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“With sex?” Tank chuckled. “Nice.”
“No, you fucking idiot.” Victor reached over and cuffed Tank on the back of the head. “Because that’s what Blake always does. He takes care of Erika. Making sure she eats dinner, fixing shit in her apartment, fucking adopting a dog with her because she always wanted a dog.”
Blake was shocked that Victor had noticed all that, even though his words were all true. He had placed himself in the role of caregiver, which was strange because he’d sure as shit never wanted to take care of anyone else in his life. With Erika, that desire came naturally because he only ever wanted her to be happy, well-fed, safe, and loved.
Victor shook his head at Tank, but it was Blake he was looking at when he said, “Actually, you’re the fucking idiot. Spent a whole night with that woman and couldn’t find ten seconds to tell her you loved her.”
Blake didn’t respond—because there was nothing he could say in defense to that.
He was a fucking idiot.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Erika glanced around the arena. She’d gotten here earlier than she probably should have, but she’d been anxious to get out of her apartment and go somewhere that wasn’t work. She was also grateful to finally feel human again.
Immediately after leaving Blake in her apartment four days earlier, she’d worked a twelve-hour shift in the ER. When they’d called her about the ten-car pileup, they had failed to mention one of the vehicles wasn’t a car but a tour bus. She’d spent nearly the entire day knee-deep in injuries ranging from cuts and bruises, to whiplash, facial trauma, and broken bones, as well as too many serious head and back injuries. Four people were still in critical condition in ICU.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t been the hectic, stressful workday that had done her in because she was no stranger to pulling long hours.
Nope.
What finished her was the sandwich she’d grabbed from one of the hospital vending machines. She’d gobbled it down on the way home, starving after missing breakfast and lunch. Once home, she’d hopped into the shower with plans to hit the couch in her comfies and watch Blake’s game.
What she hadn’t intended to do was to hug the toilet the entire night, praying for death.
Food poisoning was no joke.
Thank God for Ashley, who’d spent the whole next day not only taking care of Corky because Erika was practically comatose on her bathroom floor, but babysitting her as well, bringing her saltines and ginger ale.
After thirty-six hours of feeling like death warmed over, Erika had finally come out on the other side, only to have to return to work yesterday.
She’d been afraid Blake was upset with her for not responding to his texts. She hadn’t mentioned having food poisoning to him while he was away because she didn’t want to mess with his head before a game or make him worry.
She scoffed to herself because she knew the real reason—she didn’t want to give him more ammunition to use against her in his campaign to teach her how to feed herself properly.
So, she was delighted when he texted earlier today to let her know he’d left a ticket for tonight’s game for her at the box office.
Two of his former teammates, Alex Stone and Elio Moretti, were in town with their wives. Erika had spent more than a few nights out with both couples whenever they were in town, and Blake, the thoughtful man, knew she would enjoy watching the game with them.
As for Blake himself, they’d been playing apartment tag ever since his return from the West Coast early yesterday afternoon. She’d been at work when he returned, and by the time she’d gotten off, he’d already headed out for his stepbrother Todd’s bachelor party. Todd had specifically waited to set a date for his stag night until the Rays’ hockey schedule had been solidified, determined to have his big brother there for the festivities.
Erika didn’t have a clue how late Blake had returned, but she’d opted not to stop in this morning, figuring he would need to sleep off the effects of the party. So she’d headed straight to work instead. Then they’d missed each other again, as Blake had been scheduled for a couple of pregame interviews, leaving for the arena before she’d returned home.
She was looking forward to finally seeing him tonight. She honestly couldn’t recall the two of them ever spending so long apart, and the fact this separation came right on the heels of their night together had given her way too much time to think about—and fret over—what they’d done and what it might mean.
Blake’s initial texts had been sweet and very boyfriend-like, but they’d cooled with each subsequent day until now…when it felt like they were back to being just friends again.
She was reminded of her ill-considered one-night stand with Danny, and how she’d mistakenly thought the sex had meant more than it had. It had bothered Erika when Danny finally told her point-blank he didn’t want to date her, after ignoring her texts and calls.
If Blake told her he wasn’t interested in more, it wouldn’t bother her.
It would break her.
She blew out a frustrated breath. She’d jumped into bed with him without talking to him about what it meant. For some reason, at the time, she thought she could handle a one-night stand or casual affair with her best friend.
Where the fuck had her brain been that day?
Actually, she knew. It had been on the fritz because the whole thing with Doug had freaked her the fuck out. So much so that she’d let her needs overshadow her common sense.
