Consider Me (Playing For Keeps, #1)

by Becka Mack

I’ve never had a woman here who I wanted something from. Never allowed a woman to be vulnerable enough in my space to fall asleep. Never had to work so hard to push down the longing that makes me itch to climb in behind her, pull her into my chest, and just fucking … be. Until Olivia.

“I meant what I said earlier. I do like you. I just …” “Don’t trust me. And why would you? Why would anyone?” Olivia’s eyes flicker and drop. Tentatively, she wraps her fingers around mine. “I’m really sorry, Carter.”

But here she is, having already admitted her feelings for me, the only thing standing in our way being my less than stellar history with relationships, or rather, lack thereof. So, I guess I need to work on changing her mind, give her a reason to trust me, even if it’s slow and takes me all damn year. I’ll be her friend first, and I’ll be good. For Olivia.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. I nod, and his mouth descends. It’s tender and soft, teasing and tasting, lingering, and I want more. More of this, more of him. I sink my fingers into his waves, tugging him closer, and when his tongue laps at mine, he steals the whimper right from my throat.

I may be slightly intoxicated, but I’m 100 percent positive Carter Beckett is a man I could fall in love with.

“I wanna give you whatever you want.” “Wreck me, Carter.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur. “Me?” There’s something in his gaze, something obscure and yet so vulnerable, like he wants me to see it but doesn’t know how to show me. “You’re fucking immaculate, Ollie.”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Never, Ollie. I just want you to consider … consider giving me a shot. Consider me. That’s all I want, Ol. A chance with you.”

“Can I keep you?” he asks. “Yes.” My heart skitters to a stop at the simple answer spoken without thought, and only when Carter tilts my chin and captures my mouth a kiss does it restart. It’s in this moment that I realize how earth-shatteringly fucked I am.

Olivia’s mouth opens like she’s going to say something, maybe argue with me the way she likes to. Instead, our mouths collide. She clings to me, fingers plowing through my hair, back arching, hips rolling.

“We both had too much to drink.” Her excuse is weak and she knows it. “I don’t think we knew what we were doing.” Bullshit. “Fucking look at me if you’re gonna lie to me, Olivia.” Her eyes snap to mine, and I don’t like what I see. They’re red rimmed, her bottom lip wobbly. What the hell is going on? This is so damn simple. There’s no reason to cry, because I’m right fucking here, wanting her, like I have from the moment I saw her. I may not have any experience with relationships, but I know well enough that this shit I’m feeling isn’t one sided.

“There’s nothing—” “Don’t you fucking say there’s nothing going on between us!” I’m shouting again and I hate it. I get worked up easily and I’m really on edge right now. I thrive on control, and right now, all I’m doing is losing all semblance of it. This girl owns me—for some fucking reason—and I refuse to let her make the wrong decision for both of us. So I stalk toward her, backing her against the wall. Shattered brown eyes meet mine, and I push her hair off her face. “Stop it. Stop pretending like you aren’t scared out of your mind right now, like that hasn’t been the only thing holding you back this entire time. I can see what’s right in front of me, and that’s you, beautiful, sarcastic, smart, strong, sensitive, and fucking scared of the way you feel for someone you never wanted to have feelings for.”

It would have been naïve for me to think it would be easy, that we’d be able to fall into some sort of … relationship. But after last night, I thought she’d at least consider it. Consider me. I’m fucking trying here. I’ve decided what I want. Isn’t it supposed to be easy from here on out? I understand the hesitation, the fear.

She’s allowed to be terrified. I’m terrified. I’m in unchartered waters here. I’m scared I’ll hurt her. I’m scared I don’t know how to be a partner. I’m scared that this could … work. I’m scared that she could be my forever. Christ, that’s petrifying. But right now, I’m most terrified that she’s going to walk out that door and never come back.

We’re too different, and the only way this can end is up in flames.”

“You leaving right now doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it won’t change your feelings for me either. I know you’re hoping they’ll disappear so you don’t have to deal with the way I’ve been living my life, but they won’t. Running from things you’re afraid of won’t get you very far.”

“Ollie?” The quiver in her hands tells me it’s taking everything in her not to fall apart right now. “Just so we’re clear, you’re the one who’s walking away right now. This isn’t what I want.” I tuck the small gift into her hands, watching her forehead crinkle in surprise. “Merry Christmas.”

I can continue to blame alcohol for decisions made, but the truth is simple: I felt weak.

