One-Timer (Carolina Comets)
One-Timer: Chapter 6

I press the decrease button on the treadmill several times, taking my speed from seven MPH to a nice brisk four MPH to cool off. I try not to burn myself out in the gym in the off-season too much, especially since I help out at summer skate camp.

Lately though, I have so much energy and pent-up frustration that if I don’t do something to expend it all, I’m going to combust. I don’t have a clue as to what’s wrong with me, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling of irritation all summer.

I’m annoyed because I’m bored at home, but I’m annoyed when I have to leave the house. I’m annoyed when there’s too much noise and annoyed when it’s completely silent. Nothing feels right, everything’s just slightly…off.

I’m slightly off.

I think the worst of it all is that I can almost pinpoint the exact minute I started feeling this way—the morning after Collin and Harper’s wedding.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to make myself crawl out of bed and leave Hollis to sleep, but I did it because that was what we agreed upon. I did it because I knew starting something up with my teammate’s sister-in-law would be really, really stupid. I did it because I was scared that I liked her a little too much, and I can’t afford that.

Except ever since I left her lying there, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way she felt under me. Or the way she tensed and whimpered just before she came. The way she moaned my name like it was a curse. And I definitely can’t stop thinking about the way she tasted on my lips.

Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about her at all.

My cock starts to swell, which is really inconvenient considering I’m trying to wind down, not work myself back up.

I slow the treadmill down another notch, letting my legs cool off for a quarter mile before hitting the shower and heading home to yet another night cooped up inside my house with a Caesar salad and a Marvel movie pulled up.

Normally when I get tired of being alone, I’ll call up Collin or Rhodes or even Smith. But the last two times I did, they all three shot me down, so I haven’t bothered with them since.

I could call Miller and see what he’s up to, but I’m not that desperate…yet. Besides, preseason is soon. I’m sure I can replace something to keep me occupied until then.

I click the machine off and grab the hand towel I have sitting in the cupholder. I run it over my face, wiping away the sweat that’s dripping off me, and grab my phone.

I’m surprised to see I have a new message. I didn’t hear it go off during my run, but I was pretty in the zone, so that’s no real surprise.

Unknown: Hi.

That’s what the first message reads, and I pinch my brows together, annoyed. I don’t recognize the number, and there’s not much I can discern from a two-letter word.

Then, my phone buzzes against my hand.

Unknown: Wow. That was stupid. I realize you probably have no idea who this is, huh?

And I still don’t.

Unknown: It’s Hollis.

Unknown: From the wedding.

Unknown: Harper and Collin’s wedding.

Unknown: I’m Harper’s sister, Hollis.

I smile as she overexplains and replace myself just the tiniest bit bothered that she really thinks I could possibly forget her.

I couldn’t forget her if I tried, and trust me, I did.

Me: Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. I don’t remember anyone named Hollis from Harper and Collin’s wedding.

Me: Wait—is that you, darlin’?

Hollis: In case you’re wondering, I am hardcore glaring at you right now.

Me: Noted.

Hollis: Collin gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.

Me: I don’t.

And that’s the truth. I don’t mind.

In fact, I’m glad Collin gave her my number. I can’t even count the number of times I wanted to ask him for it and stopped myself from doing it.

Me: But I am surprised to be hearing from you.

Hollis: Given how we left things, I’m sure.

I’m not certain if that’s a dig for how I slipped out before she woke, but it makes me feel guilty either way.

Hollis: Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

As surprised as I was to see her text pop up on my phone, this surprises me even more.

Do I want to have dinner with her? Yes. But I should tell her no, should tell her I’m busy or seeing someone, should remind her that the night we shared was a one-time thing.

I shouldn’t be playing this dangerous game with her.

But…I want to. I really, really want to.

My fingers fly over the screen, and I hit send before I can take it all back.

Me: Yes.

I step out of my truck and toss my keys to the valet.

He looks at me like I’m insane.

“Uh, sir?”

“Put it under Lowell.”

His eyes widen, recognizing the name.

“Yes, sir,” he mutters, dipping his head and rushing to the driver’s side of my beat-up truck that I truly have no business valet parking.

I slide a hand down my button-up shirt—something I hardly ever wear—and suck in a breath. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but I’m almost nervous to see Hollis.

