Page 7

Chapter Seven

Bash

“Put your arm around my shoulders, fuckstick.”

Carter shoots a death glare my way. “I’m fine. Just get out of my way.”

I wave my hand at the wide-open space in front of him. “No one’s stopping you. Since you’re fine, might as well run.”

Leo laughs from my other side. Isaac is already in Carter’s garage, raiding the chest freezer for one of the M&M ice cream sandwiches he loves.

“Laugh it up, bastards,” Carter grumbles as he limps toward the door that leads into his kitchen. “It could have happened to you, and I wouldn’t be laughing.”

“Yeah...no,” Leo says. “I play pickleball all the time and I’ve never injured myself.”

“I just twisted my ankle. It’s not an injury,” Carter snaps.

We’re making light of it because we all know how stressed he really is. Any injury could keep us off the ice. Even though it’s the offseason, our contracts forbid us from doing things like skydiving, mountain climbing and skiing anytime. Our teams have a lot riding on us staying healthy.

The four of us were playing pickleball. And even though we are too competitive, it’s generally a safe activity. Carter just lunged a little too far to the side and his foot got caught in a weird way.

He went down like a ton of bricks. And of course, he wouldn’t let us carry him to the car or call our team doctor. His right ankle is so swollen that Leo had to drive his SUV home.

Leo and I exchange a look as Carter approaches the step that leads into his house. Neither one of us has to say anything. I cut in front of Carter to open the door and Leo takes his back.

Once I’m inside, I face Carter and bend my knees, offering him my arm to grab for support. Leo’s got more brute strength than anyone I’ve ever known. He ducks down and forces Carter to put an arm around his shoulder to help take the weight off his ankle.

The savory smell of grilled beef fills the air. That’s right—it’s fondue night. Once we get Carter into a chair, I’m going to dive face-first into that cheese fountain.

“Take it slowly,” I say.

“Jesus, you two are like fussy old women,” he gripes.

“What’s going on?” Suki asks from behind me.

“He got into a fight with a little girl and she kicked his ass,” I say. “She’s probably still laughing over how hard he went down when she punched him.”

“Bash, seriously. What’s wrong with my husband?”

I let out a short bark of laughter. “So many things, Suki.”

Carter, inside the house now, smacks away the arm I’m offering him, his brows lowered in a scowl. “I tripped playing pickleball and twisted my ankle. I’m fine.”

“Did he say pickleball ?” Dex asks from the living room.

Suki gasps. “You are not fine. Look how swollen your ankle is. Why are you walking on it?”

“Because I’m?—”

“Leo, can you carry him to the couch?” she asks.

“Sure.”

Carter bares his teeth like a rabid animal. Jesus fuck. The dramatics.

“You’re not carrying me anywhere. Both of you take one side and I’ll hop on one foot.”

“I’ll get ice,” Suki says.

Leo and I shoulder Carter’s weight. Even hopping makes him inhale sharply and hold his breath, which he only does when he’s really hurting.

Dex and Harry clear decorative pillows off the sectional where they were sitting with Darling.

Darling is taking up almost half of the longest row of seats, his legs in the air and his little wanger peeking out from beneath his tight T-shirt.

“Off the couch, Darling,” Carter barks as he approaches.

Darling looks up and yawns. He has Goldfish crumbs on his snout and doesn’t give a single fuck about moving.

“Darling, come on,” Mara says.

“Offer to sleep with him,” Leo quips. “He’s probably better looking than most of your boyfriends, right?”

“Says the guy who’s so desperate he creeps on women in bathrooms.”

“I wasn’t creeping. I didn’t even know you were in there.”

“There’s this revolutionary thing called knocking. Have you heard of it?”

Carter groans as we lower him to sit on the couch. “If you two don’t stop, I’m gonna make you wear the same T-shirt until you’re besties.”

Mara blanches. “Matching T-shirts? How will that?—”

Suki cuts in. “No, literally, the same T-shirt. He made Olivia and Charlotte share one of his T-shirts for two full days last week because they wouldn’t stop fighting.”

“It’s what my mom did with me and my sister,” Carter says. “It works.”

Suki helps Carter get settled, putting pillows behind his back and ice on his ankle.

“Guys, please eat,” Harry says. “We made so much food and all of us and the girls already ate.”

My stomach growls in response to the invitation.

“Thanks, man. And remember what I told you about booking all of us for dinner at a nice restaurant soon. You guys feed me so much, I want to take a turn.”

