Home > Books > Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(67)

Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(67)

Author:Meghan Quinn

Eli: You may not believe it, but I do care about her, dude.

Pacey: In what way?

Eli: Just as a friend.

I text him quickly back so I can clarify my intention. I feel like I might be on the verge of patching things up with him. The last thing I need is to spoil that.

Pacey: Good. She needs someone reliable in her life, not a hockey player who is in and out every week.

Someone reliable? Did I not just get penalized for ten minutes today because I stood up for his sister? Have I not been living with her for a few weeks, making sure she’s okay? And I haven’t said a goddamn thing about it because it’s my responsibility. That seems pretty reliable to me.

Eli: I’m taking care of her.

Pacey: And I appreciate that. But you and I both know you’re not the settling down type and that she needs someone who will treat her like she’s the center of their world.

I mull that over, as it doesn’t sit well with me. He’s not wrong. Penny does deserve someone who will make her the center of his world. And sure, we’ve said time and time again, we’re friends, that’s all we’ll ever be, and we both don’t want to get involved romantically. But given all of that, I don’t like someone telling me I’m not good enough. That is shitty. That doesn’t feel good.

And maybe, I’m not. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, he’s right. I very well might not be good enough for her. I might be good for her now, given the situation, but . . . would I be good for her later?

My phone buzzes in my hand again.

Pacey: You two aren’t meant for each other. Learn how to co-parent now because that’s all it will ever be.

Okay, yes, that’s all I want. We both want that. We don’t want to start anything serious. But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but be consumed by the insult that rattles through my prideful chest.

Eli: Don’t worry, there’s nothing romantic going on. She’s the mother of my child. That’s it.

His response is nearly immediate.

Pacey: And that’s what it should always be. Respect me and my wishes that much.

Irritated, I shove my phone in my pocket, grab my bag, and head up to Penny’s apartment. Just from the outside, I can see that her lights are off. Not sure if she’s tired or just ignoring me, but there’s only one way to find out.

I make my way up the stairs, and when I reach the front door, I unlock it and slowly let myself in, trying not to make too much noise in case she’s asleep.

The apartment is pitch-black, but when I turn on the entryway light, I’m greeted by a pillow and blanket neatly folded on the living room couch.

Hmm, wonder where I’ll be sleeping tonight?

Fucking great. I can’t help recall the words I said to Penny earlier today.

“The way you act on the ice is a direct depiction of who you are as a man.” And then she saw me go apeshit on her friend.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

I set my bag down in the entryway and move to the couch, where I toss the pillow to the end and then unfold the blanket haphazardly. When my “bed” is set up, I head toward the bedroom so I can use the bathroom. That’s when I see a sliver of light under the door.

She’s awake.

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I make my way to the bedroom door and slowly turn the handle, wincing the entire time and hoping that it isn’t locked. When I realize it’s not, I push open the door only slightly and poke my head in. I see her lying in bed. The nightstand light is on, and she’s reading a book.

I push the door farther open and take a step inside.

“Hey,” I say while removing my jacket.

Her eyes don’t leave her book as she says, “Did you see the blanket and pillow?”

“Yup, got your suggestion loud and clear. Just need to brush my teeth and change, and I’ll be out of your way.” I walk toward the closet and strip down to my briefs which are fresh from my shower. I slip on a pair of shorts and then make my way to the bathroom. I catch her eyes on me for a moment, so I pause and say, “For what it’s worth, he said some stupid shit about you. That’s why I punched him.”

“I don’t care what he said,” she fires back. “Do you really think I want our child seeing that?”

I’m about to enter the bathroom, but I stop and turn toward her. “You realize I play hockey, and that’s what we do. Your brother was part of the fight too.”

“And he knows how unhappy I am. I don’t want this baby coming into the world thinking it’s okay to punch someone whenever they feel like it. How do you think I’d explain that if our son or daughter saw it? Oh, it’s just hockey, no big deal.”

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