Happy Thanksgiving, GC!
Me
Happy Thanksgiving, IQ.
H.E.
IQ?
Me
Ice Queen.
H.E.
Oh, I like that.
Me
Figured you might.
H.E.
Is your ass doing okay after that fall last week?
Me
I’ve had much worse. Does Monday still work for our lesson?
H.E.
Sounds great. Have a good day, Brody! Hope you have a lot of things you’re thankful for.
Me
You too.
I standoutside Maverick and Emmy’s house with a bouquet of camellias wrapped in brown paper. I adjust the twine holding them together and wonder if I should knock or just walk in.
There are loud noises on the other side of the door. Laughter too, and now I’m worried I’m overstepping. Invading a safe space they’ve created without me, because they aren’t professional athletes today. There aren’t team rules they need to follow or workouts they have to complete. They’re regular guys spending time with their friends, and I don’t want to ruin that.
“Are you contemplating the meaning of life?” someone asks, and after hearing that voice moan my name, I’d recognize it anywhere.
Hannah.
I turn my head. She’s sauntering toward me with a wide smile, blonde hair pulled out of her face and tossed over one ofher shoulders. My grip on the flowers tightens as my eyes rake down her body, hoping my gawking isn’t too obvious.
A short, pleated skirt that hits the tops of her thighs. The white sweater she paired it with that makes her skin look soft and smooth. Brown boots coming up to her knees and a long coat keeping her warm.
My tongue is heavy in my mouth. My palms are sweaty. It feels like my first day existing on this fucking planet, like the sight of her is a punch to my gut, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
The closer she gets, the more details I notice. Bright red lipstick, just like the night I kissed her the first time. Diamond earrings. A necklace clasped around her throat, and a possessive, unhinged part of my brain is smug with satisfaction in knowing my hand looked better around her neck than the simple silver chain.
She’s still so goddamn beautiful, and I’m still so fucking attracted to her.
“Always,” I draw out, shoving my hand in my pocket. It’s safer than letting my fingers roam free. “Hello, Tiny Everett.”
Casual, easy.Friendly, just like we decided.
