He’s Not My Type

I stare down at my phone and take a deep breath.

You can do this.

Holden would want you to do this.

But fuck am I nervous.

I drop my phone on my hotel bed, and for the second time in thirty seconds, I pace my hotel room.

We arrived in Vegas about an hour ago. Blakely is in training, but we don’t have to report in for training until tomorrow. If I’m ever going to do this, now is the time.

But what the hell do I say?

Hey, it’s been a long time, but it’s good to hear your voice?

Oh hey, yeah, it’s your son, the one who didn’t die?

You know, the last time I heard from you was at Holden’s funeral, pretty sad day, wasn’t it?

“Jesus,” I mutter as I rub my eyes. “Just fucking call him.”

I sit down on my bed, grab my phone again, and pull up my dad’s name in the contacts.

On a deep breath, I call him, and then put the phone on speaker.

Nausea and nerves roll through me as I stand, waiting for the phone to ring.

But it never does.

Instead, I hear, “We’re sorry, but the number you’re trying to reach is no longer in service.”

My brow creases as I hang up.

Does he not have that phone number anymore?

Just because I need to double-check, I try calling it again, and the same response plays.

I scratch the back of my head and hang up.

Maybe . . . maybe my mom would know.

My teeth roll over the corner of my lip, and I contemplate whether this is worth it.

I want to mend things with my family. I know Holden would hate that it’s gone on this long. He’d be so mad at us. And now with Blakely in my life, I want . . . I want this off my chest. I love her, I want to marry her, and I want to start a family. Deep down, I know I need to make things right with my family first. They need to know that I’m okay, and I need to know they’re okay. And maybe, if we can, perhaps we can be in each other’s lives once more.

And because of that, I find myself searching through my phone for my mom’s home number.

When I find it, I don’t even think twice and press the call button.

Once again, I feel sick with anxiety. I try to tamp it down with deep breaths.

On the third ring, the phone picks up.

“Hello?”

Jesus, I haven’t heard that voice in years.

I swallow down my nerves and say, “Hey, uh . . . Mom, it’s Halsey.”

I’m met with silence.

After a few seconds, I add, “Are you there?”

“Wh-why are you calling me?”

I squeeze my eyes shut as I answer, “Well, I tried calling Dad, but—”

“He’s dead.”

“What?” I croak out, my throat growing tight. My heart sinks to the floor, and I immediately sit down on the bed.

“He died a few months ago. Heart attack.”

“Why . . . why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Why do you think, Halsey?” she says in such a strong, menacing tone that there’s no mistaking the anger she still carries.

Why do I think? I have no idea.

I’d like to think that it would be important to relay news of my father’s death to me, but this family has fallen apart so tragically that I don’t think we know how to treat each other like decent human beings anymore.

“Mom, I know—”

“You know nothing, Halsey. You know absolutely nothing. And why are you even calling? Trying to open a wound that has barely healed?”

I press my hand to my eye as my heart races, laboring my breath as I try to wrap my head around both the disdain blistering from my mom’s mouth and my dad’s death.

A heart attack?

Was he alone?

Did the loss of Holden kill him?

“I don’t understand,” I mumble into the phone.

“What don’t you understand?” she asks.

For one, why do you hate me?

Why don’t you love me anymore?

Why has this family exploded into nothing?

Why can’t we find each other again?

Why does my mom hold such hostility toward me?

Shouldn’t she have unconditional love for me? I don’t understand why she doesn’t.

Lip trembling, I say, “Why . . . why are you so angry with me?”

“Why am I angry with you?” she asks on a sardonic laugh, the type of laugh I’ve never heard my mom use. She was a sweet, loving woman. “Are you really that dense, Halsey?”

Her words cut through me, one at a time, and I steel myself, trying to stay strong, but I can feel this dark, ominous cloud looming over me. “Maybe I am,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We lost Holden, and we haven’t—”

“You lost Holden,” my mom says.

I pause and ask, “What?”

“You’re the one who lost Holden. You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention. You’re the one who let this happen. You’re the reason he drove home drunk. You, Halsey. You are the reason.”

I feel all the blood drain from my body as her words swirl around in my head.

She can’t possibly think that. I wasn’t even there that night. He was the one who got drunk. He was the one who decided to drive home. He was the one who drove into a tree.

That was on him. Not me.

“He made the choice to drive,” I say.

“Do not start on that with me. I asked you to watch out for him. I told you he was going to be wild. And it was your responsibility to guide him down the right road when you both left the house. You promised me and you broke that promise.” Hurt and anger pervade her every word. “You are the reason he died.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Do you know what’s not fair?” Mom asks. “That the wrong twin died.”

