He’s All In Read online

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

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  My eyes have been locked on Chandler since I first laid eyes on her since middle school. Beautiful and smart, she’s my dream girl and I’ve never wanted another. She’s it for me, but I can’t do a damn thing about it because she’s my best friend’s girl. Davis, Chandler, and I have been a tight unit for a long time but the bonds are beginning to show some strain.

  I’d like to blame it on the pandemic but the truth is it’s getting harder to hide my feelings for Chandler. I can’t tell her because I’m not the type of guy who’d stab a friend in the back.

  Knowing the right thing and doing the right thing is hard as hell. My heart tells me to go for it and my head tells me if I do, I stand to ruin three lives. The more I’m around her, the more my defenses crumble. All I really want is to go all in.

  Chapter One

  Berkley

  “No football this year, eh?” I stare down at the top of Davis’ head. He’s been bent over for so long I wonder if he’s going to have a permanent kink in his neck. Smoke billows out from beside his head from his joint. “Tough.”

  “You sound real sympathetic.”

  I squint at the sun and think about my tone. My mom is always on my ass about my tone. Berkley, watch your tone. Berkley, say it with some meaning. Berkley, if you can’t be nice maybe don’t say anything at all.

  “Never mind,” Davis sighs. “Don’t break your brain trying to drum up some feeling. I know you have none.”

  About this situation? Yeah, not really. I mean, maybe if I had a rocket for an arm like Davis, I’d be more upset that school wasn’t taking place like normal this year, but I’m not a football star like my friend. I’m part of that group in high school that doesn’t socialize. I suppose I could. There’s always girls on my non-existent jock strap trying to worm their way into my home, but my door’s closed. I’m not a fan of people.

  Davis hands me the joint. I take a puff and then drop it to the ground, grinding it out with my boot heel. “That shit’ll kill you.”

  “Weed does not kill anyone.”

  “It stunts your growth.”

  “I’m six five.”

  “Shrinks your dick.”

  Davis’ head jerks around. “Really?”

  I smirk. “Wouldn’t know. My cock is giant.”

  “Fuck you.” He holds up his middle finger.

  “Think of all the extra time you’ll have to smash Chandler.”

  “She’s like my fucking sister, you asshole,” he snarls.

  “You don’t look at her like she’s your sister, but if you’re all filial and shit, guess you don’t mind if I take a shot,” I say, knowing full well he’s about to strangle me.

  “You touch her and your giant cock is getting fed to my dogs.”

  Thought so. “Why are you always talking about my cock, man? It’s nice, I know, but it’s not for you.”

  “God, why does the pandemic always take the decent people and leave the likes of you?” Davis groans, burying his face in his hands.

  “I’m decent,” I protest. “Just because I’m not kissing babies—which, by the way, we aren’t supposed to do during a pandemic—doesn’t mean I’m not decent. And you’re still around, which means you’re in the same boat as me.”

  “I might as well be dead.” He throws himself against the grass and stares up at the sun. “If I can’t play football, what’s the point?”

  “Sooner you’re dead, sooner I can make a move on Chandler.”

  “Would you stop saying her name before I deck you?”

  “Promises. Promises.”

  He half lunges at me, but there’s no spirit in it. I give him a worried look. Usually bringing Chandler up in a conversation invokes the most maniacal response from him. Everyone knows it. Even his teammates will use that tactic if they feel like he needs extra motivation in a game. But the whole canceling of the football season, the mandated learning from home, is putting him into a deep funk. I pull a bottle of whiskey out of my backpack. “I was saving this for tonight, but have at it.” I hand it to him.

  He takes it with gratitude, chugging at least a quarter of the bottle before wiping off the neck and then the back of his mouth. “Wild times we’re living in,” he says moodily.

  “Yeah.”

  Davis and I both caught the virus early on, making us two of the few who have had it in our town. It’s probably made us reckless since we’re immune and we can’t transmit it. The ironic thing is that we caught it doing the most mundane shit. Davis was watching his niece for his aunt who works at the hospital. She caught it from a patient and unknowingly passed it on to the baby. It was in the early days when no one knew anything about it other than it was like the flu on steroids.

  I didn’t have any symptoms, whereas Davis lost his taste and smell and had fevers so high his mom was scared he was going to have seizures. He pulled through, but his aunt’s mom succumbed. It sobered everyone up real quick. Masks went on and school’s shut down. I think everyone was hoping we’d be able to go back to normal this fall, but it’s not happening.

  “If you’re not going to bang Chandler and you can’t play football, what will you do?” I ask, capping the bottle.

  Davis exhales wearily. “Don’t know. Feel like this whole year is going to be a waste.”

  “We should do something fun then.”

  “Like what?”

  “Dunno.” We’re not real creative people. Davis’ idea of fun is getting chased by eleven guys weighing over two hundred pounds. My idea of fun is day trading on the market, but these days I feel guilty about it because of how everyone else is suffering, so I haven’t been doing much of it lately. It’s not like I need money anyway. I’ve got too much of it. To ease my guilt, I’ve been cruising donation sites and leaving sums here and there. It’s not much, but it helps me sleep at night.

