Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

GARRETT

Jennie’s Valentine’s present is about to be a goddamn Apple Watch so she can’t ignore my text messages anymore.

I’ve never been an impatient or needy kind of guy, and yet here I am, knocking on her door even though she hasn’t responded to a single text with whether I can come over yet. But I leave in two hours and fuck me, I’m coming over.

Though I’m a little shocked to see a smiling blonde greet me on the other side of the door. In fact, I turn all the way around to see if that concussion from November has royally fucked me and I’ve forgotten which side of the hall Jennie lives on.

“You’re in the right place, Casanova.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place,” I blurt, then promptly fold my lips into my mouth. I like Emily, but she’s about as scary as Jennie, and maybe a touch more violent. She could definitely take me if she wanted to. “Why are you here?” Not much better, Garrett. You’ll get ’em next time.

She steps aside, waving me in. “We went for lunch.”

I pause inside the door, midway through kicking off my shoes. “You’re the friend?”

Her grin is triumphant. “I’m the motherfucking friend.” She gathers her things. “I’m taking off. Thanks for hanging with me, Jen!”

Jen?

“Bye, Em!” Jennie calls from the kitchen, humming to the music drifting through the warm space. She smiles over her shoulder. “Hey, big guy. Sorry I didn’t reply earlier. I wanted to make you dinner before you left.” She pops up on her toes and kisses my lips, and I catch sight of the sizzling pan. “Coconut chicken curry over rice.”

“And she cooks too,” I murmur, tasting the spoon she offers. “Mmm, spicy.”

“I always make you food.”

“You always make me bowls of cereal.”

“You like cereal.”

“I like you.”

Jennie’s blush is electric, a rosy flush that climbs her neck like a vine, painting her creamy skin. She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, focusing on the pan. “You also like Flamin’ hot Funyuns, so your judgment is flawed.”

Spying the dishes stacked on the edge of the small dining table, I ask, “Are we being fancy and sitting at the table for dinner?”

Cheeks still aflame, she lifts a lazy shoulder and lets it fall. She peeks sideways as I watch her, then sighs excessively, rolling her eyes. “Stop grinning like a jackass and go set the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I do as I’m told, even set the utensils up the way my gran taught me when I was a kid. Then I crack a fancy bottle of sparkling water, pouring it into champagne flutes and garnishing with lemon wedges.

Hands on my hips, chest puffed with pride, I step back and inspect my table setup. “Nailed it.”

Jennie giggles, shifting the pan to a back burner and turning off the stovetop. The music changes, her favorite song spilling out of the speakers, and she tucks her hair behind her ear before hitting me with a brilliant smile that nearly knocks the breath clean from my lungs.

She shimmies her way across the room and tugs on the pocket of my hoodie, mischief dancing in those overcast eyes. “C’mon, Gare-Bear. Dance with me.”

I hold my hand out, grinning when she slips hers into mine and starts pulling me around the living room. I let her, because, quite frankly, I’d do anything for this woman.

“I think I made a friend today,” she whispers as we sway.

I hug her tight. “I’m happy for you, Jennie.”

“I’m happy for me too.”

I drop my forehead to her shoulder, burying my face in her neck. “Hey, by the way, speaking of friends…there’s something I forgot to mention last night.” I press my lips to her silky skin, either to muffle the words or butter her up with a kiss; one of the two. “Adam knows.”

She pushes back to look at me. “Adam knows what?”

I’d rather not elaborate, so I just give her a look, real wide-eyed and innocent, hoping she’ll go easy on me.

“Garrett.”

“I’m sorry.” I nuzzle her neck. “It was an accident.”

“How did you accidentally let it slip that you like to fuck my mouth on days that end with Y?”

“When you put it that way it sounds a lot more difficult.”

“You’re terrible at keeping secrets,” she scolds but lays her cheek on my chest, snuggling close.

I stroke a hand down her braid. “Jennie?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re my favorite secret.”

She graces me with a detonating grin before pulling my face down to hers. “And you’re mine.”

I thread our fingers together and lift our clasped hands above her head. Jennie spins out, then twirls back into me. I catch her against my chest, chuckling at the unsteady way we sway for a moment before regaining our balance. The hearty sound catches in my throat at the way she peers up at me from beneath her lashes, her smile soft, sheepish.

