Consider Me (Playing For Keeps Book 1)

CARTER

I’VE SEEN Adam cry twice. Once when his adoptive grandma passed and he couldn’t make it home to Colorado in time to say good-bye, and two years ago when we lost in the Conference Finals. He’s someone who puts too much pressure on himself to be better than he is, which is insane, because he is without a doubt the best, most compassionate guy I’ve ever met.

And he deserves a thousand times better than this.

His blue eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed, his dark curls a mess when he climbs into the front seat, raking his hands through them. “Thanks, man.” His knees won’t stop bouncing, and he scrubs his palms over his thighs in an attempt to still them. “I’m really sorry.”

“Do not apologize for this.”

“You haven’t seen Olivia all week. I know how excited you were to have an uninterrupted weekend with her. You flew home early to be with her.”

“And now I’m here with you.” I hold his gaze as it wavers. “I’m here whenever you need me, no matter what, Adam. We gotta take care of each other.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He cringes. “Shit. Got it. No more apologizing. Sorry.” He sighs. “Fuck.”

I clap his shoulder before I back down the driveway. “You want a drink?”

“I want ten.”

That’s how we wind up at some dive bar tucked away from the hustle of downtown. By some stroke of luck, no Canadian teams are playing tonight, which means the bar is relatively quiet for a Saturday night. The few old men sitting around the bar top, eyes glued to TVs overhead, barely spare us a glance as we head to a booth in the back corner.

Adam’s two beers deep when he opens his mouth and starts talking.

“I should’ve known. I did know. I mean, I think on some level I knew.” Shoving his fingers through his hair, he shakes out his curls. “Things were fine in the off-season, you know? We spent every day together. We got Bear,” he says about his pup. “Things started to change as soon as the season started back up.” He tosses the rest of his beer back and Garrett immediately refills it for him from the pitcher. “Is it my fault? Is the hockey too much? Maybe I didn’t give her enough attention.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” My hand is braced between us, the words out of my mouth before I know what I’m doing. But Adam’s fault? Fuck that. I’ve known this guy since he stepped off the plane at nineteen, and Courtney came with him. He’s been nothing but doting and attentive. “You’re the best guy I know. Better than these tools—” I thumb at Garrett and Emmett, their heads bobbing in agreement, “—and definitely better than me. You’re nice as hell, funny as shit, and you’ve always treated that girl like a queen. Whatever happened here isn’t your fault.”

What I’m not saying is that the hockey definitely isn’t too much. Courtney’s been with him since they were seventeen. She knows this life like the back of her hand, and if anything, the hockey’s been what’s, unfortunately, kept her hanging on. Adam’s got a net worth that’s slowly creeping toward nine figures, and it’s damn well deserved. He was a first-round draft pick, the goalie everyone wanted, and we were the lucky team that got him.

I don’t know when Courtney stopped realizing how lucky she was.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for the umpteenth time tonight. “What happened last weekend with you and Ollie, I shouldn’t have let it go so easily. I just…I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that whatever happened, she wasn’t in her right mind.”

“I get it, man. I do. You wanted to hang on to what you had.” I can’t imagine it’s easy to say good-bye to seven years, no matter the circumstances.

“At the same time,” Emmett adds, “you need to recognize the reality of what’s happening, what’s been happening, and respect yourself enough to make a decision that’s going to benefit you. You need to be selfish here. What do you want? What do you need?”

“Oh, I told her to get the fuck out,” Adam says with a dark, albeit tired, chuckle, the weathered red vinyl cracking as he sinks farther back into the booth. “Told her she needs to be gone by the time I get home tonight.”

“Fucking right,” I accidentally say out loud, then cringe. “Sorry.” I can’t stand watching my friend get treated like that, like he’s disposable. The irony isn’t lost on me that I used to treat girls as such before I met Olivia.

“I won’t let her walk all over me.” Adam spins his glass around his finger, eyeing a spot on the table before flicking his gaze back up. There’s resolve there, resignation. It’s a little sad, but mostly, he seems at peace. “Anymore.”

Things are well on their way to wild by the time the first hour wraps up. Half our team is here now, and I can count eleven empty pitchers on the giant table we’ve relocated to.

I stopped after my second beer and I’m not entirely sure why, other than that somebody’s gotta drive these clowns home and this whole thing has sobered me up. I don’t mean alcohol-wise.

I mean, all I want to do is hold on to everything good I have with Olivia, every bit of heaven I find in her, in us. Because what if one day it’s gone? What if one day is the end, though I swear the end will never come? What if she gets tired of the traveling, tired of being alone too often? What if she decides that there’s someone who can love her better than I can?

There fucking isn’t, I’ll tell you that right now. And I guess all I wanna do is get home and show her every reason why she’ll never need another man for the rest of her life.

