West

Walking back to our deck after a long swim in the ocean, I see my cell phone light up. I lift it off the towel and smile as I read Piper’s text. It took her over an hour to write me back—enough time that I stopped waiting for her reply and swam a few miles in the water. Her last message told me that her pussy was so wet, I could slip right inside it.

I ask her which position she wants me in, and her answer is…

Piper: Whichever one makes me scream.

I dry my hands off before I begin to type.

West: I don’t have to use my cock to make you do that.

Piper: What else can you use?

West: My finger.

Piper: You’re that confident?

A call comes through my cell. When I see Jesse’s name on the screen, I click Ignore and go back to typing.

West: Isn’t that why you’re texting me now? Because you know my abilities, and you know how loud I can make you scream?

Piper: Maybe.

West: Maybe…what? There’s more?

Piper: Maybe.

“Let me check to see if he’s out here,” Tilly says as she opens the sliding glass door.

I look up from my phone, and our eyes lock.

“Baby, it’s Jesse.”

My fucking agent is relentless. If I check my email, I’m sure there will be at least ten from him.

I shake my head and take a step back from the deck.

She mouths, Stop it. Just talk to him. He already heard me say your name, so he knows you’re here. She kneels down and holds the phone out to me. “Here,” she says, using her voice this time.

I take her cell and start walking toward the water. “Jesse.”

“You’re a hard man to get in touch with.”

“It’s because I don’t want to be found.”

“I had a feeling, but listen, man, I’ve got good things lined up for you, and all you have to do is choose one. Have you considered any of the offers?”

Since the beach is so busy, I move back toward the house, pacing between my place and our neighbor’s. “No.”

“West, have you even looked at the offers?”

I kick a pile of sand, and it sprays back at me, sticking to the wet hair on my shin. “Nah, I haven’t done that either.”

“You want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

Talk about what’s going on with me?

I dig my heels into the sand, cross an arm over my chest, and glance around.

I’m at the goddamn beach when I should be at practice. I’m running, swimming, and lifting weights, like I’m rehabbing a knee or shoulder injury. But this isn’t a joint or muscle tear. This is my fucking brain that’s hurt. And this isn’t rehab; I’m out permanently.

How is it possible that I can never play professional hockey ever again?

HOW? I want to scream.

But I don’t. I pull the phone away from my face and stare at the screen where it shows how many minutes we’ve been talking; most of those, I’ve been silent.

And then I finally tell him, “I don’t know, Jesse. I’ve got nothing to say.”

The pit in my chest grows bigger with each breath, and nothing, not even the thought of pussy, can fill it.

It feels like a defenseman ripped off my shoulder pads and jersey, put his bare hands around my throat, and started twisting.

There’s friction and rawness and burning.

And then emptiness.

It’s been there all along; it just hasn’t taken ahold of me this hard.

I haven’t told anyone about the way I feel. They ask. All of them have—my wife, teammates, my parents. I tell them nothing.

I didn’t just lose my job. I’ve lost who I am, what I’m meant to do, the only thing I’m good at.

Here isn’t where I want to be.

Here feels like shit.

And the only thing I do know is that I don’t want to be here.

“There’s someone I want you to talk to. His name is Ed—”

“I’m not talking to a doctor, so you can stop right there.” I walk back over to the deck, wrap my fingers around the edge, and gaze at the water.

“He’s not a doctor. He used to be a client of mine. Now, he lives out in Denver. I’m going to give him your number, and when he calls, I want you to answer.” When I say nothing, he adds, “I’m serious, West. If you don’t consider anything else I’ve sent your way, do this one thing. Please.”

Two kids are tossing around a football about fifty yards from me. They look about middle school age, going through that stage where they have just grown a bunch and don’t fit into their bodies yet. The kid on the right has a decent toss. He’s quick—not just with his hands, but also with his feet. The kid on the left doesn’t have the same speed, but he doesn’t need it because he never takes his eyes off the ball, and he has a hell of an arm. A few tweaks, and these kids could be really good. Shit, they’re probably good enough to play at a high school level right now.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, walking up the steps of my deck and going inside.

Once I shut the door, Tilly turns off the TV and tucks her legs underneath her. I can tell she’s trying to listen in.

“I’m only going to give him your number, not Tilly’s, so if you want to talk to him, it’s on you, not your wife to track you down. Trust me when I say, it’ll be worth it.”

“I hear you.”

“Good. I’ll check in with you again soon.”

I end the call and head toward the kitchen, listening to Tilly follow behind me. Reaching into the fridge, I pull out a bottle of water and a sliced steak salad she ordered from some delivery service. She doesn’t cook, and I have no interest in spending my time in the kitchen.

“So…” she finally says, leaning over the countertop of the island, like she’s waiting to hear where I’m taking her on vacation. “What did Jesse want?”

I take a bite of the beef. “Wants me to talk to some guy. An old client of his.”

“And?”

I start walking toward my office. “I told him I’d think about it.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?”

I turn around when I reach the doorway. Tilly’s still in the kitchen, and her grin hasn’t even faded a little. I don’t know what she’s so excited about.

“No, but I know you’re going to tell me.”

“I think you should talk to him, baby.” She walks over to me and stops a few inches away, her hand running up and down my bare chest. “You’ve been working out so hard; maybe you need a massage.”

“I do. Can you get her to come to the house? I’d rather have it here than go to some spa place.”

“I’ll make a call.” She reaches for the waist of my swim trunks, pulls it out, and looks down at my cock. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

I raise the salad bowl above her head and take another bite. “Later. Food first. And a shower.”

She leans up on her toes and kisses me. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

I grip her neck, giving her a hard kiss, and shut the office door. I set the salad on one of the tables and take a seat in my leather chair. Then, I look at my phone and read Piper’s text again.

Maybe?

Fuck that.

West: I’ll lick the answer out of you.

Piper: I’m afraid of that.

West: What else are you afraid of, Piper?

A bubble appears as she types. I can tell she’s struggling with her reply again because it disappears and reappears several times before the message comes through.

Piper: How much I think about you.

I set the phone on my lap and stare at her words.

Shit, she said exactly what I’ve been thinking.