Until I Get You (Fairview Hockey, #1)

by Claire Contreras

Probably some two-pump chump who didn’t get her off. Asshole. Now the rest of us had to pay for his selfishness.

I took out my phone and Googled how long I’d go to jail if I kidnapped her.

“Why did you stop listening to them?” My lips twitched with the satisfaction that I’d made her lose her thought. “Because a million different things can be said about you, about anyone. Some may be true, but in my experience, most accounts aren’t. I don’t want to hear anything about you unless it comes from you.”

.ohmyfuckinggodthismotherfuckingasshole.

“Oh, honey. I don’t think you understand what it means to catch my son’s attention the way you have. I’ve only seen him this way over hockey.” She raised an eyebrow. “Make of that what you will.” My chest gripped tightly. “We just met.” “Love has no logic.”

“You’ve ruined me, Lachlan Duke,” I said. “Ruined.” He searched my eyes for a long moment. Too long. And kissed me again.

Other guys going pro were excited about the puck bunnies they’d get now, but I was over that life. I’d been there, done that, bought the shirt, and Lyla James burned it.

Delilah Duke Guzman. I shake my head and smile again. I can’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled. Delilah Duke Guzman. If she wants, she can keep the first name. I’ll probably never call her that, so it won’t matter. Duke is permanent. I need to get the James back in there.

“You’re going to end up being one of those cat ladies.” “I’m allergic to cats.” She gives me a droll look. “Seriously?” “I really am, and I hate that being a ‘cat lady’ is used in a negative way, when in reality, they’re probably happier than most people who have partners.”

Lachlan’s jaw tenses. “You have something that belongs to me and I need it back.” Something that belongs to me. OhmygodImgonnafuckingdie.

I snap a picture of him and send it to Liam. Me: who is this? Liam: idk, who is it? I know he’s doing it to annoy me. It works. Me: i wouldnt ask if i knew He doesn’t respond. Me: FACIAL RECOGNITION Liam: why? Did he rob a bank? My brother, the fucking comedian. Me: just do it Liam: we can’t use facial recognition on every guy who talks to Lyla. fucking ask her who it is Now I’m the one who doesn’t respond.

Look at me now. Mr. I Would Never Chase Anyone, and I’m standing on a soccer field in this hot ass weather, in a city I’ve never been to, chasing someone who is currently acting like I don’t exist. Ain’t that some shit.

I fucking hate people. The feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach gets worse. I hope the bride is getting railed by a guy who looks like David Beckham or Idris Elba, and moves his hips like Channing Tatum. Maybe she’s having a foursome. God, I hope she is.

“I won’t let you go,” he says, voice raspy beneath my ear. “I can’t. I wouldn’t know how to.”

“Why the pictures?” “Oh, my God.” I laugh. “That’s your first question?” “You never told me,” he says. “You know how I get.” “What, you couldn’t find the answer on my social media or any of my emails?” I raise an eyebrow and bite back a smile. “You don’t have social media.” He scowls. “And you changed the password to your email, and Liam won’t help me hack you.” I stare at him for a moment and decide not to entertain that, right now.

“You could never be my nightmare, Lachlan Duke.” I stand straight and wait until he’s fully paying attention. “I love you more than I hate anything.”

“I signed a contract. I don’t think I can back out of it.” “If Henry really loves you, he’ll understand.” I shoot him a hard look. “Tell him to put a fucking pin on it. You’ll come back in a couple of years.” “Put a pin on it?” His brows rise, his eyes dancing. “Yeah, old white rich men love saying shit like that.”

My hands start shaking when he reaches me and gets down on one knee. Oh, fuck. I am so not prepared for this. I wanted it — I want it — but I didn’t expect to feel so nervous about it. It’s Lachlan, for fuck’s sake. But that’s the thing. It’s Lachlan. I don’t trust myself to stay quiet right now. I can’t. He sets a hand on my bouncing knee, stopping the movement. He searches my eyes, but keeps the box closed. “I think you’re supposed to open it,” I whisper, my heart pounding wildly. He shoots me a look. “Can you not?” “Okay, but I don’t think it’s fair that you’re not wearing a shirt while you’re doing this,” I say. “You have an unfair advantage.” “Seriously?” He cocks his head. “You’re not wearing pants. I’ve been hard since you walked out there, and you don’t hear me complaining.” “Fine.” I bite back my smile. “Continue.”

His green eyes scan my face for a moment. “You can shut out the entire world, Lyla James.” He kisses my lips hard, making my heart skip a beat. “But never me.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do, but I know she’d wish she’d never met you at all.” I laugh and dip to kiss her. “I think you may be a little crazy, Lyla James” “Only when it comes to you,” she says, smiling. I’m stuck on that smile for a long time, until I remember something. “Is your mic on?” She pulls the material of her dress forward, checks, and looks mortified when she meets my gaze again. I burst out laughing. “What, you don’t want people to know you’re so crazy about me that you’re jealous?” I grin, as I pull her toward the doors. “It’s not funny.” She scowls, then drops her head to speak into the mic. “Please ignore that little lapse of judgment.”

Lachlan signals for me to hand the phone to him. I look up with a frown but hand it to him anyway, because I’m curious to see what he’s going to do next. Me: mar, it’s lachlan, do me a favor and tell him to go fuck himself Marissa: LMAO i can’t do that Me: tell him she got back together with her ex and that he proposed and they got married right away and she’s very very very happy “That happy, huh?” I ask, amused. He shoots me a look and types again. Me: tell that shit head wade the same thing Me: and whoever else i didn’t meet and wants to fuck lyla

“I’m not getting involved,” he says, putting up his hands. “My wife is sitting in your office.” I snap. “You’re already involved.” “Your fiancée,” he says with a smile. Oh-ho-ho. I’m going to jail today.

I watch her go up to Prescott and say something. My mom, dad, and now Liam, who’s joined the party like a FUCKING TRAITOR, are sipping their champagne and looking at me like I’m the one who’s acting crazy. My wife is making important decisions without me and they’re just sitting there, enabling her.

I wonder what caption I should use to post it on her IG. I’m thinking, “She’s mine forever, assholes.” It’s not like I’m worried about any of them. Lyla’s been mine. I just like reminding them from time to time. Maybe saying marriage changed me is a little far-fetched, but I’ve gotten better. Besides, Lyla loves it and if she says otherwise, she’s lying. “Lachlan Duke,” she says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “What?” “Are you trying to figure out if you can post it on my social media?” “What?” I scoff. “No, that’s an invasion of privacy.”