Those Three Little Words

“Dude, what the fuck is going on?” Posey whispers as we sit on the bench, watching another loss unfold in front of us. “Your head isn’t in the game.”

It’s not.

I’ve tried so fucking hard to prepare for tonight, to mentally get to where I need to, but I can’t seem to push past my worries where Penny and the baby are concerned. My conversation with Penny last night hit me hard, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. I voiced my concerns, and now that they’re out there in the world, I’m scared.

This morning, Penny and I ate breakfast sandwiches together that I picked up from the coffee shop around the corner. She asked me questions about the game, everything felt normal from the outside looking in, but it’s not normal. Nothing is fucking normal.

Because what I realized very quickly is that I like this girl. I really fucking like her, and I don’t think I can do anything about it. I’m not relationship material, I wouldn’t even know how to be in one if I was, but being this close to Penny, clinging to her every night, leaning on her for help? It’s making me think. It’s making me want . . . more.

I want to be a better man.

I want to be an amazing father.

I want to be an equal partner in this parenting adventure.

And fuck me . . . I want Penny.

And that’s the problem. I can’t have all those things, especially Penny. I would be too damn scared to lose her. Too damn nervous to see her slip through my fingers.

That’s what’s been playing in my head all day.

That’s why I can’t get it together on the ice to save my life, and that’s exactly why we’re down by two goals, with a minute left in the game.

Coach pulled my line, and I don’t fucking blame him. We’ve been playing like shit. He’s been pacing the back of the bench, a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand, ready to strike any second. I can feel his anger beating down on me.

Why are you fucking up, Hornsby?

Because I can’t get my head on straight.

I press my hand to my forehead. “I’m all kinds of fucked up,” I say to Posey.

“Dude, we need to talk after this if we have any chance of staying in this series.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The countdown begins, we all know we lost, and when the final buzzer sounds, the disappointed fans hang their heads low as they trudge up the stairs and out to their cars while we, the team, collectively gather our shit and head into the locker room.

We’re flying to Washington tonight. Coach wanted to get us there as soon as possible to get adjusted, and I’m sure it will be a silent-as-shit flight.

There isn’t much talking in the locker room. We all know where we went wrong. We all know where we need to improve. The only thing that is said is from Coach when he pokes his head into the locker room and tells us we have “forty-five fucking minutes to get our asses on the team bus” that will take us to the airport. Would we have preferred to drive ourselves? Take our time? Of course, but we aren’t afforded that luxury when we lose like we did.

We all put it into high gear and strip down, take showers, and pack up. Our gear will be rank when we open it up tomorrow because it didn’t have time to dry. Lucky equipment managers. Since I don’t have to do much after the game, I spend a little more time under the pounding water of the shower and then fit myself into my suit, which is the last fucking thing I want to put on right now.

I don’t mind the tradition of wearing a suit before and after the game. Still, after a brutal loss and everything hanging so heavily over my head, I just want to slip into a pair of sweatpants and then cuddle into Penny under her silky sheets.

“Meet me on the bus,” Posey says. “We have some talking to do.”

Great.

Just what I want to do.

Talk more.

I pack up, place my bag over my shoulder, and head out of the locker room behind a couple of guys only to hear my name called. Normally, I wouldn’t look up, but I know that voice.

Penny.

I pause and turn around to find her standing against the wall wearing that shirt again, the one with my name on the back. An instant flood of relief and comfort pulses through me as I walk over to her.

“Sorry about the loss,” she says when I move in only a foot away.

“I played like absolute shit,” I reply.

“We all have our bad days.”

“I’ve been having quite a few.”

“It’s been done before, Eli, a win when you’re down like this. There’s still hope.”

“I know.” I blow out a heavy breath and reach out to take her hand in mine. She lets me, thankfully. “Are you good? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I know you guys are leaving, so I wanted to catch you before you left. I have something for you.”

“You do?” I ask.

She nods and then opens her purse and pulls out a bag of gummy bears. “Just in case you don’t have any for the away trip.”

I take the bag from her and stare down at the ridiculous candy that has been a huge part of my game since my mom gave me my first bag. I then wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Penny. This means a lot to me.”

She hugs me back, the warmth of her body something I desperately wish I could bottle and use whenever I’m feeling lonely or afraid. “Of course.” She pulls away and pats me on the chest. “Now, stop losing and go give us a win.”

I chuckle. “If only it were that easy.” I let out a heavy sigh.

“Is everything okay with you, Eli? I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to hear, but you really didn’t seem like yourself out there.”

“I know. Just lost in my head right now. Posey wants to talk about it on the bus, so . . . mentally preparing for that conversation.”

