Chapter 25: Breakaway: Chapter 25

I GIVE Penny a sideways look as she steals yet another fry off my plate. “If you want my fries, just ask.”

“I thought the swoop-and-steal method would be more effective,” she says, her hand darting in to grab another one. She dips it in ketchup—ew—before popping it into her mouth. “I’m regretting everything about my life right now.”

“Cooper is usually a lot stingier about sharing his food,” James says. “You must rate, Penny.”

She smiles at me with her mouth full. I roll my eyes as I angle my plate away from her. It’s her fault for ordering a salad when the burger was right there at the top of the menu. “You ought to know by now that if life offers you French fries, you take them.”

“That’s a good motto,” she says after she takes a sip of her iced tea. “You should make that into a sticker. I’d put it on my Kindle.”

“Right next to the ‘smut goddess’ one?”

She nearly chokes on her drink, giving me an outraged look. “I showed you my Kindle in confidence!”

Bex looks between us with her eyebrows arched. I busy myself with my food. This lunch hasn’t been excessively awkward or anything, but it’s clear that Bex—and probably James, let’s be real—thinks something more is going on here, and that’s not the case. Sure, Penny is possibly the best girl I’ve ever met, but it’s my job to help her get more comfortable with sex, not fall for her.

“That hit at the game last weekend looked rough,” I blurt to change the subject.

James sighs heavily as he sets down his water glass. “Yeah. That wasn’t fun.”

“I was so scared he got hurt,” Bex says. “Longest minute of my life.”

“Shoulder is still aching,” he says. “But it’s not my throwing arm, so we’re just dealing with it. Not the first time I’ve played banged up.”

I nod in commiseration. I’ve been fairly lucky on the injury front. Throughout my hockey career, I’ve dealt with relatively mild things like broken noses and pulled hamstrings, but I’ve never snapped a bone or tore anything.

“I used to figure skate competitively,” Penny says. “That ended when I tore my ACL.”

James and I both shudder. If there’s any phrase you never want to hear when you’re an athlete, it’s ‘torn ACL.’ That’s a bitch to rehab and come back from. My first year at McKee, a senior went down with it, and he never got back on the ice for his last season.

“Shit,” he says. “When did that happen?”

“I was sixteen,” she says. “I wiped out during my short program at Desert West and had to have knee surgery.”

“Jesus,” James says. “That’s terrible.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say.

“You know I used to skate,” she says. “You see me do it every week.”

“Yeah, but you never mentioned having a career-ending injury.” It must be why I see her rubbing her knee sometimes after we finish a lesson.

She laughs shortly. “It was hardly a career. It wasn’t like I was going to make Team USA or anything.” She wipes her mouth quickly and sets her cloth napkin on the table. “That was my mom.”

I feel the urge to take her hand, but stop myself in time. “Are you okay now?”

“Fine. My knee still hurts sometimes, the rehab didn’t go that great,” she says. “It’s a long story.”

“Penny, will you come to the ladies’ with me?” Bex asks.

As they wind their way through the tables away from us, James leans in. “Friends, huh?”

I polish off the rest of my burger before answering. The moment Bex asked Penny to go to the bathroom with her, I figured that something like this was in my future. James and Bex have been sharing knowing, couple-ish looks all lunch. It would be disgusting if I wasn’t so happy for my brother. “Yeah. She’s Coach Ryder’s daughter.”

“Interesting.”

I scowl at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He huffs out a laugh and leans back in his chair. “Coop, you like her.”

“I do,” I say defensively as I stab a French fry with my fork. “She’s a cool person.”

“Come on, don’t bullshit me. You like this girl.”

“Not like that. We’re friends.”

“Do friends look at each other like that?”

My scowl deepens. “Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m helping her out with something.”

“Something that happens to involve sleeping together?”

“It’s just sex.”

He just ignores that, pressing on. “And how many times did you get on my case about how I looked at Bex before we made things official?”

He looks so smug I have the urge to tackle him to the floor, but that wouldn’t be appropriate restaurant behavior, so I settle for kicking his shin. The tablecloth hides it well enough that the couple having lunch next to us doesn’t even glance over. “I’m not lying. She’s my friend. You know how I do things.”

“I recall the rules including no repeats,” he says. “So, what do you call this?”

“A favor. One that happens to be fun.”

“Fine, keep lying to yourself.” He shrugs, like he’s unbothered. “Or man up and do something about it, either way.”

He doesn’t know the whole situation—such as the very important fact that Penny has specifically said she wants nothing romantic—but I can’t quite make myself ignore his words.

I don’t like Penny Ryder like that. She’s not my schoolboy crush. She’s my friend and we’re kindred spirits in the sack, but that doesn’t make me want to be her boyfriend.

Even if all my wet dreams lately have involved her.

Even if her laughter is so adorable, it makes my chest hurt.

Even if I’ve never enjoyed sex more, and I haven’t even gotten my dick inside her anywhere but her mouth.

Even if my favorite recent memory is cuddling with her in my bed while watching Lord of the Rings.

“It’s not happening,” I tell him. “Even if I wanted it, which I don’t, she doesn’t.”