She’s stunning, a beautiful soul, my best friend even though I wasn’t looking. And as we sway together, the music telling us how quickly we’re falling, how hard, the future that could lie before us if we let it, I realize how difficult the words on the tip of my tongue are becoming to swallow down.

Is she ready?

The look in her eyes tells me she’s afraid, but her fingers tangled in mine tell me she wants to jump, so long as I’ll be here to catch her.

I’ll always be here. Doesn’t she know that?

I sweep her braid over her shoulder and press a kiss right there, feeling her skin heat below my lingering lips. Brushing the pad of my thumb over the swell of her bottom lip, I make her a promise.

“You’re safe with me.”

Something in her eyes shifts, softening, opening. She places her hand over mine, sinking into my touch. “I know.”

Sunshine: If my vagina were a car, what kind of car would it be?

I pull up the search bar and type in the words I’m looking for. When I find an appropriate picture, I forward it to Jennie with the words after I’m done with it.

Her response comes exactly four seconds later.

Sunshine: Did you seriously send me a picture of a wrecked car?

It takes me a solid minute to type out my reply. I’m snickering so much I’m shaking.

Me: Get it? If ur vagina was a car, it’d be WRECKED after I was done with it *crying laughing emoji*

Sunshine: How old are you????

Me: Old enough to know how to wreck ur pussy and then make it feel better.

Sunshine: *eye roll emoji* Get over yourself, you’re not even that good.

Me: I rock ur world, sunshine. Admit it.

Sunshine: Whatever.

Before I can reply, she starts typing again. Over and over those dots wiggle, endlessly for two entire minutes. Then they stop.

I’ve just about given up when a text finally rolls through.

Sunshine: I can’t wait to see you today.

This is my favorite part of my day, lounging in my hotel room, spending these fleeting moments texting with Jennie about nothing before I have to drag myself out of my snug cocoon and start my day, before she heads off to rehearsal.

This past stretch has felt like the longest road trip of my life. Maybe because I know what’s waiting for me, because tomorrow I’m finally going to open my damn mouth and tell Jennie exactly what I want and hope to God it’s what she wants too. I know things are complicated with her brother and her looming job offer, but I’d rather take the leap and commit to figuring it out together than never try. I’m not reckless enough to let her slip through my fingers.

So when our plane takes off forty-five minutes later and I’m munching on my breakfast, all I’m doing is counting the hours until we land, until Jennie’s done with her final rehearsal, and I can watch her bound over to the car when she finds me waiting out front.

“You’re coming,” Carter grumbles the order.

Jaxon groans, pushing his empty tray away. “Dance isn’t even a real sport.”

“The fuck it’s not. Try telling that to my sister and then see if you can backtrack fast enough to avoid getting your ass kicked by a girl. She works out just as much as I do, and I promise you, she can take you.”

“What if I have a date tomorrow night? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Nobody wants to go on a date with you,” I quip, and immediately regret it.

Jaxon’s eyes spark. “What about you, Andersen? You got a date tomorrow?”

“Uh, no. I’ll be at the recital, like everyone else.”

“The night is long. Nobody you’re hanging out with later?”

I frown so hard it hurts, and scratch at my temple, squinting. “Nope. Can’t think of anyone.”

“Really? Not a single person? Wow.” Jaxon’s drawl is as irritating as his smirk, and I flip him the bird when Carter glances down at his phone. “Hey, Beckett. I heard your sister is close with her dance partner. They a thing?”

“Ha.” Carter sticks his hand in his box of Oreo O’s. “Jennie wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

“It’s inevitable they’d give it a go at least once, no? Dancing’s so intimate, and they’ve been together for years.

There’s a twitch in my left eye, and my pulse thunders in my neck.

Carter crushes his cereal in his fist before shoveling it in his mouth. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’d let her date you before I’d let her date him.”

“You don’t get to pick who she dates,” Adam reminds him. “Jennie’s an adult.”

“Wouldn’t the main thing be her happiness?” I add as casually as I can manage. “No matter who she’s with? Even if it’s Simon.” Simon’s face is gonna meet my fist if he ever tries to touch her without her consent again.

Carter looks out the window. “She’s not interested in a relationship, so this conversation is pointless.”

My nape prickles. “What?”

“She’s not ready.” His eyes meet mine, conveying without words what he’s referring to. But I also think he’s wrong.

“Maybe she is now.”