I shouldn’t be. This isn’t a date or anything. It’s just dinner between two friends who have definitely seen each other naked.

But we’re not friends.

Or lovers.

I have no idea what we are.

This is why this is an absolutely horrible idea. I should leave, should text her and tell her something came up.

But I can’t stop myself from pulling open the door to the restaurant anyway.

It takes me all of two seconds to spot her sitting at the end of the bar. She’s staring at the drink in front of her, her fingers playing with the straw, pushing the ice cubes back and forth.

God, even from the side she’s more beautiful than I remember, and I remember a lot about her. Her brown hair is longer than it was a few months ago, and it’s tied up in a messy, low-hanging bun that looks almost like she just threw it up and also totally intentional at the same time. She’s wearing a flower-print dress paired with a cardigan over her shoulders, leaving a whole lot to the imagination.

As if she can sense my presence, she turns toward the door, and our gazes clash for the first time in months. She looks the same yet different, and I can’t quite place my finger on why.

The corners of her lips tip up just slightly like she’s both happy and sad to see me. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that as I make my way through the restaurant, trying to ignore the stares of the other patrons.

I don’t really go out a lot, and this is a big reason why. People are always staring, talking about me behind their hands, trying to figure out where exactly they know me from, and the hockey fans who do know me don’t always respect boundaries.

But I’m not paying attention to them right now.

The only thing I can focus on is Hollis.

We don’t break eye contact. Not when I slip onto the stool next to her, and not even when the bartender stops in front of us.

“What can I get you?” they ask.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“You got it.”

I stare at her, taking her in because I can’t seem to take my eyes off her.

It’s not that I thought I’d never see her again. She’s Harper’s sister; I knew we’d be running into one another at some point. I just didn’t think I’d see her again not on neutral ice.

Without thinking too much about it, I lean forward and press a quick kiss to her cheek. I don’t miss her sharp inhale at the innocent gesture.

But it’s not innocent. We both know that.

When I lean back, I still can’t stop staring at her.

She shifts under my gaze, the smile on her lips growing shy as her cheeks turn pink. “What?” she asks, almost like she’s nervous.

“Nothing. Just…it’s good to see you.”

She blows out a breath, taking the straw of her drink back between her fingers. “You say that now.”

I tip my head in question, not understanding what she’s meaning, but I don’t have the option to ask because the bartender slides my drink to me, pulling us both from the moment.

“Thanks,” I say to them.

“No problem. Would you like to place an order for your dinner, or did you need a moment?”

“I’m…not hungry,” she says, her lips curling upward.

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “Positive. I’ve been…sick recently. I’m still not feeling the best.”

“Not even some French fries?”

Her eyes light up when I say it. “Actually, those do sound good.”

“Two orders of fries, please,” I tell the bartender. “One with bacon and cheese.”

Hollis lurches forward next to me, a hand covering her mouth like she’s about to vomit at the mere mention of it.

I catch her by the hip to stop her from falling off the stool. “Are you okay?”

She nods, still not moving her hand from her mouth. “The ba—” Another lurch. “No bacon. Please.”

“Okay, yeah. No bacon.” I nod at the bartender, who seems to understand what’s going on, then look back at Hollis. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re not up to this, we can get together some other time.”

She shakes her head, moving her hand from her mouth and sucking in a few deep breaths. “No, I’m okay. We need to do this tonight.”

“Do what tonight? It’s just dinner.”

She winces. “It’s not just dinner though.”

“O…kay.” I draw the word out, completely confused by what’s going on right now.

I wait for her to fill me in, but she doesn’t. She turns her attention back to the drink in front of her, plunging the straw into the ice cubes that haven’t melted yet.

I take a sip of my own drink and pull a face. “Ugh. What the hell is this?”

“Sparkling water.”

“That is definitely not what I was expecting,” I say, setting the cup down, reminding myself to ask the bartender for a real drink. “Tastes like ass.”

She grins at that, then just as quickly as the smile appeared, it’s gone. She’s acting strange and fidgeting way too much for my liking.

Something is definitely up.

“What’s going on, Hollis?”

She opens her mouth to speak, then snaps it back closed, shaking her head.

I’m starting to grow frustrated with her non-answers. I’m about to ask her just what the fuck is going on when the bartender sets the two baskets of fries between us.