“Pick a place with top-shelf booze,” Carter calls from the couch. “I’m getting my money’s worth out of him.”

I grab a plate and immediately remember my conversation with Lainey this morning in my kitchen. She looked so proper in her charcoal pants and black shirt, her hair back in a neat bun.

I’m not proud of how much time I spent during our conversation fantasizing about slowly unbuttoning that shirt, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks flush as I saw her tits for the first time.

“I forgot to invite Lainey.” I set my plate back down, planning to text her.

“I invited her,” Suki says. “She was here earlier, but she had to leave in a hurry because of something at the lab.”

I check the time on my phone, concerned. It’s 6:47 p.m. The campus will be dark soon and I don’t like the thought of Lainey there all alone.

I text her.

Bash: Hey, where are you?

Lainey: Home. Why?

That’s weird. I think she really likes Suki and her friends, so why would she leave and lie about where she was going?

Then I see Leo raising a chunk of bread dripping with cheese fondue up to his mouth.

“Did she eat before she left?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Suki says. “She really liked the fondue. I told her to come back when she’s done, but she said it depends on how long it takes her.”

I text Lainey again.

Bash: Are you going over for fondue night?

Lainey: I did earlier, but I had to leave. I’m sick. Please don’t tell anyone.

I tuck my phone into my shorts pocket. “I have to go, guys.”

Leo scrunches his face, confused. “What? Why?”

“Because he smelled you,” Mara deadpans.

He scoffs. “That rotten fish smell ain’t me, honey. It’s that ecosystem in your overgrown bush.”

I cut in. “I need to go check on Lainey. I think she might not be feeling well.”

“Oh no,” Suki says. “Do you need medicine? I have an entire pharmacy in our linen closet.”

“Nah, but thanks.”

I walk into the kitchen to leave through the door in there, and Isaac waves at me from the table. He has a plate in front of him loaded up with meats, vegetables and breads covered in cheese fondue and a second plate loaded up with fruit covered in chocolate fondue.

“First time eating?” I arch a brow at him.

He gives me a thumbs-up, his mouth stuffed full of food.

“See you, guys,” I call over my shoulder.

“Hey, let me know how Lainey is,” Suki says.

“I will.”

I open the door and hear Dex say, “Carter, are you hungry? I can make you a plate.”

“Thanks, man. My wife is oblivious to my starvation, as you can see.”

I close the door, missing Suki’s comeback to that one.

When I get out to my car, I text Lainey to ask if she needs anything.

Lainey: I’m okay. You don’t need to leave because of me.

I’ve got my shortcomings, but I’m not going to stuff my face while she’s sick. I have enough groceries at home to whip something up to eat later.

When I get home, Bruce greets me with his usual tail wag. I give him some love and a treat before heading upstairs to check on Lainey.

The door to her bedroom is wide open, but the bathroom door is closed.

“Hey, Lane,” I call from the middle of the bedroom. “I’m home. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I told you not to leave.”

She doesn’t sound fine. She sounds miserable.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

I furrow my brow, not liking her answer. Eric has told me how much she suffers with her IBS sometimes, and I hate not being able to do anything to help.

“You sure? I could make you something to eat.”

She groans. “I can’t eat, Bash. I’m fine, really.”

I frown, looking at the pile of clothes on the chair in the corner. “You need me to do some laundry?”

“I didn’t shit myself if that’s what you mean,” she snaps.

Fuck. I didn’t think about that before I said it. “No, I just saw the pile of clothes in here. There has to be something I can do.”

“There isn’t. I just need to be alone.”

I run a hand through my hair, knowing I should walk away. I can’t seem to make myself do it, though.

“Are you in pain?”

“Bash, leave . I’ve been through this a thousand times.”

Folding my hands on top of my head, I push down the helplessness. “I’ve got my phone. Call or text if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

“Are you still pissed at me?”

“No! I just want you to get the fuck out of here!”

“I’m going,” I grumble.

I go over to the chair and pick up the pile of dirty clothes. I can’t just not do anything. Besides, who minds having their laundry done for them?

A skimpy pair of black satin undies slips out of the pile. As I pick them up, I imagine Lainey wearing them. The contrast of the dark fabric with her milky skin has to be sexy as fuck.

I wonder if she has a matching bra?

Shaking off the mental image that conjures, I take the laundry and leave the room. I’m supposed to be helping her, not sniffing her panties like a fucking creep.

Not that I did sniff her panties. And not that I’m thinking about it. I’m just washing her clothes, like the good friend I am.