Page 44

Forty-Four

RHODES

It’s lights out, though Emory is still on his phone in the other bed. We played a hard game tonight. So hard that I’m positive my younger teammates, the single ones, even Kane, have chosen to stay in instead of going out.

We’re all tired. Emory from the blocks he had to make during overtime, and me from being one of three who had to participate in the shootout. The rest of the team is spent from their emotional turmoil of having to rely on three chosen players for the outcome.

Thankfully, it was worth it, and we ended up with the W.

My body aches from the long stints on the ice without a shift change, but I’m too wired to fall asleep.

I stare at my phone.

I shouldn’t text her.

I shouldn’t text her, because the reason I want to has nothing to do with checking in on Ellie and everything to do with toying with her some more.

It’s addicting and dangerous.

My fingers jolt with an incoming text.

I grin to myself when her name pops up.

Speak of the little devil herself.

I quickly open the text and see a picture of Ellie sleeping in my bed with a braid slung over her shoulder and the blankets pulled up to her chin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I eye Emory.

Most veteran players who aren’t on an entry-level contract get a room to themselves, but the franchise has had to adjust some funds around, and considering I’m team captain and not concerned with bringing some chick back to my room, I opted to volunteer as tribute—or whatever the fuck Malaki said when I stepped forward.

Making sure Emory isn’t somehow reading my texts from across the room, as if I’m doing something wrong by texting Sunny, I type a message back that is, in fact, wrong.

Me: Where’s a pic of the other girl in my bed?

Shit. What the fuck am I doing?

I can’t help myself.

Sunny brings out a side of me that hasn’t seen the light of day in years.

Her text comes in with a photo of her sticking her tongue out. I know it’s supposed to be a smart response to me asking for a picture, but I find it highly attractive. I’d like to grab that jaw of hers, pull her in close, and stick my tongue in her mouth.

I am so goddamn fucked.

Sunny: In all seriousness, we need to talk.

And here it comes: reality .

She’s going to tell me we can’t keep doing this. I can’t blame her. In fact, I should man up and be the one to put a stop to it.

I just don’t want to.

Me: About?

I know very well what this is about.

Sunny: Ellie.

Oh?

Me: Is everything okay?

Again, there she goes. Surprising me.

She types for a while. The text bubbles pop up, disappear, and then pop up again. This happens for so long that Emory shuts his phone off and rolls over to sleep.

My heart rate spikes when her text finally comes through.

Sunny: She asked me if I had a mom, and I explained to her that my mom died when I was a baby and that my grandparents were the ones who raised me. I told her that I considered my nana to be my mom.

I remember eavesdropping—I mean, overhearing —a phone conversation between her and her nana. Sunny’s mother died shortly after her birth, just like Gia.

Ellie doesn’t open up to just anyone, so the fact that she’s openly asking Sunny these questions means that I’m not the only one who is beginning to trust her.

Sunny: But then she said something that I’m afraid she’ll repeat to you and get twisted.

Well, this is getting interesting.

Me: Like?

Sunny: She compared my grandparents…to us.

Us. Us.

Why did my pulse pick up its pace at the thought of there being an us?

Sunny: Then she kind of got sad because she saw the shock on my face. She thought I didn’t want to be her mom, and I panicked because she looked so hurt. I told her that the mom role is a very hard spot to fill but that I’d be whatever she wanted me to be.

I reread her text so many times the words blur.

Guilt crashes around me, which is unfair because I’m not to blame for this single parenting gig I’ve found myself in. However, I could also put in some effort to find a wife or a motherly figure for Ellie that isn’t my hot, too-young nanny who has an entire life ahead of her.

Sunny: After a few minutes, all she said was the word “here”.

What?

Me: Here?

Sunny: She said that she just wanted me to be here…with her.

Shit.

That hits hard.

I can’t fuck things up with Sunny. If I do something that scares her off, she’ll run, and Ellie will be devastated.

Me: That’s good. She obviously has a connection with you.

So do I.

Sunny: I have one with her too. I just was afraid she’d tell you that I was the one who said I wanted to be her mom, and then you’d get the wrong idea and end up firing me.

