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13

April

S wiping right, I accept an incoming FaceTime call from Griff. Assuming he couldn’t wait to propose and they’re calling to tell me the good news, I start to say congratulations but stop when I see the stressed-out look on his face. “Oh, shit. Did she say no?” I cover my mouth with my fist to hold back my laughter.

“What? No. Why would you ask that? Do you think she’s going to say no?” The panic laced in his voice would be hilarious if he didn’t look like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

I lower my fist and take a deep breath to get my shit together. “No way, G. Mack has wanted to marry you since the day you moved in next door. If you haven’t asked yet, then why the hell are you calling? You better not tell me you got cold feet.”

“Never,” he assures me. “I’m freaking out because Cadence just woke up from her nap, and I want to surprise Kenna by doing her hair. She looked so cute last week when Kenna did those pigtail bun things.”

“Yeah, she calls them space buns. I love it when Cadence has those.”

“Me too. Well, I did my best attempt, and they definitely don’t look as cute as when Kenna does it . . . ”

He turns the camera to show me a smiling Cadence with very loose and lopsided buns right above her ears.

“Those look like disheveled Princess Leia buns. How do you not know how to do pigtails at this point?”

“Carse, I’m being serious. Can you just please help a guy out?” Griffin pleads.

“Yeah, hold on. Let me see if Dakota is ready, and maybe she can help walk you through it.” I head across the hallway and knock on her door. While I wait, I ask him, “Are you sure you’re okay with me and Dakota driving up to get Cadence? Would you rather we stay at my parents’ cabin while you guys stay at the place you rented next door?”

My stomach knots just thinking about driving Cadence again. I haven’t gotten in a car with anyone since the accident. Luckily, I didn’t really need to until today.

“I didn’t tell you? I didn’t rent it, Carse. I bought it.”

At that news, my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Wait, what?”

“I know your parents’ place is huge, but I thought it’d be nice for us to have our own space next door for when we spend time here in the off-season. Besides, that way, you can feel free to still throw rowdy parties without us holding you back.”

Rowdy parties? Is G mistaking me with Jackson?

“I can’t tell you the last time I hosted a rowdy party unless Cadence’s first birthday party counts. It got pretty out of hand . . . ” I deadpan.

“Yeah, you’re right. But eventually, you’ll have a family of your own to bring there, so I was planning for the future.”

Before I can respond, Dakota opens the door, her cheeks flushed and her shorter hair tousled. She’s wearing deep purple yoga pants that look like they were painted on, paired with a matching crop top.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks, a little breathless.

“Am I, uh, interrupting?”

Her cheeks flush deeper, eyes widening, and I can’t hold back the smirk on my face. Oh, I was definitely interrupting something. Perhaps a little self-care? Fuck, I really wish Griff wasn’t on the phone so I could press her on it.

“What?” she squeaks out. “No, not interrupting at all. What do you need?”

We’re definitely circling back to this.

“I know we weren’t planning to leave for another hour or so, but Griff is on the phone, and he needs our help doing Cadence’s hair.”

Dakota holds her hand out palm up and gestures for me to place the phone in her hand. I do so and move behind her to peek at the phone over her shoulder. Being this close to her, I’m engulfed by her jasmine perfume, which has hints of vanilla and sandalwood. I inhale deeply, now dying to know if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

Cadence fills the screen, and I watch Dakota hold back her laughter. “Well hello, little darlin’. How’d you sleep?”

“Kota! Hi!” Cadey Cat squeals as she waves at the phone. God, I love this little girl so much.

“It looks like you tried, at least, Griffin. But bless it, you cannot let her look like that on the night you propose to her mama. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do: I want you to just take out the one side and make sure your part is good and straight down the middle of her head.”

Griff props the phone up against the mirror and stands behind Cadence. “I think I did that part right. I just don’t get why they’re so floppy.”

Dakota bites her lip, but she can’t hide a smile as beautiful and wide as hers. “That’s alright, we can fix this. I want you to get the brush or the comb, whichever you used, a little wet under the faucet. Then, brush the one side of her hair back to the crown of her head. Getting it damp helps to keep the smaller pieces from falling out.”

Griff does as she says, pulling her hair back. “Perfect. Now comes the hard part. Do you have those little elastic hair binders?”

“Crap, we’re not past the hard part? Yes, I’ve got the elastic ones right here.” He holds up a little pink container full of them.