The air is completely knocked out of my lungs as I feel the room, the world melt into nothing around me.

Th-there’s no way she meant that.

She couldn’t possibly be that cruel.

“Mom . . .” I croak out.

“Please don’t use this phone number again. I consider you dead to me as well.” And then she hangs up, leaving me in a state of shock.

I drop my phone to the bed and curl into a ball as panic seizes me. And then I see it all again. The same horror.

The smashed, mangled car.

The bent, broken tree.

The gnarled limb that had penetrated the windshield.

The blood.

And then . . . the smells.

The dank soil.

The acrid yet sweet smell of gasoline.

The officer’s gum to hide the cigarette smell.

The blood and metal maliciously fused together.

She hates me. Not only does she place all the blame on my shoulders, but she despises me. Her son.

My stomach roils. Nausea pulses through me.

He’s dead. The wrong twin died.

“You’re the one who lost Holden. You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention. You’re the one who let this happen. You’re the reason he drove home drunk. You, Halsey. You are the reason.”

I leap toward the bathroom and barely make it to the tile before I’m throwing up all over the bathroom floor, wave after wave of nausea hitting me, creating a sheen of sweat all over my body.

Four words.

Four powerful, excruciating words.

The wrong twin died.

I feel every aspect of the life I’ve tried to build after losing Holden slip from my grasp, that dark cloud swallowing them up and leaving me in a painful state of agony where I don’t belong on this earth.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe the wrong twin did die. Isn’t that what I’ve thought all along? I am the cause? He should be alive?

Not me.

If Holden was alive, he would have been stronger.

If Holden was alive, he would have mourned but carried on my spirit.

If Holden was alive, he wouldn’t have hidden in a world of denial.

If Holden was alive, he would have kept the family together.

And he wouldn’t have let Dad die.

He would have been there for him.

He would have made sure everyone in our life was good. He would have called. He would have visited.

He wouldn’t have holed up in a summer cabin, pretending nothing was wrong and escaping into books.

And there’s the difference.

He would have lived.

He wouldn’t have let any of this happen.

Unlike me . . .

So yeah, she’s probably right. The wrong twin did die.

“DUDE, what the fuck are you doing?” Eli says as he comes up to where I’m sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in my hand, sweat beading down my forehead, as I try to get so obliterated that I black out and forget everything.

“What does it look like?” I ask, hearing my words slur ever so slightly. Good. I’m right where I want to be.

“Fuck, Halsey.” He peels the cup out of my hand and places it on the other side of the bar. He then addresses the bartender and says, “Close his tab. Now. Do not open another.”

“Don’t listen to him,” I say, but unfortunately, the bartender does. “What the fuck, man?”

“You have a goddamn game tomorrow. You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Fuck off,” I say, but then I’m dragged off my stool by the shoulder. “What the fuck?”

Eli doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pockets my card, signs the receipt for me, then pushes me toward the hotel elevators.

Irritated, I spin around and push him back.

Eli’s eyes sear into me. “Not fucking here,” he says as he punches the up button on the elevator.

Unlucky for me, the elevator door opens immediately, and he moves me inside. When the door closes, he asks, “What the fuck are you doing? Blakely said she’s been trying to call you all night, and you haven’t answered. She texted Penny, and Penny texted me. When I saw you weren’t in your room, I came downstairs to find you in the bar. So explain to me what the hell is going on.”

I push my hand through my hair and lean against the wall. “Nothing,” I say.

“Bullshit. You don’t drink before games. So what happened?”

“I said nothing.” The elevator door opens, and I stumble out, confused as to where to go.

Sighing, Eli pushes me toward the right.

“Stop fucking pushing me,” I yell.

“Keep your goddamn voice down unless you want people hearing that the center for the Vancouver Agitators is drunk off his ass.”

“Who fucking cares,” I mutter as I slam into a door that’s not mine.

“Jesus fuck,” Eli says as he grabs me by the shoulder and moves me forward, staying right behind me.

A door opens behind us, and we hear, “What’s going on?” I glance over my shoulder to see Silas pop his head out.

“I need help,” Eli says.

“One second,” Silas replies.

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” I say as I try to move away from Eli, but he doesn’t let me.

He keeps his hand on my shoulder and brings me to my room just as Silas catches up.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“Holmes is drunk. Blakely hasn’t heard from him all night. Something’s up.”

“Nothing is up.” I push him away but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he takes my key card from my pocket and opens my door right before pushing me in with a giant shove. I stumble in, hit the wall, and fall to the ground.

“How is that productive?” Silas asks as he leans down and helps me up.

