23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cole

I think I've officially stepped into stalker territory. I pace back and forth down the hallway outside Carissa's apartment, telling myself that it's perfectly normal for me, her friend, to be here. Unannounced. Uninvited. Unwanted.

Hopefully not that last one.

The worst part is I had to get Carissa's apartment number from Bean , who definitely didn't buy my story about needing to get my car for something but was gracious enough to tell me anyway.

Wyatt , I remind myself. I should call him Wyatt. Our team nicknames are a way the Thunder has bonded as a team since its formation, but for me, I'm going to need to show some genuine connection. Some effort. I made progress last night at the bar, but I still have a lot of work to do.

I should probably be focused on finding my own style as a captain, rather than pacing a hallway and psyching myself up to knock on Carissa's door, but Carissa hasn't answered any of my texts all day. After our text flirting last night, as well as a nonstop conversation on the drive home, I'm desperate to talk to her again.

I don't think I can go very long without talking to her, which is a bad sign. I'm falling for her, and I shouldn't be, but I need to know she's okay after that last Hot Scoop article.

I'm just about to suck it up and knock when Carissa's door opens and Kasey steps out, eyes going wide when she sees me standing there. "Cole!" She tucks her hands behind her back and turns progressively redder the longer we stand here. "What are you doing here?"

I try to see through the crack in the open door behind her, but all I've got is a view of a white wall. "How is she?"

Snickering, Kasey glances behind her. "She's stronger than you seem to think."

"Not possible," I mumble. Carissa has proven time and time again that I should never underestimate her, so I'm convinced she's the strongest person in the world. In every way. "Are you leaving?"

Still pink-cheeked, Kasey nods. "Liam is playing in Vancouver in an hour, and his manager set up a livestream for me."

"Are you ever not attached at the hip?" I grumble. I shouldn't be irritated by their connection, but I'm blaming my grumpiness on the fact that I haven't heard from Carissa all day and the only thing standing between me and her is a door. And a woman who is every bit as loving and loyal as my friend deserves. Swallowing, I duck my head. "Sorry. You and Liam are great together."

Kasey snickers. "I sure hope so, 'cause now he's stuck with me."

I frown. "What— "

"You can go inside. Carissa's pretty deep into the book she's reading, so you might have to get her attention. But she'll be glad to see you. Bye, Cole!"

As Kasey scurries toward the elevator, I feel like I'm missing something, but I don't care because the door is open and Carissa is inside. I'm hoping she won't be angry about me interrupting, but Kasey doesn't seem worried.

As I step inside, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I'm tempted to ignore the text, but when I see that it's Freya, I open it because it's literally in the middle of the night for her.

Freya:

If you see Carissa tonight, tell her that she cannot give any power to that ghastly website. She has not answered my text, so she may not have gotten it, but you will see her, yes?

Okay, now I'm wondering if Freya has bugged our phones , not our houses. Though I can hear Carissa munching on chips at the other end of the hallway, I stay where I am and type out a reply.

Cole:

Do you ever sleep?

Freya:

Sometimes. Are you with Carissa?

I debate how to answer that one and settle on the truth.

Cole:

Not yet. And I haven't talked to her today, so I might not get a chance to pass on your wisdom.

Freya:

You will.

I'm glad she feels so confident. I certainly don't.

Pocketing my phone, I slowly make my way forward and poke my head around the corner. Carissa is sprawled on a gray couch, one hand holding a colorful paperback and the other deep in a bag of Funyuns. Other assorted junk foods lay scattered around her, and she looks…okay. Like the article didn't bother her too much. I hope that's true, but I know there's still a high chance Hot Scoop is going to mention her affair with the politician.

Ethan found the story on a Philadelphia site earlier today, so there's no doubt other people have found it too.

As I stand and watch her, Carissa is so absorbed in whatever she's reading that I don't think she has any idea that I'm here.

I cough.

Carissa screams.

The book flies at my face as Funyuns fly over Carissa's head. I catch the book, but she's not so lucky with the chips, many of which land in her messy bun.

"Sorry," I say, wincing as I look down at the cover of the book in my hand. A cartoon hockey player in skates stands at the edge of a rink, smirking at a woman in street clothes. It looks like one Sage has read, but honestly they all look the same to me.

Curious, I flip to a page in the middle and lift an eyebrow as my eyes trace a scene that definitely falls under ‘spice.' "I thought you didn't read these ones," I mutter, my stomach twisting. It was one of the many reasons I like Carissa.

She isn't like Sage.

Blushing, she pulls onion rings out of her hair and says, "I don't, usually. But Kasey likes that one, and the story is really compelling and well written. I mostly skimmed the…uh…" She turns an even brighter red and shrugs.

I grunt. Maybe it was a bad idea for me to show up here.

"You okay? "

I look up, surprised to see concern in her eyes. "Hmm?"

"You're back to looking glowery."

I gently toss the book back to her and tuck my hands into my pockets to hide the way they tremble. This isn't about hockey, or even about the book, but there's no good way for me to explain the knot in my gut to Carissa when I'm barely starting to understand it myself. "You can read whatever you want."

She tilts her head. "But?"

But Sage expected me to be aggressive and domineering like some of the men in her books, and I didn't realize how much I struggled with that until right now . I know I should speak those words out loud. I haven't been to therapy in a few years, but I still remember the way my old therapist told me I shouldn't avoid letting myself feel, that I should own what I'm experiencing instead of burying it.

