Unravel Me (Playing For Keeps Book 3)
Unravel Me: Chapter 37

“I’m scared to leave you with them.”

Cara rolls her eyes, sipping her shimmery red cocktail. “Say that one more time, Adam, and I’ll give you something to be scared about.”

“You keep saying that like Rosie’s not already one of us,” Jennie adds.

“She joined the book club. She’s officially infiltrated the group. There’s no turning back now.” Olivia slaps Carter’s hand under the table and holds up her butter knife. “Carter, I swear to God, if you try to slip your hand under my dress one more time, I’m going to saw it off. We’re at a fundraiser for kids, for fuck’s sake.”

Carter pouts. I’ve learned no one does it quite like him, except maybe his sister. Something about those Beckett dimples, maybe. “Yeah, but there are no kids here, and your legs keep peeking out of that slit.”

Garrett tosses back his water. “Yeah, Carter. Take her to the bathroom instead. Jennie and I have already been.”

“You motherfucker,” Carter seethes, launching himself across Olivia, a battle of slapsies ensuing between the two adult men, or overgrown children, whichever you prefer.

“Sister fucker,” Jaxon corrects, and Emmett high-fives him.

Adam stands, folding his napkin and placing it on the table. “Yeah, see, this is exactly what I mean.”

“Rosie can hold her own,” Carter says.

Emmett tosses his arm over my shoulder. “We’re gonna tell Rosie how you got your nickname Woody.”

Adam’s eyes widen. “No.”

“I thought it was because his last name is Lockwood?”

“They caught Adam jerking off on his first road trip in his hotel room,” Jaxon tells me.

Adam shoves a finger in Jaxon’s face. “You weren’t even there, twat-waffle!”

The table goes silent, and then promptly explodes with laughter.

Carter makes a claw with his hand. “Rawr.”

“I love getting him riled up,” Garrett says.

I chuckle, grabbing a fistful of Adam’s crisp white button-up, tugging him down to me. “I’ll be fine. I know exactly who these people are, and I choose to love them, and you, anyway.”

“Was that an insult?” Carter whispers. “It felt like an insult.”

I press my lips to Adam’s as the emcee introduces him. “You look so handsome. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you up there.” He grins, and I pull him closer, my lips at his ear. “Then maybe you can take me in the bathroom.”

I swear I hear it, the way his heart speeds up, his slow swallow.

Am I normally this bold? Of course not.

Do I have a penchant for sex in semi-public places where someone could potentially catch us ever since Adam fucked me so hard my soul left my body in that changeroom last week?

…

Yes.

Listen, it’s out of my hands tonight. This party goes until eleven so that the boys can board their plane to Tampa forty minutes later. If I want him one more time—and I do—I have no choice.

I peck his lips and smile up at him as he struggles with the buttons of his suit jacket, wide eyes bouncing between me, the hallway that leads to the bathrooms, and the stage where everyone is waiting for him.

He walks away, and Cara’s lips touch my ear. “I knew you had a freaky side.”

I arch a brow, because I know for a fact that Adam received a call for help in his group chat last week that involved some sort of mix-up with handcuffs and lost keys. If that wasn’t enough, Cara slid into our girls’ chat forty minutes later to ask Olivia if she liked what she saw when she and Carter came to save the day.

Cara just smiles a devious smile, wagging her brows, and I roll my eyes, turning my full attention to Adam as he takes the stage.

He’s always a dream, whether covered head to toe in hockey gear, in a hoodie and a pair of sweats, naked and sleep-rumpled in bed, or in nothing but a thin pair of pajama pants hanging low off his hips and my favorite five o’clock shadow while he makes us French toast and bacon over the stove. But tonight, with his normally unruly curls tamed, a fresh shave, and a midnight blue suit that looks like it was made just for him, a crimson tie that matches my dress, he’s immaculate. A picture of confidence and control, someone who knows what his purpose in life is and is proud of every step he’s taken.

I’m proud of him too.

“Good evening, everyone, and thank you for joining us tonight at the first annual Tinsel and Ties Charity Gala. My name is Adam Lockwood, and I—”

“Fuck yeah, Woody! ”

“Take it off, baby! ”

“—have the most supportive and inappropriate friends in the world, apparently.” The crowd laughs, and he smiles. “Most of you know me as the goalie for the Vancouver Vipers, but I’m also the proud founder of The Family Project, a charity that supports local foster agencies here in British Columbia. All proceeds go directly back into our community, and tonight in particular, we’re raising money to open our first ever sports summer camp.” His grin is so boyish, so adorable as he rubs the back of his neck, a sweet flush painting his cheekbones at the hoots and cheers. “I’m really proud, but mostly, I’m proud of this community. None of this would be possible without the amazing people who come out and support us every time, who donate their time—and their money, thank you so much—just to put a smile on a kid’s face. And while I know how much it means to these kids, I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Because I was that kid.”

