Chapter 5

five

THERAPY FEES

“ Y ou okay tonight?”

Tate’s question catches me off guard, though it shouldn’t.

“Can’t believe I’ve done more dishes at your house this week than anyone else in this house.”

Tate snorts and shakes his head as I hand him another plate to put in the dishwasher. “That’s not what I meant.” He stops to look at me while I scrub the next plate free of food. “You’re out of it.”

That’s because most of my attention has been focused on keeping my gaze off of Emery. A full time task, honestly. Especially when she was talking about her plans to go to Westbrook.

I hadn’t realized how serious she had become about photography. For as much as Tate brags about her, he sure did leave out a few of her biggest accomplishments when we’ve talked. I wanted to ask her so many questions. What photos of hers made it into the newspapers? Who were the photos of? Can I see them? Does she still take photos of Tate and Zac ?

She always used to follow us around with her little cameras. Her mom used to give her those cheap disposable cameras at first, but the cameras changed as she got older. I didn’t know she had started photojournalism though, or about the yearbook. I always thought it was just a fun hobby for her. But that’s a far cry from picking the college you want to go to based on it.

“I’m good,” I promise Tate. It’s not like I can admit what’s really on my mind to him. He’d take that plate in his hand and smash it over the top of my head. “A lot to think about and figure out in the next few weeks.”

He grunts an acknowledgment, but I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me. “That’s fair.”

I tamper back the sigh of relief from him dropping it. He’s like a shark, if he senses my fear, he’ll attack.

Lord only knows how long I’d be able to hold him off from a full on interrogation.

We spend a few moments in silence before he clears his throat. “Just let me know if you need me.”

Guilt claws its way down the back of my throat and into the pit of my stomach. I am an asshole. A terrible, selfish, disloyal, disgusting asshole. And a bad friend to boot.

If coming clean would change anything in this moment, I would. But it wouldn’t, all I can do is keep my damn traitorous hands to myself from this point forward. There’s no other choice but to keep Emery at arm’s length. Maybe two arms. At least until I can get my head screwed back on straight.

“Thanks, man.” My voice sounds thick even to my own ears, but Tate doesn't comment on it. Needing to talk about something else, anything else, I grasp onto a new topic. “And I appreciate you always being there, but as much as I love crashing on your couch, I’m going to need to find a place before I’m back on the ice. ”

A soft snicker has me turning around faster than I should and water splashes up against my stomach and chest. Emery arches a brow at the spectacle but doesn’t taunt me over it. Instead she cocks her hip, a devilish smile on her lips as she stares her brother down. “You make your boyfriend sleep on the couch? Harsh, brother.”

Tate groans but doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before she’s shrugging with that same damn grin twisting her full lips. Lips I have no business thinking about. “What? I thought you two did everything together?”

“Don’t be jealous my best friend actually likes spending time with me,” Tate fires back at her, making my mouth drop open in shock. That’s so mean. Even for them. Tate gets pure joy out of riling his sister up and teasing her, but he’s not usually the one to hit below the belt like that.

Emery throws her head back and laughter fills the kitchen around us. My gaze flicks back and forth between his smirk, and the way she’s wiping tears from her eyes. I will never get used to the weird sibling dynamic they have. If anyone had said something like that to me, I’d probably punch them in the mouth, but Emery acts like it’s the most amusing joke she’s ever heard.

“If you’re going to be a jerk, at least say something with a grain of truth. I have a harder time getting Becca to stop blowing up my phone than to hang out with me.”

Tate mumbles something under his breath, tossing the dish towel he was using to dry his hands on the counter. Emery walks past him, patting him on the shoulder. “Leave the insults to Zac,” she says. “You’re better at the silent glowering and imposing your will onto others.”

I smack my hand over my mouth to cover up the snort that I didn’t mean to let escape. Tate turns to pin me with a glare and it only encourages Emery as she pats him on the shoulder again. “Good boy. Just like that.”

Her sass and fire are quickly becoming my favorite things in the world. There’s no way to hide the laughter now, and Tate smacks me. “You’re supposed to be on my side. Not encouraging her.”

Emery’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t,” I warn her, but it’s probably not very effective with my own lips twitching in amusement.

“At least my best friend doesn’t jump ship,” she snarks, only it quickly turns into a squeal as Tate lunges at her. She takes off running back towards the living room just as the front door opens. Emery sees her chance and takes it, because of course she does. The little spitfire.

Wilder barely knows what’s happening when she jumps in the air and wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “Hey, Wilder.” Her grin does things to my insides and I have to wonder if it will even be possible to get my head on straight again. I’m far too turned around by this girl. To the point I want to rip her right out of Wilder’s arms. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite surrogate brother?”

