I text Briggs when I leave the bar in the rideshare I ordered.
Then I send a text to Penelope because I can’t resist.
Knew it.
The car drops me off at the front door of our building, and I see Briggs standing outside in a pair of gray athletic sweats, a dark blue zip-up hoodie, and a pair of flip-flops. My heart picks up speed. We have a doorman, but he came downstairs to be here when I got to our building.
He steps forward when we pull up, opens my door, and takes my hand to help me out of the car.
Briggs dips down and makes eye contact with the driver. “Thanks for bringing her home safely.” And then gives the driver a wave before shutting the door.
Briggs slides his hand into mine and then leads me through the front door as the doorman holds it open for us.
“Did you have fun with the girls tonight?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at me as he leads me through the large entrance of the apartment building.
“Yeah. Lake showed up as I was leaving, though. I think I missed all the juicy drama.” I playfully huff.
“What drama?”
“Lake and Tessa.”
“What was it this time?” he asks with a sigh.
I guess their history is longer than I realize.
“She pick-pocketed his credit card and bought us all drinks. He got a fraud alert text and came down to the club.”
He just shakes his head at the shenanigans of those two.
“How did things go with my brother tonight?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
We stop in front of the elevator, and he stalls for a second, “He told me I need to tell you why I’ve been drinking.”
“Is it because of a breakup like sophomore year?”
“What?” He looks back at me with confusion. “No.”
“Oh, I thought that girl from college broke up with you for partying too much.”
The elevator doors open, and we walk through. He pushes the number to our floor, and then the elevator doors close again and begin moving us up to the sixth floor.
He begins to speak again. “She did break up with me for drinking too much, but I was drinking too much because my dad got cancer, and I didn’t know how to handle the pain and depression that came with it. It’s just as well. If someone leaves you at your hardest times… it’s better to know early on. I didn’t shed a tear for that relationship.”
I lay my hand on his right arm and squeeze a little. “I didn’t realize that was the reason. I’m sorry about your dad and that you didn’t have any support from your girlfriend.”
“And now he has it again,” he says softly, almost like he doesn’t want me to hear it.
“Hold on, what did you just say?”
He stares back at the elevator door and doesn’t look at me.
“My dad has stage three cancer.”
“Oh, my God! Are you serious?” I ask, turning towards him immediately. “Is he getting treatment? How’s he feeling? How’s your mom doing with this?”
A million questions barrel through my mind.
“Better than me,” he says flatly, still not looking at me.
“When did you see him last?”
“It’s been at least six months.”
“No! What? Why?”
I can’t believe he wouldn’t see Mr. Conley more. They’ve always had a great relationship, and Mr. Conley has always been so proud of Briggs. It’s hard for me to believe that Briggs doesn’t go see him every chance he gets.
“Because it’s tearing me up, and he just seems to brush it all under the table. He’s always trying to lighten the mood, and it makes me feel like when I’m around sulking, I just remind him that he’s sick. That’s not helpful when you’re trying to recover and having someone around who keeps begging you not to die.”
“Briggs, he loves you. You need to be there.”
The door to the elevator opens, and he steps out. I follow closely to his side.
“How long has this been going on?” I ask as we walk down the hallways toward our apartment door.
“I’ve known for a little over a year.”
“The drinking…” I say softly.
“Yeah.”
“This all makes sense now. I didn’t know any of this.”
“Your brother knew. That’s why he came.”
“Not because of the last TV interview that he heard about us dating?”
“That too. He was multitasking,” he says.
Another puzzle piece comes to mind.
“Wait, hold on, is that why you’ve been paying for Samantha’s daughter’s cancer treatment?”
“Who’s Samantha?” He finally looks over at me for a brief second.
I shake my head. I didn’t realize he didn’t know her real name.
“Dixie. Is that why you were paying for lap dances that you never received… to pay for Dixie’s daughter’s treatment.”
We come up to our door, and he spins toward me, stopping in front of me before he opens the door for us to enter.
“How did you know that’s what the lap dance receipts were for?”
I guess now is when I tell him I ran into her at the bar.
“I ran into her at the bar tonight.”
“What?” His eyebrows stitch together, a slight scowl on his face.
He’s not happy about my news.
“I sort of chased her into the woman’s restroom.”
“Why? What were you thinking?” He demands to know, taking a step closer.
It’s not as if she’s dangerous and might have shanked me in the bathroom stall… or wait, would she?