Adam drops his eyes for a moment, and when he looks up, they come to me. There’s something in them, something sad and yet so damn grateful, and it sparks a hope in me I didn’t know I needed, not right now. “The truth is, I was so damn lucky to find my forever family. And if I hadn’t found them, I wouldn’t be where I am now, with a whole crew of people I call family.” He gestures at our table. “My teammates, and their incredible wives. My spectacular girlfriend, and our beautiful son.”

My heart leaps to my throat at that three-letter adjective he’s tossed in there so casually, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. His mouth quirks as he watches me start fidgeting, tugging at my dress, shifting in my seat.

“If I can help even one child find the love I’ve found, I know I’ll have made a difference. Thank you, folks, for coming out here and making a difference too.”

Adam heads through his standing ovation, his hand on the button of his suit jacket as he approaches me. Music starts, drowning out the applause, and he takes my hand, pulling me out to the dance floor.

“Why’re you crying, gorgeous?” he asks, spinning me out before hauling me into his chest.

“I’m so proud of you.” I sniffle, wiping away the tears. “And also, you said our . You called Connor our son. And all I’ve ever wanted is for someone to love him as endlessly as you do.”

“I was thinking, maybe one day in the future…” He clears his throat, and I’m thrown by the sudden shyness, the uncertainty.

“Spit it out, Woody.”

He grins, and right here on the dance floor, in front of everyone, pinches my ass. “It’s Adam to you, and when I’m inside you, God is also acceptable.” Blowing out a low breath, he spins us in a slow circle. “I was thinking, in the future, when we get married—”

“You have to ask me first, you know.”

He narrows his eyes. “If we manage to make it to the bathroom, everyone’s definitely going to hear my name coming out of that mouth, trouble.” He arches a brow, and when I fold my lips into my mouth, continues. “Would me adopting Connor be something you might want? Obviously, we would talk to him about it, too, and see if he wants that, but—”

I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him so tight, and he chuckles.

“Is that a yes?”

“He’d be the luckiest boy in the world to be able to officially call you his dada.” My hand slips into his hair, and I press my lips to his. “But you’ve been his dada from the moment he laid his eyes on you, Adam.”

His soft exhale rolls down my neck, and as we move from one song right into the next where he refuses to let go, I can’t get my mind off a little brown-eyed girl who stole my heart on a pair of skates.

“Have you ever thought of fostering any of the kids from the home? Or…adopting?”

His hand glides slowly up my back. “It’s something that’s always been on my mind, to be honest with you.”

“Really? How come you’ve never asked me if it’s something I want?” Because truthfully, until recently, the thought of ever stepping foot into a foster home again made me sick to my stomach. I’ve wanted to leave all those years in my past, but now all I can think about is giving someone the childhood I wished I had. The family I lost, and the one I’ve found now.

Adam brushes his thumb over the dimple in my chin. “Because none of those things are deal breakers to me, Rosie. There are so many ways for us to give back to this community. It doesn’t have to be by foster or adoption if it isn’t something that fits our family. I also recognize how different our experiences were within foster care, and you’re still sorting through those emotions. The last thing I’ll ever do is put pressure on you.”

His hand goes to my hair, drifting across the jeweled barrette, twirling a wayward lock around his fingers before he tucks it behind my ear. “How we make a family doesn’t matter to me. Whether we open our home to kids who were born to someone else, whether we make five babies or Connor is our one and only, and he and Bear convince us to buy a farm filled with animals to play with. What matters to me, at the end of the day, is that I’m with my family. And my family is you and Connor.”

With my cheek on his chest, I breathe in the comfort, the security, the way he loves me so completely, without conditions. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For not making me feel pressured either way. For everything you do that makes this world a better place for kids like Connor and Lily. For kids like twelve-year-old me, who hoped one day they’d find someone who cared as much as you do.” I take his face in my hands. “You’re a good man, Adam Lockwood. I love you.”

“You do, huh? How much?”

I arch a brow. “What do you want?”

He grins, shrugging. “Been thinking about what Carter said a few weeks ago, at your birthday.”

“He says a lot of things. In fact, he almost never stops talking.”

Adam chuckles. “About you and Connor moving in after you graduate.”

My pulse spikes. “Oh. Don’t worry about that.”

“I’m not.”

“Cool.” My head bobs. “Yeah, me neither.” I try to back up, put the teensiest amount of space between us so he can’t hear the way my heart rattles against my rib cage, but his palms press against my back, pulling me right back in until I bounce off his chest.