“I didn’t mean to send him to the floor. He clearly doesn’t have good balance.”

“All the more reason not to shove him. The last thing we need is for him to roll his ankle again.”

“Right . . . sorry,” Eli says before dragging his hand over his face. “I’m exhausted and not thinking right.”

“Then let me handle this.”

Eli shakes his head. “No, I promised Blakely I’d take care of it.”

“Don’t promise Blakely anything,” I say as Silas brings me over to the bed and sits me down.

Two of my best friends stand in front of me, probably trying to figure out what to do with me. I can tell them . . . let me go back to the bar. Their presence just reminds me of all the reasons I don’t want to be in this room, near my phone.

“What happened?” Eli asks.

“Nothing,” I reply.

“And like I said earlier, bullshit.” He reaches for my phone on the nightstand and flashes the screen at my face to unlock it.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I reach for it, but Silas steps in front of me and settles me back down on my ass.

“You have ten missed calls from Blakely, a bunch of texts.” He flips through the phone, then his eyes lift to mine. “Why the fuck were you calling your parents?”

Silas’s head whips toward me. “You called your parents?”

God, they’re so invasive.

I lie back on the bed and cover my eyes. “None of your fucking business.”

“Halsey—”

“I said it’s none of your fucking business.” I yell loud enough that it probably woke up the whole floor.

Silas turns to Eli and says, “Not the right time, man.”

Eli nods and sets my phone down. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his hips. “Well, might as well get comfortable.” He moves around to the other side of the bed and pulls back the sheets before knocking his slides off and getting into bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“You’re not sleeping alone, so get comfortable . . . buddy.”

“Jesus fuck,” I say as I stand, but Silas gets in front of me.

“Where are you going?”

“To take a piss,” I shout. “Can I do that?”

“I prefer he doesn’t pee the bed,” Eli says.

“I prefer that he does,” Silas says with a smirk before I blow past him.

BLAKELY

“ELI’S WITH HIM?” I ask Penny. I’m trying not to lose my freaking mind over the fact I’ve been trying to contact Halsey all freaking night with no response.

“He is. He just texted me and told me to tell you,” Penny replies over the phone.

“Did he say what he was doing?”

Penny is silent for a second before she says, “He was down at the bar, drunk.”

“Drunk?” I ask. “Halsey doesn’t drink before games. Did he say what was wrong?”

“Well, they aren’t sure. Halsey won’t say anything, but Eli did look in his phone and saw that Halsey called his parents.”

“Oh no,” I say softly. “He called them today?”

“That’s what it seemed like. When they asked him about it, he said nothing. He’s passed out now in bed and will be hurting tomorrow for sure.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “This isn’t good, Penny.”

“I remember you saying he wanted to contact his family. Do you think it went wrong?”

“It had to,” I say as I stand from my hotel bed and grip my forehead, wishing I could be in Vegas with Halsey right now to tell him whatever they said, it’s going to be okay. That he’s loved and cherished. “I know he’s wanted to contact them for a bit, but I didn’t think . . . I don’t know. I didn’t think it would go so wrong that he’d end up at a bar the night before a game. Halsey doesn’t do that. He’s very cautious about what he does before games. He wouldn’t even drink when he was injured.”

“Well, from what Eli said, there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do until tomorrow, so I think you should probably just get some sleep—at least try, I know that’s easier said than done—and hopefully he calls you in the morning.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” I ask in a panic. “What if he uses this as an excuse to push me away?”

“Don’t let him,” she says. “No matter what he says to you, you have to know this isn’t the real Halsey talking. It’s the scared, hurt Halsey.”

“Do you think he’ll push me away?” I bite on the tip of my finger, my stomach roiling with anxiety.

“Honestly . . . yes. Knowing how these men work, he’ll do everything to ensure he can feel as shitty as possible. And that means eliminating the one thing that brings him joy. And that’s you.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I don’t want to be pushed away. I want to help him, hold him, and nurture him through this.”

“Which means no matter what he says or does, you need to hold strong. You said it yourself, you love him deeper than anything or anyone you’ve loved before. Don’t let that feeling be taken away from a hurt man who is drowning. You are the lifeline, so be the lifeline.”

I nod even though she can’t see me. “You’re right.”

“Fight for him, Blakely.”

“I will.”

“And I’m here for you if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Penny.”

HALSEY

BLAKELY: Can you at least let me know that you’re okay? Please, Halsey?

I stare down at her text message and all the other text messages she’s sent as I nurse a bottle of water in the locker room.

Fuck, do I feel like shit.

