I wasn’t the comforting guy. I didn’t pull women close and ask them about their lives and actually care about the response. It was the part of me that made me an arsehole, but that also made me so damn good at my job. A hundred percent of my focus was on the game, on training, on beating the opposition. I didn’t have the energy for women, I especially didn’t have any inclination to fulfil the boyfriend role. One that in the past, I’d catastrophically failed at.
I pulled out my keys and opened the door, gesturing for her to go first. Fallon took a step forward then hesitated in the doorway. It took me a second too long to realise why.
The entryway was pitch black.
’Shit. I’m sorry.’
Fallon shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.’
Before she took a single step forward I grabbed her hand with my free one and tucked her close to my side. I put her bag down and fumbled around the corner for the switch panel that controlled every light in my house. My fingers brushed them and I flicked every single one on.
When all corners of my house illuminated in the soft glow, I felt Fallon’s shoulders drop and lose some of their tension.
I didn’t let go of her hand as I led us both into the main living area. It was open-plan, so the kitchen looked over the living area and just to the left was a large dining room table that seated twelve people. A useless purchase since it had never once been used. Ashley was the one that insisted on the most opulent furniture when we moved in together. Which left me with various pieces of furnishings that I never used.
‘I, uh, think I’m good now.’ Fallon said, looking down at our linked hands.
I didn’t want to let go, I wanted to keep her beside me.
We’d managed to maintain a level of professionalism after that night. The night when I found out how fucking incredible she tasted. The night that woke me up at all hours with a raging hard-on that needed immediate attention.
Fallon’s work ethic shone through in everything she did. She could have easily let that one moment between us derail the entire book, but she seemed to have packed it away and moved on—like it was nothing.
I should have that ability as well. Fuck, I usually did. I didn’t want to hold hands with women. So with a cavalier attitude I definitely didn’t feel, I let her hand go.
‘Happy to be of service whenever you need a hand to hold.’ I smirked.
Pink stained her cheeks. The first bit of colour I’d seen on her skin all night.
I saw her shift uncomfortably, then take a deep breath like she was about to say something important. Before she could finish the thought, I put her bag down on the floor and gestured to my kitchen with a thumb.
‘You had dinner yet?’
I wandered over to my fridge that wasn’t as bare as it had been a few weeks ago, but didn’t hold much more than a block of cheese and some wilting lettuce.
‘I, um, yeah I think so.’
I turned around frowning.
‘Think so?’
She leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms around her waist.
‘No, I did. I have. Eaten. Food.’ She sighed, then cursed under her breath.
I reached across the counter and flicked the kettle on. Tea was invented for times like this.
‘Look, Oliver, I’m really sorry. I called Rosie first, but she didn’t pick up.‘ Distress creased her features as she tried to explain why she’d called me.
Her body tucked into itself, like she was afraid to take up any more room than she already was.
’Stop apologising. I told you it’s fine.’
She lifted her head, her eyes taking me in, no doubt weighing up the sincerity in my tone.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I pulled two mugs down from the cabinet, they were plain white china. For a second I wished I had something more interesting to offer her. All Fallon’s crockery was mismatched, some with patterns from children’s stories like Alice in Wonderland, others were splattered with different kinds of paint so it looked like she’d made it herself. Staring down at my woefully inadequate mug offering, I made a mental note to buy different mugs next week.
‘I think you’ve earned it.’ Fallon huffed out a small laugh, taking a seat on one of the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen island.
