“About?”

She takes a break from rubbing my back and fishes something out of her pocket, setting it on the coffee table in front of us. It’s a key. “I had an extra made for my apartment. I figure you can use it when you come over and then you can come and go as you please, like even if it’s late, like after a game.”

Something in that statement catches me off-guard. I know we’re overdue for a discussion about this—about us—about everything, but I wasn’t expecting it to unfold quite like this.

“I’m not sure what to say.”

A key? A key is a huge fucking step. We only agreed to be friends with benefits, and now sweet, little na?ve Elise wants to give me a key? A wave of worry passes over me. I know right then, without a doubt, that I hold the ability to crush her. To break her heart. It’s a heavy thought and one I’m not okay with. Because the truth is, I’m not boyfriend material. Owen was right about that.

I’m nothing more than an easy fuck, the fun-time guy girls want a casual night with. I’m not really built for more. And even if it was what I wanted, the fact is she needs someone who will actually be in town more than he’s gone. Someone who’s emotionally available and capable of love, not someone like me.

It’s in that moment I realize I’m never going to be good enough for her. I’m never going to be the kind of man she needs, and part of me doesn’t even trust myself or believe I could commit to one woman, no matter how desperately I might want to. Owen was one-hundred percent right. I would only end up fucking her over.

“Justin?” She’s stopped touching me, and even though I hate it, it’s better this way.

Raising to my feet, I stand before her.

Her lips are turned down and she’s studying me with narrowed eyes. “Say something.”

What is there to say? I come from a broken home and have seen firsthand how love can turn to hate and bring out the very worst in people? Or that I don’t trust myself not to fall into bed with some puck bunny a year down the road when things get hard? Plenty of guys on the team are in committed relationships, and it’s never stopped them from screwing around before. Why should I be any stronger? I’ll only end up hurting Elise and that’s not a scenario I can live with.

“Listen,” my voice comes out cold and much more detached than I feel, “this started as something fun, but taking your key? That’s too much. I can’t.”

“Fine,” she snaps, standing to face me. “Don’t take the key. But why are you acting so weird right now?”

“Because you need a man who will be there for you. Someone who can come to your school functions, who can to bring you tampons, someone who doesn’t have such an intense travel schedule. Someone who feels worthy of taking your key.”

Planting one hand on her trim hip, Elise frowns. “I’m used to a hockey schedule. It’s all I’ve ever known my entire life. I’ve never once complained about you being gone. Yes, I miss you when you’re not here, but I have my own life, Justin, in case you didn’t notice.”

“It’s more than that okay?”

Her pretty face falls. “Don’t do this,” she says, voice firm. “Don’t do this to us…”

The front door opens and Owen strolls inside. It takes him exactly three seconds to notice the tense mood between me and his sister. Just fucking fantastic.

Stopping on the other side of the couch, his eyes harden as he looks between us. I’m still shirtless and Elise looks visibly upset.

“What is this?” Owen demands.

Elise sniffs, lifting her chin. “It’s nothing, Owen. Just give us a minute, would you?”

He lets out a humorless laugh, coming closer. I don’t miss the way his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Are you fucking kidding me? You couldn’t stay away from my sister? My goddamn sister. Fucking prick.”

“It’s not like that,” I say.

“Oh yeah, what’s it like then? Why don’t you tell me?”

My throat feels tight, but I force the words out. “I really liked her.”

“Liked?” Elise scoffs. She doesn’t miss my past-tense slip-up.

Fuck.

Placing one hand against my ribs, she looks up at me, those striking blue eyes cutting straight through me. “I’m not giving up on you, Justin, you have so much more to offer than you realize. But I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

I nod once.

Then she looks at Owen. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’m an adult. So you can either fuck off and leave me alone, or you can actually be supportive like the big brother I thought you were.”

Owen’s gaze locks on mine and for a second I’m sure things are about to turn physical between us. But then he looks back to Elise and nods. “Let’s go.”

I watch them leave the apartment. Elise doesn’t even bother looking back at me.

Now my ribs match how my heart feels—bruised and battered. But it’s fine, because it’s exactly what I deserve. And since part of me always knew it would end this way, I feel relieved that it finally did.

27

* * *

Poker Face

Justin

“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?”