I woke up this morning with Eli next to me, his arm splayed out across the bed and a light snore coming from his mouth. I proceeded to throw up in the bathroom, which of course woke him up. He tossed me some water and ordered breakfast for us both.

I watched him inhale a large plate of eggs, bacon, and fruit, and I proceeded to throw up two more times after that.

He urged me to at least eat some bacon to settle my stomach, but that did nothing for me. So he ordered a hangover cure from the kitchen. I have no idea what the hell was in that, but it eased my stomach and brought me back from hell. Now I just feel like a goddamn zombie walking around the earth with a game ahead of me.

Yet it doesn’t feel as bad as what my mom said to me and the realization of all of that.

“Text her back,” Eli says when he sits beside me in the locker room.

“Mind your own fucking business.”

“Funny you say that, I don’t recall you minding your own business when it came to me and Penny.”

“This has nothing to do with my relationship with Blakely,” I say as I set my phone down and lift my drink to my lips. I’ve been doing my damnedest to try to hydrate before the game. It’s been slow. If I make it through the three hours of gameplay tonight, it will be a goddamn miracle.

“Then why not text her back?” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

“Can you leave me the fuck alone?”

“No.”

And he leaves it at that, so I pick up my phone and text Blakely back.

Halsey: I’m fine.

“That’s all you’re going to say to her?” Eli asks. “That you’re fine? She called and texted you several times last night, and that’s what you’re going to say? You’re fine. Are you trying to be a dick?”

“I’m trying to fucking hydrate and get my mind on the game. I don’t need you chattering in my ear.”

He tugs on my shoulder so I’m forced to look at him. “What the hell did your parents say to you last night?”

“How . . . how do you know—”

“I saw that you called them. It was in your call history. So what the fuck did they say to you that has put you in this frame of mind? Whatever it is, it isn’t fucking true. And do not for a second believe it. Don’t let them get in your goddamn head. Don’t let them rule over everything you’ve been able to move toward with Blakely. You have a good thing, man. Don’t waste it on their empty words.”

I look away from him as my phone dings with a text. I glance at the preview and read her text.

Blakely: Okay. Well, I miss you. Please call me if you can.

I set my phone down again and lean my head back so I can close my eyes. “My mom’s words were not empty. They were true.”

“What did she say?”

Keeping my eyes closed, I say, “My dad is dead.”

“Jesus.” Eli turns toward me. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

My throat grows tight, and I shake my head. “It is what it is.”

“No, Halsey. That’s awful, and you’re allowed to feel that pain.”

Little does he know.

“Okay, so can you just leave me the fuck alone now?”

“No,” he says, and I feel him scoot closer. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

I place my hands over my face and groan. “I don’t want to fucking talk about this. Okay? I just want to . . . fuck.” I stand from the bench and place my hands on my hips. “I just want to be . . . be done.”

“Done with what?” Eli asks.

“Everything,” I shout before pulling on my hair. “I want to be done with this guilt, I want this heaviness resting on my chest, the responsibility of it all, taken away. I want it to be done. I want it to end. She was right. She was so fucking right.”

“Who was right?” Eli asks, standing now. “Your mom?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I step forward, but Eli stops me. And I don’t know what comes over me, but between my frustration, hurt, and irritation, I whip around and plow my fist right into Eli’s face, sending him back against the locker.

“What the fuck?” Pacey says as he comes into the locker room.

Eli doesn’t move, though. He just looks up at me, his cheekbone red from my fist. “Do it again,” he says. When I don’t move, still stunned from what I did, he lifts to his feet and gets right in my face. “Do it again, Holmes. Punch me. If that’s what’s going to help you, then fucking punch me again.” He pokes my chest and says, “But it won’t stop me from continuing to love you, care for you, and be there every step of the way.” He wets his lips. “I was there that night. I was at the bar with him. I watched him sling back shot after shot, and I didn’t do anything about it. I’ve held on to that feeling, the one where I think to myself . . . if only. But do you know where holding on to that has gotten me?” He pushes my chest, sending me a step back and causing Pacey to come up to us. “It got me fucking nowhere. Holding on to what your mom said to you will get you nowhere. Punching me will get you nowhere. Drinking like your fucking brother who had a goddamn problem that no one could fix BUT HIM won’t get you anywhere. So punch me.” He holds his arms out. “Fucking punch me, Holmes, and get it all out.”

“He was my responsibility,” I yell. “That’s what my mom said. And it was true. I should have looked after him. He was my—”

“No, Holmes. She’s wrong. So fucking wrong. He was a man. He was responsible for his own actions. He—”

“But I knew he was wild. I should have taken better care of him. I—”

“The only thing you should be doing is grieving the loss of your brother. That’s it. He made choices. And not just that night. You know this. It’s not your fault.”

