"Yeah. I was sixteen. Kid was six inches taller and had a reach like a fucking windmill. Spent the entire pre-game throwing up in the bathroom."
"What happened?"
"Broke his nose in the first period. Threw up again after."
"You're doing fine." Rhett's arms were still around me, steady and sure.
"I'm not, though." More words tumbled out before I could stop them. "I'm standing here in your kitchen wearing your shirt, making your coffee, and thinking about how I could fuck it up."
"Hog."
I turned around. Rhett had thrown on pajama pants—gray flannel with a small hole near the knee. His hair stuck up on one side. He hadn't used a comb after the towel.
He looked rumpled. Real.
My phone buzzed on the counter—angry, insistent, probably Jake wondering where the hell I was. Rhett glanced at it, then back at me.
"You should check that."
I didn't want to. Didn't want to let the outside world back in, but the phone kept buzzing.
I grabbed it off the counter, and the screen lit up with eight messages. All from Jake.
Jake:Morning sunshine.Mandatory team breakfast. Coach's orders
Jake:45 minutes. Non-negotiable
Jake:Don't show up hungover or horny.
Jake:Actually scratch that, you're definitely gonna show up horny.
Jake:Just try to keep it PG-13 in front of Coach.
Jake:WHERE ARE YOU???
Jake:Did flannel guy murder you?
Jake:If you're dead, text me back so I know
I groaned. "Fuck."
Rhett peered over my shoulder, reading the messages. "Mandatory team breakfast sounds terrifying."
"It's chaos on toast." I scrolled through the rest—three messages from Pickle about a podcast, one from Evan that just said "You're late," and a missed call from Coach that I was absolutely not ready to deal with. "Jake probably suggested to everyone where I spent the night. He's got a big mouth and zero boundaries."
"Is that a problem?"
Was it? The team knew about Rhett—hell, half of Thunder Bay knew after thatChroniclephoto. This would be different, though. The married and dating guys often brought their significant others to team breakfasts.
Inviting Rhett would mean walking into the team breakfast with him beside me, making it real in front of the people who mattered most. Making it public in a way that wasn't a midnight kiss or a coffee date, but something more integrated. The possibility that it could be permanent.
He leaned against the counter, coffee mug cradled in both hands, steam rising between us. He looked unfairly calm. "Do you want me to come?"
The question was casual, matter-of-fact, like he was asking if I wanted cream in my coffee. Underneath it was something much bigger. It was an offer to take another step directly into my world—into something more official than the get-together at Jake and Evan's.
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
What if they didn't like him? What if he didn't like them?
