47. endgame

Chase

After six a.m. dryland, my plan was to crawl back into bed with Bailey and catch a few more hours of sleep. We had a nice little routine going, and it usually involved waking up for a second time in the best possible way. But there was no hope of going back to sleep today. Despite the grueling workout and innumerable burpees I’d been subjected to, I was buzzing.

When I got home, I briefly debated waking her to fill her in, but she’d been working overtime on classes, the paper, and her scholarship application, so in the end, I decided to let her sleep.

This led to a spur-of-the-moment decision to make breakfast. Only problem was, between being amped up and ravenously hungry from training, I got carried away and greatly overestimated the quantity of food required—even with my enormous appetite. I could count on Dallas to eat something when he got up, though. And Shiv was probably still here too, so one more mouth to feed would help make a dent in this massive spread.

I took the bacon out of the oven and set it on a potholder to protect the counter. As I turned around, Bailey came down the stairs, still in pale blue pajamas with her wavy golden hair rumpled from sleep. I loved seeing her first thing in the morning. She was a lot more pleasant than I was upon waking, not to mention far cuter.

Bailey yawned, groggily surveying the kitchen. “You made breakfast?” Her gaze landed on the waffle iron, her eyes widening. “Oh my god. I love waffles.”

“Then you’re in luck because I make the best waffles around. I’m a man of many talents. Not just on the ice—or in the bedroom.”

Her mouth tugged into a wry grin. “I’m starting to see that.” She padded over to stand beside me and peeked around me to see the waffles in progress. I wrapped my hands around her waist, ducking in for a quick mint toothpaste-flavored kiss.

“Plus,” I said, “I was too wired to go back to sleep.”

“Rough session?” She took a few steps and hopped up onto a clear span of countertop beside me. Sliding an elastic band off her wrist, she watched me, waiting for a response, and gathered up her hair and tied it up in a messy bun.

“Not overly. But I talked to the AGM for Los Angeles on the way home, and then I was pretty pumped, so…here we are.” I gestured to the food lining the counters. Waffles, thick-cut bacon, whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries. And a bottle of real maple syrup, because my dad was Canadian and taught me how to do things right.

“Oh.” Her voice climbed in pitch, but it was strained. “So the call went well?”

She was feigning excitement for my benefit, that was obvious, but her tone held a hint of unease the minute the topic came up, same as the day we talked about it when I met her for lunch at Callingwood.

“It did.”

The waffle iron beeped, and I turned so I could remove the last waffle and set it on a plate. Once I switched off the iron and set down the white dish towel, I took a few steps to close the distance between us. I stood in front of where Bailey was perched on the counter and rested my hands on her thighs.

She looked at me, her expression unnaturally neutral. But she wasn’t good at concealing her feelings. Her eyelids fluttered as I skimmed my fingers along her jawline until I was cupping her face.

“Are you worried about what will happen to us if I leave, James?”

“Kinda.” Her eyes flashed with uncertainty. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess I figured we would make it work.”

Maybe it was stupid of me to assume, but it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be an alternative. I didn’t see her presence in my life as optional. Hopefully, she felt the same way.

Bailey’s forehead crinkled and her voice was quiet, hesitant. “How?”

Good question. I hadn’t thought through the specifics yet. I’d been too focused on all the things that would come before that. But it didn’t seem that hard—we could visit each other when our schedules allowed, and we could talk all the time. Maybe that line of thinking was na?ve, though, given that the vast majority of guys I knew who’d attempted long-distance said differently. I’d heard horror stories about everything from constant fights to cheating. One of my former teammates found out by seeing a picture of his girlfriend kissing another guy on Instagram. But we were different; neither of us would even consider doing something like that. That was my theory and I was sticking to it, anyway.

“Racking up lots of reward miles flying back and forth? FaceTime? Sheer stubbornness? You know I’ve got lots of the last one; it must count for something.”

“Okay.” She looked down at the counter and gave a one-shoulder shrug. Because she didn’t believe me about making it work? Or she didn’t want to try?

Would choosing to leave early be the equivalent of signing a death warrant for our relationship? Maybe I was wrong about her inability to hide her feelings, because suddenly, I couldn’t tell what was going through her head.

I raised my eyebrows, trying to read her face. “Unless you don’t want to do that.”

“No.” Bailey shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a beat before reopening them. Her hazel eyes focused on me, still unreadable, and her posture was rigid, like she had an invisible wall up. “I just…didn’t know if you would. Long-distance seems difficult.”

“Who else is going to put up with me?” I teased, smoothing my hands up and down her arms. Touching her may have been a mistake, though, because now my mind was going in a different direction. Focus, Carter.

She bit back a smile. “Good point.”

“Jokes aside, I would rather have you than not, no matter what that looks like. Why let a temporary situation ruin what we have? I want to be with you for a lot longer than the nine or ten months we would be apart.”

There I went again, assuming. But she didn’t object, only nodded, so maybe I was on track.