Much to Hollis’ horror—and mine—they forgot to leave off the bacon.

The moment the basket is on the counter, she slaps her hand over her mouth and charges toward the restrooms, knocking into not one but two waiters on her way through.

It takes me several seconds to catch up to what’s happening before I take off after her to make sure she’s okay. I burst into the women’s restroom, not caring who else might be in there, and replace her hunched over a toilet emptying her stomach.

Whatever sickness she had, she definitely still has it.

I curl my hand around hers, taking over holding her hair back for her as she continues to get it all out. When the last of her dry heaves subside, I let her go and help her to her feet. She turns into my arms, burying her face in my chest.

I just hold her.

Even when she begins to cry, I still hold her. Whatever is going on, it’s breaking her…and it’s breaking me to see her like this.

When her sobs die down, she pushes away from me, then wipes at her midnight eyes. Just from the look in them, I have a feeling whatever is about to come out of her mouth is going to wreck me.

“I’m pregnant.”

My heart drops straight to the floor.

When she asked me to dinner, I didn’t think she was asking me so she could tell me she’s pregnant.

The scariest part of it all is that I know she’s telling me because it involves me.

Even still, I can’t help the words that leave my mouth next.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. The doctor confirmed it this morning. I—”

“No,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “Are you sure?”

Her eyes narrow. “You better not be asking me what I think you’re asking me, Lowell.”

I don’t answer.

Her nostrils flare, and she shoves at my chest so hard I stumble backward out of the stall. She follows, her eyes nearly black, shaking her head as she heads to the sink.

“Am I sure? Are you serious?”

Again, I say nothing.

“Get out!” she screams, shoving at me again. “Go!”

But I don’t get out. I don’t go.

I can’t.

I’m stuck here in this spot trying to figure out how the hell this happened.

Done with me, she throws her hands up and moves to the sink. She loads her hands up with soap and scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, all while muttering about what an ass I am.

I am an ass. I’m an ass who somehow got my one-night stand pregnant, then questioned if the baby is mine knowing full well it is.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

She shuts the water off, then grabs a paper towel, drying her hands.

She turns, glaring at me. “Do you have anything to say?”

“I…I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t understand how this happened. I used a condom. I always use a condom.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, clearly condoms aren’t always foolproof.”

They aren’t, and they especially aren’t if they’ve been tampered with.

I don’t voice the concern, mostly because I feel sick for even thinking it. Hollis would never do that.

She tosses the paper towel in the trash, then folds her arms over her chest, watching me and waiting. I don’t know what she’s waiting for because I don’t know what to say right now.

This isn’t…this isn’t how this was supposed to go.

Just one night. That’s it.

Not this. Never this.

“What, Lowell? Nothing to say?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something other than Are you sure because that’s about as much as you’ve said about the whole thing.”

“I’m just…in shock right now. I haven’t seen you in months and then you just show up and announce to me that you’re pregnant and I’m just…trying to process it is all.”

“Haven’t seen me in months? You’re the one who left me in bed!”

“You knew the rules,” I say, and it’s exactly the wrong thing to say.

She snaps her head back like I’ve slapped her with my words.

“Knew the rules?” She scoffs. “Yeah, I guess I did know them. But guess what, Lowell? The rules have changed. The game has changed. I’m pregnant whether you like it or not, and I’m having this baby whether you like it or not. If you don’t want to be involved, just say so, but don’t stand there and act like this is all my fault and I did it on purpose to trap you or something.”

I swallow the bile that swims up my throat. She doesn’t know how close she is to exactly what happened to me with Celine. Get pregnant, get married, get my money—that was the plan.

I don’t know who Hollis was with before me. I don’t know if she was with someone after me. And while I don’t think Hollis would do what Celine did, there are too many variables to form an opinion right now, especially when in reality, I don’t actually know her all that well.

“Oh my god.” Her mouth drops open. “That’s what you think, isn’t it? You think I planned this, don’t you? Think it was a scheme I cooked up or something.” She takes a step toward me, her nose nearly touching mine. “Well, guess what, buddy? I didn’t want this, and I especially didn’t want it with you.”

She shoves past me and out of the restroom, leaving me standing there wondering just what in the fuck I’m going to do.