I think about what Fallon said that day in the training room. About it being better for Harper to keep the peace. I guess that’s what my dad is doing. Keeping the peace for Pierce’s sake. It’s a shame my mother can’t do what’s right for Pierce. If he asked her to keep her love life on the down low, why would she insist on bringing a boyfriend to a public venue like my game? It’s basically shoving it in my father and Pierce’s faces. Typical for her.
I decide it’s best to switch topics. “Are you two excited about rooming together this fall?”
They’re going to a college right here in Philly. Pierce told me that his final decision was weighted heavily by his desire for him and me to be geographically close so we can continue rebuilding our bond.
They both nod enthusiastically. “Queen,” Booster says, “I’d like to continue my internship with you if you don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “No.” His face falls until I add, “I think it should be a job. An internship was good while you were in high school, but now it should be more. I’ll only let it continue if you let me pay you. It can’t be much, I don’t have a lot, but I want to pay you for the time you give me.”
His face lights up. “Really? I’d do it for free. I love being around you and your friends. You’re all so much fun. And it’s good for my resume.”
“Absolutely. We’ll figure out a fair salary and appropriate times with your class schedule. You’re going to be a busy college man. I don’t want you spending too much time doing my errands. Maybe a few hours a week. Oh, and I got Reagan Daulton to agree to make you the official towel boy. So now you get to be on the bench for all our home games this season. And she’s paying you for it.”
He gasps with a huge smile. “Ahh,” he squeals like a girl. “Thanks, Queen. You’re the best.”
Pierce mouths, “Thank you,” and despite the insanity of my marriage, I’m feeling good for the first time in a long time. It’s like removing men from my life has given me more time to reflect on what I want. I have clarity I haven’t ever had before.
Repairing my relationship with my brother is priority one for me, and I’m excited we’re well on our way. I’m equally excited about the women in my life. I have a solid and supportive female group of friends. Feeling like people have my back is new for me. Fallon and I discussed it the other day while she was working on my leg, which healed nicely. She told me she has a circle of women in her life who have become her lifeline and maintaining those relationships is important.
It’s only been a few months, but having a strong, stable, nurturing maternal figure in my life has given me an inner peace that I didn’t know was missing. I’m so grateful for Fallon coming into my life.
We had a conversation recently about my father. She strongly encouraged me to rebuild my relationship with him. She encouraged me to rebuild my relationship with my mother too, but she doesn’t have all the facts. Fallon is close with her parents and credits them with getting her through the lows of her divorce. Between that and what Pierce told me tonight, it’s given me a lot to consider when it comes to my father. It won’t be overnight, but I want to try to find a place for him in my life.
Speaking of Fallon, she’s now officially an assistant coach. She was anyway, but Coach Carroll is on bed rest. There were some complications with her pregnancy, and she’s gone for the season. It was a no-brainer to move Fallon into that role. Every single person on the team is happy about it. Fallon insisted on maintaining her role as our trainer too, so now she has two jobs.
I tossand turn throughout most of the night, exactly what I don’t need the night before my first game of the season. I think I ate a bad piece of shrimp because I got sick as soon as I got home, but I drank about two gallons of water to make sure I won’t be dehydrated for my game, and my stomach is feeling fine now.
I texted Pierce and Booster. They both had the same reaction. That was an expensive steakhouse. It’s such bullshit that we got spoiled shrimp, but at least the three of us are feeling better after expelling the bad food.
What I really needed was a few orgasms to help me get a good night’s sleep, but the silicone orgasms aren’t the same as the touch of a man. Sadly, there’s only one man on my mind right now.
I’ve replayed my time with Daylen over and over again throughout the past two months. The big asshole has managed to worm his way inside. I hate how much I’ve begun to look forward to our dates; almost sad on the evenings I don’t get to see him. His previously annoying jokes are now somehow funny to me. Our hate-banter has become lighter and fun, given that neither of us truly means it anymore. We’ve sort of become…friends.
When we had our monthly counseling session with the judge the other night, we were practically finishing each other’s sentences. We’ve learned one another inside and out without realizing we were doing it. It was bizarre. I’ve never had that with a man before. He seemed as shocked as I was by our knowledge of each other’s subtle nuances.
Judge Deathbed had a self-satisfied look on his face the whole time. I had to throw in some jabs about Daylen just to wipe the smug smile off his face.
It’s early in the morning. The sun hasn’t even made its way over the horizon just yet. I’m going to give an orgasm one last shot, hoping it will help to give me another hour or two of sleep before the sun comes up and I have to start my day.
I pull out my biggest vibrator. Truth be told, I ordered this one recently because it sort of resembles Daylen’s dick in a weird way. I came across it online, and it was…familiar. Eerily familiar.
I grab some lube and spread it over the tip and then down a few more inches, just enough to give me what I need. I’m about to get to work when my doorbell rings. Who in the fuck is at my door at this hour?
I quickly pull up my sleep shorts and, without realizing that the vibrator is still in my hand, I run for the front door, fearing that something is the matter. Is the building on fire? There’s an elderly couple across the hall. Maybe one of them is in medical need.
Without bothering to waste time looking through the peephole, I open the door in a rush and see Daylen standing there with a tormented look on his face. He’s in a T-shirt and athletic shorts but is holding a sweatshirt in front of his waist.
“Daylen? What the hell are you doing here at this hour? Are you injured?” He looks like he’s in genuine pain.
He lifts the sweatshirt away from his waist, and I see a giant—I meangiant—boner tenting his shorts.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. What the fuck?”
He’s practically hyperventilating as he breathes heavily. “I will write you a million-dollar check if you let me fuck you right now. I swear. I brought my checkbook. Whatever it takes.”
Still unable to control my laughter, I ask, “What happened?”
He holds up four fingers, dropping one with each word. “Beau. Fudd. Boner. Shake.”