It would take a lot for me to fire her at this point.

Me: The wrong idea?

Sunny: I don’t want you to think I’m like all the rest. With us…you know… I just don’t want you to think I have certain intentions.

I shouldn’t keep toying with her. I really shouldn’t.

Me: With us…what?

Sunny: You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?

I smirk.

Me: No. But I’ll make you type it.

I can almost picture her eye roll.

Sunny: And if I refuse? Play coy? Act like I can’t remember?

I adjust my growing dick. I need to end this conversation right now.

Me: Then maybe I’ll have to work it out of you.

Shit. I’ve gotta stop.

Me: Night, Sunshine. See you tomorrow. And don’t worry, I won’t fire you over your dirty thoughts of me.

Taylor Swift plays on the surround sound, and I can’t help but laugh. I stand behind Ellie and Sunny unknowingly. I lean back onto the wall and flip my hat on backward.

It’s hard not to smile while watching them.

Ellie, still in her school uniform, looking much more put together than when I get her dressed and ready, moves around on the couch like it’s her stage. Sunny, with her dark hair piled high on her head, sings along to the song before twisting and grabbing onto Ellie’s hand and making her spin on the cushions.

After Ellie completes the turn, I push off from the wall and clap loudly. They both freeze at the sight of me. Ellie runs over and jumps into my arms while Sunny smiles brightly in the same spot from before.

Our eyes snag.

My body burns like there’s a wildfire between us.

“Come on, Daddy!” Ellie tugs on my hand.

“No way,” I mutter.

Sunny pipes up. “Too afraid to show us your dance moves, Oscar?”

I narrow my gaze in her direction. Her smile is full of mirth, and I smell the bait from here.

I loosen the brakes and let Ellie pull me forward. She jumps onto the couch again, grabs the remote as her microphone, and starts blaring the words to the song.

Sunny stands with a cute grin on her face, cheeks painted with happiness. I raise an eyebrow and snap my hand out and wrap it around her waist. My other hand finds hers right away, and her wide eyes propel me to continue.

This is payback.

She wants to dare me to dance? Then she’s going to dance with me.

The song isn’t as upbeat as the one before, but the tempo is still fast enough that I can spin Sunny around and pull her back into my chest.

“You can dance?” she asks through a winded breath.

My mouth is right beside her ear. “I have many hidden talents, Sunshine.”

She pulls away, turns, and then suddenly, we’re only a breath away once more.

Space.

We need space.

Or maybe I just need space.

I squeeze her hand, and she backs away. I spin her once more, and when she comes in close again, her eyebrow arches. “Is one of your hidden talents gifting new tablets to elderly women?”

I look over at Ellie.

Did she tell her?

“I take that as a yes,” Sunny says.

I won’t admit it. I didn’t do it so she’d find out and thank me.

In fact, why did I do it in the first place?

Was it to make her happy? Surely not.

“Can I pay you back?”

Yeah fucking right.

“No.”

She rolls her eyes. “ Rhodes .”

“Sunny! Come on!”

We turn toward Ellie. Strands of her hair stick to her sweaty face, and her cheeks are red from all the energy she’s burning.

“Get up there, Sunshine.” I flick my chin to the couch. “Put on a show for me.”

I don’t mean for it to come off as dirty, but it does.

Something flashes over her features, and I wink.

Her scoff drives my smile deeper. I bend forward, wrap my hands around her waist, and haul her up onto the couch with Ellie. The look in her eye sparks something I feel in my bones, and it’s most definitely because my fingers slipped beneath her In my Picasso era shirt and landed on her silky soft skin.

I remain unmoving while Ellie and Sunny dance and sing on the couch, giggling the entire time. Their laughter is louder than the song playing on the speakers, and when it ends, I find myself drowning in amusement.

Ellie beams with a youthful glee, and when I swing my attention to Sunny, she’s radiating with joviality.

That’s when I realize that it isn’t just Ellie’s happiness that makes me happy.

It’s Sunny’s too.

Which is fine.

Right?

It’s fine because it means nothing.