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Wyatt

Elsy Alexander will be the death of me.

It’s been thirteen years since our night together. That’s all we got: one night.

And then the next morning, I opened my big, fat mouth and ruined everything, and she’s never forgiven me.

Hell, I’ve never forgiven myself.

I wasn’t expecting her to pop up in my sister’s life a few years ago, but they’ve been thick as thieves since they were in grad school, so I haven’t been able to avoid her as much as I’d like. Living in a different city helped.

But then Philly traded me to Austin, and now Elsy’s moved here, too, and I…

I’m well and truly screwed.

The only consolation is that her best friend, Nick Mitchell, isn’t on this team. We faced New Orleans in the finals last season before Philadelphia eventually edged them out to win the Cup., adding to his list of reasons to hate me. He’s never forgiven me for messing around with Elsy.

We were in Ottawa for World Juniors and he brought her along to the bar. He and I were vying for a spot on the first line, and one of our teammates dared me to win his girl out from under him.

She came willingly. And fuck, did she come. Multiple times—on my fingers, on my tongue, and later, with my cock buried deep inside her. She was breathtaking.

But then the guys were joshing me around the next morning and I said something I shouldn’t have. I knew it the moment it came out. My mom brought me up to respect women, and I definitely would knock out anyone who talked about her the way I talked about Elsy.

So I guess it wasn’t a surprise when Mitchell punched me in the face. The asshole broke my nose. And I know I deserved it, that and more, but in the decade since everything happened, he’s gone out of his way to target me. He won’t let it go.

And let’s be honest, I needle him back. It gives me a high like none other. I’m a brawler by nature, and I never back down from a fight. Fuck, half the time, I start them. I finish them, too.

The two of us on one team? The league wouldn’t survive it. It’s bad enough we’re in the same division.

As much as I regret volunteering to take her car shopping, I know Bex wants me to look out for her, and the last thing either of us wants is for her to be swindled by some smooth-talking car salesman. She’s too sweet, too pure. She doesn’t see the bad in anyone.

Except me.

As I pull up outside her apartment building, Elsy and Bex are waiting at the curb with a small suitcase. I pop the trunk and Bex stows her luggage before getting into the back seat.

“Are you expecting me to chauffeur you around?” I tease my sister as Elsy gets in the front.

“I get carsick,” the blond beauty says. Her voice is quiet, but cold. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Do you need a bag?”

The smell of jasmine tickles my nose when she shakes her head. Instantly, it takes me back to that night, her scent on my pillow comforting me long after she was gone.

“I brought my own. I’m usually fine as long as I sit in the front and don’t read or play on my phone.”

“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” I increase the air conditioning on her side of the car. The cool air always helps when I’m feeling nauseous.

And fuck, the mere sight of her in my front seat makes me queasy. She’s wearing a simple blue sundress that flutters around her thighs. A hint of white lace peeks out before she settles her dress around her.

Is she wearing a garter? Fuck . Elsy wearing nothing but garters and little lace panties… My cock throbs and I cough to clear my throat.

No. It wouldn’t be that. Her legs are bare. She’s not wearing stockings for the garters to hook to. And it’s much too low on her legs to be her panties. So what is it?

The glimpse of lace taunts me as we drive across town to the airport. The late-September humidity slams into me when I step out of the car to grab Bex’s suitcase and give my sister a hug.

“Take care of yourself,” I tell her gruffly, swallowing down any emotion.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’m almost thirty. I’m a grown fucking adult.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still my baby sister.”

Bex pokes me in the ribs, which makes me twitch.

“Stop it,” I hiss, batting her hand away. She knows all my ticklish spots and abuses them frequently.

“Take care of Elsy,” she says. “She could use some support right now.”

With a nod, I glance over my shoulder at the woman who has my dick in a chokehold. “I will.”

“And hey,” she whispers. “Maybe she’ll warm up to you.”

“Go get on your plane, Rebecca Lynn,” I tell her, playfully shoving her.

She doesn’t go inside the airport, though. She turns to Elsy and wraps her in a hug, whispering in her ear.

Elsy’s mouth is pinched into a frown, her eyes downcast as Bex talks to her. As she nods, her blond ponytail sways in the wind. My sister says something that makes her giggle and Elsy wipes at her eyes.

“I’m going to miss you,” Elsy says.

“I’ll come visit whenever I can,” Bex promises. “And we’ll FaceTime, like, all the time. You’ll barely even miss me.”

Elsy’s lip trembles. It takes everything in me not to shove my sister aside and wrap her into a hug until she never wants to cry again. I hate that she’s hurting. And I hate that my trying to comfort her will only make her feel worse.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers, her voice raw. “Everyone leaves. I?—”

Bex curses under her breath and hugs her again. “Oh, sweetie.”

Elsy lets out a sob and buries her face in Bex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You need to go. I’ll be fine. I’ll get through it.”