Fear whispered that I’d never be able to stack up. Fear reminded me he had a separate home to bring his one-night stands. Fear screamed in my face that I wouldn’t be enough to keep a man like Carter interested. Fear told me to run, to leave before he could hurt me. Fear is a funny, fickle thing. It’s there to protect you, to keep you from getting hurt, tells you to back up before it’s too late. But it weighs you down, keeping you from moving forward, like feet stuck in mud. And more often than not? You get hurt anyway. Sometimes, like today, you hurt the person you care about in the process too. The thing is, I’m allowed to be scared. But Carter stood there, begging me to stay, to communicate, to give him a damn chance. And instead of sitting with my fear, talking through it, I gave it wings, tied myself to it, and watched it take flight with me attached. I let it control me, and I hate that.

Olivia, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I know this year will be the best one yet, because I met you. Carter

up, I admire the rose gold chain in my hand. It’s not a necklace, but a lanyard for my school ID badge. The delicate chain breaks every few inches with small diamond-encrusted hoops, a matching rose gold whistle hanging off a clip. My thumb rubs methodically over the words etched into the pendant connecting the chain to the clip. Miss Parker it says on one side. Turning it over, I smile through my quickly blurring vision at the words on the back: World’s hottest teacher. But my favorite part? The tiny hockey skate charm that dangles next to the whistle.

What’s up? Why are you coming over?” The instantaneous way she perks up is obvious, a palpable energy that leaks through the phone. “I guess you’ll have to open your front door and find out.” The line dies at the same time knocks sound on my door. Okay, it’s not knocking. I’m pretty sure there’s an entire body being slammed into the door. I scoot out of bed and head down the hall. The moment I open the door, a body collides with mine. Long limbs wrap around me, taking me to the ground, and I nearly drown in Cara’s blonde locks. She pulls back, blue eyes alive with excitement as shoves her hand in my face, an obnoxiously huge and utterly stunning diamond pressed against the tip of my nose. “Hi, maid of honor!”

There’s a reason the only thing I’ll settle for is something like my parents had. Because it was pure. It wasn’t ugly, bogged down by never-ending resentment or toxicity. Mom used to tell us those smooth bits came with time, that nothing is ever perfect in the beginning, and even when they seem perfect later on, they’re not. But to me, to any outsider looking in? It sure as hell looked perfect. I watched my dad spin my mom around the kitchen every day of my life until I moved out. I listened to their stories, their laughter. They loved hard, and it was palpable. I could always feel it as much as I could see it.

I don’t want to be fractured; I want to be whole. And maybe being whole by yourself is better.

Her wide eyes lock on mine, cheeks blazing, hand hanging there in midair, holding on to a … A goddamn Oreo. Woman’s my fucking soul mate.

One night. One damn night with this girl and I’m fucking wrecked. Why the hell can’t I let shake this?

Find the Carter Beckett we all know and love.” But what if I don’t love that version of me? What if I don’t want to be that Carter Beckett anymore?

“Olivia’s personal life is none of your damn business. Drop her name, because I can guarantee you my bite is as vicious as my bark.” The crowd clears as I push through to the change room. “Interview’s over.”

I remember why I liked her enough to go back for seconds. Because although she barely knows me, she sees me as a human being, not only a meal ticket. “You okay?” “I’m … I … I don’t know. I fucked up.” “Can you fix it?” “I don’t know how to fix my past.” She smiles. “Playboy ways coming back to bite you in the ass?”

“Oh, and Carter? You can’t fix your past, but if you want a different future, all you have to do is choose it.”

“Then help me,” I beg. “I’m trying here. I hate feeling like this. I’ve decided what I want. Isn’t it supposed to be easy from here on out?” Cara’s head rolls over her shoulders with an exasperated laugh. “I love the fuck out of you, Carter, but are you really that daft when it comes to relationships? Things don’t suddenly fall into place because you’ve decided you want her.”

We’ve had to choose each other every single day, put aside our differences and work together to compromise, to build a life together. Maybe it looks like everything simply fell into place for us, but we’ve worked hard at this, and with any good relationship, you will. You’re taking two lives and merging them. That requires a lot of work and a strong commitment. Is that what you want?” “Yes.” It’s strange what a simple three-letter word can do, one spoken with so much certainty, the weight that lifts with the epiphany that comes with it. Yes, I want to choose Olivia, over and over again. I want to work for it, for us. I want to be better, not only for her, but for myself too. Cara loops an arm through mine. “Then let’s get you your girl back, Mr. Beckett.”

