I can’t think. What do I do? Can I forgive him? Let go of the pain and move forward.
Or do I take his confession for what it is and back away? Put distance between us as I attempt to mend my heart?
My mind drifts back to the Poconos, to those stolen days where I got to love him without consequence. Where I got to hold his hand in public, kiss him without hesitation. It was everything. I didn’t care what anyone thought then, so why was I so scared to do it here? Why was I so caught up in what my teammates would think? They accepted Blake. Why wouldn’t they accept me?
Blake stirs, shifting slightly before his eyes flutter open. They lock onto mine almost immediately, still hazy from sleep. For a moment, we just look at each other, the air between us thick and heavy with unspoken words.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice low and rough.
I swallow. “Morning.” One word, but it’s the first I’ve said to him since his confession.
He sits up, running a hand through his already tousled hair, his shirt riding up as he stretches, exposing his toned stomach, the hard planes of his six-pack abs. My throat goes dry and my cock twitches.
Fuck.
I gulp and force my gaze away, willing my body to calm down. Now is not the time. I need to stay focused and not let my desires take over.
Blake clears his throat, rubbing the sleep from his face. “I, um... I moved you in here,” he says awkwardly. “Didn’t want you to sleep on the bathroom floor. But I didn’t get on the air mattress with you, if you’re worried about that.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, unsure of what else to say. Am I glad he didn’t sleep beside me? Or do I wish he would’ve, truly fighting for me, for us?
God, I’m so conflicted. Why can’t my heart and my head get on the same page instead of continuing to battle with each other?
He nods, then glances away, jaw tensing slightly. “Did you sleep okay?”
I hesitate, not sure how to answer. “Yeah. Better than I thought I would, I guess. Seeing how I didn’t even wake when you brought me in here.”
We both laugh, and for just a fleeting moment, it feels like old times.
But then once again silence settles between us, thick and suffocating. There’s so much to say, yet neither of us knows how to say it. He cheated. He hurt me. But he’s also the only person who has ever made me feel truly safe. Truly seen.
And right now, despite everything, a part of me still aches to be near him.
“You didn’t eat, are you hungry?” he asks, as he grips the edge of the bench with his hands. His hold is so tight his knuckles turn white.
The sound of my stomach growling fills the locker room. “Yeah, I could eat,” I mutter. I swing my legs off the air mattress, feet landing on the hard floor as I spot my shoes sitting by me.
Blake stands, making his way over to the mini fridge that looks eerily like the one from Coach Lein’s office.
“Sandwich?” Blake asks, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I bend down, taking my time to put on my shoes, more for the distraction than necessity. I hesitate, “Is the other one from yesterday still in the shower?”
He nods, and I push myself up, heading in there to grab the plate. The sandwich sits untouched where I left it. I scoop it up and toss it in the trash, grimacing at the thought of Coach coming back after the weekend to a locker room crawling with bugs. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you want some chips?” Blake calls out as I return, sitting down on the bench he had just been sleeping on.
“Yeah, sure. What I really want is coffee.” Not like I’ll get one in here. I make a mental note to ream Carter a new asshole when I see him.
Blake chuckles, reaching into the box by the fridge and pulling out plastic cups and a container of instant coffee. “Looks like Carter thought about that, too. I don’t know how good it’ll be, but I’ll make us some.”
“At this point it could be tar and I’d drink it.” It comes out a little more sarcastic than I intend it to.
He moves over to me, handing me a plate, our fingers grazing across each other.I’ve missed his touch.I pick up the sandwich, taking a large bite. The moment I taste it, I let out a low moan, finally realizing how hungry I am. It’s simple, just turkey and cheese, but right now, it tastes like a gourmet meal.
Blake busies himself making the coffee, and silence stretches between us yet again. I hate silence. It gives you too much time to think, to obsess over details you wish you could forget.
With his back to me, I let my gaze drift over him, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the way his shirt hugs his back. I know his body better than my own—every curve, every dip, every place that makes him sigh when touched just right. I miss him.
