I didn't get naked FaceTime last night, but I got cleavage FaceTime and that's still pretty hot. And now, Bailey was finally leaving her hellacious living situation with Satan's mistresses.

Saturday was off to a great start.

After we grabbed a quick lunch, we headed back to her soon-to-be-former place. Bailey sat at her desk, meticulously itemizing the contents of each box because she was adorably and obsessively organized. She didn't even have that much stuff to keep track of but hey, whatever worked.

Ward was supposed to arrive in a while to help move the big items into the bed of my truck and until then, I was taking care of the boxes of smaller items, stacking what I could fit in the backseat of the truck.

"Wow," I mused, picking up another medium-sized cardboard box. It was one of the last, then we just had the large furniture. "It'll be so weird for you to live somewhere I'm actually welcome."

"I know, right? I can't wait."

From beside her on the desk, her pale purple phone vibrated. Then it vibrated again. She glanced down and made a sound of disgust.

Oh, it better not be.

I set down the box I was holding. "Is that dick texting you again?"

"Yeah." She turned in her chair to face me, tugging on the drawstring of her grey hoodie. Her eyes were wide, expression vaguely guilty. "I've been ignoring him."

I thought Bailey should block his sorry ass, but she was scared he would escalate if she did. We'd argued about that, but I eventually gave up because fighting with her about him wasn't worth it. Once she moved into her new place today—which he didn't have the address for—I was hoping she would come around.

"Why is he bugging you now?"

Bailey inhaled, holding her breath for a beat. "Because he's mad I wouldn't talk to him last night."

My blood pressure shot through the roof, skyrocketing off into the atmosphere.

"What?!"

I wasn't paranoid, I was right. I knew it. That fucking stalker.

"It wasn't a big deal," she said. "He wanted to talk, I said no, we had some words. Then I called him an asshole and he left."

Had some words? Sure sounded like a big deal to me. My hands balled into fists while I clamped down on the sour irritation brewing in my gut. I was only annoyed because I cared. Picking a fight wasn't going to accomplish anything positive.

And yet. Dammit, James.

"But you didn't call me."

She scrunched up her mouth, which was cute enough to lessen my frustration. "You were still in your game."

"You said you would either way." I raised my eyebrows.

"I would have if I needed to."

In my opinion, whatever she was describing firmly fell under the "needed to" category. Clearly, I wasn't the only stubborn one in this relationship.

I shook my head, lips drawn in a thin line. "James."

Her phone vibrated again.

Easing down onto the foot of her bed, I nodded at the phone. "Mind if I see?"

I liked to keep tabs on what Morrison was saying and doing because he pinged my crazy radar—which generally speaking, was pretty spot on. Taking the temperature of how crazy he was behaving at any given time was important. Just in case.

Was this that worrying thing Ward was talking about last night? Whatever. It was necessary. Justified, too.

Bailey shrugged. "Sure." She stood up and came to sit down beside me, handing me her phone. But her expression was off—almost like there was something she didn't want me to see. Weird.

The latest one just said: Answer me.

My grip on the phone tightened. Oh, I'll fucking answer you.

I scrolled back to his previous string of messages.

It's rude to ignore texts, Bailey.

I scrolled again.

I could have taken care of you. And your family. Now your parents have to sell their house. They're going to lose everything because of you.

The blood in my veins turned to hot molten lava. What a piece of shit. Oh my god, I hated him so much. I mean, the fucking nerve of this guy. I was too angry to read any more. Strong chance I'd break her phone if I did.

With a death grip on the phone, I glanced up at her. "Can I please write this motherfucker back?"

"If you want to."

You bet I wanted to.

Hey asshole. It's Carter. Text this number again and I'll fuck up a lot more than your knee.

I hit send and locked her phone, handing it back to her. I doubted it would deter the creep anyway. Actually, I bet changing her number would be a whole lot more effective than blocking him.

With that said, there seemed to be a more urgent issue at hand.

"Not trying to pry," I said carefully. "But is it true that your parents are selling their house?" Or losing their house, from the sounds of it, but I was trying to be delicate. It wasn't my strong suit, so I was trying really, really hard.

"Yeah, they are."

"Morrison knew that and I didn't?" I asked, putting my arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Her hair smelled like something tropical, maybe coconut and pineapple.

Bailey looked down, placing her palms on her dark jeans and refusing to meet my eyes. "Derek must have told him, I guess."

"Circling back to the me not knowing part," I said gently. "Why didn't you tell me? Seems like something worth mentioning."

Probably why she looked at me funny when she gave me the phone. She didn't want me to know. But why?

"I don't know." She glanced up, snagging her pink bottom lip between her teeth and releasing it. "I just found out the other day. My dad got laid off recently and they can't afford to keep it."

My stomach sank. Well, fuck. I guess that was why.

"I'm sorry, James."

Bailey gave a little one-shoulder shrug that was anything but convincing. "It's not a big deal."