“Well, if there’s anything you need from me, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” I say. God, I wish I could kiss her. I wish I could curl her into me, lift her chin, and taste her lips one more time. I wish I could show her the affection that pulses through me whenever I see her, rather than holding back and opting only for a hug. I wish I could walk out to the bus, holding her hand, and give her a kiss goodbye like I see the other wives and girlfriends do. But I don’t have that privilege. I’ll never have that privilege, and one day I’ll see Penny in another man’s arms as a result. Fuck. “I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good.” She takes a step back. “Safe flight, Eli.”

Because I can’t seem to get this girl out of my head, I close the space between us one more time, and I hug her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“See ya, Penny.”

I release her, and when I turn around, my stomach nearly drops to the floor as I spot Pacey, standing outside the locker room, staring back at us.

Fuck.

“IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK,” I say when I get on the bus and take a seat next to Pacey in the very back. “Nothing is going on between us. I swear, dude.”

He keeps his gaze straight ahead, staring at the seat in front of him. “You care for her.”

It’s not a question. It’s more of a statement. And from the stillness of his body and the direct way he’s making sure not to make eye contact with me, I honestly can’t tell if he’s angry or not.

So I tread carefully.

“I do. I care about her a lot. She’s the mother of my child, Pacey. I don’t take that lightly.”

There’s no response. Just staring.

Sweat forms on the back of my neck, and I attempt to figure out how to navigate this.

“Pacey, she was just giving me—”

He turns toward me. “Do you like her?”

Yes.

A lot.

I like her more than I should.

“It’s, uh . . . it’s complicated,” I answer.

“How is that complicated? It’s either a yes or a no.”

“It’s complicated because you’re her brother and my best friend, that’s why.”

“If I were out of the picture, what would your answer be?”

“But you’re not. You’re right here, completely in the picture.”

His nostrils flare. “Stop avoiding the fucking question and answer it.”

I turn away, watching the other guys climb onto the bus, clearly avoiding the back of the bus where tensions are high.

I bite down on my lip and then say, “If you weren’t in the picture, yeah, I’d allow myself to like her, but I told myself I wouldn’t go there. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

“Does she like you?”

I grip the gummy bear package that’s in my hands as I think about the other night, hell, the last week. The way she’d touch me, smile . . . cuddle in close. How she’d tease me with her outfits, flirt with me in her texts, and smile at me when we watched Ozark together. Our late-night conversations, our confessions . . . how close we’ve become. She’s the first person I think about texting when I have news, and she’s the only person I want to hear right before I go to bed.

“I think she does,” I say quietly.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him slowly nodding.

“But I’m not doing anything about it.” Besides dry-humping her one night, but we don’t have to get into that. “I know she’s off limits, man.”

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out his headphones. Before he puts them over his head, he says, “Don’t let me get in the way of anything.” He then looks at me. “But if you fucking hurt her, you’re dead to me, got it?”

And then he silences me by putting his headphones on and starts typing on his phone.

Uh, what just happened?

Did he just give me permission to explore things with Penny? That can’t possibly be right . . . can it?

I want to tap him on the shoulder and ask him what he means by that, but he’s shut down, and I know if I push him, it might not be good for me in the long run. So I lift from the seat and move to where Posey is sitting and sit next to him.

“Do I want to even ask what you two were talking about?”

I shake my head and whisper, “I think he just gave me permission to be with Penny.”

“That doesn’t seem like him.” Posey looks over his shoulder to the back of the bus. “Is he running a fever?”

“I don’t know. He caught me in the hallway with Penny.” Posey gives me a look. “We weren’t doing anything but talking. And sure, I hugged her, but that was it.” It wasn’t it. Not really. I needed her hug like I needed my next breath. Just like it always is for me. “He asked if I liked her.”

“Do you?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, and I think that’s what’s fucking with my head. I’ve never really felt like this before, man, toward anyone, and I don’t know how to process that.”

“That’s what’s been going on? You have feelings for a girl, and you don’t know what to do?”

“Yeah. We both agreed we don’t want to be in a relationship, but I swear to God, Posey, every day I spend with her, I feel like I could try a relationship with her.” Are we not almost in one anyway? Living together, sharing meals together, talking about and doing life together. Isn’t that what a relationship is?

Posey slowly nods. “That’s the problem, though, man. She’s not the kind of girl you try something out on. Either you’re all the way in, or you’re out. There’s no in-between.”

Unfortunately, I know he’s right. Penny isn’t a guinea pig for my lack of dating. She’s isn’t someone I should test the waters with. She’s the long-term girl you commit to, and I just don’t know if I’m the man who can commit.