  Wish I could help Davis, though, since he’s about my only friend. We’re an odd couple for sure. I’m anti-social to the point some call me a psychopath. The more people Davis has around him, the happier he is. But there are sides to Davis he doesn’t show to others. Sometimes he gets real moody like he is now. And he’s got an anger problem. Quick off the trigger. I’m way more laid back. I think it’s because I interact with people less. If you aren’t around people, there really isn’t much that makes you mad.

  As for me, I guess my hidden side is that I don’t mind companionship so long as I’m spending it with people I like. Davis is one. My mom is another. I fucking hate my father’s guts and hope he dies of the virus or gets hit by a car or one of his many mistresses stakes a knife through his heart while they’re fucking. I don’t mind Chandler either. There’s something about her—nah, I shut that down right away. Chandler is Davis’ girl even if he won’t admit it.

  Chapter Two

  Chandler

  I pull the second batch of cookies out of the oven, setting them on the stove to cool down for a minute. I sing along with Beyonce as I pull the icing I made earlier out of the refrigerator. I give it another taste to make sure that it’s as good as I remember.

  “Perfect,” I sing song to myself. Now I only have to w
ait a few more minutes and I can start decorating the cookies. I turn the music up, not having to worry about the noise. No one is home. I dance around, thinking maybe I can package the cookies up for Mom and Dad and they could take them to work with them. I’m not really sure if that’s allowed or not. It won’t hurt to ask. I slide across the kitchen floor to grab my cell phone, which is currently blasting the music I’ve been dancing along to.

  My eyes connect with Berkley’s outside the window, and I let out a small scream as my mind plays catch up. “You scared the crap out of me.” I wasn’t expecting him so soon. He gives me an unapologetic shrug. I turn off the music. “I want to talk to you. Go to the back door.” I nod. It’s right off the kitchen.

  When I pull it open, Berkley is already there. I drop my head back and look up at him. I’m used to this. All the men in my life are ridiculously tall. I would say that it’s something in the water around here, but the fact that I’m 5’4 myself and drink the same water tells me that’s not it.

  “Wasn’t trying to scare you. I left out of the back of Davis’ and then I heard this terrible noise. I thought someone was dying.”

  “Are you making a joke, Berkley?” I narrow my eyes at him trying to pretend I’m insulted, but I’m sure I’m failing because I’m fighting a smile. Plus, I know my singing is the worst. I own that and I also own the fact that I’m not going to stop doing it either. He shrugs again, his face giving nothing away. It never does. It drives me bonkers. I wish I too had the ability.

  “Haven't seen you in a few days.” I hope I don’t sound desperate. I stand on my tiptoes reaching my hand up. Berkley's dark green eyes that I’ve dreamed about far more than I should have widen a fraction. “I don’t bite.” I laugh, pulling his hoodie off his head. I release my hold on it, pulling my hand back. I let my fingers brush across his wide chest as I step back. Still his face gives me nothing.

  “Been around,” he finally says.

  “You want to come in?” I open the door wider.

  “I'm not sure—” I grab him by the wrist, pulling him in. He comes willingly or I wouldn't have been able to do it. I push the door closed behind me. “Chandler.” He says my name the same way that deep voice of his had when I’d dreamt of him. I don’t stop, though. I keep pulling him.

  “Sit and have a cookie.” I pull the lid off the first batch of cookies, and I know without a doubt that I’ve got him. He won’t be able to resist my cookies. Berkley and Davis destroy anything I cook. He glances around the kitchen. Now that I think about it I’m not sure he’s ever been in here before. I always go next door to Davis’ when we all hang out.

  “I’m eighteen. Plus the parentals are out for the night. They’re not home most of the time these days.” I’m not really sure Mom would even care if I did have a boy over here that wasn't Davis.

  There is a lot of trust between us, and she knows I wouldn't do anything I shouldn't unless I was ready. The perk of your mom working in the medical field is sex is openly talked about and not shoved away in a box under the bed or shamed.

  “How are they holding up?” For once his face gives me something. Concern.

  “Tired, but they are doing their part.” He nods in understanding. With Mom being a nurse practitioner and Dad being an EMT, things have been a little crazy around here.

  “If there is anything I can do will you let me know? You don’t have a car so if you need to be somewhere I’ll take you.” I bite my lip as my stomach flutters.

  “Actually, I’ll take you up on that.” I unlock my phone and hand it to him. He takes it, calling himself. I have to fight the urge to reach over and run my fingers through his short dark hair. It has that messy look a lot of people are doing these days, but I don’t think Berkley is trying to go for any particular look. When it starts to ring, he ends the call, handing it back to me.