But it clearly was. I could tell from the way she talked about home that the house mattered to her. It was where she grew up. She said her mom had this crazy huge garden in the backyard, they did Christmas there every year, all of her and her brothers' heights were marked on the kitchen doorframe, all of those sentimental things. She was way more nostalgic about it than I was about my mom's house, which was basically just a place I crashed at from ages 14-18.

"Where are they going to move?"

"Just downsizing somewhere nearby," Bailey said. "They don't need as much space now that we're all grown, anyway. It probably makes sense."

Maybe, but making that choice and having it made for them were two different things.

"The market is terrible where they live, though, so the house isn't selling," she added.

And it just kept getting worse.

Of course the market was terrible. It was terrible everywhere. Unemployment was high and so were interest rates. It was like the perfect storm for trying to sell a house, especially quickly.

"Are they going to be okay if the house doesn't sell for a while?"

"I think so," she said. "My brothers can help them out if they need money. I'm sure my dad will find another teaching position soon, too."

I nodded. "Right."

For better or worse, Bailey wasn't a good liar. Something on her face told me things weren't going to be okay. She obviously wasn't giving me the full story, either, with how Morrison's text was worded. Money was a touchy thing with her though, so I didn't want to pry.

Needed to mull this one over a little to figure out what was going on there. There was something to it, I just didn't know what.

We fell quiet for a moment. The room was nearly empty, save for a few boxes and bare furniture, but the air was heavy.

I nudged her with my elbow gently, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you excited to move?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

If I were her, I would be wearing a shiny party hat and giving both Amelia and Jillian a gigantic "fuck you" on the way out.

"Well." Bailey hesitated. "I guess there's a small part of me that wonders if I'm letting my life revolve around yet another hockey player. You know, with the whole you-Dallas-Shiv connection. Feels a little...puck-bunny-ish."

Ouch. I had skin as thick as hockey equipment, but that one still kind of stung.

"You think you're a puck bunny?" My eyes met hers, trying to get a read on where this was coming from. "And I'm just another hockey player? We aren't cardboard cut-outs. We're real people."

And if god forbid things ever did end between us, I'd never be a crazy asshole like Morrison and make her living situation difficult. I'd handle it maturely. Well, I would try to, at least. Not sure what I'd do specifically, but I would definitely not be like him. I couldn't bring myself to think about that scenario in any greater detail. Wasn't going to happen, anyway.

Bailey took my hand, her skin cool and soft against mine. "Don't you think I am a bit of a stereotype, though? I went from one hockey player straight to another."

"It's not like you went after me because I play hockey. I pursued you. In my own, slightly misguided way."

A small smile peeked out on her lips. "Still..."

"Would you still like me if I quit the team tomorrow?"

Her hazel eyes widened, tone hushed. "Of course."

"Then you're not a puck bunny. Problem solved." I studied her. "Where's this even coming from, anyway?"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged, making a little "I dunno" sound.

"Did someone say something to you?"

"Paul may have, that one day."

A trail of expletives exploded in my brain.

My hit list had permanently grown to two people.

We were due to play Callingwood again in a few weeks and I was going to tell the entire team to clobber both of those dipshits. Repeatedly.

"Don't let him get in your head. I do it to other people all the time. It's exactly what he wants."

"But it's not wrong. First I was Luke Morrison's girlfriend and now I'm just Chase Carter's girlfriend."

Ouch again. But now I knew where this was coming from.

"I don't think you're 'just' my girlfriend. There's so much more to you than the fact that you're with me. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that." Which ruled out Paul off the bat.

Plus, the way she worded that made it sound terrible. It's not like I was with her for the wrong reasons or liked her for those wrong reasons. Hell, I would have one hundred percent stayed friends with Bailey even if nothing had happened between us.

I mean, I'd have had to deal with the insane attraction part somehow. But I would have definitely still wanted her in my life.

"Do they?" She frowned.

"If they don't, they're too stupid to matter in the first place."

Bailey fell quiet again.

There were times when I swore I could see straight into her brain. Some of those times were good—but some of those times gutted me a little. Like right now.

I sighed. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"How's that?"

"You're a talented writer, a video game playing goddess, loyal to a fault, and so beautiful that sometimes it hurts a little."

"Do you really think that?" She whispered.

"Of course. "

*

While Bailey packed up her bedding, I ran the last few loads of boxes out to the truck, ignoring Amelia and Jillian's glares as I went back and forth. Couldn't they have vacated the place for one goddamn day? It was like they'd purposely hung around so that they could be relocation spectators.

Literal worst.

Vultures.

Returning to her room, I picked up one of the last boxes, but this one felt like it was full of bricks. "Holy shit, James. What's in here? A set of kettlebells or something?"

"No, just some books. Mostly hardcovers..." She turned to look at me and trailed off, eyes turning a little glassy.

I knew that look.

I was a big fan of that look.

"Are you checking me out right now?" Chase set down the box, a smug grin playing on his lips.

I was. I totally was. I was biting my bottom lip in full-on thirst mode.