“It should have been me, though. My mom was right. The wrong twin died.”

“Fucking hell. She said that?” Pacey rasps.

“Of course she did. It’s true.”

“It’s not. She’s bitter and angry, but that cannot live on your shoulders. It can’t. He made choices. And we grieve.”

“But—”

“No, man. No buts. You gotta let this go. You gotta get this anger out. Punch me. I’ll take it. And when you’re done, I’m going to be here with these open arms, ready to hold you and help you. So just . . . fucking . . . punch me.”

I crash into him, but without my fists as weapons or anger being stored in my brow. Instead, my silent tears guide the way, followed by the pain that’s been funneled deeply into my heart. I wrap my arms around him and quietly shake against his chest as he holds me close to him.

And that’s how we stand for I don’t know how long. Eli holding me, Pacey gently placing his hand on my back, and me sobbing into my teammate.

BLAKELY

BLAKELY: I can’t tell you how grateful I am, Huxley. I will forever owe you.

Huxley: You owe me nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.

I stare out the window as my taxi driver drives me from the private airport in Vegas to Halsey’s hotel room. I checked the score of the game, and the boys lost terribly. Zero to three. Pacey didn’t play. Eli was out for a lot of the game, and Halsey . . . well, he didn’t play at all. It was a second-string game that they could afford to lose, but it only leads me to believe that nothing is fine like Halsey said.

The only thing he’s said to me all day.

Huxley saw how distracted I was and pulled me to the side to ask me what was going on. I apologized profusely and told him that I’d do better, but he didn’t let me leave his office. He wanted to know what was distracting me, so I told him I was worried about Halsey. That’s when he offered his private plane so I could get to him. He didn’t care how long I had it for as long as I was back in the office in the morning for training.

I’ve never been more grateful.

I brought a small overnight bag with me, just in case, and could change on the plane into a pair of shorts and a regular shirt so that I’m at least comfortable and not walking around in a business suit and heels.

“This is it,” the driver says. I hand him over forty dollars, tell him to keep the change, and walk into the upscale hotel and straight to the lobby. The immediate smell of smoke from the casino filters into the air, but the sound of the slot machines goes undetected by the blaring music in the lobby.

Penny worked with the team to get me the information I needed as to where Halsey’s room is, so I head straight to the elevators and up to his floor. Depending on where the boys play next, they fly to their next city after the game or stay one more night for some good sleep. Since they’re off to Arizona next and then California, I couldn’t wait. I had to see him now.

When I get off the elevator, I head to the right and down the hall where I find his room. I knock on the door, and while I wait for him to answer, I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder and try not to fidget too much from the anxiety rolling through me.

It takes a second, but when the door opens, I steel my breath, only to see Eli on the other side sporting a black eye.

“Blakely,” he says quietly as he steps out into the hall with me but keeps his foot propping the door open slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t heard from Halsey all day besides one text, and I was worried. Huxley Cane lent me his private plane. How is he?”

Eli shakes his head. “Not good.”

My stomach twists. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not for me to say.” He shakes his head. “But it’s not good.”

“Well, can I see him?”

“Yes,” he says. “But I need to warn you, he’s not in a good headspace, okay? I wouldn’t expect much from him. It’s been rough for me and the boys, so I can only imagine what he’ll do when he sees you. Just . . . be prepared.”

“I am,” I say even though I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Fight for him.

Just keep fighting for him.

That’s what Penny told me to do and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to fight for him no matter what.

“Okay.” Eli props the door open and leads me inside, where the nightstand light is on. Halsey is curled up on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. Pacey is on the other side of the bed with a worried look on his face.

When he sees me approach, I watch him wince, but then he stands from the bed and offers me a silent wave.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Eli says and then nods at Pacey to join him.

They slip out of the room, and when the door shuts behind them, I set my bag on the floor. Halsey doesn’t move.

Not even a flinch.

So I walk over to the side of the bed he’s facing, and I take a seat on the edge to find him with his eyes closed.

Gently, I place my hand on his side and say, “Hey, you.”

His eyes part open, and he pauses for a moment, not making a move, not reacting to seeing me. He just stares, which scares me more than anything because I’ve seen how he reacts when I enter a room. I know the way he looks at me when we’re in bed together, and the man staring back at me is just a shell.

After a few moments of silence, I can’t take it anymore, so I say, “Are you doing okay?”

His eyes are tired. Bloodshot.

His face looks gaunt.

And he almost seems very feeble at this moment.

Finally he says, “No.” It comes out strangled. His eyes well up with tears, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Halsey—”

I don’t have time to finish because he reaches out and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arm around my waist, securing me into his fetal position.

