14. Caroline

CAROLINE

Sundays are my favorite day of the week. Mostly because they’re a day of rest. It’s really the only day of the week where I feel like I actually have my shit together, and although it’s short-lived, I love feeling like I’m a functioning adult. It’s been an extra-long week since we’re preparing for our first mixer of the year at the house, so between that and trying to stay on top of homework and studying, I haven’t had a chance to come up for air.

Which means less time to think about Hudson.

A week has passed since that night in his pool, and I won’t bother lying to myself that I haven’t stopped thinking about him. His lopsided grin, the way his hands slid down my body while his tongue made me come harder than anyone ever has, and how my body is all too willing to give itself over to him.

We’ve spent the week texting back and forth, and I’m not going to lie, every time my phone lights up with a notification, a ridiculous smile hangs on my lips.

He’s got that effect about him.

The ability to have me anxiously awaiting his arrival home. Not just for the orgasms but because I actually like being around him. He makes me laugh.

“Care, are you listening?” Tatum calls from in front of the mirror, diverting my attention back to her. She’s clutching a black minidress to her front as her bright blue eyes drag down the length of the mirror, inspecting her reflection. “I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard. I mean, it’s just a date, right?”

Even from across the room, I can tell how nervous she is, which is quite the contradiction when it comes to my new roommate. Tatum is confident, genuine, and the kind of girl who doesn’t hesitate when meeting someone new. She’s a lot like me, but underneath her bright smile and extroverted demeanor, she has her doubts. We all do.

“Babe,” I say, tossing my iPad down onto my bed and crossing the room to where she stands, then placing my hands on her shoulders. “You are hot. He is lucky that you even gave him the time of day, let’s be real. This dress is fire and gives bad-bitch vibes. Nothing else. ‘Kay?”

She exhales, her eyes darting back to the mirror. A slow smile spreads on her glossy lips. “You’re right. What would I do without you? My personal hype girl.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I smirk. “And wear the red heels. They make your legs look amazing.”

Tatum’s expression softens, and she takes me into her arms, the dress in question squished between us. “I love you, Care. I know I say that a lot, but I’m serious. So thankful that the universe made us roomies. It’s like it knew how much I needed you.”

“Me too, babe. Now, go get dressed, and have so much fun.” I let go and step back, gesturing toward the door. “I’ve got dinner with my dad tonight, so I’ll be heading out soon too. You can tell me everyth—”

A sharp knock sounds before I can finish my sentence. Tatum walks over to the door and swings it open, revealing Sam, another one of our sorority sisters, carrying a white box with a bright red bow.

“Uh, Caroline, a deliveryman just dropped this off for you. There’s no note.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Sam.” Smiling sweetly, I take the box from her, and Tatum shuts the door with her foot before she follows me back to my bed. I climb in and sit cross-legged with the box in front of me.

“Who do you think it’s from? Please tell me it’s Hudson. God, it better be him.” Her words are dreamy, and I just laugh. The girl is obsessed with him, in a cute way.

I roll my lips together before a smile breaks out. “Hudson.” Carefully, I tug on the red silk ribbon, unraveling it until it falls open on the bed, then lift the lid from the box. Inside, there is red tissue paper matching the bow. I open it, and my jaw drops at what must be a hundred pairs of panties—lace, silk, and satin, mostly in reds, pinks, whites, and blacks.

There’s a square note card on the top.

“What is it? Tell me, oh my god…” she screeches, pausing for me to answer her. “The suspense is killing me!”

I pick the note up and begin reading.

I never make promises I can’t keep. So, here are your replacements, Bubblegum. There’s even a color included that’s named after you. I can’t fucking wait to see you in them, and I really can’t wait to taste you again.

Oh my god.

Of everything I expected or thought this could be… this was not it.

My cheeks flame, and I drag my gaze up to Tatum, turning the box toward her. She ambles over and snatches the postcard from me, quickly scanning the note.

“Oh my god, Caroline!” Her eyes dart to the box full of what looks like extremely expensive underwear. “You are literally out here living all of our dreams. What’s it like to be God’s favorite? Honestly.” She sighs, flopping down onto the bed next to the box and tossing a few in the air for dramatic effect.

As they cascade around her, I laugh, shaking my head, “It’s just underwear.”