My phone vibrates on the table, and I smile at the picture Olivia’s sent me, a response to me asking what she ordered for dinner. She tried to shove my credit card back into my chest three times before I walked out the door tonight, only finally letting me stick it down the back pocket of her jeans when I told her I was gonna be hungry when I got home, so I needed her to order dinner for me. It was a half lie. There’s been an endless supply of food on this table since we got here, as I knew there would be, but fuck knows I’ll be hungry later.

And Olivia’s beautiful, silly face is grinning up at me from my phone as she drops what looks like pad Thai into her mouth, so I’m gonna gobble the fuck out of that when I get home.

If you’re wondering if I’m talking about the food or Olivia, the simple and obvious answer is both. C’mon, don’t you know me by now?

Adam’s chin lands on my shoulder, his breath warm on my cheek, heavy on the beer and whiskey he’s been pounding as he checks out the picture. “She’s a good one, Beckett. Don’t let her go.” Then he whirls around, throws one arm in the air, and screams, “Another round of shots!”

The entire bar erupts. Yes, the entire bar. Adam’s been buying shots for every person in here. But I’m not going to let him pay a thing on a night like tonight, so that means I’m buying another round.

Thankfully, once it’s handed out, Adam suggests we take the party back to his house. It’s probably a good idea; we’re garnering a lot of attention now and the bar is getting packed. I suspect the video of Adam standing on the bar with a shot glass in hand as he made a toast that roughly—and much more respectfully—translated to bros before hoes has already gone viral. That may explain why a group of half-dressed females just walked into this dive, making the eyes at us.

I pay the tab before anybody can consider taking one of these girls up on their offer or inviting them back to Adam’s, and I load my SUV up with drunk assholes, stuffing the rest into Ubers. Adam and Garrett are whining nonstop about pizza, so I grab three party sizes on the way.

Adam bursts through his front door with a steaming slice in both hands, singing “Highway to Hell” of all songs as his cute-as-hell pup comes racing. Adam manages to scoop him up without letting go of his pizza, even though Bear, a Tibetan Mastiff, has gotta be at least eighty pounds by now at seven months old.

He comes to a dead stop at the edge of his living room. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Courtney responds nonchalantly from where she’s sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, bowl of popcorn in her lap. She takes a sip from her glass of wine without looking up at us and turns the volume up on the TV.

“Not any-fucking-more you don’t.”

Adam shoves his pizza and dog into my chest, storming into the living room, fists on his hips as he steps in front of Courtney. I set everything down, because Bear is simultaneously trying to lick my face and eat the pizza.

“Could you move? You’re blocking my view.”

Adam’s jaw slams shut. There’s a pulsing vein in his neck that looks dangerously close to bursting. There’s a part of me that wouldn’t mind seeing it, if only because Courtney’s reaction to being covered in blood would be so fucking worth it. But I’d prefer my friend doesn’t die, so I reach over the back of the couch, pluck the remote from her lap, and turn the TV off.

“He asked you to leave.”

Courtney spins, gaze ferocious when it hits mine. “Stay the hell out of this. It’s none of your business, Carter.”

“You hurt my best friend and now you’re sitting here, continuing to hurt him, so, yeah, it is my business.” I round the couch, stepping between them as Adam shoves his fingers through his hair. “Get a bag together and leave. We’ll arrange to have the rest of your stuff packed and dropped off to you.”

Maybe I’m overstepping; I don’t know. All I know is this girl needs to go before Adam loses it. Drunk and angry is never a good combination.

Courtney springs to her feet. “Adam, this is fucking ridiculous! Tell Carter to leave me alone!”

“You need to go,” he whispers. “Now, Courtney.”

“This is no big deal! This is stupid! You’re never home! What am I supposed to do?”

Is she for fucking real right now? I can’t handle this. Neither can anyone else, that much is clear by the way Garrett crushes the corner of one pizza box, Emmett’s grip on the kitchen counter tightening until his knuckles turn white. The rest of our teammates filter into the house, somehow coherent enough to quiet down and pretend like they aren’t witnesses to this train wreck.

“Get out,” Adam repeats. “My house, not yours.” Courtney reaches for the dog and Adam guffaws, stepping in front of her. “My dog, not yours. You don’t feed him. You don’t walk him. You don’t do shit. Get. Out.”

She throws her arms in the air. “Where the hell should I go, asshole?”

He holds both hands in front of his face like he’s had the most fantastic revelation. “Oh, here’s a thought! How ’bout the guy whose dick you were bouncing on three hours ago in my fucking bed?”

I try to stifle my laugh; I really do. But my body does a little shake before I bend forward, and that chuckle somehow slips past my lips. It’s contagious apparently, because the rest of the guys follow suit, and even Adam cracks a smile.

“You’re an asshole!” Courtney screeches.

“Well, that’s rich.” Adam chuckles. “I’m an asshole because I’m not going to house the woman who cheated on me?”

“I fucking hate you!”