At this moment, I can feel it all the way down to my bones. I’m his lifeline right now. He’s holding on to me, silently begging and pleading to help him stay afloat, and I will do everything within me to do that.

I twist to my back, and he snuggles into me, his head to my chest. I put my arm around him and kiss the top of his head as I feel his tears cascade down to my shirt as his body quietly wracks against mine.

It breaks me.

He breaks me.

I find myself fighting off my own tears as I hold him close.

Oh, you poor, poor man. I hate that you’re hurting. I love you. I will always love you. And I’m here for you. Always.

HALSEY IS SLEEPING, and I was able to slip out of his arms for a brief second to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and grab my phone from my bag, where a text waits for me from Huxley from a few minutes ago.

Huxley: I’ve been informed by my pilot that you haven’t contacted them yet.

I glance up at Halsey, still curled into a ball, and I know exactly what I need to do.

Blakely: Sorry. This is more serious than I expected it to be. I know this is probably not what you want to hear, and I understand the repercussions, but I won’t be able to make it in tomorrow. Or the next day. Not sure how long it might take me to get back. I understand if you need to look elsewhere for someone more reliable, but this is too important for me not to be here.

I heave a heavy sigh.

But, I know I’ve made the right decision.

Jobs will come and go, but a man like Halsey? He’s once in a lifetime, and if that means I need to go back to ground zero, give up the dream job, and be here for him, then I will do it.

I’ll do anything for this man.

It’s a far cry from the thoughts going through my head when Perry asked me to move with him. I didn’t even give Australia a thought. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to give up what I had.

But with Halsey, I’d give up the world to be by his side. And that’s what he needs. He needs me by his side. And I know, with absolute certainty, that he’d do the same for me.

That’s what love is.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I know I’ll see the words HR in his text. I’m about to lose this job.

But . . . worth it.

Huxley: Take all the time you need. When it comes to reliability, your choice to be with your man just proved to me how reliable you really are. We’ll talk when you’re ready to start back up. Wishing you luck.

I stare at his text, dumbfounded.

And that’s probably why he’s one of the most brilliant men to work with.

Blakely: I’m not even going to ask you if you’re sure because you told me you mean everything that comes out of your mouth. I appreciate it, Huxley, and I promise, when I start with the company, I’ll give you everything I’ve got plus more.

Huxley: I don’t doubt it.

Halsey shifts in bed and reaches across the empty mattress. When he doesn’t find me, his head pops up and he looks around the room.

“Right here,” I say to ease his panic. I set my phone down and climb back into bed with him. He spoons me around the waist and buries his head in my hair.

And once again, he holds me tightly, never letting go the entire night.

HALSEY

“GOOD MORNING,” Blakely’s sweet voice says as her hand strokes over my forehead.

I open my eyes and find her standing over me, hair wet and fresh from the shower with a towel wrapped around her body.

“I packed you all up so you’re ready to go. Eli said you leave in about forty-five minutes.” Her fingers continue to stroke my forehead, and it’s just enough of a touch to put me back in my safe space with her.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I say.

Because how could I not be sorry?

I was such an idiot thinking that not talking to Blakely would help me when, in reality, I needed her more than anything. I needed her warm body, her touch . . . her love. Her presence.

I couldn’t get myself together enough to play last night, which only made me feel more like shit because I was letting my team down, and we lost. Thankfully, it was a game where our coach rested players, so it didn’t seem like I was missing for any serious reason.

Eli and Pacey helped me back to my room, didn’t ask questions, didn’t bother me to talk about anything. They sat with me until Blakely showed up, and I’m not sure they even knew she was coming. They would have stayed there all night probably.

Blakely takes a seat next to me on the bed and runs her hand over my cheek. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need to.”

“Yes, there is. I never should have ignored you.”

She leans over, touching her forehead to mine. I catch her towel fall open, and her breasts rest against my bare chest. “Don’t, Halsey,” she whispers as she straddles my lap. “Don’t feel like you need to apologize. I appreciate you realizing what happened, but I also understand how pain can determine your decisions.”

My hands smooth up her back as she presses a very soft kiss to my lips.

The fear, the anxiety, the pain all washes away because her lips are like a drug, making me forget and helping me escape.

I roll her to her back, the towel falling from her completely and leaving her naked in my arms, then caress her cheek with my thumb.

Those eyes captivate me. They offer me peace and calm.

Those lips make me feel alive.

And her body is the warm, comforting blanket I’ve needed for so many fucking years.