“Good. Grab one of those and use your pointer finger and thumb to widen it around the pigtail. Wrap it around three or four times if you can.”

The look of concentration on Griff’s face as his tongue peeks out makes me chuckle. Dakota looks back, shaking her head and lightly elbowing me in the ribs when my chuckles get louder.

“Ouch!” I double over in laughter. “Sorry, I can’t help it. His fingers are visibly shaking.”

Griff scoffs at me. “You’d be visibly shaking too if you were about to propose to the love of your life and you wanted to ensure everything was perfect without ruining the surprise.”

“Alright, you’ve got me there. Just take a deep breath, G. Like I said, she will say yes. And if I know my twin, she will love the surprise you’ve come up with. Doesn’t she think the surprise is the fact that you purchased a cabin up at the lake?”

“I’m not sure. I’m a little shaken up because right before Little Ray woke up from her nap, I asked Kenna if she’d move in with me permanently. She didn’t get a chance to answer me before I had to grab Cadence.”

“She’s going to say yes to all of the above, man. Don’t worry so much,” I tell him, even as my chest tightens just thinking about how alone I’ll feel without them here with me. Sure, Dakota lives with me now. But what if she decides I’m too much? I mean, she said she wanted to get on her feet and then get her own place when she could. I wish I could make her see we could remain roommates, even though I’d be extending this sexual torture.

“The ponytails are done. Now, how do I get them into buns?” Griff asks.

“Those look great!” Dakota cheers.

“Yeah, they’re surprisingly even too.”

Dakota tries to elbow me again, but I dodge out of the way and grab her waist, tickling her so she bends over. And right as she does, her perfectly toned and round ass makes direct contact with my semi-hard dick. As if we’re both in complete disbelief, we remain there frozen—her ass against my cock—the only movement is my hands tightening their hold on her waist.

Fuck. This feels too good to be true. Friends. We’re friends. Move, fucker.

I take a large step back and turn around while Dakota finishes explaining how to make two buns to Griff. When she’s done, I try to subtly adjust myself before turning back around.

Dakota sounds breathless, her chest rising and falling, causing me to look down at her pebbled nipples that peek through the fabric of her workout top. I want nothing more than to take them in my mouth.

Just a taste.

“Here,” she holds the phone out to me. Her voice is both raspy and trembling—that alone could be my undoing.

“Thanks.” I pocket my phone before taking her in again. “What were you doing when I knocked?”

“Yoga,” she squeaks, then drags her tongue across her lips, wetting them.

I would give anything to bite down on her plump bottom one.

“Yoga?” I question.

“Yep. And meditation. It’s so good for you. We should try it sometime during the off-season. Alright, I’ve got to get back to it. And pack. You said to pack a bag in case, right?”

“I did.” I don’t believe for one second that I didn’t interrupt her self-love session. But I’ll let her think I believe her excuse. “I’ve got to finish packing too,” I say as I move toward the door.

When I reach the hallway, I turn to grab my door handle. “I’ll lock it, just in case your yoga session gets a little heated and you can’t resist temptation.” I wink as the click of the lock sounds.

Once it’s closed, I rest my forehead against her door and try to picture what Austen would look like with her legs spread, fingers dipping into her drenched pussy, and bare body on display.

That scene I’ve conjured up continues to play out in my mind as I start my shower. I should feel wrong for doing this, but I don’t as I begin stroking myself to images of her. In no time, I’m greedily pumping my cock to thoughts of Dakota in the shower with me, only she’s on her knees, and those plump lips are sucking the soul from my body. It doesn’t take much before I’m groaning her name as I come against the tiled wall of my shower. Black spots dot my vision, and my chest heaves like I’ve just got off the ice from a two-minute shift.

Living across the hall from Dakota Meyer may very well be the death of me.

Dakota

I’ve never been more frustrated in my life—sexually, that is.

I’m broken. I know this, my therapist knows it too because she and I have discussed it at length.

I can’t come. And I’ve tried. Oh, trust me, I’ve tried . My bedside drawer has two new additions that I thought would for sure do the trick, but nope. Not even a whisper of an orgasm.

After seeing Carson come into my room in a pair of those damn five-inch inseam athletic shorts he teased me about a few months back, and feeling his hard body pressed against my ass—I’m wetter and needier than I’ve ever been. And yet, I still can’t come.

I shut off my clit stimulator and slam it onto the bed before covering my eyes with the back of my arm. Tears of frustration prickle in my eyes.

