“Thank you, ladies, for being here today.” She eyes me nervously, maybe because of how much Caleb resisted me coming. “The kids are in for a real treat. One of the most popular players of the game today will be here all week.”
“Who is it?” I ask idly, not really caring.
“It’s me,” a familiar voice reaches across the room and snares my full attention.
All the air leaves the room, leaves my lungs. My heart is a boom of thunder, and lightning streaks through my veins. Just like at the basketball game, and like every time I’ve seen him, I can’t ignore him; I can’t take my eyes off August West standing in the doorway.
I only allow myself a second of shock before the danger of this situation crystallizes as a stone in my belly. I have no idea what this will drive Caleb to do if he finds out. If Ramone sees, he’s sure to tell.
Self-preservation has me on my feet. Wisdom has me brushing past August without looking him in the eye. Desperation has me doing what Caleb’s lies and brutality keep me from doing every day.
I run.
August
“Iris!” I call after her retreating back. She doesn’t pause or even glance over her shoulder.
I’ll be damned if she’s leaving without at least talking to me. My legs are much longer than hers, so I ignore the pain and take two stretched steps to catch her.
“Hey.” I take her elbow, firm, but gentle, and turn her to face me, one hand on her arm, one hand at her waist. “Iris, wait.”
When I dip my head to line up our eyes, I don’t think about the titanium pin holding the tendons and bones of my leg together. The dull ache in my knee and the long weeks I’ve been immobilized and frustrated—it all fades. I don’t consider the months of grueling rehab ahead. I’ve been worried I won’t be full strength when I return next season, maybe ever again, but right now I can’t think beyond this mesmerizing moment. All those things pale and dry up, diminished by the woman in front of me. Even though I know Caleb did this because of her, right now it doesn’t matter.
Just like at the Stingers game and at All-Star weekend, like the night we met, we don’t look away. That thread that draws us in and close every time we’re together shrinks the space separating us, even though we don’t move an inch. A hundred missed moments and a thousand never-spoken words pass between us, and everything held rigid and tight in her body, in her face, softens as she leans closer.
The squeak of tennis shoes on the gym floor in the distance punctures the moment, and we both blink. I absorb the surroundings, which had folded into the background. She shakes her head and pulls away.
“Why are you here, August?” Iris asks. Her brown eyes, flecked with autumn, green and gold, seem darker than the last time I saw her. It’s not the color. Something behind them. Something inside is darker. Dulled.
“I’m volunteering,” I answer.
“And it’s a coincidence? That we’re volunteering here the same week?”
“Yeah, it is.”
Her eyes search mine, seemingly not satisfied with my answer.
“Okay, I did know you’d be here,” I admit, but speak quickly before she jumps to conclusions. “But I didn’t arrange it. I told the league from the beginning I wanted to volunteer some locally, here where I grew up, not just in my team’s town. My mom’s house isn’t far. I balled here all the time when I was a kid.”
She studies me, the long lashes unblinking, before nodding. “I’ll leave then.”
She moves away, but I catch her, holding her in place. Eyes on my fingers around her wrist, she flinches and sucks in a sharp breath.
My hand looks huge wrapped around the delicate bones of her wrist.
I release her and step back.
“I’m sorry, Iris. Did I . . .damn, did I hurt you?”
I feel like some Incredible Hulk motherfucker who doesn’t even know my own strength, grabbing her like that.
“No.” She studies the ground for a moment, shaking her head and rubbing her wrist. “I . . .no. You didn’t hurt me. I’m just tired, I guess, and on edge.”
“All the more reason to do something you were looking forward to, right?” I ask. “Don’t go. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
She looks up and scoffs, her laugh humorless. “August, I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” I take a cautious step closer.
“This.” Our eyes hold. Her voice comes husky and low. “I need to go.”
I’m close enough to catch her scent and her warmth. I could do this all day. Just smell her. Touch her. Though we’ve only seen each other a few times, I’ve missed her. There’s no one else I fall into so quickly, the conversation and banter and connection. The chemistry. I crave it again. Yes, I wanted to volunteer where I grew up, but right now, Iris is the reason I’m here.
“I bet you’ve been looking forward to volunteering, right?” I ask. “The last time we talked, you wanted some outlets.”
“The last time we talked, I was suffering from post-partum depression and had no idea.” She yields the smallest smile. “Until you suggested I talk to my doctor. Thank you, by the way.”
“So you’re feeling better?”
“Yeah, much better, but you’re right. I was looking forward to volunteering.” She shakes her head, resolve in the set of her mouth and chin. “There’ll be other chances to help out, though.”
“But this one’s here now.” I shake her wrist and tease her with a grin. “I promise I don’t bite or have the cooties.”
She rolls her eyes, her laugh soft and barely there, but an encouraging sign. Her glance drops to my leg and she sobers. “Does it still hurt? Your leg?”
I look down, too. I wear an Aircast under my jeans. I can walk carefully but have only recently been cleared to put weight on it.
“It’s not bad.” I shrug. “All part of the game.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her lips tight. So tight I almost miss what she says next.
“He saw us, August.”
I don’t have to ask what she means. I know. I saw him seeing us at the game. And I saw the rage it caused before he made sure I felt it. “I know.”
She raises startled eyes that fill with tears. “This happened because of me.” She gestures toward my injured leg. “I’m so sorry. God, I feel so guilty.”
“There’s nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t you. It was him.”
“Right, and I don’t want him hurting you again because of me.” She steadies trembling lips into a firm line. “I don’t want him hurting anyone because of me.”
“Why are you with him, Iris?” I ask, confusion propelling the question out of me.
That something—that unfamiliar thing lurking behind her eyes slips a shadowy veil over her expression, and the truth goes into hiding.
“Things aren’t always the way they seem. They aren’t simple.” She steps back until my hands fall away from her completely. “Nothing’s simple.”
“Then explain them to me. I can’t believe, knowing he’d do something like this,” I say, pointing to my leg, “that you would stay with him.”