“Yeah,” I murmur, the words empty because my mind isn’t on the game—it’s on her, on the way my chest tightens when I think about her, on how utterly fucked I feel.
Brady tilts his head, his tone softening. I know he’s borrowing a page from his wife, the group’s resident psychologist. “Dude, if something’s on your mind, I’m here. You need to be focused.”
“I’m focused,” I lie. “Nothing’s going to come between me and the game.”
Penn slides in on my other side, pouring me a glass from the arriving pitchers. “Hey,” he says gently, eyes sharp. “You good?”
I shrug again, taking a sip to keep my voice steady. “I’m good.”
He doesn’t buy it. “You and Rowyn…everything okay there?” His gaze pierces me like he knows something I don’t.
But I do know. Too well.
I’m falling for her. Falling hard. And she’s…using me. Using me to learn, to perfect herself for someone else. A guy she actually wants. A guy I’m not.
And it was all my idea…
“Everything’s fine,” I say, the words tasting bitter.
Fine. Isn’t that what people say when everything inside them is on fire and they’re trying not to burn down?
He nods. “The ruse is still going strong?”
I take a measured sip of beer, trying to swallow the frustration that bubbles in my chest. “Yup.”
Am I looking for a real relationship with her?
Christ. Even if I did, I’m not the one she’s after. Not now, not ever. And yet, my heart won’t stop hoping.
But there’s that niggling again. If it was me, could I leave the past in the past, and give her what she wants?
“I heard she was babysitting for Ash and Gina today.” I nod and he nudges me. “Maybe she’ll get baby fever.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Baby fever. Rowyn. Someone else. My stomach churns, bile rising uncomfortably. I down the rest of my beer in one gulp. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
I push myself to my feet, heart still hammering. Honestly, I don’t want to think about Rowyn pregnant with another man’s child—or even imagine the thought. The very idea makes my chest tighten and my jaw clench.
I stalk toward the elevator, trying to shake off the unease, when a group of fans intercepts me. I sigh, forcing a smile, signing jerseys, taking selfies, trying to keep my mind from spiraling. A couple of them join me in the elevator, chatting excitedly, and I glance back to see Penn slouching into a sofa, phone at his ear, watching me. Something about it twists in my gut. Like I’m…cheating on Rowyn.
I’m not. Never have been. Never will be.
And yet…even if I did entertain one of these girls, it wouldn’t be cheating. Not really. Not in the way that matters. My heart is already somewhere else—somewhere that isn’t here, isn’t this hotel bar, isn’t these strangers pressing against me.
One girl leans close, brushing her hand against my arm. “Are you sharing a room?”
“No, I have my own,” I say, careful to keep my voice steady.
“That must be so lonely,” she pouts, pressing a little closer, her body brushing mine.
I stiffen, every nerve firing. “I’m tired. I’ll just be hitting the bed.”
The other one edges forward, hand on my shoulder. “You’re so tight after the game. I’m a trained massage therapist. I can help with…this hardness.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
I inch back, trying to maintain some semblance of personal space. “I’m good. Just need a hot shower.”
They giggle, not backing down. “You sure you don’t want some company?”