Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys, #2)

by Eden Finley

will be in love with my best friend until the day I die. My friends tell me I need to get over it, and even though they’re right, I’ve decided to take a new approach: pretend my feelings don’t exist. I’ve never seen a therapist in my life, but I’m sure they’d tell me I’m making a wise and healthy decision.

“You’ll always have me. I don’t even need the piece of paper.” That makes me warm inside. “What about a ring?” “The only ring I need is the one that says Stanley Cup Champions on it.” “A-fucking-men.”

A squeak comes from the back of my throat, but then I lean into it. If this is the only chance I’ll ever get to kiss Dex Mitchale, I’m going to take it. I expect him to pull away, to keep it short and sweet, but surprising me again, his tongue parts my lips and dives into my mouth. My hands grip his suit jacket as I kiss him back. He kisses me like I’m breakable. It’s slow, sweet, consuming. I hate it. It’s the worst thing he’s ever unknowingly done. Because as we stand at an altar, promising ourselves to each other and sealing it with a kiss, my heart has never experienced such pain.

Before we’re out of earshot, I hear Dex mutter, “Love you, bye,” in that confused tone of his.

I do want to get over it, but not at the expense of separating myself from him. I just want the feelings to magically turn off so we can be best friends.

I wish they weren’t together. Almost as soon as I think that, guilt takes over. I should want Tripp to be happy. And if the noises I’ve been hearing coming from Oskar’s bedroom are any indication, Tripp is very happy.

“I think … I think we need to start looking at us from the outside. If we’re ever going to make our relationships work, maybe we need to—” He takes a breath. “—stop being so possessive of each other.” “I’m not possessive!” “Who do I belong to?” “Me, but—” He grins. “Shut up.” Tripp chuckles.

“I’m terrified everyone’s going to know this is all fake, and I’m freaking out here, and what if—” Against my better judgment, I step forward and press my mouth to his. I ignore the pang of heartache, the longing I’ve carried around for years, and try to show him I’m still the same Tripp. I’m his best friend. He’s my heart and soul. And nothing will ever change that. Not even his inability to love me back.

I kissed my husband, and I liked it, but to me, it was no different than when he holds me or I kiss his cheek or we stay up all night talking. It makes me … full. Happy.

I’m scared. But when I think about why, it’s not the answer I’m expecting. I’m not scared of the thought of being with a guy like that. I’m scared of being dumb again. Of confusing these feelings for something they’re not. Of doing something to lose Tripp for good. But most of all, I’m scared that these feelings for Tripp might go away, and I really, really don’t want them to.

I don’t know what to say after that. How to tell him what it meant to me or how happy I am that I got to experience it with him. I kiss him again. “If someone had told me that’s what it was like to have a husband, I would have found me one a long time ago.”

This is what’s best for him. A divorce. Then he can move on. Meanwhile, I’ll remain pathetically in love with my best friend. Holy shit … I’m in love with Tripp.

I take the first seat, but as Tripp passes, he leans down to whisper in my ear. “If you think this is easy for me, you’re wrong. I’ve wanted you since we first met.”

“I’m dumb a lot of the time, but the best dumb decision I ever made was marrying you. Because now I know why I could spend forever with you, and only you. I know we’re supposed to stand up here and announce some bogus divorce, but I don’t want that. I want us.” My voice breaks. “Always. Forever. Because I am so fucking in love with you, I don’t know myself without you.”

“I want to keep you,” I say between kisses. “Did you mean it?” Tripp asks. “Or was it another lie to try to keep us both here?” “That I’m in love with you? One hundred percent.” Tripp’s eyes flutter closed. “You have no idea how long I’ve craved to hear you say that.” “I tell you I love you all the time.” “Yeah, that you love me like a brother.” “After all the orgasms we’ve given each other, I hope it’s not brotherly.” Tripp shoves me. “I mean it. I never …” He shakes his head and looks down at the ground. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I moved to Vegas.” “You have?”

Maybe I retire or—” “If it comes down to that, I won’t re-sign. My contract’s up for renewal this season.” I lean back against the couch. “Wow. Retirement. That’s scary. What would you do instead?” “Well, if we’re in LA, I’m obviously going to stalk Jennifer Lawrence.” “Obviously.”