“You’re right,” I say before letting out a heavy breath.

Fuck.

PENNY: How are you feeling about tomorrow? You guys can do this. So what, you have to win three straight games in a row. That’s doable.

I stare at the text. It’s the third one she’s sent me today that I’ve left unanswered. I know she’ll start to worry, but I don’t know how to react to her. My head is telling me not to fuck this up. Keep things platonic. But my fucking soul is asking for a chance with her.

And I’ve been sitting in my hotel room since we left the arena for practice, doing nothing but festering in my own thoughts. I’m longing for interaction . . .

But I don’t want to lead her on. I don’t want to say something stupid.

Then again, if I don’t say anything, she’ll think something’s wrong.

Something is wrong, though.

All of this is wrong.

I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for this girl. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy seeing her after a game, waiting for me. I wasn’t supposed to crave her warm body at night instead of this cold hotel bed. And I wasn’t supposed to prefer watching a show after a game with her, rather than going out to a bar.

But fuck, everything has changed.

I set my phone down and stand from my bed. I slip on a pair of sandals and a hoodie, flip the hood over my head, and grab my wallet. There’s a convenience store just outside of the hotel. Maybe if I grab myself a snack and a drink, that will clear my mind.

With a key card in hand, I head out of my hotel room and walk toward the elevator just as Posey rounds the corner. His hair is disheveled, and his shoulders are completely slumped.

“Hey,” I say, causing him to look up.

Surprised to see me, he pauses and then asks, “Where are you going?” He glances around. “Dude, please don’t tell me you’re headed down to the bar.”

The bar is where all the single guys on the team go given all the ladies know what hotel we’re staying at and where to find us if we’re looking for some fun.

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know. You’re in a weird headspace.”

“I could say the same about you.”

I’m not the only one on the team acting weird. I know the weight of our losses doesn’t rest solely on my shoulders because I’m not the only one struggling. And it’s showing right now, with the etch in Posey’s brow and the droop in his normally uplifting demeanor.

He moves his hand through his hair. “I’ll be fine.”

“You made me talk about my shit,” I say. “Maybe we should talk about yours.”

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Were you downstairs at the bar?”

“No. I went for a walk.” His eyes meet mine. “Catching feelings is bullshit.” He moves past me, but I press my hand to his chest, halting him.

Catching feelings? Where the fuck is this coming from?

“Dude, who do you have feelings for?” I wrack my brain for a clue, anyone he might have run into, fucking anything, but I’m coming up short, and I can’t be sure if it’s because he hasn’t said much to me or because I’ve been so caught up in my life, that I haven’t been paying attention.

Maybe a bit of both.

“Nothing we need to worry about. It’s probably just a stupid crush that I’ll get over. Just drop it.”

“Posey—”

“Seriously, Eli, drop it.” And there it is, my first name. Whenever we pull that out, we know it’s serious.

“Okay, but if you need me, you can talk to me. I know I’m going through my own shit, but I’m here for you.”

“I know,” he says. “I appreciate that. And you swear, you’re not about to do something stupid?”

“I was going to grab a drink and a snack, but now I’m thinking maybe not. Is it crawling with people in the lobby?”

“There’s no way you’ll be able to walk a few steps without being bombarded. Try the vending machine.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I start walking toward the vending machines when he calls out to me, “Hey, Hornsby?”

“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder.

“I have a bad feeling about tomorrow.”

“Yeah . . . I think everyone does.”

He slowly nods and walks away.

I take the next five minutes to wrestle over what I want from the vending machine, and I settle on a water—boring—and a bag of Dot’s Pretzels. When I reach my room again, I kick off my sandals, lie down on my bed, and pick up my phone to see another text from Penny.

I swipe my phone open and read it.

Penny: I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but I just want to make sure we’re okay.

Just what I thought, she’s worried.

But I don’t know how to respond to her. I don’t know how to act other than fucking pine over the damn girl. I can’t leave her hanging, though. So, I send her a quick text back.

Eli: Sorry, busy prepping for tomorrow. Trying to focus.

I feel bad. Every other away game, I’ve always talked to her, but I’m the jackass who can’t seem to make sense of things, despite trying to work through them with my therapist. He agrees with me: trying something new with someone important isn’t the best idea.

My phone beeps.

Penny: Oh, sure. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone. Good luck with the end of the series.

Groaning, I toss my phone to the side and push my hands through my hair in pure irritation.

Why is this so damn difficult?

Probably because you have abandonment issues and refuse to let anyone else in your life that you could lose.

Yup, that seems accurate.