I miss the sound of her laughter, even when she’s trying to goad me over being old.
There have been multiple occasions tonight where Billie could’ve joined in with the boys’ banter and revealed some pretty embarrassing truths about my past—like the time I thought LOL in a text was an acronym forlots of loveand I sent it in the Quinn-Richards group chat, only to realize that it was not, in fact, an appropriate response to her dog passing away.
“Call me a genius”—Sawyer’s deep voice saves me from an emotional spiral—“but I’d hazard a guess that your conversation with Billie isn’t quite finished.”
I shrug because what the fuck else am I supposed to do? “She’s mad at me tonight. The best I can hope for is that she’ll let me drive her home, and when she’s had some time to cool off, she’ll see why I had to do what I did.”
“Stop talking bullshit, Emmett.” Sawyer is straight out of the blocks with his accusation, and I feel called out. “You know as well as I do that you’ll be taking her back to your place tonight.”
I flush like a little fucking schoolgirl.
Only Archer knows about her catching me jerking off in the shower, although with the way I’m so transparent these days, I’m almost certain Sawyer doesn’t need the backstory.
When Darcy emerges from the restroom alone, making a beeline straight toward me, I know this has something to do with Billie.
We might be celebrating a win against our oldest rivals, the Seattle Scorpions, and while I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol all night, my stomach roils like I’ve sunk ten shots in a row.
Darcy approaches me, hovering her head over my shoulder. “Billie needs to go home. She’s only had three glasses of wine, and I thought that was okay, but …” Darcy’s worried eyes tell me all I need to know—she’s either reached her capacity with booze or lost control over her emotions. Even worse, both.
I spin in my chair, grabbing my jacket from the back as I stand. Next, I snag Billie’s coat and purse from the back of her seat, following Darcy so I can go get my girl and take her back to the safety of my place.
My instinctsover Billie being mad at mewere spot on.
The whole drive home, she barely said a word, gazing out the passenger window of my Jaguar E-Type, hands twisting in her lap. Every time we hit a stoplight, I wanted to reach out and take her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers like I’d done more times than I should.
The elevator pings, and the doors open to my penthouse, yet Billie doesn’t move from her position against the back wall.
I hold the doors, head falling between my shoulders. She looks beautiful tonight, hair styled into a braid by Darcy at the game, an oversize blue Blades sweatshirt hanging over the edge of her shoulder.
It doesn’t serve me to look at her as often as I do. Regardless, I can’t help taking her in one more time.
“Do you want me to take you home?” I ask the same question I repeated twice in the car, each time earning a, “Don’t bother,” response.
She isn’t being petulant, like you’d expect from a person her age when they didn’t get their way, and none of Billie’s upset is for attention. The dark circles around her tired eyes tell me that she’s reached the limit of what she can handle.
And you know what? I don’t fucking blame her. A lesser person—like me—would’ve broken down way before she has, and even now, I can sense she’s battling to retain control of her emotions.
For the first time all night, she gives me full eye contact, and I feel that shit in every nerve ending.
“No, it’s okay.” She wraps her arms around her middle, and I step back into the elevator, bracing a hand on either side of her on the brass railing behind her ass.
She gazes up at me. “You’re probably exhausted from the game and then tonight. The last thing you want to do is get back in the car and drive me across town.”
Even when she’s hurting, her instinct is always about others.
That thought pulls my left hand from the railing, and I plant it on the side of her face.
Closing her eyes, she leans into my touch. Whenever our bodies connect, it’s like there’s a silent moment, where we both wonder if it’ll be for the last time.
“The only thing I want is for you to be happy. Driving you across town so you’re where you want to be tonight is the minimum I would do for you.”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as her palm finds my hip, and I step forward until there’s no more distance between us. Something I vowed to ensure there was plenty of only a few hours earlier.
I’m a fool for this woman, each bad decision I make pulling me straight back into her orbit.
“What would make you happy, Billie?”
She ducks her head, but I bring her eyes back to mine with the softest finger under her chin.