“Connor’s room is already made up, and you don’t have much stuff at your place with Archie. Should be a quick, painless move.”

My jaw drops, and Adam smirks, two fingers on my chin to close my mouth.

“You’re not surprised, are you? You heard Carter say I was obsessed with you, right?”

“I mean, it’s not as if I haven’t thought, you know, ‘How cool would that be, if everything was still perfect in the spring, and Adam maybe wanted us to stay forever, and— ’”

“I want you to stay forever, Rosie. I was thinking we could start the year off in our house, together.”

“The year? Like-like-like…the new year? In two weeks, that new year?”

“The very one.”

“But-but-but—” Jesus, Rosie. “That’s so soon.”

“Respectfully, I don’t give a fuck how soon it is. Why should I wait on something that brings me so much happiness?” He cups my cheek, guiding my gaze to his. “If it’s not something you’re ready for, and you feel like it’s too fast, that’s okay. Communicate that with me, and I’ll back off.” He dips his head, nuzzling my neck. “But if you’re on the fence and open to persuasion, I can take you to the bathroom and show you what we could do every single morning on our bathroom counter.”

“Mmm…” I sway into him as he kisses his way up my neck. “What if I want to paint our bedroom pink?”

“Done.”

I think about his SUV, the one I’ve been driving to and from school since I got my license. “And if I hit a curb with your car? Oh, or what if I backed into your truck with your car? Huh? What then?”

He drops his head, pressing his quiet, rumbly laugh against my shoulder. “Do you want to hear how the first thing I’ll ask is whether you’re okay? And then tell you that it’s okay, they’re just cars? Or do you want me to tell you how I’ll bend you over the hood of it later that night, when the house is quiet, and pretend I’m furious? Because I’ll do both, Rosie.”

Sounds great. Okay, Rosie, let’s level this bad boy up.

“What if I have a creepy ceramic doll collection I haven’t told you about and I want to display them for everyone to see?”

“Then I’ll build you a fucking shelf for your creepy dolls so their eyes can follow me everywhere I go in our house, so long as it’s our house. Just move in with me, please .”

“Geez,” I mumble, hiding my smile against his shoulder. “No need to beg. I was gonna say yes.”

“Fucking troublemaker,” he murmurs against my lips, then glances at his watch. “We’ve still got over an hour before I need to be on that plane. How many times do you think I can make you come in that bathroom before then?”

“Gross,” Carter whispers, killing the moment as he appears beside us. “Your bathroom orgasms need to wait. The DJ’s about to put our song on.”

“Our song? What—” Adam’s brows pull down, his mouth set in a grim line as the “Cha-Cha Slide” starts spilling from the speakers. The boys gather around him, clapping their hands to the beat, and Adam tries to hang onto me like Jack tried to hang onto that door. There’s not enough room for him on my door, though, and this Titanic is sinking, so I smile at him as I let him go.

“My brain genuinely can’t comprehend why I find this both utterly mortifying and yet such a fucking turn-on,” Olivia whispers as she pulls me to safety.

“Oh, I love it.” Cara traces the shape of her lips with her pointer finger as she watches her husband dance. “Emmett sometimes puts it on while he’s cleaning. There’s nothing like watching your man cha-cha real smooth with a Dyson in his hand.”

“I love when Garrett shakes his ass,” Jennie tells us on a sigh. “He’s such a bad dancer, and it makes him a hundred times more lovable.”

“Adam’s been teaching Connor how to do the Macarena. Connor calls it the Macaroni, so now every time Adam puts his hands on his ass and jumps, he sings, ‘Heeey, Macaroni !’ It’s the most attractive thing ever , and I jumped on him as soon as Connor went down for his nap this afternoon.”

“That man was made to be a dad,” Cara says, nodding.

The song comes to an end, and the boys bow to their cheering crowd before they start ambling over.

“Who’s got first dibs on the private bathroom?” Cara asks. “Because I—” Her eyes widen, and her face goes a volcanic shade of red as her gaze narrows on something over my shoulder. “I must have died and gone to hell, because I know Satan’s whore didn’t really just rise from the ashes and walk the fuck in here.”

Adam’s easy grin slips, and the blood drains from his face. He grips my hand, pulling me behind him, and I grip his suit jacket as I peek around him, at whatever is causing the commotion.

A stunning redhead strides toward us in sky-high stilettos and a fur jacket. It’s not until she stops before us and slips it off, showing us the glittery royal blue dress below, do I notice that she is really fucking pregnant.

A low gasp fills the room, and Cara mutters something about the spawn of Satan.

