Only One Chance (Only One 2)

“It’s irritating because it makes me feel needy,” she says. “And I’m an independent woman.” I see her face get angry. “It’s silly. You are only going to be gone for four days. Jesus, it’s not like you are going off to war.”

“Gorgeous.” I say her nickname softly, and she groans.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Don’t with that voice.”

“What voice?” I ask, shocked.

“The voice that goes low right before you lean over and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me.” She throws her hands in the air. “It might be my favorite,” she says, and now I roll my lips. “After the one where you talk with your teeth together because then I know you’re going to give it to me good.”

I try not to laugh. “First thing, I always give it to you good.”

“I agree with that.” She smirks now.

“Second, I don’t have different voices,” I tell her, and she laughs.

“You so do,” she says. “There is the one that is normal. Like now,” she says. “Then the second that goes down soft when I do or say something that you really really like.” She puts up her second finger. “Then the third is when I get under your skin and fight with you. You snap, and there is that vein right there.” She points at her forehead. “That bulges out right before you snap.” She gives me a sly smile. “That one I love, too, because the last time you used that one, I had your fingertips bruised onto my hips for five days.” She winks at me.

“Well, if I was home right now …” I watch her. “I would definitely be the third one.”

“Really?” she says, and I see her eyes get cloudy. We are no strangers to sexting or phone sex. “What would you do to me?”

“Take your pants off,” I tell her, and she just looks at me.

“They were off the minute you texted me that you landed,” she tells me, and I put my head back and laugh.

“If you keep talking like that,” I say. “I might think you really like me.”

She throws her head back with a groan, and I laugh now as she gets frustrated. She puts the phone down and takes off her sweater, showing me that she is fully naked. “If you aren’t going to help me, I am going to have to take things into my own hands.”

“Don’t you dare,” I tell her, and she glares at me. “Now, lie down and spread your legs.”

She doesn’t argue with me, and in five minutes, we are both coming. “Now I have to go to dinner.” I tuck myself back into my pants and walk to the bathroom to clean up.

“I’m going to go soak in a tub,” she says, getting up and walking back to her bathroom naked. “I’ll send you pictures.”

I shake my head when I hear a knock on the door. “Later, Adams.” She disconnects as I walk over to the door and find Manning and Ralph waiting for me.

“You get your fix in?” Manning says, looking up from his phone. I laugh at him, and we walk out to eat.

The game against Ottawa is rough, and we lose three to one. We get on the bus right after the game and make our way to Montreal for a game the next day. I listen to Layla’s show the next day, and even though I know she is going to rip me to shreds for the way I played, it still stings a bit. But she was right. My head was not in the game. I wish I could say it was better against Montreal, but I would be lying. Thankfully, I’m on the plane the next day while her show is on. I land, and I don’t bother texting her, opting to go straight to her house.

I park my car in her driveway seeing her car and another car I don’t recognize. When I spoke to her this morning, she sounded a bit off, but I didn’t say anything. I was going to text her when I got off the plane, but instead, I decided to surprise her here. Plus, I missed her. I get out of the car and walk up to her door, ringing the doorbell.

I turn to look around to look back at the car that is there, trying to figure out who it belongs to. The lock turns, and I look back with a smile on my face, expecting to see her. “He-” I stop speaking when I see a guy opening her door. “Oh.” He is standing there in jeans and a white button-down shirt. His blond hair is perfectly cut and to the side. I know this guy, but I can’t place him right now.

“Can I help you?” he asks, holding the door as my heart hammers in my chest. I must take too long to answer him. “Um, hello? Can I help you?”