27
BEDTIME BURITO & A
SURPRISE GUEST
Olivia
I HAD A DREAM ON Monday that I told Carter I was falling in love with him.
Only it might not have been a dream.
Because when I woke up Tuesday morning, it was to a bleary-eyed Carter smiling up at me from my phone, where he’d apparently been all night. I fell asleep on him and he didn’t want to hang up on me, he told me. The call lasted until my seven a.m. alarm woke us both up. I’m so fucking impressed with my iPhone battery.
The words I might have muttered in my sleep came rushing back to me, and I fumbled over an apology for any sleep-induced ramblings he might’ve heard without coming right out and asking if I dreamed it.
Two days later, on Wednesday morning, I’m still nervous when his name lights up my screen. Like right now.
“I need a picture of you,” he says in way of greeting, shaking out his bedhead
waves.
“Good morning to you too.”
He grins. “Morning, princess. I can’t wait to wake up next to you all weekend.”
Yeah, apparently that’s happening. He ies out next Monday and won’t be home until Saturday, so I’m pretty giddy about spending the whole weekend
together. Also, my house is frigid. Not having to sleep in several layers of clothing will be a refreshing change of pace.
I cover my yawn and try to shake away the sleep. I’m tired because Carter and I were on the phone until after midnight.
His eyes hood. “Yawn that big in my bed and I’ll put something rock hard and throbbing between those pretty pink lips.”
“Your mouth and mind are equally lthy, Mr. Beckett.” I’m trying to get used to it, and it certainly doesn’t help he spends all his free time dirty texting me while I’m at work.
“That brings me back to the picture. I need one, Ollie. I had to jerk it to those paparazzi pictures last night after you went to bed. My sword of thunder and I would forever be in your debt, princess.”
I refuse to wrap my head around that name. Sword of thunder, that is, not princess. I’m mostly managing to ignore all the princesses, and what does it say about me if I admit that I actually like them?
“You must be the only man on this earth who has named his penis.”
“That’s not true. Garrett calls his Lieutenant J—”
“Shut up, you fucker!” The pillow Garrett chucks at Carter’s head is the
cherry on top.
“Poor Garrett.”
Carter guaws. “Poor Garrett? He could’ve taken an eye out!”
“You’re indestructible, Carter. Quit whining.”
There’s that smirk. He exes a veiny bicep. “Yeah, I am pretty indestructible.
You know what’s not indestructible though? Your p—hey!” Another pillow to the face, this one knocking him sideways.
“Thanks, Garrett,” I call.
“Welcome!”
Carter rubs the side of his head. “I’ll be home late tonight so I won’t get to see you.”
“Oh. That’s okay.” It’d be more convincing if I weren’t frowning.
“And I’m watching Jennie dance tomorrow night, so I won’t see you until Friday at the game.”
“Who’s Jennie?” I quell the urge to ask him why he’s watching her dance; this jealous streak that’s lit a re in me is driving me wild.
“Jennie’s my sister. She’s a competitive dancer at SFU and she’s got a show tomorrow night. Also, I enjoy this little green-eyed monster that’s been hiding inside of you.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” I lie, then return my attention to his sister before he can call me out on it. “That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, she got a full ride out of high school. Been dancing her whole life.” He chuckles, scrubbing at his jaw. “My parents had no life outside of taking us to dance and hockey. We spent more time in the car traveling to practice, games, and recitals than we spent in our actual house. My dad always said—” His cheeks ush, and he waves me o. “Ah, forget it.”
“What did he say?”
Carter drops his gaze to his lap before lifting it back to me. “He said we’d understand why they were willing to give up everything for us when we had our own kids someday.”
I wish I could’ve met Carter’s dad. In the little bit he’s told me, it’s clear he was a wonderful husband, a supportive father, and that he shared Carter’s sense of humor. Apparently those two were quite the irritating pair around his mom and sister. I can’t even begin to comprehend what Carter’s gone through over the years, but the heartbreak still lingers thick in the air when he talks about his dad.
I can’t help but wonder how Carter would be dierent if his dad were still here. I like him the way he is, but would he have gone through years of casual, meaningless sex if his dad hadn’t passed?
Except if he hadn’t, there’s no way we’d be where we are right now, the two of us. Aside from his undeniably good looks, Carter is goofy and hilarious, charismatic, kind, and passionate enough to make you feel like he’s lit you on re. There’s no way he’d be single. Hate it all I want, but that past of his is the only reason we’re able to give this a real shot right now.
“Do you want kids?” Carter asks me suddenly. “Or no kids? Do you hate kids? You probably hate them, working with them all day and whatnot. No,
that’s silly. You love them; you coach your niece’s hockey team on your own time.”
Nothing is more adorable than Carter when he’s anxious and rambling.
Regardless of being a natural at this dating stu despite never having done it before, it’s clear he’s so out of his element, second-guessing everything he says or does.
“I’d like to have kids one day,” I tell him.
His throat bobs as he nods. “Cool. Yeah, cool. Me too. One day.”
“Carter?”
His face lights. “Yeah?”
“I have to get dressed for work.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I can’t wait to see you Friday, Ollie. I’m gonna score you a goal and blow you a kiss on national television.”
“I could denitely do without the national television bit.”
He ashes me that devilish grin, hitting me with a wink before we hang up, which is not the reassurance I was looking for. Then my phone buzzes, and I sigh at the text.
World’s Sexiest Man: on a scale of 1-10, how mad will u be if i call u princess on national TV?
IT’S AFTER ELEVEN WHEN I nally crawl into bed, feeling particularly mopey and a little frustrated with myself for being that way. I survived ne on my own before Carter yet now I can’t go more than a few hours without talking to him.
The team boarded in San Jose at ve, and though I know it’s too late to see him, I guess I was hoping Carter would call when he got home. But one last look at my phone shows me what I already know: he hasn’t called or messaged since my workday ended.
I scoop his hoodie up, breathing in his scent as the thick cotton wraps around me. Even though I’m wearing thermal long johns and tucked under three blankets, my body still shakes with a shiver, so I grip the blankets to my chest and roll across my mattress, wrapping myself up like a bedtime burrito.
I’m right on the cusp of unconsciousness when the pounding starts, jolting me awake with a yelp. It stops for only a moment before starting again, quicker, harder, and I jump out of bed.
Except—blanket cocoon. I can’t move my legs, nor pull my arms free fast enough to save myself from face-planting.
“Ow,” I moan, rolling onto my back and ripping my arms free so they can clatter to the cold hardwood where I lie, lifeless and bruised. “Fuck me.”
And there’s that damn knocking again. I swear I hear a faint Liv, Liv, Liv, Liv, so I roll to my stomach and army crawl across my bedroom oor. Using the door frame to pull myself up, I shake the blankets o my hips and head down the hall.
If I were more awake it would probably occur to me to not answer the door at nearly midnight. Instead, I scrub the sleep from my eyes, slide a hand under my sweater to scratch my belly as I yawn, and throw the door open.
“Oh. I am dreaming.” I touch my face; it really does hurt from the dream face-plant. “That’s good. This won’t bruise.” I swing the door shut and turn to head back to bed.
Except it doesn’t close, and the man at my door sweeps inside, catching my elbow.
“I can see why you’d think having someone as handsome as me show up unexpectedly at your door in the middle of the night would make you think that, but no, you’re not dreaming.” Carter’s grip tightens as he hauls me into him. “And you just tried to slam the door on me when I’ve been missing you for three days, so I’m gonna need you to open up that pretty mouth of yours and lemme taste you, gorgeous girl.”
