The Secret Hook-Up (The Copper Valley Thrusters, #6)

by Pippa Grant

Making men salivate isn’t my primary goal. But feeling fancy and beautiful? Doesn’t every girl need that now and again?

If there’s a problem in a five-mile radius, he thinks it’s his to solve, no matter how competent the people with the problem might be at solving it themselves.

“You’re pissed.” “I’m Canadian. We’re never pissed.” “That’s why this is weird.”

I try not to gulp the drink like it’s liquid tolerance. I don’t need liquid courage. I need liquid tolerance. Patience. Something to help me resist the lull of being provoked. Because I’m at work.

You do not have to hold yourself to such high standards that you can’t enjoy your life.

But none of these assholes—none of them—would’ve given her a second glance if she’d walked on stage in her baseball uniform. Fuck. Them. They don’t deserve her. And I have a metric ass-ton to unpack when I make my next appointment with my therapist.

“That was hot,” Rooster murmurs. “Quit looking at her if you don’t want to lose your eyeballs,” I murmur back. Every last one of my friends at the table turns and stares at me.

Sunlight streaks through the slats of the white wooden blinds, and I squint against the audacity of the sun shining so brightly today.

I hate depending on people. I hate needing help. I hate vulnerability as a general concept.

That was my issue when we were—whatever we were. Dating? Flinging? Situationshipping? He’d do nice little things, and while I always said thank you, and I always appreciated it, I didn’t trust it. You do nice things when you’re trying to impress someone. Doesn’t mean it’ll last.

Don’t settle for anyone who doesn’t think you’re gorgeous all the time. Don’t even do casual with someone who doesn’t think you’re gorgeous all the time. You’re welcome.”

How do you balance caring about someone with knowing that their life doesn’t fit with your life? How do you care without caring too much? How do you guard your own happiness when you feel like your happiness is denying someone else theirs?

I don’t owe someone else their happiness at the expense of mine.

“If you need us to take him out, we’re here for you,” a girl in pink-rimmed sunglasses says as she pumps a fist into her glove. Addie’s visibly fighting a bigger smile. I swear she’s biting the inside of her cheek. “Thank you, but I don’t need any of you provoking the Thrusters fans.” “We can be subtle.” “They’ll never know it was us.”

“And what are your intentions?” “Make sure she knows she’s awesome.”

I should tell him I have things I need to do. Which wouldn’t exactly be a lie. The things I need to do are to not spend the afternoon with him when he’s so damn likeable.

“I know you like your life,” he says quietly. “I like my life. Doesn’t mean it can’t get better though. And you never know where better will come from when you quit standing in your own way.”

“Just because a woman can handle her own business doesn’t mean her squad should leave her hanging when things get crazy,” Paisley replies.

“And don’t do my dishes,” I add. He widens his stance and runs a hand over his head, slicking back his soaked hair. “When I do your dishes, I’m not looking for anything in return. You don’t owe me. There’s no tally board keeping score. It’s what you do for a friend when they need help. And sometimes it’s what you do for a friend even when they don’t need help.”

“So fucking infuriating,” she repeats. I love you too, Addie Bloom. But I don’t say it. I know better. She doesn’t know yet that love is what this is. And this time, I’ll give her the time to figure it out.

“Ma’am, you okay?” one of the other firefighters says. “Hit seven, please,” she says into my neck. “Are you being held against your will?” a third firefighter asks. “Only by extreme humiliation.” “If you need us to hold this guy until the cops get here⁠—” “I’m on top of him, you dolt,” she replies. “He looks strong.” “That’s why this was enjoyable. Please hit seven.”

“Married and happy don’t necessarily go hand in hand.”

“You know who makes the best partners in life?” “Who?” “The people who understand all the ways relationships can go wrong and choose to actively be part of them anyway. Who choose to do their best with all of the lessons they’ve learned from their own experience and from watching others.”

You’re so easy to be with, and that is the scariest thing about you.” Don’t be scared, Addie. Don’t be scared. Easy means it’s right. “I’ll work on that.”

“From this moment forward,” I say, “you can go to bed every night knowing someone likes you for you. All of you. Your drive. Your intelligence. Your passion. Your independence. Your body. Your heart. All of you. And I will destroy anyone who makes you feel like you don’t deserve that. Understand?”

“Duncan?” she whispers. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m going slow. I promise I’m being patient.” “Thank you for liking me enough to want to destroy my enemies.”

My phone rings. Why am I friends with people who think texts require phone call answers?

“I’m your mom?” Addie repeats. “It’s more accurate than sister,” Diego says. “I thought we should call you our aunt,” Francisco chimes in. “I got voted down because we listen to you like we’d listen to our moms.” “And we protect you like we protect our moms,” Brooks says.

“You never know what’s in the darkest corners of people’s souls, Coach,” Robinson says.

“And I love the way you make me feel delicate when you’re holding me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. You’ll never have to miss me again. I want you. I won’t give up on you again. I’m all yours. This time, my shiver comes from deep inside my soul. But it’s not fear. It’s anticipation.

This. This is what I want. Ecstasy. Wild, frenzied, desperate ecstasy with a man who makes me feel more. With a man I could love. If I let myself. If I take the leap.

She has no idea how gorgeous she is when she smiles like that. Absolutely none. If she did, she wouldn’t be leaning over the bed to press a kiss to my lips. She’d be out finding someone much better than me.

“If you two get married, would she come to the wedding?” Paisley asks. I give her the stop talking now look. We don’t say the M- or W- words in front of Addie.

“Five engagements?” “She writes paranormal romance novels. She likes to say she’s in love with the idea of love.”

“Did you really forget your ex-wife exists?” Addie asks me. “No, but it quit hurting.” “Just like that?” “No. I owe my therapist flowers.” “Therapy only works as hard as you do.”

“You excite me. You challenge me. You comfort me. You get me. And you make me want to do bigger and better things, while helping me see that sometimes the bigger and the better things are the little things.”

And the more tense things get, the more relaxed I get. My new therapist says it’s because I’m facing my fears instead of treating them like strengths of their own. That sometimes, the act of choosing bravery is the biggest hurdle. Of admitting that I’ve told myself lies to keep myself safe, and in believing those lies, I’ve actually kept myself from living my best life.

“I’m sorry,” Paisley sobs quietly. “I’m so sorry.” “No, ma’am,” Addie says, equally quiet but so very, very firm. “We do not apologize for needing help or for wanting to feel safe.”

“You deserve to feel safe,” Addie repeats. “You get to take up space. You get to have needs. You deserve to be happy. And you do not ever, ever have to apologize for any of that, or minimize the bad things other people do to you.”

The night lies, my therapist used to tell me. It tells you the scary things that you want to believe.

Working with them, talking to their coaches, has made me recognize the link between the expectation of perfectionism for girls and their unwillingness to ask for help.

I love you. He’s been telling me for weeks. I love you. It’s what he’s saying in so many different ways while intentionally not saying those three little words. So he doesn’t scare me. Keeping his promise to go as slow as I need. Proving he means it.

You are the basis of where the next part of my life begins. You’re the sun that everything else revolves around. You are where I want to be, what I want to do, and how I want to live.”

I choose love. I choose joy. I choose adventure and laughter and him.

“Good news makes me want good food. Where can a girl get some poutine around here?”