The redhead smirks at her, crossing her arms over her chest. “Charming as always, Cara.” Devastatingly beautiful and equally evil blue eyes move over me with disdain, and my stomach somersaults as Adam tucks me tighter against him.

“What do you want, Courtney?”

“Oh, that’s simple.” She tosses her fiery red locks over her shoulder. “I want you to step up and be a father to the baby you put inside me.”

ADAM

“What the fuck did you just say?”

I slam the door behind us, the cold, fresh air doing nothing to soothe the fire torching my insides. Rosie’s tucked into Olivia’s side, her gaze so lost as it moves between Courtney’s belly and me.

I feel like my goddamn head is going to explode.

“I’m pregnant,” Courtney says. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I snort. “Clearly.”

“The baby is yours, Adam. And if you’d had picked up the phone any of the hundred times I tried calling you, or showed up to the meeting you set up with me, you’d know that.”

“Absolutely fucking not. We haven’t slept together in a year and a half.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “So you’re just going to pretend that night at your place didn’t happen? In July, when you had that party?”

“What ? I didn’t touch you! I don’t even remember you being there!” My gaze flicks to Rosie, and I see the way she’s backtracking, adding up dates in her head, and I fucking panic. “Rosie, I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since you came into my life, I swear it.”

“This is disgusting,” Courtney spits. “I figured you regretted it when you woke up the next morning and tried to play it off like nothing happened, when you kicked me out of what used to be our house. But I can’t believe you, Adam Lockwood, golden boy, would really act like you had nothing to do with this. You found me in nothing but your T-shirt, for fuck’s sake.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.” It’s not me who says it, but Carter. “Everyone knows you’re nothing but a conniving, vindictive old shrew. All you ever do is try to break everything good because you lost the best thing you’ll ever have. You’re lying.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Courtney shoves her phone in his face, in Rosie’s before I yank it from her hand. “Pretty damning evidence whose bed I slept in that night.”

The photo is me, passed out in my bed. Next to me? Courtney, in nothing but my T-shirt.

I shake my head, searching my brain. Like it was that morning, it’s foggy as hell. “I had too much to drink. I did…I did those keg stands.” I look to Jaxon, pleading for answers, but he just shakes his head, his eyes sad for me, like he wishes he could help.

“I told you that morning, dude. You ran out of the pool when you saw her come in, and I never saw you again.”

I tug at my hair. “I don’t remember.”

Courtney steps forward, one hand on her belly, the other on my arm. “We can be a family again, Adam.”

I jerk away from her touch. “I have a family.”

“A real family. You’ve been playing house with that girl for long enough, don’t you think?”

“Don’t fucking talk about her,” I growl lowly, looming over Courtney.

“This is our son. Ours , Adam. The one you always wanted. The one we dreamed about having together.”

My stomach roils, and I place a hand over it. “A baby won’t change anything between us. And I have the son I always dreamed of having.”

“This rich, martyr stepdaddy act is getting old, Adam.” She spins to Rosie, a huff of laughter escaping her nose. “Wow, talk about getting lucky, huh? You must be thrilled that your woe is me sweet little single mama act worked. You think you’re set for life now, huh?”

“Enough ,” I roar, blood thundering in my ears, my heart hammering. “Don’t fucking speak to her. Don’t even look at her. You’re so goddamn beneath her, she can’t even fucking see you.”

Rosie rushes to my side, tucking her shaking hand in mine, placing her other hand over my heaving chest. “This conversation is over,” she tells Courtney. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you bitch.”

“No,” Cara growls, stepping between Rosie and Courtney. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that. In fact, life would be immensely better for everyone if you just. Shut . Up. ” She swings her hip out, pinning her arms over her chest. “You should be ashamed of yourself for ruining such a special night for five minutes of fame. Like the woman told you, this conversation is over. Now get. The fuck. Out .”

“You’re a bitch,” Courtney spits out.

“Proud of it, babe.” Cara wiggles her fingers at her as she storms down the street. “Enjoy your trip back to the fiery depths of hell.”

As luck would have it, our team bus pulls up out front at this moment, and the doors open as the rest of the team filters outside.

Coach raises his brows at me. “Everything good here?”

No .

“All good, Coach,” Carter replies, his grip on my shoulder shaky.

“All right. Everyone on the bus. Wheels up in forty.”

“Rosie, I swear—”

She silences my frantic words with her mouth on mine, her trembling fingers pressing into my jaw as her soft lips move with purpose. When she pulls back, it’s the quiver in her chin that breaks me, the way her gaze wobbles as she stares up at me. “We’ll…we’ll figure this out, Adam. Okay?”

I climb on the bus and watch my pink-haired world slowly fade from view, and I can’t help the thoughts that claw their way in, setting up shop inside my brain.

Will we figure this out?

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