Aaron has stolen so much from me.

Each time I’ve been turned on in the past few months—which has been pretty much every time Carson is home lately—I think maybe this will be it, this will be the time I finally come. Only, each time I’m on the precipice of climaxing, my mind floods with images from the night Aaron assaulted me.

So, like I said . . . I’m frustrated. And even after months of therapy, I’m pretty sure I’m broken, and I’ll never come again. Okay, that may sound a little dramatic . . . but come on . A woman can only take so much.

Living with Carson Wilder has made the tiny spark that ignited inside of me when we first met erupt into formidable flames. Each smirk, each teasing joke, each innocent touch of our hands, each accidental press of our bodies, each unextraordinary moment all of a sudden feels monumental because of this building tension between us that is rising to an all-time high.

There are days where I worry I’ll spontaneously orgasm in the kitchen while we’re cooking together. Well, I’m typically doing the cooking while Carson stands there looking like my own personal snack.

Oh. My. God. Get a hold of yourself, Kota Lynn.

I’m starting to sound like an unhinged cougar. But Carson would make the best prey.

Knowing I need to finish packing, I huff a breath and drag myself out of bed. After I clean and put away my useless toy, I finish packing my weekender bag. It’s still April in Minnesota, so naturally, being the Texan I am, I packed for winter.

Once I’ve filled up my water bottle and put on my jacket, I grab my bag and head out to the garage to get into Carson’s truck.

After the accident, Carson got a new decked-out white Ford F-150 with black rims, and it’s as sexy as he is.

I notice it’s already started as I round the truck to get in the passenger side. But I freeze as soon as I open the door and see the state Carson is in.

He’s shaking uncontrollably, his face is coated in sweat, and he’s holding his chest with both hands while gasping for breaths.

“Carson,” I call out but I know he doesn’t hear me. He’s having a panic attack, and I need to talk him down.

“Carson, I’m here,” I tell him as I drop my bag and set my water bottle in the cup holder. “Listen to my voice,” I say before grabbing his hands in mine. “Feel the way your hands eclipse mine.” I pause, listening to the sound of his breathing begin to slow. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head. “Not like this,” he whispers.

Taking one hand from his, I place my fingers beneath his quivering chin and lift it so his glassy eyes meet mine. “You don’t have to fight this alone. I’m right here. Just like you were there for me.”

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me.”

“How many times have you had a panic attack?”

“I don’t know. Maybe half a dozen since the accident with Cadence? I used to get them infrequently after Katie’s death. Typically whenever I had a flashback to Mack being in the hospital or someone I loved got hurt. But these feel different—more intense.”

I take him in. Like really take him in. His shoulders are slumped, his hair is standing on end as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his cheeks are stained from the few tears that slipped free.

“Have you thought about seeing a therapist?” I ask.

Carson shakes his head and grips the steering wheel. “I can’t. The media would make a big spectacle of it. They’d make me out to be the weak rookie who can’t handle the pressure now that I’m in the big league.”

I rest my hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. “Seeking help doesn’t make you weak, Carson. When we’re vulnerable enough to admit that we’re in our darkest hours, there is nothing more powerful than that. You allowing me to see this side of yourself doesn’t make me think any less of you. In fact, I see you now more than ever.”

At that, he turns his head and looks at me. “And what do you see?”

I stare back into his ocean eyes just as intently. “Everything. I see every beautiful piece of you, Carson. My therapist has taught me daily affirmations that have truly helped the way I see myself. Will you repeat after me? Will you let me show you with my words how I see you?”

“Yes.” He takes his hands off the wheel and turns his body toward me.

Taking his hands once again in mine, I say, “Repeat after me. I am kind. I am brave. I am strong. I am selfless.”

I watch and listen in earnest as this enigmatic man repeats each affirmation back to me.

“That was perfect. You did such a good job.”

I’m not sure if it’s the exercise we just completed or if he enjoys the praise, but the most beguiling smile spreads across his handsome face. “Thank you. It means a lot to me,” he says as he squeezes my hands in his three times.

My heart warms seeing his smile and feeling his hands in mine. This moment—his vulnerability—feels pivotal in our friendship. Needing to ease the tension, I ask, “Do you mind if I drive us up to the cabin?”

He chuckles at that. “I can’t think of anything better than being your passenger princess while you drive my truck. I’ve got a playlist ready. Be prepared to be serenaded by yours truly.”