His confusion passes as he notices Tate glaring at the pair of them. He wraps his arms around her waist to hold her up and I have to concentrate to fight back the growl building in my chest at their closeness. “No you haven’t, you little demon.”

Colby pokes her head out from behind his frame, poking him in the shoulder. I’ll never understand how she hangs out with those two all the time. “Don’t be so rude,” she chastises him in barely above a whisper.

Zac throws his arm around her and steers her away from where Emery is still clinging to Wilder, batting her eyes at him, not even fazed by the well-earned nickname .

“She is a little demon, Colbs. Don’t let those big blue eyes fool you.”

Tate and I can’t help but nod in agreement. She likes to harp on all the ways we’ve harassed her and made her life hard, but she conveniently forgets all the pranks and tricks she’s played on all of us. Like the time she showed up at a bonfire just outside of town and burst into fake tears and pretended to be pregnant with his baby when she found Wilder cuddled up with some girl to get back at him for putting worms in her bed.

He definitely did not get laid that night.

And that’s only one of the many times she has gotten her revenge against us. The girl gives as good as she gets. Always has. I fear what we have in store now that she’s gaining new confidence.

“Well, you are,” Emery insists, nodding her head.

He nods like he’s considering it, even turning to walk away from Tate. Just as they reach the couch, Tate catches up to them and Wilder drops Emery in a heap on the couch, smirking. “Should have thought of that before making me run with a hangover this morning.”

She squeals as Tate grabs a pillow from the couch and starts pelting her with it. She can barely manage to get a word out through her laughter but she finally manages to cry mercy. The second Tate lets up, she rockets off the couch and clasps Colby’s hand in hers. “Colby’s on my team.” She sticks her tongue when Zac and Wilder both protest.

“Hungover, huh?”

My smile drops right off my face when I catch Mr. Moore staring at all of us with one raised brow. Wilder’s eyes hit the ceiling, looking anywhere but at him as he scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, Papa Moore, but I thought that cat was out of the bag when we were puking in bushes this morning. ”

He hums, but I’ve known him long enough to see the same gleam in his eye that his daughter has when she’s amused by our antics. Even when she pretends to be annoyed by them. “You boys are lucky it’s a holiday, or I’d be making you run three more miles.”

I tap Tate’s knee to get his attention without drawing the rest of the family’s. As soon as his eyes lock on mine, I nod to the door. He’s obviously surprised that I’m already leaving, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

The memories from last night are coming closer and closer to the surface with every damn laugh, smirk, and glance in my direction. I’ve never been more aware of another person in my life than I am of Emery fucking Moore. Not even on the ice.

My nerves can only handle so much sober, and being intoxicated around her has already proven to be an absolutely terrible idea.

I need a break.

Some air.

Some space to breathe and reset where my head is at where Emery is concerned. She needs to go back into the little box she has always been in. Back before I knew the way her skin tasted or how her body felt pressed against mine. How her scent and warmth infused me with desire and a need so strong, it’s almost hard for me to believe it was real. That I didn’t dream the entire moment up in my mind.

If she hadn’t brought it up this morning in the kitchen, I may have been able to convince myself that was exactly what had happened.

I hold my phone up for Tate to see. “They’re heading back to the house now,” I explain, already having my excuse ready for taking off in the middle of the games. I’ve just been waiting for the text that would symbolize my freedom. At least for tonight.

It’s not a flimsy excuse either. I do need to talk to Torryn and the rest of the guys to let them know the news. We’re going to have to figure out who will be able to have Torryn’s back once I’m back on the ice. We at least have some time before I’ll be allowed to start practices with the rest of the team. Hopefully that’s enough to sort out her stalker situation or to at least put other measures into place.

After all the worries I had on the drive about how to break the news to the guys and Torryn, I never expected it to be so easy. I wasn’t the only one surprised by Torryn’s acceptance of the situation and finally agreeing to have someone from Beau’s dad’s security company to be the one keeping an eye on her.

It’s obvious in both Baylor’s and her body language that something has shifted. His hand slides under her shirt to comfort her as soon as the words of agreement are out of her mouth.

I can’t help but sigh, giving away my relief. “Okay good.” Some of the tightness in my chest that was building on the drive over finally eases. I no longer have to worry about leaving her high and dry. “I can stick around for most of the time until break.” Better hanging out with her, even if she is an asshole, than having any free time to let my mind wander to places it shouldn’t. “But I will have to go home and grab the rest of my stuff, and I have to find a place to live here.”

The reminder brings all the tightness right back. Especially with the offer from Mr. Moore. If I can’t find a place at a reasonable price, I may just have to take him on it. Which would probably be the worst thing to ever happen to me. “Tate’s couch is getting a little old. ”

“Why don’t you just move in here?” James asks and my eyes go wide at the offer.

