Randy’s eyebrows pop. “Who’s in control?”

“Who’s in control in your bedroom, or bathroom, as it were?”

Randy rubs his bottom lip. “Both of us?”

“Why would you think it’s any different for me and Charlene?”

“Good point.”

“I gotta get home,” Lance grumbles and pushes up off the bench. The massive cross tattoo on his back shifts as he punches the door open and disappears through it.

“He gonna be all right?” I ask.

Miller runs a hand over his buzzed head, then taps his temple. “I think he has some messed-up ideas about what’s going on with you and Char.” He turns to Randy. “I’ll ride home with him.”

“Mind if I come with you?” Rookie asks.

“If you want, sure.” Miller shrugs.

“You think I need to talk to Lance?” I ask as Miller and Rookie get up to leave.

This is the exact reason I like my privacy, because people tend to jump to conclusions. Often the wrong ones.

“He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Randy says. “I’m hoping whatever conversation the girls have today will get relayed by Poppy and he’ll relax a bit.”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

Miller and Rookie take off, leaving the three of us.

“So, I have a question.” Alex’s knee is going a mile a minute.

“Fire away.”

“What exactly are you and Charlene?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Alex rolls his shoulders. “Like, is this a real relationship or is it contractual?”

“Contractual?”

“Like those books they all read—you know, they made some of them into movies, and those girls binge watch the fuck out of them every time a new one comes out, and then Violet wants to—” He pauses, maybe realizing it’s not just the two of us, and he should probably censor. “Anyway, in the beginning the girl signs all these papers about what she will and won’t do. Is it like that?”

“No, Alex. It’s not like that.”

“So then what’s it like?” I can see the challenge in his eyes, and maybe a little mistrust, because I haven’t been upfront with him about this, and we’ve been friends for a long time. But explaining how it really is exposes Charlene, and I’m not willing to do that, because it could compromise what we have.

“It’s a real relationship. There’s no contract, and whatever you think is going on, it isn’t.” I reconsider that, since Alex and Vi are pretty strait-laced, apart from the locker room sex and the dick dress-up games. “Well, it probably is going on, but not quite the way you think.”

“I’m not judging. I’m trying to understand what this is. I mean, you and Char have been together almost as long as me and Vi, and it all seems pretty casual. What’s your plan if you get traded—to Vegas or another team?”

This is the exact question that’s been eating at me since the expansion draft was announced. I shrug, because I don’t have answers to that. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

Do I want it to end? No. Not at all. Would I want her to come with me if I was traded, yes and no. Selfishly, I want to keep her, but is it reasonable? I don’t know. I can give her what she needs physically, but I’m unsure if I’m capable of providing her with more than that, or if she’ll even let me try.

Is it fair for me to take her away from everything she knows, everyone she cares about and keep her all to myself? I know Charlene, maybe better than she knows herself. If I took her with me, I’d be her everything, and she’s made it very clear that’s not what she wants. And I respect that.

Her childhood was bad enough that her mother took her and ran in search of a better life, and Charlene shuts down every time I try to talk to her about it, which admittedly hasn’t been often. Most of the time it’s enough that I know she’s broken. But sometimes I want to know how closely our broken parts match.

Alex’s brow furrows. “Haven’t you ever talked about it?”

“About what?” I ask.

“The future, asshole. Your future with Charlene.”

“She doesn’t like being tied down.”

“Uhhh . . . We’ve moved on from your sex life, Westinghouse.” Randy snorts.

I shoot him a look. “I’m not talking about my sex life. Charlene is . . . complex.”

“She’s a woman; of course she’s complex,” Randy says.

“Do you think I should talk to her about the future?” I look between Alex and Randy, who are both more than half a decade my junior, yet still manage to have a better handle on relationships.

“Probably? I have a hard time believing she’s hanging around just for the orgasms at this point, man,” Randy offers.

We hit the showers. The locker room is empty, everyone else long gone. I think about what’s waiting at home for me—which is a whole lot of nothing—and how I’m going to be away soon and unable to see Charlene.