  I lick my lips, and Berkley’s eyes drop there for a moment before he quickly pulls them away and shoves a whole cookie into his mouth. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. He’s never going to notice me, and it’s really starting to mess with my head. I avoid the opposite sex for good reason. All of a sudden I want one’s attention, and he’s only nice to me because of Davis. Figures.

  The first few times I met Berkley, most of his responses were grunts. I have no idea why I found it kind of adorable, but I did. He grabbed my attention, and through the years it’s slowly grown. Now it suddenly feels as if time is running out. When both Davis and Berkley tested positive for the virus it was a reality check for me. It made me realize that we are never promised a tomorrow.

  I push those thoughts away, needing to get to the real reason I asked Berkley to come over. I grab the other chair so I can sit down. I cross my legs. Again, Berkley drops his eyes to my bare legs before he quickly pulls them away again. My entire body heats at the thought of him looking at me.

  “How’s he doing?” I am worried about Davis. He doesn't seem to be handling all this too well. He’s slowly pulling away from everyone, and I know where that can lead. I’ve been there before. Berkley’s shoulders drop.

  “I’m not sure.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking a little worried himself. Davis is the one thing that Berkley and I have in common. If it wasn't for Davis I don’t think Berkley would have ever talked to me. Ouch, that thought hurts.

  “I know he’s a grown man.” I roll my eyes. Berkley’s lip twitches. “But let's keep an eye on him, okay? Make sure he’s not spending every second in the basement smoking pot and drinking.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” I put the lid back on the cookies, pushing it towards him. He greedily takes them, standing up from the chair. It gives a groan. Berkley isn't as tall as Davis, but he is still built like a tank. I think some find him intimidating between his size and general behavior. I’ve never understood it. I always feel safe when he’s around. People tend to leave us alone.

  I show him to the door, opening it for him. He stops, staring down at me. Those gorgeous green eyes of his again drop to my lips.

  “Lock the door behind me.” I nod as he steps out. I start to click the lock, but before I do I pull it back open.

  “Berk.” He turns back to look at me. “That phone works both ways.” Before he can say anything like he’s not going to call me, I shut the door and lock it. I turn around, dropping my head back against it.

  I’m such a dork. I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t call.

  Chapter Three

  Berkley

  I lean against the door and drop my head against it. I shouldn’t go into Chandler’s house ever again—at least not without Davis. It’s too dangerous. I kept thinking about how we were alone and how small she is and how easy it would be for me to pin her to the table and eat what I really want. Her lips were shiny, like she’d been biting them and licking them, and it made me want to see what they’d taste like. And then her bare legs—fuck, her bare legs. They’d make a good necklace, and I don’t even wear jewelry. I smirk. I’m going to have the fattest jacking session tonight thinking about her long bare legs draped over my shoulders, my face between her thighs, my tongue flicking her clit. I’d thrust three fingers inside her because I’m a big boy and will need to make sure she’s ready for my penetration.

  My cock grows hard. I reach down and palm it, squeezing it hard to make it subside. I can’t be walking around Chandler’s neighborhood with a fucking woody. Worse, I can’t be having these kinds of dirty thoughts about my best friend’s girl. I rake a frustrated hand through my hair. I wish there was some pill I could take that would erase these feelings. Why, out of all the women in this world, did I have to fall for the one person I can’t have? I didn’t even realize it was happening. If I did, maybe I could’ve cut it off before the crush bloomed into something stronger, but it was like one day she was Chandler, who ate grass because she wondered what it tasted like, and the next day she had tits and ass and I was waking up with wet sheets.

  Fuck, I’m a mess.

  I’m eighteen and
two semesters away from graduation, and I know three things: always buy when the market is down, control your dick so you don’t hurt others, and love is for losers.

  I push away from the door and find my way to my car, which I kind of hate but can’t say it out loud or everyone will think I’m a pretentious fuckwad because you could buy a small village for how much it costs. My dad dropped it in the driveway on my sixteenth birthday. It’s one of his many pity gifts. Nah, pity isn’t the right word. He pities my mom. The gifts are a guilt thing. He knows fucking other women is wrong and that I despise him for it. He wants us to be buddies, and so every quarter or so I get something like a one of a kind watch or a hard to top hypebeast item or a two hundred thousand dollar sports car. He thinks enough of these are going to buy my respect or attention or affection. I don’t think if he even stopped sleeping around today, I’d forgive him. Not at this point. I’m an asshole, yeah, but I’m not my old man and never will be.

  I pull out my phone and text Davis.

  Chandler made a shit ton of cookies. You better go over and eat them or she’s gonna cry.

  Chandler? Cry? We talking about the same girl who took a softball to the face and finished out the rest of the game?

  The memory of that night tightens my balls. I thought she was dead. The sound of the ball hitting her helmet still echoes in my head. She crumpled like a puppet whose strings were cut. It was fucking terrifying. Davis brings it up like it was nothing, like it was as if she’d tripped on the concrete sidewalk. I don’t know how he does it.