Big Stick by R.C. Stephens

Author:R.C. Stephens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled, Embrace, Sports Romance; Romantic Comedy; New Adult and College Romance; Urban Fiction; Coming of Age Fiction; Women's Romance Fiction; Contemporary Romance Fiction; Contemporary Women's Fiction; Romantic Themes Hockey; Hockey; sports; Chicago
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Embrace)
Published: 2018-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Flynn

Myles seemed so broken. There’s no way I’ll be able to rest until I check on him. I take Oli’s spare key for Myles’s apartment, and I slip out the front door.

His apartment is dark except for a small hall light off to the left. He’s face-planted and sleeping on his kitchen table. He doesn’t look very comfortable, either. I walk over to him and nudge him awake. After a few tries, he mumbles something incoherent.

“Easy there,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.” I begin to walk with him. He’s unsteady but at least he’s holding himself up.

“You’re touching me?” he slurs.

A slow smile spreads across my lips. “Which is your bedroom?”

“Second door,” he mumbles as I hold his arm tight. If he falls over, we are both going down, and I won’t get him back up.

“I like that you’re talking to me. I missed you,” he says.

We reach the side of his bed. “Can we cuddle?” he slurs.

I choke on my laugh. “Want to tell me what this is about?” I have an idea, but I need him to say it.

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he murmurs.

I hold my breath. Drunk Myles is super honest. “Are you still angry with me about driving the car?” he asks then falls back in the bed.

I let out a heavy breath. Oli spoke to him.

I sit on his bed. “I wasn’t angry in the way you think. I was grieving, I was sad…looking at you reminded me of what I lost. I hated it, but I couldn’t help it. I associated your face with their deaths. It was wrong of me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just couldn’t help it.” I sigh.

“Thank you. My Tink,” he murmurs, and his words mend the broken pieces of me. It feels so right being with him. How did we stay apart for so long? I need to fix this. I need to fix us.

He snores a bit.

Maybe I’ll wait until he’s sober.

Oli is right. Life is too short.

…

I have a hard time falling asleep. I toss and turn, worrying about my broken Peter Pan. I want Myles. There. I’ve admitted it to myself. But we still have some mending to do before we have any chance of making some sort of relationship work. I’d been so overwhelmed with my own hurt, I didn’t realize what I’d done to him.

Around half past twelve, Oli knocks on my door. “Heading to practice. Big game tonight. You better plan on making it,” he shouts through the door.

“Okay,” I mumble in return.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, and I sense his worry. It’s always there when he’s talking to me. To everyone else in my life, I’m strong as stone, but Oli treats me like I’m a fragile piece of glass.

“I’m good. Get to the arena and make that practice your bitch.”

I hear him chuckle through the door. Then he’s gone.

I close my eyes and fall asleep, grateful it’s the weekend.

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