Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,17
last year, thinking maybe she’d remember how good these people were, how much they cared about us and how much they’d want to help us.
But even that night she barely kissed me when the ball dropped and then disappeared off to our bedroom. She went to bed and the party continued on.
Maybe everything would have been easier had I let them know more earlier. At least then they would have understood. Madison didn’t want the pity and false hope in the beginning. So I tried to keep her away. I tried to keep her happy. I tried to ignore the looks from the team when she started being bitchy and bitter they were all having their own kids and we weren’t. I tried to be accepting when the medicine she took made her hormones fly out of whack. Or when I had the flu and she was ovulating, and she still insisted we had to have sex.
Let me tell you—
Fucking your wife with a hundred and two temperature while trying not to puke and doing it only to get your sperm inside of her was not fun. Or enjoyable. For either of us.
I’m not even sure when the last time was we had sex for fun. I don’t know the last time either of us woke up on a Sunday morning, even during the off-season when I had nowhere to be and reached for the other. When we spent a weekend tangled in sheets only pausing to shower and order pizza, which we ate in bed so we could get re-tangled in the sheets again.
Our intimacy became tied to a doctor’s appointment or a line on an ovulation stick. But even with all of that I tried…
Damn it. I am so damn tired of trying so hard.
A pound on my window makes me jolt. I turn to see Duke’s ugly mug grinning back at me. I slap my hand to the window to piss him off and shut off my car.
He steps back and as soon as he hears the doors unlock, opens my door.
“Get the hell out of here. Time to stop moping.”
“I’m not moping.” I wouldn’t call what I’ve been doing moping. I’ve been angry. Confused. Extremely pissed off. Worried. Moping? I haven’t had the time for that.
“Sure you are.” He throws his arm over my shoulders and shoves me toward the bar with him like I’d run if he didn’t force me inside.
Not entirely inaccurate, but I shove him off.
“You smell, Fletch.”
He shoves up his arm and sniffs his armpit. “Nah. That’s good old-fashioned Old Spice right there.” At twenty-five, Duke reminds me a lot of myself. He’s also married to his high school sweetheart, Regan, who’s a total doll and possible half-angel for putting up with this guy. He’s off the wall bonkers. He’s the guy you want at all the parties. He’s the fun guy, the loudmouth, the beer drinking, down to earth, rabble-rouser as my grandpa would call him.
Tonight, he’s the last person I want to be around.
He throws the door open to George’s and for a moment I don’t immediately realize my eyes have gone straight to the bar.
Where a tiny little thing in a tight black shirt and her hair in pigtails is busy pouring drinks. Black towel tucked into the back of her jeans, I notice when she turns away.
Shit.
I shouldn’t be here.
Chapter Six
Gigi
I tense up as soon as Jude and Jason saunter into the bar, grinning happily due to their win earlier. They lift their hands in a hello gesture to me, request three pitchers of a wheat ale and as many clean glasses as I have before taking up a few tables on the far side of the bar near our pool table.
Steve and Tim are in their usual spots at the bar, sipping their drinks, talking about the game. They tell the guys good game before looking back at the television screens above the bar.
I grab what Jason and Jude request, bringing a pitcher and a few glasses to start with over to where they’ve made themselves comfortable in a booth by the pool table.
“Saw that y’all had a great win tonight.”
“Can’t complain,” Jude says. His dark hair flops over his forehead and he shoves it back. “How’s it been here lately?”
“Quiet. Dad and I do somethin’ to offend our favorite customers? Y’all haven’t been in much.” I haven’t seen anyone from the team since New Year’s when Sebastian was here.