Her fingers relax in my hair, and her thighs collapse to the side.
I look up at her, and fuck me once again.
Her long hair is a crazy mess beneath her head, her chest rising and falling while she rubs one breast like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Her chin is tipped back, her cheeks tinted pink, her lips tipped up like she doesn’t realize she’s smiling either. Her belly moves in time with her chest, and she looks completely and undeniably happy.
Not only relaxed.
Not satisfied.
Happy.
I want to make her happy every damn day.
“Fletcher?” she whispers, her eyes drifting closed while I shift to watch her more closely.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m lying on my cookie.”
I stare at her for a beat, and then I crack up.
She does too. “I can feel it under my shoulder,” she says through giggles.
Yeah.
This.
This is what’s been missing from every relationship I’ve ever had.
The Goldie factor.
And she’s leaving.
Justfuck.
30
Goldie
This is it.
Seven days.
Seven.
And right now, my final goodbyes begin.
With the snowstorm coming in later today, my Little Kickers soccer practice is inside the dome at Reynolds Park. I half expect a bunch of my team to miss while their parents get ready to be snowed in for a few days, but every last one of them arrives.
The cool thing about three- and four-year-olds is that they don’t always understand whatthis is the last time you’ll see Coach Goldiemeans.
But I do.
And so do the parents.
Two parents in particular.
“I’m so pissed at you,” Brittany says as she hugs me. She’s here before Silas and Hallie, who are on their way. The rugby boys got arecovery day in their training, so he’s bringing her. “I’m going to have to learn to coach soccer now.”
