyes sparkling. “I was pretty shocked when I heard the news.” She takes a drink of her soda. “Wait, that sounded bad. The news that he was dating someone shocked me. Not that it was you. I didn’t mean . . .”

“I know what you meant.” I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “We’ve gotten to know each other over the past few months. We’re neighbors. One thing led to another. ”

“And he makes you happy?” Sutton asks.

“He does.”

He really does. I can’t remember a time when I was this happy. Part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something bad to happen to him or Hazel, that’s my fault. But I’m trying not to think that way anymore.

“Good. I’d say you do the same for him because I haven’t seen him smile this much in probably as long as he’s played for the team,” Sutton says.

“Me either.” Ansley agrees.

We eat silently for a few minutes, and I wonder if that’s the end of their questioning.

“Is it serious?” Sutton finally asks, tilting her head to study me.

I furrow my brow. “We’re exclusive, but it’s new. I don’t know where it’ll go.”

Ansley chuckles. “I heard you two went house hunting together. Sounds pretty serious.”

I choke on my water, barely keeping myself from spitting it all over the table. Nothing stays private with this team. I take a few deep breaths, trying to regain my composure.

“He asked me to go with him, yeah. I was just helping him out. I’m not moving in with him.”

“Sounds like he trusts you. A lot,” Sutton points out.

“Don’t you have to trust the person you’re dating?” I ask.

Sutton raises her hands in surrender. “True.”

I turn my attention to Ansley.

She shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I’ve only gone out on a couple of dates in my entire life.”

My mouth falls open at her admission. Not that it matters that she’s never been in a relationship. But she’s gorgeous, smart, funny, and easy to talk to, so I’m surprised.

She covers her face with her hand. “Don’t look at me like that. What can I say?” She drops her hand. “Dating has never really been a priority for me.”

“I’m not judging you. You just caught me off guard,” I admit .

“I feel as though I’ve missed out on so much of my twenties because of it. Not that I’d change most of it, but you know . . .” She sighs. “I have a few years left, not that anything is going to be different, though, with me being as busy as I am with this job.”

“Turning thirty scared the shit out of me. But trust me when I tell you, my thirties have been significantly better than my twenties. I’ll be thirty-five this year. Mid-thirties.” I shiver.

Sutton snorts. “Oh, come on, we’re still young. Plenty of life to live. Doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend is younger than you. I refuse to believe that late thirties is old. Forty is the new twenty. Right?”

“Holt’s not much younger than me. He’ll be thirty soon.”

“He’s still younger.” Sutton claps her hands together. “I know, we should plan a girls’ night out soon. Maybe we can find someone for you, Ans. What do you say?”

“This is one of those times I wish I didn’t travel with the team.” Ansley wipes her hands with a napkin before taking a sip of her drink. “Count me in if I’m home, but don’t plan it around my schedule.”

We spend the rest of lunch talking about random topics—books we’ve been reading, shows we’ve been loving, and Sutton regales us with stories about the guys she’s gone out with recently.

Eventually, we clean up our trash and make the short walk back to the arena.

“See you later,” I tell the two of them as the elevator stops on my floor and I exit.

They wave as the doors close, and I head to my office. The rest of the afternoon is quiet as the team is getting ready to leave for a road trip this afternoon.

At five on the dot the next day, I power off my laptop, grab my purse, and head out to my car. Just as I’ve parked in front of my building, my phone dings with a message.

Holt: Hey sweetheart. How was your day? Miss you .

I can’t help the smile on my face or the fluttering in my stomach at the use of my nickname.

Me: It was good. Quiet. I miss you too.

I tuck my phone back in my purse. As I walk across the parking lot, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spin around, my gaze darting over the parked cars.

But there’s no one there.

At least no one that I can see.

Regardless, I hurry toward the building.

Once I’m inside my apartment, with the door locked and the curtains closed, I heave out a breath. Maybe I’m being paranoid. I hope I am.

I walk into the kitchen where I’m greeted by Peaches sitting on the counter.

“You know you’re not supposed to be up there.”

She blinks at me slowly before lifting a paw and licking it. Ignoring my words.

I sigh, but I know what she wants. I grab a can of her food from the cabinet, open it over the sink, and pour it into her bowl.

I turn back around so she can see me set it on the ground.

She glares at me for a second before hopping down, as if she’s hoping I’ll change my mind and let her eat on the counter.

I check her water bowl before changing my clothes and heating up leftovers for dinner.

I’m drying my hands on the kitchen towel after putting my dirty plate and fork in the dishwasher when my phone rings. I snatch it off the counter.

“Hello.”

“Hey, sis,” Mason’s voice comes through the phone.

I silently curse myself for not checking to see who was calling before I picked up. I don’t have the energy to deal with this.

“Mason. I don’t—”

“Please, Bec, hear me out. Please.”

Something in his voice gives me pause.

“Fine.” I pour myself a glass of water and take a seat at the counter.

“I’m sorry, Becca. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said and done over the years. I was a wreck, hopped up on drugs or alcohol, sometimes both. Which doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I’m sorry. I’m sober now—”

“Mason,” I start.

“I know you’ve heard me say this before. But this time I mean it, Bec. I’ve got a job. Not a great one, but a job nonetheless. A place to live. I’m enrolled in the local state college. It’s one class, but it’s a start.”

