She doesn’t answer but lifts a hand.
I grab her hand and yank her toward me. There’s blood oozing from a shallow slice half an inch long. “Don’t move.”
I go inside to get a first aid kit before returning to the privacy of the alley.
“How’re Mari and the baby?” I ask as I set the kit on a barrel and open it.
“Mari’s exhausted, but she’s obsessed with Emily,” she says.
I take out the gauze and disinfectant. “Amazing.”
Nova cocks her head. “Did you just say ‘amazing’?”
I ignore her and swipe at the cut. Her blue eyes peer up at me from under dark lashes. Nova stiffens but doesn’t move away.
“The ring as massive as it looked? I saw the pics,” she goes on.
“It’s two pounds. Ideal for pawning to fund a gambling debt or smashing through drywall.”
“Never know when you need to do some home improvements.”
Despite the tension, our easy banter is there just below the surface.
“You get your things?” I ask.
“Yes, thanks. I needed my art supplies.”
Her art supplies. Not her clothes.
It feels less like a dagger.
“I’m doing these portraits on commission for an upcoming movie premiere. It came up the night of the party.”
I glance up, surprised. “You never told me.”
Because of our argument or because she didn’t feel like she could talk to me about the good things going on?
The wound clean, I cover it with a Band-Aid.
“I tried to call you,” she says. “About Coach.”
“I had my phone off for the plane ride.”
“Oh.” She tries to pull away, but I don’t release her hand.
She can’t be jealous. Not the free-spirited woman who could charm a room with an easy smile.
“You said you wanted a break,” I remind her.
“I didn’t know it would be so easy for you.”
The tightness in my gut springs up. “You have no idea how it’s been for me.”
“Which is the point,” she murmurs as she pulls away. “You haven’t talked in months.”
I exhale hard and seriously consider grabbing her hand again if only to force her to look at me. “Coach’s niece called me before you did. I got on a plane and met her at the hospital. She wanted to thank me in person for helping.”
“His niece,” she echoes, brows lifting.
“You think I was waiting for you to leave so I could hook up with another woman.”
“It’s not funny.”
It is in my head.
I haven’t so much as looked at another woman with interest since I met her. She’s it for me.
So how the hell did we get here?
“Nova…”
“Wait.” She interrupts. “How did you help Coach?”
“His insurance expired a while ago, but he stuck with me. I was going to stick with him.”
Her lips part, eyes widening with compassion and other emotions I want to name but can’t.
“I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings. But you need to try. If you don’t, you’ll lose more than you already have.” She clears her throat. “About the break…”
Fuck, I can’t handle her saying all the reasons it’s not working between us.
Not again.
“It was the right move,” I say before she can.
She squares her shoulders, chin lifting. “Right.”
The door behind me opens, and I turn to find Kyle hovering in the doorway.
“Hey. Didn’t expect to see you back in Denver,” he muses as he takes me in. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Nova shifts off the barrel.
Kyle flashes his teeth. “I’m Kyle.”
“I’m—”
“Nova. I know.” His grin lingers as he surveys her. “I’m Clay’s replacement. New and improved.”
Like fuck you are.
I don’t like how he’s looking at her. Not one bit.
I pick up the first aid kit, clenching it in my fingers.
She brushes past me, her scent lingering as she reaches the door.
“Huh. Guess LA wasn’t the city of dreams for you after all,” Kyle observes.
“Don’t even fucking think about it.” I grab his shirt and drag him close.
“What? You’re worried I took your town, now I’m gonna take your girl?” He flashes teeth.
It’s not his town. But he thinks it is.
If he believes for a second he’d have a chance with Nova…
“Kyle?” Miles calls from the end of the alley, and I force myself to let go of Kyle. “We’re making this get-well card for Coach. Our old coach, that is. Do you want to sign it?”
He brushes himself off, grinning. “Sure.”
Nova was right about one thing…
I have more to lose than I thought.
11
NOVA
“A little higher,” I say.
I haven’t been a stickler for perfection, but today it matters.
The woman lifts the frame an inch.
“Oh my God. That’s perfect.”
I turn to find Annie Jamieson, her hands clasped and eyes wide, in the doorway of the venue. Her red hair falls in sculpted waves, her body encased in a shimmering silver gown. She’s a mermaid.
“You look fantastic,” I say.
“And you’re a genius.” She clasps my hand in hers, the other on her heart. “Thank you for doing this. Especially when I’m going to get all the credit.”
Since I flew to LA this morning with the final art pieces for the premiere, I’ve been focused.
It’s the first time I’ve done portraits for a client, and I’m proud of how they turned out.
But this is a big stage, literally.
Tyler Adams comes up behind Annie. I saw him at the crowded party, but he’s more intense like this, in a dark suit with the collar open, the black shirt matching his eyes.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Annie asks him, her eyes moving between the portraits.
“Mhmm. But I’m biased.” Tyler half smiles at me, then turns the full force of it on his wife as he drags her close.
Swoon. I miss having what they have. I can forget Clay for a few minutes or even an hour, but this reminder makes me long for intimacy. For the closeness of having another person who has your back and thinks you’re everything.
Seeing him unexpectedly in Denver knocked the air from my lungs.
Hearing that he’d been supporting Coach this entire time, knowing that he still cares about something, gave me hope for him.
“About the break…”
“It was the right move.”
I wanted to talk about it, and instead, he just affirmed it.
Evidently, he’s taking it easier than me.
The woman hanging the art taps me on the shoulder.
“We should finish getting ready. Thanks again for the opportunity. Great to see you,” I say to Annie and Tyler.
The space is bustling with staff dressed in black, organizing trays for food, filling champagne glasses, and putting finishing touches on the décor.