Busted.

"What? It's just...you know." I gestured, heat flooding my cheeks. "You're being all manly. Lifting heavy stuff. Muscles."

Apparently, my brain had decided to take a coffee break while other parts of my body seized control.

But I mean, look at the guy. Black joggers, slung low on his hips, white tee hanging perfectly off his athletic frame, sinewy muscle covered with smooth, taut skin...

He closed the door and took a few steps in my direction, grin intensifying as he drew closer. "So you just want me for my body."

"I mean, it's definitely a selling point." I fought a sheepish smile.

Obviously there were lots of other things I liked about him. But the view was pretty nice.

"Now who's got the dirty mind?"

"Too much time with you, I guess." I laughed softly, turning away from him to face the desk.

I attempted to look over my checklist again, but Chase's proximity made focusing on anything but him impossible. He was close enough that I could smell him, and the intoxicating combination of him and his cologne shut off my brain completely.

An aura of warmth surrounded me as he leaned in from behind, broad hands landing on my waist. He gathered up my hair, moving it to the opposite shoulder. Soft lips skirted along the arch of my neck, drawing a line of light kisses. Desire pooled between my legs, creating a familiar throb.

One hand tugged at the button of my jeans, nimbly unfastening it and tugging the zipper down. His hand slid lower, past the waistband of my lacy white underwear.

"Speaking of dirty minds. I've been thinking about you. How's the toy, baby?" His skilled fingers moved against me, sending off a shockwave of pleasure.

"Um..." I arched my back, drawing in a ragged inhale in response to his touch. "It's good."

"You're so fucking hot," he murmured, lips pressing against my neck. "Think of me when you're using it?"

"Maybe," I breathed.

His voice rumbled in his chest. "That's not an answer. Answer the question."

"Y—Yes."

"Good girl."

His other hand slipped beneath my black t-shirt, rough palm grazing the size of my ribcage. He squeezed overtop the thin fabric of my bra. I let out a soft moan as he gently rolled my nipple between his thumb and finger.

Desire from just moments before had surged into all-out need. Nothing else existed besides his body pressed up against mine and his hands, coaxing my body.

"Gonna let me watch you sometime?"

"If you want to." Then again, I'd have basically agreed to whatever he wanted, in the moment.

"Very badly," said Chase. "That's one of my top five fantasies about you."

His fingers stroked me again, teasing. Heat flooded my body and I drew in a soft gasp. "What are the other four?"

He didn't even miss a beat rattling them off. "Tying you up, you in a skirt without underwear, truck sex, getting you to talk really dirty to me, and teasing you until you beg me to fuck you."

"Isn't that five?" Maybe it wasn't. Not sure I could count to three, let alone five with what he was doing to me right now.

He slipped beneath my bra, palming the bare skin. "I feel like the last two are interrelated so I'm counting them as one."

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"Sure have." His hand beneath my underwear wandered even lower, one finger sliding inside, followed by another.

My knees went soft and I drew in a breath, leaning back up against him to steady myself. "The walls are paper thin in this place, remember?"

"So? That didn't stop us before."

From downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Well, that sure would.

We froze, then broke apart.

Chase sighed. "That'll be Ward, half an hour early which means he's right on cue to cockblock me. I swear he has the worst timing."

"I guess we'll have to make up for it in the new place."

"Later?" He grinned. "Absolutely. I meant what I said yesterday."

Oh my.

I quickly refastened my jeans and straightened my t-shirt, smoothing down my hair. But I still somehow felt like it was obvious what we'd been doing.

Chase grabbed the heavy box from earlier. "I'll run this out while we let him in."

We descended the stairs and halfway down, made the unpleasant discovery that it wasn't Dallas at the door—it was Paul. It was unclear whether he was here to visit Amelia, or simply to stir up shit.

I lingered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs while Chase ignored Paul completely, making his way past him toward the front door.

This seemed to irritate Paul for some reason. He jutted his chin, tone taking on an edge. "Heard you called me an asshole, Carter."

Chase stopped and turned to face him with the box still in his arms. He smirked. "I also said you can't fucking skate, in case your girlfriend failed to relay the entire message."

Paul paused, like he had expected Chase to deny it.

"Fuck you."

Between Paul and Luke, it seemed this was the only sad excuse for a comeback either one of them had.

"Fuck you for talking shit to Bailey." Chase stepped closer, dark brow drawn into a harsh line.

"Nothing that wasn't true."

Chase's jaw tightened and he glared at him, shaking his head. Pretty sure he was going to clobber his ass next time he was anywhere near the puck.

Or possibly, now.

"Chase." I stepped closer, touching his arm.

"Brave words," Chase said. "Stupid, but brave. See how that plays out for you on the ice in a couple weeks."

Paul scoffed. "You didn't even hit me last game. I'm not scared of you." He probably should have should been, but no one ever accused him of being smart.

"That's right." Chase snorted. "I didn't need to. Why would I bother when you did such a good job of taking yourself out?"