“She’s not.”

“Did she say that?” Emmett asks. “Or are you assuming? Sometimes sisters prefer to not tell their excessively overprotective brothers about their sex lives.”

“I’m not assuming anything. She said it just a couple days ago when we were at Hank’s. He asked her when she was going to be ready to let someone in, and she said she didn’t feel like committing to anything or anyone right now. Didn’t want to be tied down, and didn’t see a reason to make any changes when she’s happy as is. We don’t lie to each other.”

The heat of Adam and Jaxon’s stares burn into my face. Both hold sympathy, but I don’t need it. I’m right about Jennie.

That’s what I tell myself for the next four hours, but each mile we fly closer to Vancouver has me more uncertain than the last, and I hate that I’ve gone from confident to second-guessing in the same morning. We lose Wi-Fi halfway through the flight, so even if Jennie wasn’t busy with Simon, I still wouldn’t be able to get a response.

Adam claps my shoulder as I walk through the parking lot, head down, waiting for service to return as I bury my face in my phone.

“Don’t let what Carter said back there bother you. Just talk to her. I’m sure you’re both on the same page.”

“Right.” I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure we are.”

Cranking both the ignition and heat, I wait for my phone to connect to my car, fingers tapping on the heated steering wheel. When it finally connects, it buzzes and dings, over and over, and a knot clenches between my shoulders at the notifications waiting for me.

Eight missed calls and twelve texts. All from my sisters.

I hit the most recent call, Gabby’s soft sniffles quickly filling my car, the fear in her voice thick and shaky, making me want to jump right back on a plane.

“Garrett,” she whimpers. “I’m scared. I want you to come home.”

“What’s wrong, Gabs?”

“Mom and Dad got in a fight.”

“A fight? Is everyone okay?”

“They were screaming and Alexa made me and Stephie come into her room.”

“Is everyone okay?” I repeat.

“I don’t know, Garrett!” Her sobs pierce the air and my heart squeezes in my chest.

“Where’s Alexa? Let me talk to her.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose while I wait. My parents fought a lot when I was a kid, but the source was always my dad’s drinking. Since the girls have come along and my dad’s been sober, things are different. I can’t pretend to know all that happens from across the country, but every time I’m home, they’re a happy family, and I feel a little bit left on the outside.

“Garrett?”

“Lex. What’s going on?”

“Can you come home? Please?”

“I can’t come home. Not right now. You know that.”

“Hockey’s always more important to you than we are!” Alexa’s voice trembles with each ragged breath, her telltale sign she’s trying not to cry, barely hanging on.

“Alexa,” I coax gently. “You’re upset and overwhelmed right now; I can hear that. I’m tied to a contract with my job. That means I can’t jump on a plane and fly home whenever I want to. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or that you aren’t important to me. I do love you, and you guys are the most important things in my life.”

“That’s not true. If it was, you wouldn’t always leave us.”

“Lex—”

“No! You’re never here when we need you! I…I…” The dam breaks, and through Alexa’s sobs, I still hear the way she chokes out her next words before she hangs up on me. “I hate you!”

“For fuck’s sake.” I scrub my hand over my face, then my chest, right where it fucking hurts. I tap on my mom’s contact, and the call connects on the first ring. “Mom? What’s going on? The girls are upset, and they said you and Dad had a fight.”

“Garrett,” Mom cries softly. “He left.”

“Left? What do you mean he left?”

“We had a fight, and he just…he…walked out.”

My mind races to process her words, but before I truly can, she adds on a whisper, “He took a bottle of whiskey with him.”

As I pace my living room, I try my dad’s number over and over, each time hoping for a different outcome. It’s always the same: straight to voice mail. I leave one each time, until it tells me his mailbox is full.

I try the only other person I want to talk to. She’s always been the one that’s needed me, but right now, I think I need her. To talk me down, to tell me my dad won’t relapse, that he’s stronger than that, that he’s not going to put my sisters through the same thing he put me through, that he isn’t going to drag my mom—and himself—through this all over again.

Except she can’t make those promises. None of those choices are hers to make, and the only person who gets to decide how this plays out is my dad.

I just need her here, need her hand in mine to remember that good things happen, that it doesn’t always need to be so fucking rainy when you’ve got a sun that shines so bright.

But Jennie’s phone goes straight to voice mail too.