Page 11 of Retrograde

The sun hurt . Every time Lucie drank alcohol, she woke up the next morning wishing she lived in Alaska where they could go two months without seeing any sunlight. What a bloody dream. Why had she chosen a life of travel? And a life with so much free-flowing alcohol?

She was meant to be on a plane to London tonight with Faith, but she failed to see how she was going to pull herself together in time, let alone actually look presentable enough to walk through the hotel lobby.

Brett already had the hotel room for one extra night…

she could crash here. Her finances could take the hit if she paid for a new flight, right?

She could stay right here in this very spot and rely on room-service burgers and nachos to get her through the hangover from hell.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut again, willing her headache to go away.

Lucie wished they’d been smart enough to close the blackout blinds last night, and that she had the energy to get up and search for the remote. All this money, and they didn’t have blinds that operated on clapping or clicking or mumbling ‘For the love of God’.

Then she remembered the specific reason the blinds had been left open.

The gorgeous man lying next to her had led her to the window and come up behind her.

The view from the Bellagio was stunning, and they’d been fortunate enough to have a room facing the fountain, but it seemed to act as a reset button.

Brett had removed the straps of her dress from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, and then Lucie had let reality get the better of her poor, bruised heart and ruined it all.

‘Stop.’ She’d blushed under his touch, but it was out of embarrassment more than anything. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this, Brett.’

‘What’s wrong?’ He’d brushed her hair behind her ear.

‘I just… I don’t want to ruin us.’

‘Nothing could ruin us, Sunny. We’re grown adults, what’s a night of fun, no-strings-attached sex between friends?’ He’d shrugged like it was no big deal.

‘It’s not that simple, Brett. You’re my best friend.’

‘Yeah, and I respect you. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No, it isn’t. You know I don’t do casual sex. I need more from a partner.’

‘That didn’t seem to stop you two years ago in Italy, Sunny.’

‘That was a mistake.’

And that was Lucie’s problem. She had so desperately wanted to allow herself to get lost in the moment, to get carried away and recreate that one perfect night they’d spent together, but Lucie could never have casual, no-strings-attached sex with a man like Brett Anderson.

She’d learned that the hard way. There were far too many emotions involved.

Relationships came and went and people betrayed her when the next best thing came along.

He had just told her in not-so-many words that he would do the same thing to her that all the men of her early twenties had.

If something happened between them again and he broke her heart, she would lose everything.

A romantic entanglement just wasn’t on the cards.

So instead, they’d ordered every type of cheesecake from room service and sat in front of that very same window, her in his shirt, talking into the early hours of the morning with a bottle of Lucie’s favourite red wine.

Nothing had changed, and the only regret Lucie had woken up with was the kind that she could live with.

The regret of a what if… and a killer hangover.

‘Anderson, wake up. I need breakfast,’ Lucie mumbled into her pillow.

Nothing . ‘Brett, come on. They have blueberry pancakes. It’s our last day, we can’t waste the breakfast menu.

It’s blasphemy.’ But the Aussie giant didn’t move a muscle.

If the mention of blueberry pancakes couldn’t coax him out of his slumber, nothing would.

Wet washcloth in hand, she stomped back over to him and prayed he woke up before she reached him because once she did this, he was going to be in a horrendous mood until the pancakes saved her reputation.

Brett, despite getting up before dawn for training or race-week prep, was not a morning person.

It was a struggle they shared, and they were the worst on the team for it.

He would be in a bad mood all day if she approached this wrong.

Maybe she should set an alarm and leave her phone right next to his head?

There was that default ringtone society universally hated, and that was the one thing that could get her up.

But she remembered she had tried that before, and Brett had slept through it.

He could probably sleep through an earthquake. Maybe even an ice age.

Since he had fallen asleep with his whole face shoved into the fluffy white pillows, she had no choice but to slap the washcloth onto the back of his neck.

She braced herself for a temper tantrum, but it never came.

‘Brett?’ She shoved him. ‘Brett.’ She shoved him again, harder this time.

Silence. Positioning her small frame so she could use all her strength, which wasn’t much, she rolled him over to her side of the bed.

His arm flopped out and his head lolled to one side, but he didn’t even flinch.