I ducked my head, catching her eye. “We’re endgame. Right?” My parents were crazy in love. I never thought I would find that until I met her. And now that I had, I’d fight for it.

The tension in her body eased, and I finally won a full, genuine smile. “You think?”

“I know it.” I glanced at my watch. “If we’re fast, we might have time to get back in bed for a different reason.”

Minutes later, I had enough food to feed a small army loaded onto my plate. Bailey sat across from me with a more reasonable quantity, but she didn’t judge me for eating the equivalent of three meals in one sitting.

“Still going shopping with Siobhan?”

“Yup.” Bailey speared a strawberry with her fork and topped it with whipped cream. “I have to work on that scholarship application first, though. It’s due Monday. The process is killing me. Essay, references, transcript review, and then if I make it to the final stage, I have to do an interview with an entire panel of people.” She paused, mouth pulling into a tiny frown. “I should stop talking about it. I don’t want to jinx it.”

I bit into a piece of bacon and swallowed. “I think you’ll get it.” If anyone could, it would be her. She was great on paper, great in person, and had the grades. Obviously, I was biased, but even factoring that in, I was confident she would be in the top group of applicants.

She pressed her lips together. “You’re sweet, but you’re not exactly objective.”

“If there are that many hoops to jump through, most other people don’t stand a chance. Have you met the average student?”

“Here’s hoping,” she said. “It’s going to be a long day at the mall, I think. I have a feeling Shiv is a marathon shopper.”

Spoiler alert: she was, according to Dallas. And the dude liked to shop, so if he was whining, then it had to be dire. Plus, back when Shiv stayed with us, she’d come home loaded with shopping bags more times than I could count. I tripped on them in the entryway frequently.

“Are you excited about the gala, though?”

“Yeah.” Bailey nodded. Then she pursed her lips and gave me a thoughtful look. “Who’s Ty’s date?”

“His friend Zoe. She’s in the same major as him.”

Bailey arched a brow. “Are they ‘friends’ as in the way we were friends?”

At one point, I wondered this myself, but the constant rotation of different women in his bedroom suggested otherwise.

“Nah. Ty isn’t the commitment type. But it’ll be fun. It’s a nice event, and the food is always good. Plus, I’ll have the hottest date there, so bonus.” I paused, thinking back on last year’s gala. “You didn’t go with Morrison last year, did you?”

“No.” She scoffed like there was a story behind that, but she didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t really want to ask. There’s no way it didn’t involve him being a total and complete piece of shit.

“I figured. I would have remembered you if you had.”

Bailey gave me a crooked grin. “Would you have hit on me?”

Is ice cold? I mean, come on.

“The minute I saw you.”

I wasn’t just flattering her, either. That was a forgone conclusion regardless of where I encountered her for the first time—the gala, XS, a game—hell, I’d have hit on her at the doctor’s office. With someone like her, you shoot your shot no matter what the setting.

“To piss off Luke?”

“No, because you’re fucking hot.”

“Ah. But your date probably wouldn’t have appreciated that.” She bit into her waffle, eyeing me teasingly.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? I didn’t bring a date,” I said. “Ward and I went together.”

At that point, Dallas hadn’t met Siobhan yet. And until Bailey, I hadn’t met a girl I liked enough to bring along to that type of thing—or to any type of thing. The gala’s $625 per head price tag further cemented that. Definitely wasn’t letting Bailey know about that—she’d faint. Or try to argue with me about paying. Didn’t need to revisit the money issue.

“I’m sure you made a handsome couple.”

“Obviously.” I winked at her, pushing my chair back and returning to the counter to refill my plate. “But it’ll be more fun with you there. Last year, we went to put in face time and support a good cause.” It was always nice to see Boyd alumni and to meet players from the league, as well as coaches, managers, and other people in the industry.

“And to get drunk on premium liquor at the fancy open bar?”

“Who, me?” I scoffed, slathering butter onto a waffle and drenching it in syrup. “Never.”

Bailey raised an eyebrow. She knew me too well. Pre-Bailey me spent every weekend—and many weekdays—getting obliterated. My liver was probably thankful I’d met her. And my lungs. My stats were better for it too. I rallied pretty well before, but it was amazing the difference not being perpetually hungover made.

“Ward may have had to drag my drunk ass out of the Uber.” I gave her a sheepish smile. “I won’t do that this year.”

Bailey looked at me over the top of her glass of orange juice, fighting back a grin. “I hope not. I don’t think I could get you up the front steps. You’d end up sleeping in the yard.”

“Don’t worry, I want to be sober for what happens after the gala.” I pulled out my chair and eased back into it, keeping my focus on her. Dammit. I shouldn’t have let my mind wander back in the direction the conversation was heading.

“What’s that?” She leaned over the table expectantly, one elbow on the table, and rested her chin in her hand.

“Dressy sex.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “What’s dressy sex?”

“What it sounds like. Sex after we’re all dressed up,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. “I get to rip off your clothes and mess up your perfect hair and makeup.”

“You have quite the brain.”

“That’s not where those ideas come from.”

She laughed. “I know.”

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