“You’re everything I need,” I say to her. “And I’m such a fucking fool for ignoring you. I’m lost, Blakely. Hurt. Teetering on the edge of whether I’m worth this life or not.”

“You are,” she says so quickly that I can feel the words break through to me. They aren’t empty. They aren’t a gut reaction. They’re full of meaning. “You are so worth this life, Halsey. You bring so much joy to people. You are such a beacon, a kind, thoughtful, loving soul. Your boys love you more than anything.” She swallows and says, “I love you more than anything.” Her eyes fill with tears as I lift, stunned, but she loops her arm around my neck and pulls me closer. “I love you, Halsey. And I’d be devastated if you didn’t know that, if you believed you don’t deserve to spend time on this earth, because you do. I love you, and I need you. I don’t need your family. I don’t need you to solve any issues settled on your shoulders. Because none of that matters. What matters is you and me.”

“Blakely . . .” I choke out.

“And I’m sorry if you’re not ready to say I love you, but I—”

I don’t let her finish as I crash my mouth to hers, parting her lips with mine and driving my tongue against hers. She matches my energy, my strokes, my desire to be close. I cup her cheeks and move my thumb to under her chin where I tip it up, giving me a better angle. Her hands travel to my shorts, where she pushes them down and uses her legs to maneuver them the rest of the way, leaving us both naked.

She spreads her legs and reaches between us, where she grips my cock and starts pumping my length. It takes seconds before I’m so hard I can feel my entire body tingle. That’s when she positions me at her entrance. But I don’t enter her.

Instead, I lift and stare into her questioning eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. I . . . I wanted to say.” I wet my lips. “Fuck . . . I love you, too, Blakely.” Her eyes soften. “I’ve loved you from the very fucking moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you were supposed to be mine, I just didn’t know how I’d make it happen.”

“I’m yours,” she says. “All yours.”

“And I’m never letting you go,” I say as I enter her, pushing all the way to the hilt.

I bring my mouth to hers, our lips melt together, our tongues colliding, and our hands strive for a touch, a feel. And I sink into her, lightly pulsing my hips and relishing in the feel of her wrapped around me, our undeniable energy, attraction, connection molding into one.

Her hands grasp my cheeks, holding me in place as her tongue dives against mine, swirling, taking.

This woman. This stunning, selfless woman loves me.

“I love you, and I need you. What matters is you and me.”

And it’s in her arms that I begin to see a chance to heal. Her love. Her belief in me.

She loves me.

My hips start to pump faster as my desire grows, my need pounding on my back, telling me to take more. Her fingers dig into my shoulder as she arches into my chest, her hard nipples rubbing against my pecs.

“Fuck, baby,” I whisper. “You are everything I’ll ever need. This body, your heart. It’s all I fucking need.” I glance down and watch my greedy cock sink into her deep warmth. The visual brings me to the edge. “I’m right there.”

“Me . . . too,” she moans right before taking my mouth again, and as her tongue dives deeper, swiping and tangling against mine, her body shivers and quakes beneath me. “Oh . . . God,” she cries into my mouth just as she constricts around my cock.

Her cries echo through the hotel room, and I’m wrapped up inside her, her contracting pussy sending me right over the fucking edge.

I groan into her shoulder as my hips still, and I come.

“Jesus . . . Christ,” I say as I let my hips lightly pump for a few more seconds. Once we’re both satisfied, I look her in the eyes. Cupping her cheek softly, I say, “I love you, Blakely. So fucking much and this . . . this is what I need. I need you. I want you. I never want this to end.”

“Me neither,” she says with a smile. “But you have a plane to catch.”

“Fuck, I know.” I give her one more kiss, then I pull out before hopping off the bed and lifting her into my arms.

I carry her into the bathroom, and we wash up in the shower together. I try to keep my hands to myself as much as possible, because the last thing I need is to get caught up in my desire for this woman all over again.

Once we dry off, we both get dressed—her into comfortable clothes and me into a suit.

I’m buttoning up my shirt when she says, “I don’t want to pressure you to tell me what happened, but just know, Halsey, I’m always here for you whenever you’re ready, if you’re ever ready.”

“I know you are.” I walk up to her, press my finger under her chin, and lift her mouth to mine. I softly kiss her as her hands find my shirt. She helps me button it up as I say, “I called my mom.” She moves slower. “She told me my dad died.” Her eyes snap up to mine.

“Oh my God, Halsey, I’m so sorry.”

I take a piece of her hair and twirl it around my finger. “Still don’t think I believe it. Processing all of that. But then . . .” I take a deep breath, knowing that when she hears what I’m about to say, she’ll help take the pain away. “She, uh, she told me that the wrong twin died.”