This was far worse than his usual deep sleep and Lucie was trying to quell the part of her brain that was telling her something could be wrong.

She gave it one final shot. ‘Wake up, Anderson.’ She slapped him right across the face this time.

‘What the fuck, Sunny?’ Brett startled awake, glaring at Lucie.

‘About time! Jesus, Brett, how much did you drink last night?’

‘Not as much as I would’ve if you hadn’t been on my ass about it.’ There was a venom to his tone that surpassed tired disgruntlement.

Lucie had been half-joking, but his tone put her back up. He’d never spoken to her like this, even when he was stressed.

‘Brett, I almost couldn’t wake you.’

‘But you did.’ He rolled his eyes at her, like she was being dramatic.

Perhaps she was. Or perhaps she was starting to put the pieces together.

Their night in the casino had been one thing, when he hadn’t wanted to stop.

This? This was unnerving. He usually had control and knew when to rein it in, he didn’t lie motionless in bed and not wake up to the racket she’d been making.

‘Don’t you think you took it a bit far last night?’ She softened her tone, hoping she didn’t come across as accusatory.

‘Nope.’

‘Brett, come on… this isn’t like you. You’ve been partying a lot lately, I mean, you were in Brussels just recently for a weekend fuelled by alcohol. You never used to do that.’

‘I’m fine, Lucie.’ He gritted his teeth so hard she was certain they’d shatter, but she wasn’t quite done with this conversation.

‘Brett…’ she put her hand on his leg over the duvet, ‘are you sure everything is okay, sweetheart?’

‘Don’t fucking call me that while you’re being a patronising little bitch.’ His words, still slurred like he was just as drunk as he’d been the night before, struck her through the heart and she blinked back tears, recoiling from him.

Scrambling for her phone, she found it on the floor next to the bed. She had ten per cent battery, just enough for one phone call. As she hit the call button, she prayed her knight in shining armour would pick up. ‘Julien?’

‘Finally, you guys are awake!’ Julien answered on the second ring. ‘Do you want to go and get breakfast? Faith has just gone to wash her hair, then we can head down and find somewhere.’

‘Jules, can you come in here? Bring Marco.’ Lucie knew she didn’t need to expand. The tears were unusual for her.

‘Why do you need them?’ Brett scoffed, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

‘Because you’re not acting like yourself, Brett.’

‘Lucie!’ There was a knock on the door a mere sixty seconds after she’d put the phone to one side, and she jumped up to let the boys in.

‘He’s being fucking horrible.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I almost couldn’t wake him, it took me ages and he woke up raging at me. I have this sinking feeling there’s more to it, with the drinking.’

Julien gently pushed past her and went straight to where Brett lay in the middle of the king-sized mattress, pretending to have gone back to sleep.

Regardless of how obvious it was that he was faking, Julien spoke like he wasn’t in the room.

It would no doubt anger Brett more, but at least the guys could handle it.

‘You left early last night, right? Around eleven? Did you both keep drinking after you got back to the room?’ Julien asked, his eyes on his teammate.

‘We didn’t even finish the bottle of wine, and I had a glass more than he did.’

‘Brett, get your ass up.’ Jules began pulling the covers back, and it was then that Lucie realised she was still wearing Brett’s shirt and nothing else.

They probably thought that last night she had become just another one of Brett’s sexual conquests.

That they’d partied together and had meaningless sex until the sun came up. That she was a bad influence.

‘Luce, don’t cry. It’s okay. He’s just got an attitude and a hangover from hell. He’ll be all right.’ Marco spoke softer than Jules did, but that was because Julien was in full dad mode.

‘Lucie, go to my room, okay? Faith will let you in. Get Bea and Esme, hang out with them for a bit.’ Julien may have been in dad mode, but he was pissed off.

Whether it was at the situation in general or at Brett himself, she couldn’t be sure, but as she grabbed a robe from the bathroom and made her escape, Lucie finally caught sight of two empty JD bottles on the coffee table.

Those hadn’t been there when they’d gone to sleep.

‘There’s your culprit.’ She gestured at them.

‘Why the hell would you drink that much whiskey alone?’ Marco scolded Brett but Lucie had already closed the door on them. She was certain she knew why.