My heart lurches into my throat and my stomach twists.
Avery looks…hurt. Disappointed. And yeah, there’s definitely a bite of anger to his tone but it’s not the emotion he’s leading with.
“Look, man,” Cohen says from the back seat. He shifts forward, placing a hand on Avery’s seat and leaning over the center console. “You know—”
“I can’t believe you bought it, too!” I exclaim, the words bursting from the pit of my stomach and exploding in the tense car like a stick of dynamite.
Avery and Cohen’s eyes swing in my direction. But I can’t meet either of their gazes. Instead, I try to block out the hurt emanating from Cohen’s expression. I avoid meeting my brother’s disappointment.
And I lie through my fucking teeth, my eyes trained on a spot above Avery’s ear.
“It’s like method acting,” I continue, babbling. “We did such a great job this trip. We were such a great team,” I gush. “We just…got caught up in it for a second. I guess. Right?” I turn toward Cohen and stare at his top lip.
Even though I avoid eye contact, it would be impossible to miss the frustration blazing in his eyes. Can’t unsee the hurt in the lines of his face. Can’t pretend his lips aren’t twisted in a grimace.
Avery glances in the rearview mirror.
Cohen clears his throat. “Yeah. Trip was solid. Your sister definitely saved face,” Cohen backs me up. Except his voice is monotone. His features flat.
I feel him disengage. The space between us shivers with a detachment that annoys me. The aloofness that seeps from his demeanor scrapes and the worst part is—I deserve it.
Hell, I fucking caused it.
Avery grunts and his shoulders drop. “Fuck, y’all scared me for a second there. The way you looked at each other…” He shakes his head. Glances at me. “You sure it’s all good?”
I beam. My cheeks ache. “All good. Great, even.”
Cohen slides back and shifts over to the window, looking at the passing scenery.
Avery nods.
I reach forward and turn on some music. Anything to drown out the new tension emanating in the vehicle. Something to focus on other than how I just lied to my brother and hurt Cohen in the process.
But what did he expect me to say?
That I’ve fallen in love with him?
That I’m second-guessing my way forward with soccer because I hate the thought of leaving him?
That these past few weeks have flipped my world upside down and affected me deeper than Brooks’s breakup did?
I know Cohen’s been wanting to talk about…us. But I thought we had more time. I didn’t anticipate Avery putting us on blast. I let my nerves rule my response and, in the process, hurt the guy I’ve fallen for.
When Avery pulls in front of Cohen’s condo building, shame burns through me. I can barely look at him as guilt swirls in my stomach. My heartbeat thrums in my temples and Avery’s voice sounds faraway as he tells Cohen he’ll call him later.
“Yep. Later,” Cohen tosses over his shoulder before closing the truck door. He grabs his suitcase and enters his condo building without a backward glance.
Relief and horror war for space in my mind. I sink in my seat as ice blasts through my veins.
Shit. I messed this up.
My throat tightens and my nose burns. I blink rapidly and let out a slow exhale, locking down my emotions until I’m home, in the safety of my bedroom.
Avery sighs and pulls out of the parking lot.
“Thanks for picking us up,” I mutter, clearing my throat.
“No problem,” Avery replies, glancing at me. He swears. “Rai, is all cool with you and Cohen?”
I swipe my fingers over my eyes, as if wiping away exhaustion instead of regret. “What? Yeah. Why?”
He shakes his head. “That was fucking weird.”
I dip my head in agreement.
“Cohen’s not usually so…”
“Awkward,” I supply, internally cringing. Why am I making this worse? Why can’t I tell Avery that I like his best friend? That I more than like him.
Avery will understand, eventually. I think. And it doesn’t matter what he thinks anyway. I’m an adult. I’ve spent the past decade trying to prove that I don’t need to live up to Avery’s expectations. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, except myself.
The thought causes me to sit up straighter and turn toward my brother. I open my mouth…and close it. The truth doesn’t tumble out. Nothing does.
“Affected,” Avery replies.
I wince and turn away.
“Look, he’s been my best friend for years,” my brother continues.
My shoulders roll forward as I curl into myself. Now he’s going to tell me that I shouldn’t jeopardize his friendship. Or that Cohen’s a player and not into monogamous commitment, like I am.
“He holds himself back until he’s all in. But once he is, it’s permanent, Rai. Cohen doesn’t do anything by degrees. He’s all or nothing.”
I make a nonsensical sound in my throat. My eyes sting and I widen them, hoping to keep my tears from forming. Or worse, falling.
“You’re leaving,” he reminds me.
“It was just a ski trip.” I sound defensive. Hell, I am defensive.
“And you earned the chance to have your shot at your dream career,” Avery continues. “You worked your ass off for this. I don’t want either of you to have regrets.”
“He helped me out. That’s all,” I double down, a lump in my throat. He’s worried about…both of us! I didn’t see that coming. In fact, Avery’s understanding makes me feel worse.
Oh God, I screwed up. Badly.
Avery shrugs and turns into our parents’ driveway. “All right. Good. That makes things easier.” He smirks. “Glad it worked out for you this weekend and you got a break from Mom and Dad’s, too.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “A break from the whole town.”
