He needed someone. Me.
I reach over to grab a throw blanket from the back of the couch. Draping it over him, I lean forward and gently ease him to his back before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well.”
Tonight shifted something. Standing in his living room, watching him curled up and relaxed, I realize the past isn’t what’s standing between us. It’s a question only I can answer.
Can I forgive him for not believing in me?
I clear the plates and grab him a bottle of water. Then I scribble out a quick note from a pad I found on the counter. Tearing it off, I leave the note weighed down by the water before tiptoeing out of the room. Heading toward the door, I realize we can’t move forward until I answer that question.
Opening the door I slip out and ease it closed behind me without disturbing him.
The night air wraps around me, cool and sharp, grounding me. Staring up at the stars, I admit something to myself. I want to be with Brennan—the man he is now.
With that self-awareness, hope settles into my heart. Confessing to the sky, I murmur, “After tonight, I think we have a good shot at working things out.”
27
STRETCH PASS: A LONG PASS TO SPRING A TEAMMATE BEHIND DEFENDERS
Iwake up with my body hugging a throw pillow. My cheek is pressed against the leather of my couch so hard, I feel the edges of the stitching imprinted on my cheek. But the part that isn’t unsettling is the blanket tucked carefully around me.
I can’t help but recall the last time someone took such care when leaving me.
Amy slipped out of my bed for an early exam. I grumble, “Of course on one of the rare mornings I don’t have morning practice.”
Instead of reacting to my grumbling, she merely tucked the covers beneath my chin before pressing a kiss to my forehead and murmuring, “Sleep well. You deserve it.”
Sitting up slowly, the room doesn’t tilt from my mishap yesterday. I lift a hand to my head to realize it doesn’t hurt quite as much as yesterday.
That’s because of the way Amy cared for me.
I spy a folded note beneath a sealed bottle of water on my coffee table. I reach for both before warmth spreads through me.
I hope you slept well. Call me when you’re awake so I know you’re okay. —Amy
Just a few lines and I can feel a seismic shift between us.
She cares.
I blink rapidly to avoid tearing up. I revisit the moments of last night before I fell asleep. Dinner. Conversation. I hadn’t expected half of what happened. Hadn’t dared to wish for it. Still, I’m holding tangible evidence the night was real and not a dream.
Things are changing between us.
After my meeting with the athletic director, I head toward Amy’s classroom. I stop at the door and just watch her. She’sconcentrating at the board, writing a complex math equation that might take me a century to solve.
She acknowledges my presence without stopping. “You’re staring.”
Just hearing her voice causes a need for her unlike any I’ve ever had. “How can you tell what I’m doing?”
“Because I can feel you.” She turns, offering me a quick smile. Then her eyes flick over me—quick, assessing. The same way she used to check me out before I devoted myself to a game. “Did you drink the water?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Shocking. You didn’t used to be so good at following instructions.”
I step into the room fully. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on the couch. For making you… deal with me.”
Amy’s gaze narrows. “You weren’t making me deal with you. You needed sleep.”