“Yeah, likewise.” Hurt flashes across his eyes. “This thing between us is done, which is what you wanted, clearly. And now you need to leave.”

“Adam,” she begs. The tears sure look real, I’ll give her that. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“Too late.”

The two of them disappear into the garage, and the guys start digging into the pizza and finding the beer in the fridge, drowning out the shouts. Adam emerges, heading straight upstairs, and comes down a few minutes later with a suitcase that he takes into the garage. Two minutes later, Courtney’s tires screech as she peels down the street.

“You good?” I clap a hand to his back as he leans on the kitchen counter. Garrett offers him a beer and Emmett thrusts a plate of pizza in his face.

“I will be. Thanks for being here, guys.” He rolls up a slice of pizza, shoves the whole thing in his mouth, and washes it down with an entire beer. “Now let’s get fucking toasted.”

I plant myself on the couch as I watch these goons get crazy, laughing at their antics as I drain bottle after bottle of water.

“You’re not drinking.” Emmett flops down beside me. “You know, you live close enough to walk home.”

“I know.”

“Don’t wanna be drunk when you get home to your girl?”

“Not really.” If she’s still awake by then. It’s after ten and she’s been home alone all night. There’s a good chance she’s already in bed, so I shoot off a text to check.

“Ollie would never do that to you,” Emmett assures me quietly, like he knows it’s what I need to hear. “Never.”

“I know.” And truly, I do. She would never cheat on me or intentionally hurt me. But that doesn’t mean she’ll always be happy with me, that she’ll never leave. “I just don’t want to ever lose her.”

“Time to drop to your knees and beg her to never leave then.” He hits me with a loopy grin and a wink before scooting off the couch.

It’s perfect timing. Not only do I get a response from Olivia, I get a photo of her in the bath, up to her neck in bubbles, a goofy, sleepy smile on her face and a beer in one hand.

Me: ur so beautiful, baby. now aim the camera a wee bit lower.

I get a picture of her feet next, painted toes peeking out of the bubbly water.

Me: cheeky girls get punished.

The next picture has me shooting up where I sit, slamming my phone against my chest in case anyone happens to be looking over my shoulder. Because the swell of Olivia’s breasts sit on top of the foamy water, her slender, creamy neck on display as her head tips backward, eyes closed and mouth open in what looks a fuckload like a moan. And I’m sitting here at a fucking sausage fest.

“You can go home, man.” Adam slings his arms around my shoulders from behind. “Olivia’s waiting for you.”

“What? What’s that mean? Did you see the picture? Oh fuck.” My balls are gonna be gone. Separated from my body. Gone.

Adam’s face scrunches. “Picture? I didn’t see anything. What kinky shit are you two up to?”

“Oh.” My shoulders deflate. “Nothing. And I’m good here. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

“Dude, I promise you, I’m fine. You got me out of the house, got me drunk, fed me.” He swings an arm out behind him, gesturing at the mess of guys, pizza, and beer. “I’m good. Seriously. Go be with your girl. I know you missed her. You’ve been whining all damn week.”

“You sure?” I don’t want to leave if he needs me to stay, but despite the colossal disaster this afternoon was for him, he looks happy. And drunk.

“Hundred percent.” He hoists me up, ushering me toward the front door. “We’ll keep you updated on any stupid shit that happens here tonight.”

“Nothing too stupid.” Fuck, when did I grow up?

He holds two fingers up and nods. “Plomise.”

“Did you say plomise and not promise?” I laugh at the guilty look on his face. “Be good.”

And with that, I’m gone. The smile on my face is soft and genuine when I walk into my house. A warm glow floats down the stairs along with the sound of John Mayer, and I rush up to my bedroom, peeling my clothes off along the way.

In the doorway, I stop at the sight before me. My gorgeous girl is sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with her back to me, the throw blanket from my bed pooled around her hips. Her wet hair is draped over her back, droplets of water shining on her skin in the warmth of the roaring fire, a book in one hand while she hums along with the music.

Somehow, I manage to snap a picture before I walk in there. And when I do, I sink to my knees behind the body I worship, the soul that lights mine on fire, the woman who possesses every single bit of my heart.

“Carter.” Olivia gasps when I press my lips to her neck. Her book clatters to the floor when her arm shoots back, fingers running through my hair.

“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

With a soft giggle, she twists to look at me. “And you’re naked. When did you get naked?”

“On the way up here.”

Olivia reaches forward before I can, sealing her mouth to mine. Her tongue sweeps inside, deep and welcome, and my hand slides along her jaw, cupping her face as my heart thrashes wildly against my sternum.

“Can I show you something, Ollie girl?” I whisper against her lips.

She strokes two fingers down the side of my face. “Of course, Carter. What do you want to show me?”

Leaning my forehead against hers, I lay her wet hair over her shoulder before kissing her lips once more. My next breath rocks me to my core, and yet not as much as my next words do.

“I want to show you how much I love you.”