“I can’t wait to hear you sing T-Swift off-key the whole way,” I joke. And it is a joke, because I’ll take Carson singing off-key every day of the week over what I just witnessed.

Our overnight bags ended up being a good call. We met up with Kenna and Griffin after he proposed to grab Cadence so they could celebrate just the two of them.

Once we returned to Carson’s parents’ cabin for the night, we got Cadence ready for bed, and she has been out like a light for about half an hour.

“Knock, knock,” Carson announces as he taps his knuckle on my open bedroom door from our adjoining Jack and Jill bathroom.

“Come in,” I answer.

“What are you up to?”

Shutting my laptop, I set it on the bedside table and say, “Nothing much. What about you?”

“Same. I was wondering if you wanted to play a game with me.”

“What kind of game?”

He shrugs. “Like Cribbage or Sequence. Or we could play Scrabble. Though I’ll probably kick your ass.”

“Oh, you’re on, Golden Boy. I’m not sure if you know this, but I have an English degree.”

“And I’m not sure if you know this, but your fancy degree doesn’t dictate which letters you pull in Scrabble. You may very well get fucked over by a two-letter word like ‘za’ or ‘qi.’”

“In our household, we always had a minimum of three-letter words to prevent my brother from winning like that.”

“Sounds to me like you were coddled growing up. In this household, we’re cutthroat. So buckle up, Super Nanny, you’re about to get your ass handed to you.”

“Such poetry you speak, my lord,” I tease him because, after seeing his vulnerability earlier today, I just want to make him smile.

“Austin,” he warns. “What did I tell you about you calling me that?”

“Something about it gets you excited. I’m hoping if I can accomplish that, you’ll be too distracted to play ruthlessly against me.”

“You play dirty.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” I shoot him a wink, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

I don’t even try to bite back the laugh that slips out.

He chuckles right along with me. “Meet me downstairs in ten?”

Nodding in response, I bite the inside of my cheeks to hold back another laugh from slipping out.

The first thing I notice as I make my way down the steps is the eucalyptus and mint scent floating through the air that is similar to the bath oils in Carson’s soaking tub. I pause at the bottom of the steps as I take in the large square coffee table in the living room that is now covered by a Scrabble board, two wine glasses, two bottles of wine, candles, and bowls of snacks.

“Carson, what is all of this?” I question in wonderment. His thoughtful gestures never fail to make butterflies take flight from low in my abdomen up through my chest.

Carson whirls around from where he was lighting a candle on one of the bookshelves next to the two-story stone fireplace—the statement piece of this room.

When he faces me, he looks apprehensive, and I hate when this otherwise confident man looks unsure of himself. He clasps his hands together, fidgeting with them, before deciding to slip them into the pockets of his worn, light gray sweatpants. “Well, this is me saying thank you for what you did for me today. I’m typically the guy that others can lean on. It’s hard for me to be on the other side—to need someone else—but it was easier knowing I had you there for me.”

Needing to close the distance between us, I make my way across the living room until we’re standing toe-to-toe in our matching attire of socks, sweatpants, and oversized T-shirts. I grab his arms, pulling his hands from his pockets and clasping them in mine. “You never need to thank me for being there for you. We’re friends, right?”

He gives me a smirk that doesn’t nearly reach his eyes. “Friends, yeah.”

“Your friendship means a lot to me. I know I told you this when we first met, but I don’t have any friends here, really, outside of you, McKenna, and now Griffin. The few friends I had during college slowly pulled away after they met Aaron. They told me how they felt about him, and instead of listening, I closed myself off from them.”

“You mean a lot to me too, Austin.” He squeezes my hands three times, the way I’ve become accustomed to. “This is just me trying to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Breaking apart from my grasp, he walks over to the coffee table and takes a seat on one of the cushions he’s laid out for us to sit on. He pats the one around the corner from his, motioning for me to join him.

“I haven’t really seen you drink much wine, so I wasn’t sure if you’re a white or red kind of gal. My guess was red.”

“You guessed correctly. I love black coffee and red wine, but Aaron always worried it would stain my teeth so he tried to get me to drink tea and white wine.” Thinking back on my relationship with Aaron, I see all of the red flags now for what they were. It’s hard to trust myself knowing I didn’t see them sooner. I can’t help but wonder if I’m defective when it comes to choosing a healthy partner.

Carson’s posture goes rigid. “It goes against everything in me to hate someone, but I genuinely hate that shit excuse of a human.”

