I laugh and hold my middle finger over my head.
“Why you leaving?” Finch shouts as I walk past another table of teammates.
“Things. Gotta do things,” I say, but it has nothing to do with things.
And everything to do with someone else I want to celebrate with.
This time, when I knock on her door at one in the morning, there’s a need there, but it’s different.
This time, it’s because I want to share in something with somebody.
This time, it’s because I want her near.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DEKKER
WHEN I OPEN THE DOOR, I’m not exactly sure which Hunter Maddox I’m going to get. The knock alone at one in the morning was unexpected, but the sight of him even more so.
“Hi,” I say. I don’t fight the grin that comes at the sight of him all disheveled and glassy-eyed or the surge of emotions that hits me seeing him on my doorstep on a night that’s obviously momentous for him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m drunk.” He shrugs, and it throws him off balance so he sways.
“So I noticed.” I lean against the half-open door and hate that the sheepish grin on his face has me gripping the handle instead of pulling him into a hug I so desperately want.
“We won.” Such a simple statement, but the emotion in his face is so pure, so relieved that it tugs on my heartstrings. It gives me hope that some of the words I said to him helped bridge the divide between his self-imprisonment and his eventual freedom.
“I know. I watched.”
“And?”
“And you were incredible. One of the best games I’ve seen you play all year.”
“I was? It was?” His cheeks flush red and that little-boy smile kills me in every way imaginable—all of them good.
“You most definitely were.”
“I’m back,” he says, and it sounds funny because he is physically back at my place but he means figuratively as in on the ice. He realizes the humor the minute it leaves his mouth and we both laugh.
But when the laughter fades, we’re left staring at each other as how we left things between us hours ago replay in my head. There were no words spoken, there was nothing mentioned of where we go from here after this experience that no doubt drew us closer. There was just a bear hug that lasted so very long where words we both wanted to say were exchanged without speaking.
Thank you.
I’m here for you.
What is this between us?
Where do we go from here?
But when he left, we both had smiles on our faces—his eyes were still hollow, his shoulders still weighed down with the guilt I think he’ll forever own—but I swear it was less than he walked in here with. And that’s what I hope for. Each time I see him, to chip it away a little more. To lessen it bit by bit.
That he’s here, tells me I might be right in my thinking. That I might have seen what I thought I saw as I sat astride him and rode him to bliss.
“Why are you here, Hunter?”
A scratch of his cheek. A lopsided grin. A rock back on his heels. “Because your bed is way more comfortable than mine.”
And with that, he walks past me, into my apartment, and does a dive bomb onto my bed with the biggest whoop of laughter I’ve ever heard.
I stand there shaking my head at him until he notices me, grabs my hand, and yanks me down onto it with him. “Come here.”
My shriek fills the room, and while I’m more than certain the drunken, chaste kiss he smacks on my cheek is going to turn into something more, it actually doesn’t. Hunter pulls me against him, so his leg and arm flop over me, and pulls me in tighter.
“Mmm. I’m sleepy.”
“Okay, drunk boy.”
“I am drunk, thank you very much,” he murmurs. “And you’re just as comfortable as this bed.”
And for the second time in as many nights, Hunter Maddox falls asleep beside me.
If this keeps up, I’m going to need stronger locks to guard my heart, because he already has a large piece of it.
Falling for someone is never the plan. One day, you just wake up and it’s there in full-freaking, high-definition color.
How right my sister was.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
DEKKER
I STARE AT MY RESPONSE and go to delete it four times.
It’s unprofessional.
It’s not like me to write something like this and send it.
It’s rather crass.
And while it might be true, they sure as hell don’t know it. But they deserve it for razzing me over him. Between the status sheets and the ridiculous comments and innuendos over the past few Monday morning meetings, followed up by texts for juicy details, it’s the least they deserve.
Let them read my comment—no talks, just sex—and I bet they’ll either bombard me with questions . . . or leave me alone.
My dad will think I’m playing them.
My sisters? My bet’s on them leaving me alone.
The question is whether they’ll leave me alone because they think it’s true or because they think I’m pissed.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
HUNTER
“HEY JONAH. HOW ARE YOU, man?”
There’s a quiet response on the other end—an R sound attempted—and even though the tears well in my eyes, a smile widens on my face.
“Can you believe it? The playoffs are next week. Next week. It’s surreal and I don’t know, J, it’s crazy.” I run a hand through my hair and look out the window to where the snow is falling. It looks so peaceful, but I know it’s wreaking havoc for so many. “The Titans are a tough team, but I’ve been studying their films and have their defense and plays mapped in my head, so I think we can do this. You know if we make it to the finals you’ll be there. I don’t care what I have to do.”
And I mean it. I don’t care how much it costs, if I have to bring a traveling medical team . . . he’ll be there.
“There’s something else I want to tell you and I don’t know . . . it’s insane, but, I met this woman. I know. Don’t be too shocked.” I laugh, nervous over why I’m telling him. Torn over making him feel horrible and wanting him—needing him to know and be a part of my life more now than ever. “She’s everything you’d say I don’t deserve, but shit . . . I think she’s actually making me a better person. A better man. I’ve known her for years but not until lately have things really clicked. And God, yes, it’s scary as shit, but it’s also pretty damn awesome to finish a game and be able to shut all the outside noise off because her opinion is all that matters. Her name’s Dekker. Yes, that Dekker who I was having fun with a couple of years ago and who you met at the game, but, dude . . . this is a first for me. I’m at a total goddamn loss. She’s . . . she’s fucking everything and—”
“Hunter?”
“Mom?” I ask, startled and a little pissed at the interruption. “What—”
“What is it you just told your brother?”
“I—uh—why?” I fumble, not ready to tell this to anyone else yet. Shit, I haven’t even told Dekker how I feel about her.