But how am I supposed to tell someone as kind and innocent as Carissa that my ex had a habit of using intimacy to manipulate the nature of our relationship? I didn't realize it at the time, but the further I get from the situation and the longer I'm around Carissa, the easier it is to see that Sage never truly wanted to be with me . She wanted the man she thought she could turn me into if she made enough promises.

I was only twenty-four when we met after my first winning game as a starting quarterback. Sage was only a couple of years older, but I think she knew, even then, that I would do anything to please her. She made me feel so valued at first, like she needed me in her life, but the deeper our relationship became, the more she pushed me into things I didn't want. I told myself that I wanted to make Sage happy, that giving in to her fantasies was a part of making our relationship work.

Looking back, I hate how easily I put aside the things I wanted and ignored the way I felt whenever I was with her.

"Cole?"

There's a measure of hurt in Carissa's expression that's pulling at my heart in a way I don't like. Especially because I'm the one who put it there by withholding my thoughts. It's probably better if I step back again. Keep my distance. Follow the rules.

"Hey." Carissa slithers out from her junk food blanket and pads over to me, looking so vulnerable as she gazes up at me with those gold-flecked eyes. "I know you said Sage liked to read these kinds of books. I don't usually—"

"Don't worry about it," I say, my voice rough. "You really can read about whoever you want. That has nothing to do with me."

"I think it does, though." She runs her hand down my arm, fingers light against my skin, and she pulls my hand from my pocket so she can lace our fingers together. "I don't judge people who read that stuff, but most of the time it's not for me. If that kind of thing bothers you, I'm fine to avoid it entirely. Especially if it reminds you of…you know."

I frown, looking down at our hands. "Are you not bothered?" I ask, almost desperate for her answer. "I tell you I'm interested in you, and then I go and compare you to a woman I shouldn't be thinking about anymore. I'm as bad as Peter."

To my shock, Carissa laughs, and the sound brightens the room. Warms me from the inside out. "First of all, if you were anything like Peter, you wouldn't care that something reminding you of your ex—a woman you dated for four years —might bother your friend that you're definitely not dating. Second of all…" She reaches up and brushes her fingers through my hair, sending a shiver through me. "The man cheated on his wife with his physical therapist, who had no idea he had a family."

Maybe I'm not a cheater, but that doesn't mean I'm good for her. "But I'll never be…" I shake my head. "I'm never going to be like the men in these books you read."

She leans up on her toes, though we're still nowhere close to the same height. She presses a hand to my chest to hold herself steady, and I am completely riveted on her words. "I'll always like you better than the men in these books because you're real . And far more interesting."

Leaning down, I'm desperate to give that declaration a proper response in the form of a kiss, but a stray piece of Funyun in her hair distracts me and holds me back. It's for the best, though I don't think I'll look at the snack the same way as I pluck the piece from her hair. They'll always make me think of her.

"Dangerous," I murmur, amazed by how effortlessly she puts me at ease. "You are incredibly dangerous."

"And you smell amazing," she replies, unashamedly taking a deep breath. "I think I've gotten too used to your post-practice smell. Or maybe the smell of the other guys temporarily killed my scent sensors."

I groan and step back. "Nice mood killer."

"I do my best." She tilts her head again, studying me. "Is there a reason you broke into my apartment tonight? One that wasn't getting me to confess how much I like you?"

"That was the main reason." But I smile and shake my head, returning my hands to my pockets before I get any ideas about pulling her back into my personal space. "Or I wanted to make sure you're okay after that article."

Shrugging, she looks into the kitchen, where her phone is sitting on the counter. "I'm good now."

"Now?"

"Kasey talked me down, and the article really wasn't that bad. But it triggered some memories."

"Theme of the day," I mutter, rolling my eyes. I'd be a lot happier if memories of Sage didn't ruin things for me. "If you're okay, I'll get out of your hair. Like the Funyuns."

Her intoxicating laugh fills the room once more, and I soak it up before turning to let myself out. "Wait," she says. "You can stay. If you want. "

I clench my jaw. I do want, but… "That's a bad idea."

"Probably." Carissa smirks and points to an armchair that's just as gray and lifeless as the couch. While the apartment is nice, it doesn't have any verve, and I can't imagine Carissa living here long term. She doesn't fit this place. "You can keep to the chair if you decide to stay. I'll stay on the couch."

I raise an eyebrow. "And what am I supposed to do while sitting in the chair?" It's not like I'm going to argue with her plan, whatever it is. This goes against our rules, but I'm happy to take any time with Carissa that I can get. Wherever she does belong, I hope it's close to me.

She looks around thoughtfully, then digs into a canvas tote and pulls out another book with a cartoon cover. I wrinkle my nose as she hands it to me, and she laughs. "This one is really good, I promise. It doesn't have any spicy scenes, and the main characters are both personal trainers who pretend they're not totally into each other. They get pulled into a fake relationship because of social media."

I roll the book over in my hand. "Sounds familiar."

Carissa's voice turns mischievous. "And the guy is scared to love because everyone leaves him."

I look up, eyebrows lifting high. "Maybe too familiar."

Snickering, she settles back on the couch and picks up a different book from the hockey one. I appreciate that more than I can say. " And he has anxiety," she adds before opening the new book and diving in.

I settle in the armchair, curious what kind of book Carissa usually reads. I'm more intrigued by the character's similarities to me than I care to admit, and if Carissa likes this book, I want to at least give it a try.

There are a lot of things I'd like to do for Carissa.

And the best part? She never asks for anything, which makes me all the more inclined to give her the world.