A gasp falls past her lips before she stands and brings her hands to my face. “Don’t for one second,” she says, staring me in my eyes, “believe anything about that statement. Because it’s not true, it’s a pathetic thing to say by a lost woman searching to hurt anyone and everyone because she’s hurting.” My throat grows tight as tears form in my eyes. “Do you hear me, Halsey? There is no validity behind that statement. You are worthy of this life, of this air I share with you, of this love we feel. You are worthy of it all.”

My tears stream down my cheeks, and she wipes them away with her thumbs.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” she continues. “I’m so sorry that you had to feel her pain, that she transferred that over to you. It wasn’t right, and it was undeserved. But you have to know that Holden would never think that. He’d be proud of you for the man you are and the hurdles you’ve faced. The changes you’ve made. The love you’ve accepted. This is your life to live and don’t let anyone else tell you differently. Promise me.” She grips me tightly. “Promise me, Halsey.”

More tears fall past my eyes as I lightly nod. “I promise you.”

“Thank you.” She then lifts on her toes and presses a deep, loving kiss to my lips while looping her arms around me, holding me close.

She rubs her hand over my chest. “I know it will take time to sift through everything you’re feeling and this won’t just magically disappear. That’s not how hurt works. But I will be here for you every step of the way. I’ll stand by your side, reminding you just how special you are to this world.”

Just then, there’s a knock on the door.

It has to be one of the guys.

“I’ll get it,” she says before giving me one more kiss and answering the door.

I finish buttoning my shirt just as Eli, Posey, Silas, and Pacey walk into the room, all shuffling inside wearing their suits.

All it takes is a moment of eye contact before they each walk up to me and pull me into a hug.

Posey is first. He pats me on the back and says, “I love you, man.”

Silas is next. He clasps my hand with his and gives me a shoulder hug before saying, “I love you.”

Pacey follows Silas and offers me a large hug while quietly saying, “I love you.”

Eli is last. And as I look him in his watery eyes, I realize just how much this path we’ve been down has wrecked us both. When he pulls me into a hug, I nearly feel myself crumble as he squeezes me tight. “You mean so much to us, to this team, to this world. You’re supposed to be here. You’re here for a reason, and never forget that.” When he pulls away, he grips my face and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Holden was an alcoholic. I knew that; you knew that. We tried to fucking help him, but he wouldn’t help himself. No one is to blame but him. Got that? No one.” More tears stream down my cheeks as I silently nod. “You have a family, right here in this room. You have brothers, you have sisters, and you have your girl. We are the ones who matter. Our opinions. And collectively, we need you walking by our sides because we love you, Halsey. Okay? We fucking love you.”

I nod, and Eli pulls me into a hug one more time, squeezing me tight.

The hold he has on me reminds me just how right he is.

I have everything I need right here in this room.

I have people who care.

People who love me.

Who want me to do well in this life.

I can’t dwell on the past and the spiteful words tossed my way from damaged people.

My brothers, they’re the ones that are important, they are my rocks, my foundation, and this is what I build on.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice so tight, I barely hear it. “I love you all.”

Posey sniffs off to the side, grabbing all of our attention. When he looks around the room, he says, “I think . . . I think there’s something in my eye.”

Silas pushes his shoulder. “Just fucking cry if you’re going to cry. Be a goddamn man about it.”

“Yeah, look at Halsey. He’s not trying to hide his emotions,” Pacey says. “Or Eli.”

“I’m not hiding it,” Posey says as he turns away and wipes at his eyes.

“You’re an idiot.” Silas loops his arm over Posey’s shoulders and guides him to the door. “See you downstairs, man.”

Pacey offers me a salute.

And Eli gives me one last hug before taking off, leaving me alone with Blakely.

With a large smile on her face, she walks up to me and says, “You are so lucky you have those nitwits in your life.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I am. But most importantly, I’m lucky to have you.” I loop my arms around her. “I’m assuming you’re going back to California, and I’ll see you there?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I told Huxley I needed time and if he fired me, I was okay with that, but I needed to be with you.”

“You said that?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, Halsey.” Her hand smooths up my chest. “I can live without the new job, but I can’t fathom walking this life without you by my side.” I stroke her hair, staring at those beautiful eyes that captured me from day one.

“You chose me.”

“And I’ll choose you every single time.”

My heart swells, and I angle her head up, capturing her mouth with mine.

During the darkest time of my life, when I was walking through every day with no purpose and simply going through the motions, a sliver of light awoke the dead inside me. That light was Blakely. And the more I got to know her, the more I realized she was sent to me and meant to be in my life.

And I like to believe Holden had a big part in making that happen.