She gets up and comes to me, and I exhale as she leans her head against my shoulder. Her arms curl around my waist, and the feel of her against me, the scent of her hair in my nose…I’m home.
“Sugar?”
She shakes her head, her face buried in my chest, and she sniffs.
“Don’t cry, please, babe—shit—fuck, I called you babe.” I suck in a breath, my arms tight around her. “Sugar, I’m sorry, so damn sorry I couldn’t come to you sooner and didn’t tell you the moment I knew I should have. I was just so scared. I tremble at the idea of you rejecting me because I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my whole fucking life, and I know I’m fucked up and I need help and I know you get me. You get me, and I can’t live without you. I can’t.” My words are running together and my face is wet and hers is too and…and I can’t wait. I tilt her face up and kiss her.
It’s all we do for a long time.
I wake up around eight the next morning, and we’re on her bed, both of us having fallen asleep after talking until nearly four.
I stare down at her, memorizing her full lips, that little indentation right in the middle.
I told her about Reece and his involvement with Willow, about the girl Eric set me up with and how shitty it was. She asked me about Lola and I admitted to showing up at class to see her. I tell her how I froze up and ended up leaving without talking to her. Lola wasn’t anything but a feeble attempt to get a reaction out of Sugar when I saw her come into the student center.
I explained everything going on behind the scenes with the Predators, which is basically wait and see. I’m signing my contract with them as soon as I graduate and I don’t think I’ll be able to give the team a definitive answer about my anxiety until the season arrives. I’m not quitting though. I can’t. It’s not in me.
My gaze drifts over the room, once again taking in the duffle.
Her eyes open as if she’s hardwired to me, and I give her a tentative kiss on the mouth. We held each other and talked, but shit, I still don’t know what’s in her heart.
I’m not stopping until she is mine again.
“Give me another chance,” I say.
She turns over, grabs her phone, and then rolls out of bed. My eyes drift over her, taking in the tank top and panties. The fact that I kept my hands off her last night is a miracle. But I did.
She’s darting around the room, rummaging through drawers and pulling out underclothes. “Ah, I need to get out of here. My plane leaves in a few hours.”
“I’m coming with you.” I jump out of bed, my adrenaline already pumping.
Her gaze flares as she stares at me. “Don’t you have a parade on campus today or something? Kappa party, etcetera?”
I do, but I’m going to call Coach. The trophy is won and I can’t be without her another day. “Just let me pop in the shower real quick.” I wiggle my brows. “Better yet, join me.”
“You don’t have a plane ticket.” She looks around as if one might magically appear.
“I’ll buy one at the airport.”
She sputters. “But what will you tell your coach and the fans?”
“That I had somewhere important to be—with you. I’m done with HU. You are all that matters.”
She blinks and then takes a deep breath.
I grin. “Is that a yes?”
She nods.
45
Sugar
The entire flight to Birmingham, I stare at Z while he sleeps, head laid back, an extra pair of my headphones on as he zones out. We managed to get him a seat on the plane and then arranged to sit together. As people passed by while walking down the aisle, some passengers asked for his autograph and he went along with it, his face blank and shuttered. But when he looked at me, he glowed, and his face—it was open and free and happy.
I think about all the things he said last night, about how much he loves me, just me, and as if he knows I’m thinking of us, his hand twitches in mine, and he gives it a squeeze.
His eyes open and he sits up then gazes down at me. “What are you thinking about?” There’s an earnestness in his expression, as if he’s been patiently waiting for me to pick up the reins of what’s between us.
“You. I’ve never seen you this chill.”
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m happy. Are you?”
I nod.
He leans over and brushes his lips against mine. Emotion wells up in his gaze. “We are so good together, Miss Ryan. I fucking love you. I want this. I want you. If you’re not sure, I’ll wait. I’m not saying I’ll do it patiently or I won’t end up fucking you when you look at me with those big eyes, but I understand if you need some space. Shit, I’m not even making sense, am I?”
I stare up at him, taking in the stony features that are drawn up tight as he waits for me to respond. I see a half-wild look in his gaze, hope mixed with tension and strain.
“Tell me what you need, please, just tell me and I’ll do it. I want us to be right.”
And I know.
I know.
He adores me. He has the whole time. The anxiousness of his face slays me. He’s needed me next to him all this time while we were apart, and I let him go, I walked away from him because I was scared I was letting him too close. But not anymore. Love doesn’t work if you don’t commit to it fully, taking the bad with the good. Love doesn’t work if two people aren’t willing to give and take. I should have given him a chance that night. I should have listened. And in the end, I’m not like my mama, I’m not. She made a bad choice, but Z is not a bad choice. He’s opened himself up to me and shown me parts of himself that no one knows about. He chose me and it had nothing to do with Willow.
“What?” he says. “You have a funny look on your face.”
“I’m just thinking about the day you taught me to ice skate—or tried to, however you want to look at it. You told me to not be afraid to fall, and I’m not. I’m all in with you.” I rub my hand across his jaw and my fingers feel the pulse between us. “I love you so much, Z. I don’t want to ever be apart from you again.”
He exhales and his eyes close briefly, a long deep breath coming from his chest, one he seemed to have been holding since we woke up. “You, Sugar Rae Ryan. Always you.”
I kiss him.
After renting a Suburban on Z’s dime because he insisted, we begin our three-hour drive to Davenport. He’s got one hand laced with mine and he can’t stop looking at me, his gaze taking me in appreciatively, and I have to tell him to watch the road.
I laugh at the giddiness in my heart, at the smell of springtime in the air, at the feeling of hope in my chest.
I check my lipstick in the mirror.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes drift over my flowy white skirt and the fitted black shirt with a white pearl-lined Peter Pan collar. It’s a little understated but classy. To make it pop, I splurged on a pair of leopard print heels that Taylor found for me.
I cross my legs, and he looks at them and grins. “Feeling tense, Miss Ryan? I can make all that go away.” He raises an eyebrow.