“Just underwear? Caroline, we have been through this. You are literally boning a hot, professional hockey player who was one of People’s sexiest men alive. And as if that wasn’t enough, he’s funny, and he sends you freaking like five thousand dollars in Agent Provocateur underwear just because he ripped a pair. You better give that man the best blow job of his life tonight.”

As if it’s a chore. I’m convinced he has the best dick on the planet, so…

“Oh!” She sits up and grins. “You should get his jersey and send him a picture wearing a pair. He’d practically come in his pants, I bet.”

“I think you might be right. But unfortunately, right now, I have to go meet my dad for dinner and pretend that I didn’t just get sexy lingerie delivered by one of his players.”

“Go get ’em, girl.” She smirks.

After a quick shower and changing out of the clothes I had been studying in, an Uber drops me off in front of my father’s modest suburban house, complete with a white picket fence. He offered to pick me up from campus, but I insisted on taking an Uber. Living here for the short time I did this summer before I could move into the house… was weird. Living in the house that my father lived in after leaving my mom and me. The home he created that doesn’t include me. The house is a stranger to me, and living here didn’t make it feel like my home. I felt like a guest in my own father’s home.

I walk up the path that loops through the manicured lawn and raise my hand to knock, only for the door to swing open, and my dad appears.

“Caroline!” he says as he pulls me over the threshold into his arms. I pat his back awkwardly.

“Hi, Dad.”

“We really have to discuss you taking an Uber. I hate those damn things. They’re not safe, and there’s no accountability.”

“Dad,” I warn, pulling back to narrow my eyes. “I know you worry, but I’m an adult. Remember?”

A frown forms on his lips, the line between his brows deepening, “I know, Care Bear. It’s just this world is so dangerous now, and you’re my little girl.”

Hearing him call me his little girl does something to my already battered heart. How many nights did I wish for this moment? To have my dad back, all to myself, making up for the time that we lost.

It’s hard not to feel… abandoned. Where was he all of those years that I needed him? He was with his hockey players, not me. I’ve spent a lot of years seeing a therapist, learning how to let go of that anger. One of the questions that she asked was if I truly wanted to repair the relationship with my dad, and the answer is yes, I do.

Sometimes it’s just hard to look past everything we’ve been through to get from that point to feel like it’s possible to get to a new one.

“Come in, come in. I made your favorite,” he says, smiling warmly.

His house is decorated simply, and while I know his salary with the NHL is more than I’ll probably make in ten years, you wouldn’t be able to tell from his home or what he drives. If anything, my father is frugal. He doesn’t drive a flashy car, have a huge mansion, or wear expensive suits.

Imagine the fight we had when he offered to pay for my tuition.

I appreciate the fact that he’s trying so hard, I do. Trying to repair our relationship is going to take a lot of work on both of our parts, but I also want to keep the independence that I’ve worked hard for.

“Here, let me take your bag,” he says, and I hand it off to him. He hangs it on the wooden hook near the door next to the coats and umbrellas hanging neatly next to each other.

The walls are painted a pale beige, and there are very few photos or decorations along the wall aside from a few random pieces of landscape art.

“I decided to make homemade pot pie because I remembered how much you loved it when you were younger. Remember when you turned eight and we asked where you wanted to go for dinner for your birthday? Man, you could’ve chosen anywhere, but you asked me to make you a pot pie.” There’s sadness in his tone, the same sadness I feel when talking about the past.

“I remember. Thanks, Dad.” I smile, taking a seat at the modest kitchen table. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I watch as he grabs a pair of black oven mitts and opens the oven, pulling out the steaming hot pot pie. “So, how was training camp?”

“Good. We’ve got a great group of guys, and thankfully, the vets are good guys. They’re welcoming to the rookies, and I’m excited to see them work together as a team,” he says while he pulls the mitts off and leans against the counter. “I know hockey has never really been your thing, but I was hoping you could make it out to a few games this year?”

Oh god. Seeing Hudson play in the flesh? I don’t know if my heart… or my vagina… could take it.

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Uhm, yeah, I’d love to. I just have to check my schedule, you know, with school, internship, and the sorority. If I can sneak away, I will.”

His grin is contagious, and I find myself smiling in return. “That works, Care Bear. I’ll leave you a few tickets at will call so you can bring Tatum if you want? How’s that going?”

“She’s great. We get along really well, and being her roommate is honestly one of the highlights of moving here. She’s very neat, and she knows that studying is my top priority.”

