“You like her.”

“Well, yeah, I like her.” What’s not to like? She’s gorgeous, there’s no bullshit with the PT rehab, and she’s funny and feisty; her body is rockin’; and she’s fun to be around, super chill, and genuinely selfless.

“Like you actually want to date her, though.”

I shrug, because what am I going to say? The answer to that is yes, I want to date her, but the timing needs to be right. “I don’t want the ex thinking he has another chance. He’s stupid as fuck and can’t take a hint.”

“You really love complicated situations, don’t you?”

“They just tend to find me, is all.”

“When’s this event you’re supposed to take her to?” King asks.

“Saturday.”

He frowns. “We get back at noon on Saturday.”

“It’s in the evening.”

“You better hope our flight isn’t delayed.”

I hadn’t considered a delay. The only reason that would happen is if the weather isn’t good. “It doesn’t start until five. I should have plenty of time to get home and throw a suit on.”

Kingston nods and taps restlessly on the edge of the pool. “So would you call this your first date?”

“We hang out all the time.”

“‘Hang out’ meaning what?”

“Other than PT sessions, we watch hockey, eat pizza, stuff like that.”

Kingston blinks several times in rapid succession. “That’s it?”

“I pick her up from work a lot.”

“Have you ever bought her flowers before? Brought her any gifts?”

“I brought her over an aloe plant once. But, like I said, it hasn’t been like that.” I don’t get why he’s so hung up on the flowers.

“Again, please try not to take offense, but are you sure you haven’t inadvertently put yourself in the friend zone?”

“How do I know if I’m in the friend zone?” I haven’t had a lot of friends who are girls. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend who’s a girl who isn’t related to me. And I only have two female cousins, whom I see a couple of times a year at family functions. They’re significantly younger than me, so mostly I avoid them.

It’s Kingston’s turn to blow out a long breath. “If you put your arm around her and she gets all snuggly but doesn’t try to take it any further, it could mean you’re in the friend zone.”

I don’t know what my expression must be, but the panic I feel inside quite possibly reaches my face.

Kingston holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out yet. I think this is a different kind of situation, and I’m speaking from my own experience.”

“You’ve been friend zoned?”

“Oh yeah. Lots of times. Especially in high school. I was like every girl’s best guy friend all of sophomore and junior year. One of the girls I hung out with a lot ended up dating one of my friends. She told me after the fact that she’d been hoping I’d ask her out, but after a certain point I still hadn’t done anything about it, so when he made the move, she said yes. Kind of put things into perspective, you know? Most of the time I was more focused on hockey than I was dating, but I solved the friend-zone problem in senior year.”

“What happened in senior year?”

“Someone spiked the punch at the winter semiformal, and the liquid courage gave me the balls to kiss my date. I mean, I asked first if it was okay for me to kiss her, and she said yes, which was good, because she told me if I hadn’t made a move that night, she was ready to throw in the towel. She thought I wasn’t interested and I only said yes to going with her to be nice.”

I feel like it should be obvious that I’m interested. A guy doesn’t spend endless hours with a gorgeous woman who combines weird pizza toppings for shits and giggles. But then again, I haven’t attempted to make a move on her since the almost-kiss and grind. And any conversation I’ve tried to have with her about it has been shut down. In fact, she wants to pretend it didn’t happen. I hadn’t considered that this might be because she actually didn’t want it to happen at all. She seemed just as into it as I was. Or maybe I’ve been misreading the whole thing. “If I’m in the friend zone, how the hell do I get out?”

“You can only get out of it if you talk to her and tell her where you’re at.”

“Right. I get that. So just come out and tell her, then?”

“Sure, but you can sort of pave the way with flowers and chocolate or something, unless she isn’t into either. After I was drafted and I had extra cash flow, I started sending Jessica to get her nails done before an event, or before I’d fly her out for a visit. Sometimes I’ll even have a dress sent to her place, but you’d have to know Stevie’s size and measurements for that. Not all women like to be pampered, but generally doing something nice or thoughtful is safe. She needs to know you’re thinking about her in a nonplatonic way.”

My constant semis and commentary on her nipples should be a pretty solid indicator that I’m not feeling all that platonic toward her, but I can see how stepping up my game would be a good idea. Maybe she thinks the almost-make-out-session was a fluke. Maybe she thinks I’ve lost interest, or maybe she’s lost interest. I hope not. If she wanted to just be friends, I could deal, but I definitely want more.

I’m way past wanting to claim the pussy. I want to claim the whole woman.

CHAPTER 21

STAND UP

Stevie

I’m in the middle of making myself a buffalo-chicken wrap when a knock startles me. Bishop isn’t scheduled to be home for two more days, so I check the peephole before I open the door. On the other side is a very pale, very clammy Nolan gripping the jambs.

“Hey, Nolan, everything okay?”

“Uh, really sorry to bother you, but, uh . . . I think I might need to go to urgent care,” he mumbles.

I take him by the elbow and guide him to the couch. “Did you misplace your insulin?”

“I checked all of Shippy’s usual hiding spots, but he must’ve put it somewhere different, and I can’t get ahold of him to find out where.” He runs his shaky hands over his thighs. “I’ve been looking for over an hour. You have keys to his car, right? If you can drop me off at urgent care, I’ll get home on my own.”

“I’m not dropping you off and leaving you there on your own.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Besides, Bishop left me with a couple of insulin doses for you just in case.”

“He did?”

“Yup, just take some deep breaths. I’ll be right back.” I leave him in the living room and rush to the kitchen, where I open the drawer with Nolan’s emergency doses. Bishop left them here weeks ago, right after Nolan interrupted the almost-kiss.

I prepare the needle, having done it for my dad plenty of times, and offer to administer it for him since his hands are so shaky. It takes about fifteen minutes before his color starts to come back and for Nolan’s shakes to stop. While we’re waiting, I assemble a sandwich, the kind I used to make for my dad when he’d get busy and forget to take his shot.