My pulse races just thinking of Aaron and where he could possibly be right now.

I go to sit next to him and decide a change of subject is necessary. “Can you believe your childhood best friend proposed to your sister today? That sounds like a great plotline for a book.”

That makes Carson’s shoulders relax and a genuine smile spreads across his face. “Yeah, I can. They were never able to hide their feelings from anyone but each other. Katie and I knew our best friends were into our siblings, we even used to make bets on who would crack first.”

“Were you and Katie close?”

He breaks eye contact, looking down at his hands before nodding his head. “Yeah, we were. The four of us were pretty inseparable growing up. Katie and Mack were like sisters. Griff and I were the same, we bonded over hockey, and the girls both fell in love with volleyball. But even before that, we were always over at each other’s houses, swimming together, riding our bikes, sneaking out to play capture the flag with the other neighbor kids.”

“Sounds like y’all had a lot of fun together.”

Carson looks up, brows furrowed as he works his jaw. “Does it make me a terrible person that I’m having a hard time knowing my sister is engaged? I mean, I’m so fucking happy for Griff, Mack, and Cadence, but I can’t help wonder—where does that leave me now? Two of my best friends have each other for the rest of their lives. I feel like I’m losing my twin. And they’re going to live together full-time, leaving me in a big house all alone.”

I reach for his hand. “Hey, you’ve still got me. I’m not that bad of a roommate, am I?”

“For now, you mean. I’ve still got you for now. And you know you’re the best roommate a man could ask for.”

“I’d like to think you have me for more than just the short-term.”

“Are you saying you want to go the distance with me, bestie? We can be lifelong live-in companions.” His tone is teasing again, but that doesn’t stop those pesky butterflies from reawakening.

Picking up one of the wine glasses, I go to pour myself some of the red when Carson grabs the bottle and glass from my hands. “Let me wait on you.”

“Carson, I’m perfectly capable.”

“I insist, my lady.”

“Well, if you must.” I chuckle, attempting to break the tension in the room.

“Besides, I’ve got to give you a heavy pour if I have any chance of winning this game.”

“Trying to take advantage of me?” I ask in a teasing tone.

His response comes out surprisingly serious again. “I would never, ever take advantage of you.”

“I know, Carson. I’m sorry I was only teasing that you would take advantage of me being tipsy to try to win the game.”

“Oh, right. Well, I can’t promise I won’t try that. But when it comes to other things I could take advantage of, I would never. If the day ever comes where you decide you want to be more than friends with me, I don’t want there to be an ounce of hesitation or influence.”

“Carson,” I start, but he holds his hand up to me.

“Don’t, Dakota. I didn’t say that to start this conversation.” My face pulls into a frown, but I just nod my head in response.

Carson begins shaking up the tiles in the bag, before holding it out for me to grab my letter tiles.

I pull the letter “I” and hold it up for him. “Looks like I’m going to start off.”

“Game on, Super Nanny.”

I’m not sure what game we’re playing at this point, or who the opponent truly is. I know that Carson wouldn’t play games with me. But that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t playing tricks on me, making me consider what it would be like if I did decide to cross the line of friendship with him.

Carson

I’m barely able to keep my eyes open as I stumble my way into the bathroom the next morning. I’ve got no clue how early it is, so I try to be quiet as I take care of business.

When I go to wash my hands and brush my teeth, I notice a blue post-it note on the mirror that reads:

Repeat after me, Golden Boy: My emotions are valid and worthy.

I smile as I repeat it out loud. “My emotions are valid and worthy.”

My smile fades as I think about last night. Would Dakota still think these things if she knew some of the emotions I feel toward her are anything but friendly? Would she find me worthy of her time and attention if we were more than friends?

I’ve been giving her time to work through and process her emotions from her breakup. I knew she needed time to heal before she would be ready to try for something between us. If my breakdown yesterday was any indication, she’s not the only one who needs time to process and heal before we can be together.

I don’t hesitate as I pull up the contact information Dakota sent me yesterday for her therapist’s office. When I call to schedule my first appointment, it’s closed, so I give them a pseudonym, telling the voicemail my name is Carson Meyer. I know there is such a thing as patient confidentiality, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who won’t leak to the press that an NHL player is seeking therapy. I’ll tell my therapist who I am, but I’d prefer to schedule my appointments under a different name.

Besides, Carson Meyer has a nice ring to it.