Page 25 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BLAKELY
I t’s warm in here.
Not the kind from sunlight or blankets, but from a body. One that is solid, steady, and tangled around mine like we’re not two people who spent months trying to verbally annihilate each other every time we were in the same room.
Barrett’s arm is slung low over my waist. His hand, calloused and big, rests possessively on my bare hip. I can feel his breath at the back of my neck, slow and even.
And for a second—just one traitorous, terrifying second—I don’t want to move.
I let my eyes flutter open. His bedroom is dim, curtains drawn against the morning light, and there’s the faint, distant sound of purring.
Killer, probably. As if the night wasn’t already absurd enough, now I’ve shared a floor with the sweetest little kitten and a man who made me come several times in the span of a single hour.
What even is my life?
I spot my phone on the nightstand next to me and internally thank Bear for putting it there. Reaching out my arm, I pull it toward me enough so that I can grab it and check my messages. A few random work-related emails from my boss but then I find a text from Marlee.
Marlee
GIRL. You disappeared after the game. Where did you go? Are you okay? I was worried after what that Mercer asshole said to you but then I didn’t hear from you.
I bite my lip, debating how much to share. If I tell Marlee where I am, there's no taking it back. She'll have questions. Lots of them. But she's also been my rock through everything in this job, and I've never lied to her before.
I glance over my shoulder at Bear's sleeping form, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looks younger like this, the permanent scowl erased by sleep.
Me
I'm fine.
The typing dots appear immediately.
Marlee
I’m fine? That’s all you have to say? I don’t think so! Spill. Now. Did you murder someone? Do you need an alibi?
I stifle a laugh, not wanting to wake Bear.
Me
No murder.
I got railed on Bear's kitchen floor and it was the best sex of my life and I’m not sure what to do about that.
Me
I'm alive. Will call you later.
Her response is immediate: WAIT! That means something. That means you’re either doing the walk of shame somewhere or you’re still in someone’s bed!
Heat crawls up my neck.
Am I that transparent?
Me
What? No. Why would you think that?
Marlee
Don't play dumb with me, Blake. You're NEVER cryptic. You always overshare everything. The only time you go all mysterious is when there's a man involved.
I press my face into the pillow, feeling caught. My finger hovers over the keyboard, hesitating.
Me
Fine. I may have spent the night with someone.
Marlee
BARRETT CUNNINGHAM??????
Me
How did you know??
Marlee
HOLY SHIT I WAS KIDDING!!! I just guessed! OMG BLAKELY RIVERS YOU SLEPT WITH BEAR?????
I wince at the capital letters screaming at me. I can practically hear her voice through the phone. Behind me, Bear shifts slightly, his arm tightening around my waist. I freeze, but his breathing remains steady.
Me
Keep it down
Marlee added Layken Ollenberg and Ella Blackstone to the chat
What? Oh God!
Marlee
LAYKEN! ELLA! Wake the fuck up, girlfriends!
Me
Mar! What are you doing?
Ella
I’m up! What’s going on?
Layken
Currently have a man between my legs. What gives?
Me
Oh my God! LOL!
Marlee
Our girl Blakely got herself railed by none other than TEDDY BEAR CUNNINGHAM last night!
Layken
Whoa! Wait! What? Hold on. Let me get rid of Griffin.
Ella
YAAAAAAAAAAAAS QUEEN!!! Get it girl!!! I knew you two didn’t hate each other that badly
Me
You guys! Stop! He's still sleeping and you're all being way too loud about this!
But even as I type it, I can feel a smile tugging at my lips. There's something oddly comforting about my friends' immediate excitement, their assumption that this might be good news worth celebrating. Even though this whole thing feels a bit disorienting to me.
Layken
Okay Griffin's gone. SPILL EVERYTHING. How big is his?—
Marlee
BAAAAHAHAHAH! LOL!
Ella
Was he gentle? Or did he go full caveman on you?
The memory of Barrett's hands gripping my hips, the way he growled possessively against my throat, sends heat pooling low in my belly despite my embarrassment.
Me
I'm not discussing this while he's literally spooning me.
Marlee
HE'S SPOONING YOU RIGHT NOW???
Ella
That's so domestic! I'm dying!
Layken
Seriously. I need details. You've been complaining about that man for MONTHS. What changed?
I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my groan.
How do I even begin to explain what happened?