My brother’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
I sigh and shake my head. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse. “Nothing. Thanks for the lift, Ave.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, looking confused. “I’ll grab your suitcase and head in.”
“’Kay,” I agree, slipping from his truck.
I dash up the front steps and into Mom and Dad’s.
I beeline for the bathroom, closing the door and stealing a few moments to pull myself together. I can barely tolerate my reflection in the mirror.
I lied to Avery.
Fuck. I lied to myself.
And in the process, I hurt Cohen.
Ashamed, I turn away and force myself to go through the motions. Unpacking my suitcase, starting a load of laundry, filling Mom and Dad in about the trip…
That night, we sit around the kitchen table and have a family dinner. There’s a slice of normalcy to it. A nostalgia that bowls me over. I miss it; I miss this. My family.
Again, it hits me how long I’ve been away. How long I stayed away, thinking I didn’t belong. But Mom, Dad, and Avery pull me into conversation and smile at me. They say how nice it is to have me home. How much they missed me.
They break a piece of my heart.
The rest of it is crushed by Cohen. By how I treated Cohen. I’m furious with myself and desperate to apologize to him. To make amends.
But Cohen avoids my calls and messages for the remainder of the night.
I don’t blame him; I deserve his silence.
Raia
The next morning, I’m at the Coyotes training facility early. I don’t want to miss running into Cohen since he’s clearly avoiding me. Waking up without a return message from him hit me like a sucker punch, proving how badly I screwed this up.
We need to clear the air. I’ve had to do that too many times the past few months, which indicates that I’m a shitty communicator in my relationships.
I swear when I enter the gym and note Gutierrez and Jag working out.
“Ah, here she is,” Gage calls out, slow clapping.
“Thought you blew us off. You went skiing?” Jag asks. “You must be feeling good as new.”
I chuckle. “Not too bad,” I agree.
“Yo, way to get our boy to go with you! That’s fucking…big,” Gage tacks on.
“Yep,” Jag agrees. “Cohen doesn’t go out of his way like that for anyone.”
“He barely dates anyone long enough to make it to a ‘meet-the-friends stage,’” Gage muses.
Jag hits him in the stomach with the back of his hand.
“Sorry,” Gage croaks.
I shrug.
“Shit’s different with you, Rai,” Jag says. “We all see it. And Cohen, he looks happier, too.”
“We’re happy for y’all,” Gage admits.
“Thanks, guys!” I force myself to act normal and open my arms to give them a group hug. “It’s nice to come home and feel welcomed.”
“Huh?” Gage pulls back. “You’re always welcome here, Rai. You know that.”
“You’re an honorary Coyote,” Jag agrees.
I manage a laugh and shake my head. Has it always been like this? Have these guys embraced me, and I pushed them away? Have I been running from...nothing? Or worse, myself?
The thought loops in my mind when I see Cohen push into the gym.
My mouth dries at the sight of him. God, he rocks sweats like no man I’ve ever seen. But my heart twists too. Because he looks as miserable as I feel.
“Hey!” I call out, walking toward him.
“Yo,” he replies, his expression blank.
I snort. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“You’re going to play it like this?” My shame simmers but my anger spikes.
He shrugs. “We’re cool, right? Wasn’t this your idea? We do the trip and go our separate ways.”
“Cohen, stop. I’m sorry, okay?” My voice breaks and a sliver of compassion cuts through his eyes. “Please, just, talk to me.” I grab his arm and pull him out of the gym and into a hallway.
“What are you doing?”
“We should clear the air.”
He snorts.
“I want to talk to you. About…this.”
“But not us?” His voice is quiet. Growly.
I swear and pull open a door. It’s a supply closet but right now, I don’t care. It’s empty, lit up, and no one will walk in on us.
I push Cohen inside and close the door.
He leans against a rack of folded towels and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“About which part?” He tilts his head.
“What?”
Cohen stands straighter, his large frame towering over me. “About which part, Rai? Are you sorry for making me think things between us meant more than they do? Are you sorry for forcing my hand, and making me lie to my best fucking friend when I swore to be honest with him? Are you sorry for getting under my skin and twisting me up? Or—”
“All of it!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m sorry for all of it, Cohen.” Pent-up frustration, mostly with myself, gathers in my palms. I slap my hands on his chest and give him a little shove. “The way I feel about you, it’s…”
“What?” he demands, grasping my wrists.
“It’s overwhelming,” I admit. “And maddening.” I step into him. “It’s everything I never knew it could be…” I break off, my eyes latching onto his.
My fingers curl into his shirt.
We’re both breathing heavily, our bodies coiled with tension that has nowhere to go.
Before I can finish my thought, Cohen snaps. My hands are glued to his pecs and his mouth is on mine. He kisses me hard, with an edge. He’s pissed and he shows it by how he steps into me, erasing all the space between us and dragging me into a vortex of heady emotions and complicated feelings.