“I can see if I can switch my flight…”

Setting a hand on my sister’s shoulder, I ease her back. “I’ve got her,” I tell her.

And then I wrap my arm around Elsy, curling her into my torso. To my surprise, she winds her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. My hand roves over her upper back, trying to soothe her.

“It’ll be okay.” I don’t know which one of them I’m saying it to. Maybe even to myself.

Elsy’s cries twist my stomach. I wish I could wipe away her tears and tell her everything will be fine. That she’ll be stronger for having done this.

But I can’t lie to her. I don’t know what brought her to Austin, just that the move was unexpected and not exactly her choice.

We’re in the same boat. I’ve only been in town a few weeks. Training camp starts up next week. In my nine years in the league, I was lucky to make it so long without being traded. Once I made it out of the minors, I spent all of my time with Philly.

And then in the wake of our Cup win, they got rid of me. Traded.

Yeah, I’m not bitter, not at all.

Maybe this is what we need to have a fresh start—the both of us.

Bex’s smile can’t hide her sadness. Our relationship is stronger from living in different cities, but saying goodbye is always difficult. “I’ll see you around,” she promises, before she grabs her suitcase and wheels it up the ramp into the airport.

Elsy chokes out a sob and then releases me, stepping back. Black smudges beneath her eyes as she wipes them with the back of her hand. They immediately well with tears again.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell her.

Her withering glare could turn a lesser man to stone. As it is, my cock hardens in my athletic shorts at the derision on her face.

This is so wrong.

“Let’s get this over with,” she snaps, climbing back into the car.

I give myself a discreet adjustment before rounding the hood and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Have you thought about which dealer you want to check out?” I ask as I pull into traffic.

Elsy shrugs. “Wherever. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with the first car I see.”

Spoiler alert: That is exactly what happens.

“I love it,” she declares once we step onto the lot.

And just like that, the salesman approaches.

The small SUV is only three years old, a lease return from a nonsmoker, and has never been in an accident. It’s a dark blue color with a light interior.

“I’m sure we can get you a good deal,” he says, but his eyes are on me. He leers like he can see into my pockets—and my bank account. Just because hockey has earned me millions doesn’t mean I’m about to spend all my cash. I’ve got to think about my future, for a life after hockey.

“Oh, we’re just looking,” I say casually.

Elsy opens her mouth, but I pull her into me, my arm draped around her shoulders again.

“Aren’t we, pookie?”

She glares daggers at me.

“This one is great for new families,” the salesman says. “When are you due?”

She smiles sweetly at him. “Not pregnant. Just fat.”

His mouth gapes and his face goes purple. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do.

“Um—I, um…”

“Why don’t you run along and find your manager,” I suggest with a hard edge to my voice. It’s not a suggestions, and he knows it.

Her calm demeanor in the face of his rudeness only serves to piss me off further. She shouldn’t have to be nice when people are assholes.

“Yes. I’ll be right back,” he says, before he runs away like a demonic hellhound is chasing after him.

Hey, I’m mostly bark, but he is right—I will bite. If the circumstances require it.

Elsy shoves me off of her. “I can handle it.”

“He was an asshole.”

“I know. But I can take care of myself.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and my eyes flick down involuntarily before I force myself to meet her glare. “Don’t be a creep, Wyatt.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, keeping my gaze on her face. “They’re great tits.”

“I know they are,” she snaps. “Doesn’t mean you get to look at them.”

Or touch them, or suck on them, or fuck my cock between them. Trust me, I’ve fantasized about it more than a few times over the last thirteen years. I’m a disgusting, depraved pig. I don’t need her to remind me. I remind myself often enough.

Another salesperson approaches. He’s wearing a boxy, off-the-rack suit, his dark hair slicked back to cover the receding hairline.

“Can I help you?” he asks. He directs his question to Elsy, who glances at me out of the corner of her eye before giving him her full attention. She knows what she wants. The only thing holding her back is her own anxiety.

“I want this one.”

“Certainly. Would you like to test drive it?” He focuses on her, but there’s nothing sleazy in his gaze.

“Yes. Please,” Elsy says. To my surprise, she reaches for my hand. “You’ll come with me, right?”

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I nod. “If you want me to.”

The salesman—his name tag says Joey—heads off to fetch the keys.

“He seems decent,” I comment, forcing my tone to stay casual. I don’t want to bring attention to the fact she’s still holding my hand. I almost expected her to drop it the second he was out of sight.

“At least he didn’t stare at my tits,” she mutters.

“Sorry.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you are.”

I am, but not for the reason she thinks.

I’m so fucking sorry for what I said. I have no excuses; I was a young, insecure guy who thought I’d get in tight with the popular crowd.

Words have meaning. They have power and they can cause hurt, real hurt. Even back then, I knew that. Yet I said it anyway.

I’ll never forgive myself for hurting her. And I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to her, to show her I’ve changed, that I’m not the asshole she thinks I am.

I just hope it’ll be enough.