Page 116 of Twisted Needs

I lean back against the headboard and glance down at Anders, petting him because I can. “Should I be scared?”

“ESPN says you have a big mouth.”

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “That sounds like fake news.”

“Apparently you told the media I’m retiring because I’m old.”

“You are old.”

“I’m barely forty.”

“Exactly.”

Anders stirs properly this time. His eyes blink open slowly. Sleepy. Warm. Completely unguarded. Loose blond curls are messily sticking up in every direction. There’s a crease on his cheek from my pillow. The sight of him hits me harder than it should. Last night comes back all at once and I can still hear the way he’d said it was okay to be two things at once. Like he’d somehow managed to reach inside my chest and put words to something I’d spent years refusing to look at directly.

He catches me staring. Immediately, he smiles. His hand drifts across my stomach before disappearing beneath my shirt. “You’re clingy in the mornings,” I murmur.

“You like it.”

I do. Way too fucking much.

He pushes himself upright and climbs directly into my lap like he belongs there. Maybe he does.

“You’re disgusting,” Luca says through the speaker.

I snort. “What now?”

“I can hear you smiling, you fucking heathen. You act like you’re not pushing thirty-nine.”

Anders buries his face against my neck, laughing quietly. My arm wraps around his waist.

“Maybe I’m just happy you finally stuck to reproducing,” I tell Luca. “The world could always use more Luca de Sousas. Hockey will survive without you.”

“Funny. Speaking of that, the baby woke us up at six this morning blasting Bluey.”

“She’s five. Aren’t they self-sufficient at that age?”

He laughs sarcastically. “Remember when Anders was five? Let him hold my phone and he called the fucking police and asked them to arrest me for taking away his iPad?”

“Yeah,” I snort, looking down at Anders, who rolls his eyes. “Such an Anders thing to do.”

Anders presses a kiss beneath my jaw. Then another. My grip tightens instinctively. “Hang up,” he murmurs against my skin.

I huff out a laugh. “One minute.” I mouth it more than say it.

Just one minute.

His expression changes immediately. It’s subtle. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I do. Anders has never been loud when he’s hurt. Not like this.

Luca keeps talking, something about another interview, but I’m barely listening now because Anders has gone still in my lap.

“You still there?” Luca asks.

“Yeah.”

Anders reaches over calmly and presses the mute button on my phone. Then he looks at me. “Seriously?” His voice is quiet. “You’re choosing a phone call right now?”

I blink. The word lands harder than it should.