Cohen sucks my tongue and I scrape at his chest, shoving him back into the towel rack. His shoulder blades rattle the metal. He shoots me a wolfish grin before whipping my tank and sports bra over my head. He snaps the clothing against my hip before dropping it on the floor. As he tugs off his shirt, my hands are already in the waistband of his shorts, shoving them down his hips until his cock springs free.
“You’re already hard for me,” I bite out, my tone accusing.
“Always fucking hard for you,” he growls. “You drive me crazy.”
I fist his length and he hisses.
“I fucked up and I’m sorry,” I admit, my tone harsh. “But don’t cut me out. Don’t ignore me.”
He swears colorfully. “Ignore you?” He chuckles but the sound is jarring. “I want you all the goddamn time.” Cohen shuffles back half a step, his arm knocking a stack of orange cones off a shelf. They clatter to the floor, break apart, and roll by our feet.
We ignore them. Cohen swats my hand away and drops to his knees. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me into his frame, his mouth on my breast, one hand diving underneath my leggings and playing in between my legs.
The sound of my arousal can be heard over my panting. I’m slick with need, wild with want.
“Gonna make you come so many goddamn times,” Cohen promises. Then, he rakes my leggings down to my knees, drags his tongue up my core two times, and stands. He gathers me with him, my legs wrapping around his waist, my nails scoring the skin on his strong back.
He turns us fiercely, pinning me up against the shelving unit. The metal is cold on my bare skin, but I don’t care. All I want is Cohen. For Cohen to get inside me.
“Condom,” he huffs.
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
“What?” He pulls back, his eyes unfocused as they latch onto mine.
“Get in me. Now!” I demand. “I’m on the pill.”
That’s all he needs to hear before he drives into me, bottoming out in one sharp thrust.
We both groan. I drop my head back. Gripping onto one of the shelf rails, I hold tight as more items clatter to the floor.
I’m vaguely aware that we’re being loud as hell, but I dismiss it. It doesn’t matter. In this moment, nothing matters except Cohen. His forgiveness. His touch. Our joining.
The gathering pleasure forming in my center. The desperate need to release.
My thighs quake as he continues to drive into me. His pace is relentless. The tendons in his neck are on full display. A gleam of sweat coats his chest. With wild eyes, flaring nostrils, and bulging biceps, Cohen fucks me like an animal unleashed. Like I’m both sin and salvation and he can’t get enough. The moment stretches between us like a rubber band, taut enough to snap. He smacks my ass and I squeal, the sting more pleasure than pain.
I’m hanging onto both railings now, cursing Cohen. “Harder,” I command.
“Gonna give it to you,” he swears through gritted teeth.
“I want it.”
“Fuck. Want you.”
“I’m gonna come,” I cry out, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head.
“Come for me, Rai. Wanna see you fucking shatter.”
I do. I break apart like an asteroid falling out of orbit. My body detonates. My thoughts scatter. Blinding light envelops me as pleasure—intense, powerful, and all-consuming—shoots through my limbs, hollows out my stomach, and floods my chest.
“Oh, fuck, Rai. Fuck, baby,” Cohen cries out as he spills inside me.
“Cohen,” I pant, holding him close. Our chests slide across each other, slick with sweat.
“Got you,” he promises, his hand splayed in the center of my back.
“Jesus,” I murmur, as I nearly collapse. My legs are jelly and if they weren’t wrapped around Cohen, I’d face-plant.
Our eyes connect for one exhale. I note the disbelief in his expression. He’s just as affected by our exchange as me. It was otherworldly. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Something I can’t put into words.
I open my mouth and—the door swings open.
“Oh, fuck!” Avery swears, averting his gaze.
“Damn, Cohen,” Jag laughs, his eyes widening.
“Close the door!” Cohen yells, turning so his ass is on full display and I’m shielded as much as possible by his large frame.
“Gladly,” Gage snorts. The door slams shut.
“Fuck,” Cohen whispers, lowering me.
He slips out of me and a rush of his cum coats my inner thighs. He swears, barely looking at me, as he tosses me his T-shirt. “Use this to clean up.”
I do, destroying his shirt. My fingers tremble as I curl them into the cotton. A lump forms in my throat and tears burn the backs of my eyes. My body is a mess of emotions, my mind a tangled web of half-truths.
Cohen dresses quickly and turns away, giving me privacy. I feel the loss of his attention acutely. It’s as if I was basking in sunshine and now, I’m surrounded by shadows.
The heat in the small space has plummeted to an arctic chill.
I shiver and dress on autopilot. I stare at the back of Cohen’s head. His shoulder blades are bunched with tension. His breathing is even, but he swears softly to himself.
He reaches for the doorknob and pauses. Glancing back, he asks, “You good?”
I nod, my eyes trained on the door. “Fine.”
I feel his gaze on my cheek but this time, I don’t meet his eyes.
Cohen opens the door.
Avery leans against the opposite wall. His expression is murderous. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he can barely look at me.
“It was just a friend helping a friend, huh?” he accuses.
Beside me, Cohen’s body locks down. And I wonder if I just lost my brother and the man I’m in love with.