Playing for Keeps: A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Hot Jocks Book 1)
Playing for Keeps: Chapter 27

“Pass the salsa?” Becca asks in an overly sweet voice from the far end of the table.

With a sigh, I obey, picking up the bowl and carrying it down to her. We’re all over at Teddy’s for a poker night. It used to be a regular thing, but we haven’t gotten together to play for a while now. And while it’d normally be something I looked forward to, tonight I almost hadn’t come. First, because Elise is here, and we haven’t spoken in three days. Not since the key incident, as I’ve started calling it. And second, I haven’t been able to talk to Owen about any of this. Which sucks almost just as much. We’ve pretty much avoided each other, avoided any conversations more serious than grab me a beer, or do you want a ride to practice?

Everything’s been turned upside down, and I know it’s entirely my fault. Her trying to give me a key to her place shouldn’t have freaked me out so bad, but it did. And now here we are.

“You know who else likes salsa?” Becca asks, smiling up at me hopefully. “Elise.”

My lips twitch with a smile. I fell for that pretty damn fast. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me right now,” I say in a low voice. She’d probably rather throw this bowl of salsa in my face than have a conversation with me.

My gaze wanders toward the kitchen where Elise stands with Sara and Bailey. I can’t hear what they’re discussing, but man does she look beautiful. Her hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and there’s a slight blush to her cheeks.

I keep trying to tell myself that I did the right thing. She’s in no place to make decisions about a future relationship. She’s young. I’m the first fucking man she’s been with, there’s no way she could know what she wants. Christ, I’ve sampled all fifty-two flavors at the ice cream shop, and I’m still not sure I could tell you which one was my favorite. Actually that’s a lie.

Elise.

Elise is my favorite.

And it’s not because the sex is good—though it is fucking great—it’s because of the way she makes me feel.

The way she looks at me.

The way she sets my skin on fire.

She’s smart and funny and sweet. And my money and abilities on the ice mean absolutely nothing to her. She liked me when I was a nerdy thirteen-year-old who was awful at checkers and liked only bacon on my pizza. Though, to be fair, I still like bacon on my pizza.

Spending time together was just as enjoyable as the sex we’d been having, but I can’t give more.

Besides, she’s the one who laid down those ground rules that first night I took her home. She wanted a fling, and I was determined to give her exactly what she wanted, because the alternative—some douchey guy in her bed while she sowed her wild oats—was not an alternative I could live with. But I can’t trust myself with her heart, and I can’t trust that she’s ready for commitment like she thinks she is. Fuck, this is hard.

“Justin?” Becca says, still looking up at me, with a hopeful expression.

I realize I’ve just been standing here holding a bowl of salsa for several minutes.

I take a deep breath. “Right. Sorry.”

Gripping the bowl of salsa like it’s a grenade, I wander into the kitchen. Sara and Bailey see me coming before Elise does and they excuse themselves mid-sentence. With a confused expression, Elise’s gaze swings over to mine.

“Oh.” She parts her lips, freezing almost awkwardly, like she knows there’s no polite way to escape the kitchen.

“Hey,” I say softly, stopping right in front of her. “Becca said you might want some salsa.”

It’s a lame attempt at small talk, but fuck, I’m not good at this.

She frowns. “I’m good, thanks.”

Shit.

I set the dish on the counter and meet her eyes. “I didn’t come in here to offer you salsa.”

“No?” she asks, voice sarcastic. “Why did you come in here then?”

I swallow my pride and take a deep breath. “Can we talk? In private?”

Elise’s gaze strays over to Owen. He’s playing a hand of cards and hasn’t noticed us talking. For a moment I think she’s going to refuse me, and I know it’s what I deserve, but damn does that thought sting.

“Please,” I tack on, voice soft.

“Okay,” she says finally. “You have three minutes.”

I’ll take it. “Let’s go out onto the balcony.”

She nods at my suggestion and follows me to the sliding glass doors. It’s cool outside, and she’s not dressed for the weather. But luckily, the portico covers us from the light rain falling from the night sky.

Elise wanders over to the outdoor sofa and tests the cushion to be sure it’s still dry before she takes a seat.

I sit down on the ottoman in front of her, offering a half smile. “So ….”

But Elise is not amused. “If you’ve got something you want to say, say it.”

“I fucked up.” The words are out of my mouth before I can sensor myself.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I fucked up my friendship with Owen. I fucked up my relationship with you….”

Her eyes soften as she looks at me, but she doesn’t deny it.

“And the thing is, I don’t even regret it.”

She studies me without speaking, her eyes intent.

“That doesn’t make sense…what I mean is…You know how you said you had a crush on me way back when? Well, I can’t say I felt that way when you were in middle school because…gross. But later, I’ve been feeling something too. For years now. But I pushed it down because I knew it wouldn’t be simple. It wouldn’t end easy.”

“Maybe it’s okay that things aren’t simple. Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

“But all the risk would be on you. I’m an escape, Elise. Not long-term boyfriend material. You know that as well as I do. I travel half the year for games and public appearances. My schedule is fucked. It would be selfish of me to expect more. So I took what I can—and now look where it’s gotten us.”

“I’ve been happy with where it’s gotten us. I even made you a key—which you spectacularly rejected, by the way.”

“I don’t want to throw away what we have, but I know you deserve someone better.”

At this, Elise leans forward and places her hand on my arm. “There’s no one better than you. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

I know I’m not ready for this to end. But am I ready for more? That’s the million-dollar question.