“I wanted to know why she’s blackmailing you. When she saw me, she ran. She knew who I was. My reflexes kicked in, and I went after her.”
“What did she say?” he asks, leaning in to hear me more closely.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“That you should have gone to see her like you told the Hawkeyes.”
Although then, you and I might never have been. This thing between us would never have happened, and I would have remained your best friend’s little sister for eternity without you ever noticing.
But I don’t say any of that out loud.
“She told you why she’s doing all of this?”
“Actually… she told me who’s doing all of this.”
“You lost me.”
“Her boss, the owner of the club. He’s the one that made up the story about what happened that night and told Samantha that if he didn’t get the money, he’d lose his club, and she’d lose her job.”
He turns to the left and away from me, running his hands through his hair.
“Goddamn it,” he mumbles. “Her crackhead boss is the one pulling the strings? How didn’t I think of that?”
“Do you know him?”
“No… but I’ve heard he’s shady as fuck.”
He stares at the wall as I’m sure a million thoughts are going through his head.
“She told me that the bartender lives in Portland. I’m going to call Erika in the morning—”
“Whoa, whoa.” He spins back around and places his hands on my shoulders. “You are not going out looking for Tyler.”
“Erika has the very best private investigator on retainer. He can help me—”
He cuts me off again. “Listen to me. You need to let the Hawkeyes’ legal team deal with this, okay? This is not only not your problem, but I leave tomorrow morning for four days, and I need to know that you’re home safe. Not running into dingy bars looking for a guy who may or may not want to be found. Do you understand?”
“He must be a pretty decent guy if he called Sam to come to pick you up when you’d pass out and quit when he found out what was happening. And Samantha thinks he’s the one that sent the pictures to the Hawkeyes.”
“It’s possible. I always thought Tyler was a good guy, but I still don’t like the idea of you wandering around Portland. Let the legal team figure this out… please.”
“But the Hawkeyes haven’t found this guy, and I got more information in ten minutes than they have over the last several months .”
“Autumn, don’t make me beg. Promise me you’ll let someone else pursue this lead. Not you. Otherwise, I’m packing you in my suitcase, and I’m bringing you on the bus with us, and trust me, traveling with a bunch of dudes is no vacation.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t do what?”
“Pack me in your suitcase.”
“You’re right. I’ll just toss you over my shoulder like this,” he says as he grips around my waist and hoists me up. I squeak out a sound of surprise as he flings me over his shoulder. “And use you as a body pillow so I can sleep better in the hotel.”
He reaches for the apartment door and opens it, walking inside with me still folded in half over his shoulder. He flips me back over, slowly and gently, making sure my feet touch the ground, and I cover my chest, making sure my boobs don’t fall out of my low-cut top.
His eyes cast down at the low V of my shirt too.
I love the feeling of his eyes on me in a provocative manner, but I know better than to let these feelings grow.
He reaches back for the door and engages the deadbolt lock. Then he heads into the kitchen, and I follow. If we’re quiet, Isaac shouldn’t be able to hear us.
Briggs presses a hip to the counter and then folds his arms over his chest.
“So, you were going to see Samantha after you heard about your dad?”
“Sort of. The club isn’t far from my apartment, and when I found out about my dad, I didn’t want to drink alone. I started going where the lights and the music stayed on all night. Where I don’t have to go home to the dark and think about my dad and wonder how much time he has left, wonder if he’s scared, and what my mom will do when he’s gone. What I will do when he’s gone.”
He looks away, and I see his Adam’s apple bob with emotion like he’s pulling back the tears.
“Briggs,” I say, placing my hand on his chest.
“I go to where the music is so loud, I can’t think. And I drink until I pass out in a place where I know Dixie and Tyler will make sure I don’t get fucked with while I’m out.”
“And the lap dances?”
“One night, the club was slow. She came out and sat next to me at the bar where Tyler was serving me drinks, and he and I were talking. She asked why a guy like me comes in night after night on his own and sits at the bar, never watching the show. I told her about my dad, and then she told me about how she needs this job as a single mom to a daughter who’s fighting childhood cancer.”
Is that why he agreed to the charity fundraiser so quickly? He still wants to help her daughter even though she didn’t even bother to warn Briggs about her boss. Or maybe he’s doing it for his dad.
“Oh, jeez. That’s sad that she has to carry the burden alone.”