And when he looks at me … when he looks at me, it’s like it’s only me and him. I like the way he looks at me.

At the end of the day, though, you’re letting fear of the unknown dictate your life.” She reaches forward, giving my ponytail a little tug. “So are your fears warranted? Absolutely. But it’s up to you to rise above them, to step outside your comfort zone and put yourself out there, if you want to explore this thing with Carter. What do you think?”

Cara snorts and pulls out her phone, showing me a text thread with a contact labeled World’s Most Annoying Man. is ollie ok? i don’t want her 2 be upset about that girl. does she hate me? do u think she wants to talk maybe 1 day soon? maybe i could send her flowers???? roses? sunflowers? seems like a bright flower kinda girl. i think i miss her, care. this sucks.

My mouth quirks, and I give Carter a tiny wave. “Bye,” I whisper. His entire face shatters with a cheek-splitting grin. “Wait!” Both hands come up as his body does this weird rock-swivel thing, like he has no idea what he’s looking for. Then he launches into the living room and returns a moment later, sliding across the floor in his socks, two cookies in his hand. With a shaky grip, he holds them up to me. “Oreos.”

He dashes ahead in his socks, now sure to be soaked from the snow, and pries open the passenger door for me. As we back out of the driveway, he watches us from the front porch, that ridiculous, over the top grin never waning. “Man’s in love,” Cara mutters, and the whole way home I can’t help wondering if that might be our future someday.

Jemmy is her little brother Jeremy. Yes, my brother named his son after himself. I call my nephew Jem, and most of the time, my brother Asshole.

“You look scared again.” I glance over my shoulder and see Cara leaning against the doorframe. “I’m terrified,” I whisper. “What scares you the most?” “That I’m going to fall in love with him.” Cara laughs, one of those irritating, mocking laughs. “Oh, Ollie.” She strolls over, stealing a slice of my extra-extra bacon pizza, taking a bite. “I hate to tell you this, but if you’re scared of falling in love with him … you’re already halfway there.”

Alannah tugs on my hand. “Why are you smiling so big, Auntie Ollie?” I fix the Vipers toque on my niece’s head, covering her ears. “I’m just happy, honey.” She grins up at me. “Happy looks good on you.” Feels damn good too.

Hope works the same way. Everything feels slow and dark without it, like a night spent waiting for the sun to rise. And then suddenly you see her, the brilliant bloom of her smile, the way her eyes come alive as they collide with yours from across the room, and everything changes. The door swings open, showing you the sunshine outside, the hope, and you step right into it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin like the heat of her stare.

“Hurting someone and getting hurt are risks you take in love.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. It’s not only the girl that needs to give you a chance; it’s yourself. So, tell me … you gonna win her back?” I grin at him, squeezing his hand. “Do I ever lose?”

“You came.” A beam like sunshine explodes across Olivia’s face, and I swear she’s radiating from the inside out. “Hi, Carter.”

Olivia reaches out, gently pulling my hair free, bringing my hand down to my lap, where she slowly twines her fingers with mine. “Okay?” she asks on a whisper. I stare down at her hand in mine, so tiny, so soft, so fucking warm. Then she gives me a tender smile, and just like that, the frantic race of my heart slows to a steady gallop, the tension in my shoulders dissolving. “Okay.”

“I really like you, Ollie.” Tenderness swims in her eyes as her shoulders drop. “I really like you, too, Carter. Thank you for being patient with me and giving me some time.” The truth is, I think I’d give her anything she ever needed, all she’d have to do is ask.

“You need to work on your self-control if we’re going to do this slow, Mr. Beckett.” “Fine, but I’ve never been good with self-control.” I watch as she climbs into her car. “That rule was more of a guideline anyway. And you wanna kiss me too!” “Of course I do.” She winks. “But I want to watch you lose more.”

Fuck. I’m not in control. I’m not in control at fucking all.

“Help me,” I beg Cara. “I’m supposed to be in control. He’s the one that’s supposed to give in.”

“Did I win?” “No,” I grumble, kicking off my heels. “I haven’t kissed you.” Still grinning, still way too smug. “We’re supposed to be taking this slow.” “I know.” “So no kissing.” “Right.” “Would it make you feel better if you won?” “I don’t—” Carter swallows my words with his mouth, his fingers plunging through my hair as my back hits the closet in the front hall. His hand slides up my leg, beneath my dress, wrapping around my bare hip as I grind myself into him. “Fuck slow,” he growls. “I can’t do slow. Not with you.”