Dad nods and opens a drawer, pulling out a knife to cut the pie. He keeps talking as he cuts. “That’s great. I love to hear it. And your classes?”

“They’re good. I may… have taken on a few too many classes? I’m a little ambitious, and the course load is killer, but I’ve got this. It just means less partying and more studying.”

“Good. Less partying means less worrying for me. Especially when we go a few days without talking, Care. I can’t help but worry. Chicago is a big city, and it’s new to you.”

“Dad, I’ve told you a billion times. I’m okay. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I know sometimes you forget that, but you’ve got to let me stand on my own feet.”

He puts the knife down and walks around the kitchen island to me, taking a seat next to me. “I-I just missed so much, Caroline. I wish I could turn back to the clock, start over and be there for every minute that I missed.”

“Me too, Dad, but we can’t do that, so we have to move forward, and the only way we can do that is to leave the past in the past and to focus on the future.”

He nods, sadness dimming on his face. “How about we play Scrabble? After dinner? You used to love that game.”

My heart pangs again, emotion rising in my throat, but I plaster on the best smile I can manage and nod. “Sounds good.”

After eating dinner, which was amazing and truly is still my favorite meal, we play three rounds of Scrabble until I feel my eyes getting heavy. Checking my watch, I see that it’s after ten, and this week has officially caught up to me. Studying, sorority duties, late-night assignments.

“Hey, Dad, if someone wanted to get a hockey player’s jersey, where could I get one?” I ask as we’re picking up the game.

For a second, he pauses, his brow furrowing. “Like as in my guys?”

I nod, pulling my lip between my teeth.

“I thought you weren’t a hockey fan?” he asks, cocking his head.

“I’m not really. It just seems like I’m the only person in the entire city that isn’t a fan of the Avalanches. Plus, my dad is their coach. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t at least own a jersey? You did want me to come to a game—shouldn’t I wear one when I do?”

He ponders my words for a second but shrugs with a smile. “I guess you’re right. I can get you some merch, sweetheart. Don’t spend your money on that.”

“Uh, well, I mean, I also wanted to get one for Tatum. She’s a huge fan, and, uh, she wanted to get a specific player.”

His eyes darken slightly. “And who would that be?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I should’ve known better than to ask him.

“Hudson Rome.”

He eyes me carefully before replying. “There’s an official merch store near the arena that carries all the vets. But I think it’s worth reiterating that both Tatum and you need to stay away from my guys, Caroline. The last thing I would ever want is my daughter caught up with any of them. They’re too old for either of you and not the settling type. Especially not a guy like Rome. Okay?”

“Yep. Of course, Dad. I was just asking for Tatum. Thank you.”

He nods, rising from his chair. “Let me grab my keys, and I can get you back to the house. One sec.”

I should feel guilty for hiding this from him and sneaking around with his player.

I should.

Except… I don’t. While I want to repair my relationship with my dad, I also don’t think he has any right to impose any rules on my life. He’s been absent for almost ten years of my life.

It’s late when I get back to my room and completely quiet. I had a few unread messages from Hudson and one from Tatum saying she was staying over with her date and, I quote, “getting the D.”

Which means I have our room all to myself.

After doing my nighttime skin care routine, I throw on an old T-shirt and panties, then climb into my bed before opening all the texts from Hudson.

Hudson: I’m home and very disappointed that you weren’t in my bed waiting for me.

Hudson: Did you like my gift? Currently trying to decide which pair I want to rip off first.

I’m partial to red, I think. But not a picky guy.

Hudson: Are you ignoring me, Bubblegum? My dick misses you. I miss you.

Grinning, I type out a response.

Caroline: Wow, three texts in a row? You’re looking a little desperate , big guy. I was having dinner, and I just got home. I’m glad your dick misses me. I was hoping I made a lasting impression.

Hudson: You made an impression alright. It’s been a week since I’ve tasted you. Not sure how much longer I’ll survive.

Caroline: I’d hate to be the reason for your untimely death. Too bad I’m all alone in my room and you’re all the way over there.

I quickly snap a picture of the faded T-shirt riding high on my thighs, showing just a glimpse of my panties, and send it to him, which immediately prompts a response.

Hudson: Fuck. Goddamnit Caroline.

Caroline: Goodnight Hudson. winky face followed by kissy face

Hudson: Goodnight Bubblegum.