“Wow,” I murmur, although I’m not entirely sure whether to believe him because, again, we’ve been through this before. Although he’s never actually had a job or his own place, at least as far as I know. “What’s different this time?”

He’s silent for so long I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure we didn’t get disconnected.

“I finally took therapy seriously. It made me realize I didn’t want to live my life from one fix to another.

I used to have goals and dreams. I want that again.

” He sucks in a breath. “I fucked up royally in the past, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep fucking up. I can change. Or try to at least.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He clears his throat. “Bec, I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said to you.

For blaming you. It wasn’t right.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft and sad.

“It wasn’t your fault I started doing drugs.

Drinking in excess. You were only trying to be a supportive big sister, encouraging me to join the band.

You didn’t know what was going to happen.

Heck, it shouldn’t have been your responsibility.

If anyone’s to blame, it’s Mom. She wasn’t exactly the best role model.

” He lets out a strained laugh. “Hell, she wasn’t any kind of role model.

But you were. Are. I was too angry to see it.

Angry at her. At the situation I found myself in.

You’ve been nothing but supportive of me over the years. ”

“Mason.” I wipe away the tears streaming down my face. “I—” I suck in a breath, trying to control the emotion pouring out of me. “I’m proud of you,” I finally manage.

“Thank you. It means a lot. I should probably let you go. Maybe we can talk again soon . . . Or if you’re ever in Phoenix, maybe we can have coffee or lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s not the answer I was hoping to hear, but I understand. I’ll take it. Bye, Bec.”

“Bye, Mas.”

He ends the call, and I set my phone down on the counter and take a shaky breath, willing myself to calm down.

One phone call doesn’t patch up the pain caused by the hurtful words he has spewed over the years, but it goes a long way in beginning to mend the bridge between us.

Maybe we can start to repair our fractured relationship.

Eventually, I get to my feet and wander aimlessly around my apartment, feeling off kilter. I was not expecting that phone call tonight. Nope. Not at all. I debate calling Holt, but I don’t want to bother him.

Finally, I decide to take an early shower.

As I’m hunting for a new bar of soap under my vanity, my eyes land on an unopened bottle of bubble bath.

Taking a bath used to be a weekly habit of mine, the thing I did on a Friday night to unwind at the end of the work week.

But I’ve fallen out of the routine since I moved to Orlando.

I grab the bottle and stand up, my mind made up.

It might not be Friday night, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a bath.

I’m lounging in the tub ten minutes later when my phone rings. I grin when I see it’s Holt video calling me.

“Hey,” I say when I hit the Accept button.

“Hi Bec—” He runs a hand over his face when he registers what I’m doing. “Are you in the bath?” he asks, tipping his head as if doing so will get him a better view.

“Yep,” I say, moving the phone so he can see me and the water, although there’s not much to see since the bubbles cover everything.

When I bring the screen back to my face, I can tell he’s turned on by how much his eyes have darkened .

“Becca,” he growls, running a hand down his face. “Don’t do that.”

I giggle. “Do what?”

“Tease me,” he grits out, a pained expression on his face.

I raise one shoulder in a half shrug, trying to appear unbothered by his words. “You asked.”

He groans, and the sound goes straight to my core, instantly turning me on.

My free hand has a mind of its own as it drifts down my body and toward my center that’s begging to be touched.

“What are you doing?” Holt grits out.

I hum, my fingers circling my clit. I bite down on my bottom lip to hold back the moan that wants to escape.

“Rebecca.”

I take a deep breath, moving my hand and forcing myself to focus on the man on the phone.

“Nothing, Holt Abbott. I’m not doing anything except talking to you. Naked. In the tub. Wondering if you’d fit in here with me.”

“Fuck, woman, you’re killing me.”

I giggle again. I can’t help it.

He smirks. “You sure that’s all you were doing?”

“Wellll . . .” I drag out.

“Rebecca . . .” he growls.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I was touching myself. Okay?”

“Why’d you stop?”

I feel myself blushing, suddenly embarrassed to be having this conversation with him.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart. I want to know what you look like when you come . . . please.” His voice sounds strained, and it turns me on even more.

I nod, dipping my hand back under the water to circle my clit.

“Are you imagining it’s me touching you?” he husks out.

I wasn’t, but now I am. I nod again, clutching the phone and glancing at him. He shifts on the bed, and my breath catches in my throat when his upper body starts moving, and I realize he’s stroking himself just off camera .

“Slip one finger inside of yourself.”

I do as he says, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“Now another one.”

I inhale sharply at the stretch, whimpering.

“I’m thicker than that. Think you can take a third?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Circle your clit with your thumb.”

I moan, tipping my head back as flutters start at the base of my stomach.

“Look at me.” He demands.

My eyes fly open, and I find his through the phone. I wish I could touch him. Have him be the one making me come. This is the second-best thing, though.

“Come for me, Becca.” He rasps.

I circle my clit once more with my thumb, and that’s all it takes for me to come with a yell. My chest heaves from my orgasm as I float back to Earth.

“Fuck, Becca.” His eyes flutter closed. “So hot,” he pants. “Fuck. Yes,” he yells as he comes.

This was not how I expected the night to go, but I’m not complaining.