I don’t fill the silence with idle chatter. I can’t imagine the range of emotions rippling through him after a game like that. I have no idea what his post-game rituals look like. The last thing I want is to overwhelm or overstimulate him by talking nonstop the entire drive.
A weight settles deep in my belly, guilt swirling. I should have been there for him more throughout his career. I should’ve showed up for him like he always has for me if I needed him to, or hell, if Dylan asked him to.
City lights blur into dark country roads, and I know exactly where we’re going.
When the last signs of Bridge Point are behind us, Gareth lets out a deep breath and slides his hand onto my upper thigh. His smile is warm, as if all he needed was to touch me to relax.
It feels like the most natural thing in the world when I rest my mine on top of his.
I haven’t been to Gareth’s ranch since I was a teenager, and I think that trip was what solidified the exact magnitude of my feelings for him. It’s also the trip where I met Whimsey—my favorite dog on the planet. I can’t wait to see her again. When Gareth told me she’d gotten lost, I was devastated at the thought of not seeing her one more time. I know she’s getting up there in age, but I think about her every day. Which is strange considering she’s a dog I met once, but sometimes your soul animals aren’t yours to love—you have to cherish them in your heart from afar.
The truck creeps along the winding roads, the engine loud against the quiet night. I remember the drive taking close to an hour, but tonight we make it in forty-five.
Our headlights spotlight the main house, and I’m instantly transported back in time, nostalgia settling deep in my chest. Gareth wastes no time killing the engine. There’s a light on in one of the guesthouses, and the other remains dark.
“Do you remember this place?” he asks, almost shyly.
I turn to him, moving as much as my seatbelt allows. “Of course I do. I’m fairly certain I fell in love with you here.”
“It took you that long?” he teases. “We were seventeen when we all came out here.”
“You knew sooner?” I unbuckle, then lean back against my seat.
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you when you were thirteen, and I was fourteen.”
My breath hitches. “That young?”
“I’m surprised you’re surprised, Trouble. I thought my intentions were clear from the get-go. I would’ve made you mine years ago if your brother hadn’t gotten in the way.”
My heart lurches in my chest, a wave of sadness trickling into my bloodstream. I look down at my hands, trying to decide how to respond.
“I respect and cherish my friend,” Gareth continues. “Which is why I listened to him for so long.” He glances up at me, and something darkens in his eyes. “But that ends now.”
Hopping out of his truck, he comes around and opens the door for me, taking me by the hand. “C’mon.”
“Taking me to bed, Golden Boy?” I say with way too much excitement. God, it’s been a long time coming, and I can’t wait to have this man naked and inside of me.
He smirks, then leads me into the house, flipping lights on in each room we pass through. Not much has changed in the picturesque home since the last time I’d been here, but there have been some upgrades to the furniture, and by the looks of it, the carpet is new.
Honestly though, I barely get to spend any time looking with how quickly Gareth’s leading me into the furthest bedroom down the hall.
His room at the lake house, if memory serves.
Tossing open the door, he reaches over and turns on the light, barely giving me time to come into the room before he slams the door shut and his lips are on mine.
He backs me against the wall, kissing a path down my neck as his fingers find the hem of my shirt—his jersey.
“Seeing you wear my name does something to me, Indy. It’s the only thing I could think about when I was out on the field. You in the stands, my last name and number on your back, telling the world you belong to me.” His fingers are warm as they skate across my midriff, teasing me slowly.
“Gareth,” I moan, my clit throbbing, begging for his attention.
“Tell me you’re mine, Indy. I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours,” I breathe, my hips rocking into him, head slamming back against the wall as his hand burns a trail down my chest to the bottom of my short skirt.
I whimper when he slides his hand underneath it, his mouth kissing the corner of my lips.
“Say it again,” he whispers against my skin, his fingers brushing over my core so gently I may have imagined it.
