Then I fucked Beatrice Nix on my kitchen table, wild and raw, tearing at each other’s clothes, so desperate for each other’s skin, we didn’t eventhinkabout protection until it was over.Until my come was leaking down her legs as she rode me a second time—this time on my couch, her shins braced on my thighs because she couldn’t comfortably straddle me.
She’s too small.
Too petite.
As poor a match for my giant body physically as we are in every other way.
Especially socially…
Nix would kill me if he found out. Dead. Dating a teammate’s little sister is a massive “do not cross” line. Having unprotected sex with her, then letting her leave my apartment, while she was still a little drunk, is…
It’s a sin. I know it. I felt it the moment Beatrice scampered down my front steps to the car waiting for her at the end of the drive.
I felt it again the next day when she called to talk, to explain why she ran, and I insisted we couldn’t be more than friends.
Not ever.
That night was a mistake we couldn’t repeat.
So why am I setting my glass down and following her across the room?
I don’t know. Even as I weave through the crowd, past the screaming laughter of the people gathering for the baby food game, past the video machines, past the diapered bull, down a long hallway to the bar’s back door, I don’t know.
I’m a moth to a flame.
A stupid, spiritually weak moth…
I push open the back door and step out into the heat. It’s almost May, and New Orleans’ spring is definitely giving way to summer. The back lot is relatively clean, but ripe in the heat, the scent of the dumpster and old cooking oil from a restaurant nearby filling the air.
There’s no reason for Beatrice to be out here.
No reason other than the fact that she knew I would follow her…
“Hey.” She waits for me, leaning against the brick wall, her arms crossed. “How’s it going?”
I nod.
Her brows lift, but after a beat, she nods as well. “Okay, I thought we had a different…” She sighs. “But whatever… I clearly thought a lot of incorrect things.” She stands, her arms falling to her sides as she moves away from the wall. “First of all, I want you to know that this doesn’t have to be a big deal. I mean, it’s obviously a serious thing, but not the kind of serious I’m worried about. Or afraid of. And it’s nothing I can’t handle alone. Still, I thought you should know.”
I already know.
I think a part of me knew as I watched her go that night.
Knew that neither of us would escape my loss of control without life-altering consequences.
Still, the moment she says, “I’m pregnant, and I want to keep the baby,” hits like a body check.
The kind that knocks you flat on the ice, leaving you gasping.
I literally can’t speak, can’t draw in enough air to respond.
But she seems to understand.
At the very least, she doesn’t sound angry or frustrated by my silence when she says, “We don’t have to figure things out now. We can talk later. When you’re ready. Just know that I’m open to whatever, as much or as little as you want to be involved.” She moves closer, tilting her head back to hold my gaze as she adds in a softer voice, “And if youdon’twant to be involved, we don’t have to tell anyone you’re the father. We don’t have to ruin things. I know your friendship is important to my brother.”
I nod, confirming that it is.
It’s not as important as her.
