Colson grabs my chin. “No, no. Eyes on me.”
I do what I’m told and cry out as the orgasm has me seeing stars. It’s like a wave from the lake, hitting me, every inch of my skin.
“You—” Colson says as he rocks me forward, “Are. Mine.” His eyes are fire and ice, almost burning white-hot blue.
It’s only a few seconds when he locks in and he’s coming with me. I feel his release fill me as he rides the tremors and shocks.
I fall into him when I can’t hold myself up any longer. My chest presses to his front and his hands wrap around me. My chin rests on his shoulder as he turns and kisses my cheek.
Once we’ve caught our breath, I stand and feel him running down my leg.
“Wait,” Colson says suddenly, grabbing my hip and pulling me to him.
Then he takes his fingers, running them up my thigh, gathers his release and pushes the cum back in. I’ve never had someone do that before. It feels intimate. Close. Absolutely perfect.
My belly drops out and the sound that huffs out is unlike anything I’ve been responsible for. Needy. Desperate.
“You are mine, Sadie Becker.”
And I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
fifty-one
Colson
“Youhavebadfuckingluck,” Howie taunts, his face filling my phone screen. “How are you getting into trouble in a city called Golden Harbor? Seems like a joke.”
Scrubbing my hands over my face, wishing I wasn’t having to have this conversation, I say, “You know what happened. Quit torturing me… What’s the deal with the teams?”
It’s been a few days since the sports news cycle got hold of the grainy rendition of my interaction with Nick. Sadie heard from another parent, asking a few questions, before she decided that being transparent was the way to go. After an email providing enough detail without making it awkward, and reiterating that parents are always welcome to sit in on practice, things seem better than I predicted.
Even Emma came back to practice, her mom offering me a slight smile and a wave when she dropped her off. It’s not that I need everyone to like me, but it’d be nice to know they didn’t think I was so out of control I couldn’t be trusted with their kids. A few parents sat in during camp and my anxiety was damn near crippling every time one of them was waiting for me at the end of practice, but it turns out they wanted to introduce themselves, some of them only just realizing I was “that” Colson.
My agent continues, “Well, you’re going to need some preliminary interviews. AKA, they want to know what happened at that last game.”
I nod, knowing this was coming in one way or another. “That makes sense.”
Howie continues, “Some of the offers are gone. After the photo. But—” he lifts his hands like he’s trying to keep me calm, “there’s enough interest from other teams that I’m still confident you’ll find a spot. They’re requesting visits this weekend. I can work on the travel plans if you’re cool with that?”
“I can do early next week but not this weekend. Rec center things.” It’s the first weekend of the tournament and our team will play on Friday night.
“You mean Sadie things…” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I’m not hiding this thing with her from him. It’s not worth it. My hope is that she’s going to be part of my life for a long time—fuck, maybe forever. In order to do that, I can’t hide. Can’t run. And can’t act like she’s not one of the best things that’s been mine.
This thing with Sadie? It’s high stakes. And I’m all in.
“Yes, Sadie things.” I agree to get him off of it. “I made a commitment to her and the kids. The teams will have to wait. I hope they understand.” It’s a youth basketball camp, for crying out loud.
“I’ll let you know if I hear otherwise,” he says before ending the call.
The thought that teams want to pass on me over some trash tabloid is bullshit. But I can’t do anything about it. The thing that’s always been the case is there are two sides to every story—including the night on the bench I still haven’t publicly commented on.
So, here’s the plan. I’m going to meet with the teams who are interested and I’m going to tell them the honest, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die story–start to finish. From my injury to the rushed recovery, questionable practices, and the on-court blow up that was really me protecting one of my favorite rookie players.
Then, I’m going to call my head coach. Or, my ex-head coach. He was always decent to me and I find it very hard to believe that he was in onanything like this. He deserves to know and understand why I acted that way. Why I waited to come forward.
No matter what, I don’t want to play for Chicago. I’m not trying to get my spot back or anything like that; I want to be an honest man. I’ve been through a lot of shit and I feel like a fresh start with a new team is what I need right now.