He nods.
“She said it’s expensive driving to and from treatments. The travel costs and missing stretches of work to be with her daughter. She was disappointed that it was a slow night because she had a payment to the hospital coming up, so I paid for a lap dance that night but told her I’d rather talk instead. I started doing that once a week when I’d go in, even if she was too busy to sit and talk with me. Tyler would ring it up on my tab and make sure she got the money before the end of her shift.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I say sarcastically.
As if paying for the lap dance was the best he could do. She needs out of there and away from her slimy boss but still make money to support her daughter. That’s what she really needs.
But I can’t be to upset with him. At least he was doing something to help her.
“I’ve never gotten a lap dance from her. I swear. And I’d never lie to you. I hope you believe me.”
“I do.”
This is so different than what I’d thought. I would have never guessed that this is why he paid for lap dances that he never used.
“I’m sorry to ask this. I’m not trying to be heartless, but…”
“Is she telling the truth?”
“Yeah.”
He thinks for a second. “I asked Tyler one night about the story she told me. He confirmed it was true.”
“So you pay for lap dances that you never get.”
“I have probably over a 100 saved up.” He shrugs.
“Cute.” I roll my eyes.
“I have no intentions of ever cashing them in,” he says, pulling me against him. “I’d rather get a lap dance from you.”
“Why am I the one giving the lap dance? What if I want one?”
“Autumn,” he says, running his fingers up the side of my neck. “Anytime you want me to dance half-naked on you, I’d be more than happy to oblige you with my best moves.”
“Wait, why aren’t you fully naked? I want my money’s worth.”
“Fuck, I’ll get naked and grind on you anytime you want,” he says with hooded eyes. “I’m sorry I put you in a position to believe the worst in me,” he says.
“I never believed any of it. Not for a second. I just couldn’t understand why you were hurting so bad that you were drinking like that.”
“It wasn’t my smartest decision,” he says, biting down on the inside of his cheek.
“And I don’t understand her motive. Why would she blackmail a big, hot hockey player already giving her money to take care of her daughter?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering too. I wanted to go see her and ask what the fuck, but she filed a restraining and a do-not-contact order against me. The team lawyers don’t want me touching a damn thing with this case even though… I don’t know. Something just didn’t seem right. And now I know my intuition was correct. I’m glad you got to the bottom of this,” he says, and then looks at the clock on the stove. “But it’s almost two in the morning. We need to go to bed. I’m leaving early, and so is your brother.”
“Okay, let’s go,” I say.
He smiles and then wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in front of him, kissing the top of my head and pushing me gently toward the bedroom. “I’ll call Sam tomorrow and see if I can meet with him and Legal.”
“Good idea. Let them handle everything from here, though. Please don’t get involved past this.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, noncommittal.
He squeezes my sides from behind, and I yelp.
“Shh, you’re going to wake up your brother.” He chuckles, even though it’s his fault for tickling me.
He follows me into the bedroom and then stands in the door jam of the walk-in closet as I strip out of my jeans and shirt in exchange for silky pajamas that I’ll admit, I got because they were a little sexy, and I wanted to torture him a little. But now that we’ve had sex, I’m a little surprised he’s only standing there watching instead of touching.
I pull on my silky pajama shirt over my bare breasts, and he doesn’t seem happy that I cover them up.
He goes silent for a second while he seems to mull it all over.
“Your brother knows we’re faking it.”
Where the hell did that come from?
“You told him?” I say in shock.
Why would he do that after all this work we’ve put in? We’re almost at the finish line. My brother leaves tomorrow.
“I didn’t. Derek came by today and gave us up.”
“Derek came by? Here? You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“That’s a violation of our contract with the Hawkeyes. He could get fired for that… I could get fired for that. What did my brother say?” I ask, my arms folded over my chest.
“He agreed to keep our secret until this ends.”
Until this ends…
There it was.
I’ve heard it many times before this, but hearing it again just solidifies what I already know.
“And you agreed to this?” I ask.
He just looks back at me and doesn’t speak for another second.
“It’s this, or he said he’ll come back. He didn’t have to say it, but our friendship won’t survive a second fight over you.”
I nod. I won’t let this crush on Briggs end Isaac’s relationship with his best friend. It’s wrong of me to want it, and it’s naive to think Briggs wants a relationship with me after this, anyway.
I need to remember what I’m doing this for.
My promotion.
