If I slept with Easton now, before telling him about Casey, it would be another lie. Another layer of deception. And when the truth came out, it would be that much worse.
But the idea of exploring with someone else, even anonymously, felt wrong too. Like a betrayal of something I didn't even have the right to claim.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted quietly.
"None of us do," Holly said, raising her wine glass. "We're all just fumbling through, trying not to fuck up too badly."
We clinked glasses, and she shifted gears. "Speaking of fumbling, Nathan Daniels is driving me insane."
"Nathan from the Shadow Wolves?" I asked, grateful for the subject change. "The one who gave Casey the puck at the hospital?"
"That's the one. Marketing director, workaholic, and completely oblivious." Holly grabbed another spring roll. "Brenna's been crushing on him for months, and he has no clue."
"Brenna from the arena?" I remembered her. She wore a sleek ponytail, a warm smile, the woman who'd set up the suite for Casey. "She seemed really sweet."
"She is. Too sweet for her own good sometimes." Holly's expression softened with sympathy. "She's having a rough time at home. Lives with her mom, who's… not great to her. Really critical, controlling. Brenna works her ass off for the Wolves, stays late, volunteers for everything, and her mom still tears her down."
My chest tightened. "That's awful."
"Yeah. I think that's part of why she won't make a move on Nathan. Her mom's already on her case about her age. Brenna's thirty-three and still single, apparently." Holly rolled her eyes. "And Nathan's twenty-seven, so there's an six-year gap. Her mom would have a field day with that."
"Six years isn't that much," I said.
"Right? But try telling Brenna that. She's convinced Nathan sees her as some older colleague, not someone he'd be interested in." Holly shook her head. "Meanwhile, the man lights up every time she walks into a room. It's painful to watch."
"Does he know she's interested?"
"Absolutely not. Nathan's brilliant with marketing strategy but completely hopeless with people. He probably thinks she's just being friendly." Holly sighed. "I keep hoping one of them will figure it out, but at this rate, they'll both still be pining when they're fifty."
"Maybe you should tell him," I suggested.
"And interfere? No way. That's their mess to figure out." She grinned. "I'm just enjoying watching them dance around each other. It's better than reality TV."
We spent the rest of the evening dissecting Holly's work drama, gossiping about mutual friends, and avoiding any further mention of Easton or tension-release strategies.
But later, after Holly left, and I was alone in my quiet house, her words echoed in my head.
Anonymous search function. No real names. A way to explore without consequences.
I pulled up the Sassy's website on my phone, navigating past the main pages to the member portal. There was the discreet link labeledCompatibility Matching.
My finger hovered over it.
The form looked straightforward. Preferences. Limits. Experience level. And what I was looking for.
Exploration, release, and connection.
I read through the questions, filling nothing in.
Describe your ideal dynamic.
Hard limits.
What are you hoping to gain from this experience?
My mind supplied answers before I could stop it.
Someone patient.