My eyes track over the group of people already living in the house. Each of the hockey houses has four-to-five players living there. Theoretically, they should have the room for me since only James, Beau, Baylor, and Wells live here. But Torryn and Isla just agreed to give up their apartment and stay here, making it six people that will be living here. More than any other hockey house, without adding me into the mix.

Baylor must be just as confused cause he asks, “Are you moving out before break?”

Oh damn, I didn’t know James was thinking about leaving. He hasn’t graduated yet, but I did know the team that drafted him to the NHL has been having a rough season with injuries. Especially on their offensive lines where James plays. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did pull him up earlier than they had planned. But James rolls his eyes and scoffs, “I wouldn’t tell you this way.” Guess he’s not moving. Which brings me back to questioning exactly where I can move into?

Not really up for trading one couch for another. Before I can say anything though, James points to where Torryn is sitting in Baylor’s lap on the couch. “He can have Torryn’s room.”

Oh. The room is silent as we all exchange glances. Everyone knows Tor and Bay are obsessed with each other. Hell, we have a whole group chat dedicated to wondering when the two of them will figure it out for themselves. It’s not a bad idea.

Torryn stares at him dumbfounded. “I thought you were going to say my apartment.”

I guess that would officially be up for grabs since the girls only just agreed to give it up permanently and nothing with the lease has been sorted yet. But… Torryn just got done telling us all about how her stalker managed to break in there yet again .

I scrunch my face in distaste. “I don’t want your stalker apartment,” I protest. I’d rather take the couch.

Wells nods his head in agreement, backing me up. “No one wants your stalker apartment.” Knew he was a good guy.

Baylor and Torryn argue for a second until James explains that Torryn can move into Baylor’s room with him and I can have the fifth bedroom she’s currently in. She tries to argue but doesn’t have a leg to stand on when the two of them already sleep together every night, and are currently snuggled up together on the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever met two people more oblivious to their own feelings than these two.

At least by the end of the conversation, they’re trading knowing smiles before Baylor says his good nights, stopping only to look at me. “Let us know when you’re going home and we’ll get the room cleared for you when you get back.”

Before I even have a chance to say thanks, he throws Torryn over his shoulder and leaves the room. Isla giggles watching them go, and I shake my head in disbelief. Just what happened between them since I last saw them?

I take a deep breath, looking at the other guys around me. “Are we sure this is going to be okay?”

The last thing I want is for Torryn to feel like I kicked her out. It’s Isla who pats me on the shoulder in comfort. “Trust me,” she reassures me, “if Tor had a problem with it, we would all know about it. She’s probably secretly thankful for the excuse.”

I snort, but can’t disagree. At least someone is getting their happily ever after.

Beau claps me on the shoulder. “Welcome, roomie.” It’s hard to believe I met these people only a couple months ago. I already feel more at home here than I ever did with my last team. More comfortable. More myself. “The whole starting line-up under one roof,” he continues, grinning. “Tate is going to lose his mind.”

He’s not wrong.

The potential for things to go wrong is definitely increased. I love my best friend, but he is a chronic overthinker.

“We’re all getting pamphlets on proper hand washing.” I can already see it. It’ll probably come with little hand sanitizers and masks. Baylor and Wells will definitely be getting condoms in their baggies too once he finds out their girls are moving in officially.

Beau throws his head back laughing, and even Wells and James laugh and add their agreements. “He’s also going to be checking in on us all the more often to make sure we don’t start hating each other,” Wells adds.

James nods, chuckling. “We’re each going to have a day of the week assigned for our Tate Talks.”

“We’re going to have to start paying him therapy fees.” He’s my best friend, but that’s exactly why I’m allowed to give him more shit than anyone else.

Beau wipes his hand over his face, trying–and failing– to stifle his laugh as he attempts to defend Tate. “Hey, I like the Tate Talks.”

I grin, unable to help myself. “No one talks quite like Tate talks.”

Isla shakes her head, looking at all of us disapprovingly, but even her lips are turned up into a small smile. “I’m telling him you said that.”

I shrug, unaffected by the threat. “Go ahead. I’ve said far worse to his face.”

The little smirk she gives back is enough to tell me exactly how her and Torryn are friends. She points to the other guys. “But they haven’t.”

All three guys are loud in their protests as Wells claims that’s enough for one night and ushers Isla out of the room and to their own bed. She gives me an evil little finger wave, proud of herself. “See you at the game tomorrow.”

Wicked little thing.

I’m starting to see where Emery is picking it up from. Maybe it isn’t Tor at all.