That I broke down in a bathroom and Barrett found me?
That he showed me his secret rescue kitten and revealed he anonymously donates most of his money to help his hometown?
That we went from hating each other to… whatever this is… in the span of a single night?
Me
It's complicated. I'll explain later. Promise.
Ella
"Complicated" is code for "the sex was so good I can't think straight"
My cheeks burn because she's not wrong. I'm about to type a response when I feel Barrett stir behind me, his arm tightening around my waist.
"Tell me you're not conducting a press conference from my bed."
I freeze, phone clutched in my hand like evidence of a crime. "I'm not?—"
"Blakely." His arm tightens around me, pulling me back against his chest. "Your shoulders are tense enough to snap. Either you're planning my murder or you're texting someone about last night."
The phone buzzes relentlessly in my hand—my friends losing their collective minds in the group chat. I can practically feel their excitement radiating through the screen.
"Maybe both," I tell him, trying to ignore how good his warm body feels pressed against mine.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into my spine. "Fair enough. I probably deserve the murder after what I did to you on my kitchen floor."
I turn in his arms to face him, and the sight of him in the morning light makes my breath catch.
His hair is tousled, there's a pillow crease along his cheek, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep.
But it's the way he's looking at me—like I'm something precious he's afraid might disappear—that makes my chest tighten.
"About that," I say, suddenly feeling shy despite everything we did last night. "I should probably?—"
My phone buzzes again, and Barrett's eyes flick down to it with amusement.
"Popular this morning?"
I glance at the screen and immediately regret it.
Marlee
IS HE AWAKE? OH MY GOD I’M SQUEALING FOR YOU!
Ella
Me too girl! Go for round 2!
Layken
Round 2? Pshh. Nah, ain’t no way he didn’t give her multiple screaming moments last night. This morning is no doubt round 6 at least!
I slam my phone down on the bed, face flushed with embarrassment. "Just my friends being… my friends."
"Let me guess," Barrett says, propping himself up on one elbow. "They're asking for all the dirty details about our night together?"
"Something like that." I pull the sheet higher. "Marlee was checking on me because she didn’t see me after the game. I guess I missed her texts.”
An awkward silence settles between us. In the harsh light of morning, I'm not sure what to do with this version of Barrett. The one with bed-head and sleepy eyes who looks at me like I'm something he wants to keep.
"I should probably go," I say, but make no move to actually leave. "Work and…things," I finish lamely, the words hanging between us like smoke.
Barrett's expression shifts, something guarded flickering across his features. "Right. Work." He sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Of course."
The distance that suddenly opens between us feels like a chasm, and I hate how much it bothers me.
Last night felt like something real, something that mattered.
But in the cold light of morning, with my phone buzzing with questions I can't answer and the weight of professional complications pressing down on me, reality crashes back in.
"Bear, I?—"
"Don't." He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his back to me. "You don't owe me explanations, Rivers."
The use of my last name stings more than it should. We're back to that, apparently. The walls are already rebuilding themselves, brick by brick, and I can feel him retreating behind them with every passing second.
"That's not—" I start, but my phone buzzes again, and I want to throw the damn thing across the room. "Can we just?—"
Barrett stands, gloriously naked and unashamed, muscles shifting under his skin as he stretches. Even now, with tension crackling between us, I can't help but stare. The scratches I left on his back are vivid red against his tan skin, and something possessive flares inside me at the sight.
"Bathroom's all yours," he says, voice carefully neutral. "I'll make coffee."
He grabs a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and pulls them on, not bothering with a shirt before he disappears into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of his cologne and the weight of everything unsaid.
I sit for a moment, clutching the sheet to my chest, feeling like I've just watched something beautiful crumble in real time. My phone buzzes again, but I ignore it, staring at the empty doorway.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. The morning after awkwardness, the retreat into familiar territory where we're adversaries instead of… whatever we were last night. I can already feel him pulling away, putting distance between us like he's protecting himself from something.
Or protecting himself from me.
I force myself out of bed, my body protesting with every movement. Barrett wasn't kidding about making it hard to walk. Every step reminds me of exactly what we did and how thoroughly he wrecked me. The bathroom mirror shows the evidence: purple bruises
blooming along my collarbone, bite marks scattered across my throat, and my hair looking like I've been thoroughly ravaged. Which, I suppose, I have.