Ah, yes, the million-dollar question. The one I would pay a million dollars to avoid forever. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I say don’t tell them. You like him, right?”
“I…” I brace myself against the edge of the counter.
“Obviously you like hishuuuuugedick, but I mean as a person. I can’t imagine you doing something like this unless you caught feelings.”
Heat crawls instantly up my neck. “Technically, I haven’t even had his huge dick.”
Cara blinks. “Excuse me?”
“I just…” I gesture vaguely. “Felt it through his jeans.”
“Remy.”
“He went down on me and didn’t ask for anything in return. It was kind of mind-blowing, truth be told.”
Her entire expression changes. “Okay, now I’m alarmed.”
I laugh despite myself. “Why is that alarming?”
“Because hockey players are usually selfish nightmares with abs.”
“That feels unfair.”
“Is it?”
I open my mouth.
Close it again.
“Exactly,” Cara says smugly.
“People hook up all the time and do… things,” I argue. As long as I can keep thinking of this as a mistake, I can stay sane.
“People, sure. Not Remy Callahan. Not when it means putting your job and your credibility on the line. You’re not the most impulsive person out there, you know?”
“I choose to take that as a compliment.”
Cara, who has been laughing her ass off at my plight until now, suddenly gets serious. “Do you regret it? Like really? In your heart of hearts?”
The answer should be immediate. Clean. Professional.
It isn’t.
I don’t really have an answer. Even after Cara hangs up, and I’m cradling my mug of tea between my hands while wrapped in blankets on the sofa, I keep returning to her question. Regret? Yes. No. It was stupid. But if I were given a do-over, I’m not sure that I’d change my mind.
I draft an email to Ezra. Delete it.
I draft an email to Dante. Delete that, too.
I type out a message to Owen. Delete thatharder.
Every option feels wrong for a different reason.
We made a mistake. A mistake I can still feel between my thighs. I won’t make it again.
And still, I’m hurt when the start of morning skate comes and goes, and Owen doesn’t call. I tell myself I want the distance. The professionalism. The clean reset.
