“Hello, is anyone in here?” I hear August call out. “Hendrix? I can see that your car is outside. Are you in here? Can we please talk about this?”
I sigh. “I’m in here and I’m alone,” I call back to him. “Same place that you found me the last time you came into the women’s locker room.”
He chuckles as I hear him heading towards me. “I guess I gotta stop making this a habit.”
“You’ve been in here more times than Coach Andie and I think according to the Blaze rules that I read, she is the only one allowed in here because she’s female,” I cite the rule and see his smile spreading as he rounds the corner.
He pauses mid-step when he takes me in.
I’m standing in front of him, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a tight tank top with built-in bra. I’m sure the girls are on full display for him. I can tell by the way he swallows not once, twice, but three times at the sight of me. His sudden awkwardness makes me smile to myself, although I am sure not to let him see it.
“So, what was with the dog and pony show today?” I cut right to the chase, no sense beating around the bush.
“You caught that, huh?” he says, trying to sound casual, but the look on his face defies his intention.
“You know I did.”
He nods. “I know, I could feel you watching me,” he admits.
I want to smile that he could feel me watching him, but I remember what it felt like to see him standing up there with his father. My mind wanders momentarily to how handsome helooked in his well-pressed khakis and Blaze polo. I’ve seen put-together August so many times, but my favorite will always be casual August. The one who is lounging around in nothing but sweatpants and a smile. The August that I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that ever gets to see.
“Yeah, it was weird seeing you up there with him. I saw you were partly smiling when he was talking about the family then you went rigid when he made that announcement,” I tell him.
He nods. “Yeah, wasn’t expecting that.”
“Are you leaving me?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He shakes his head. “I’m not going to lie to you, Hen. I have no idea.”
“You’re really doing this to me again?” I ask him, shaking my head. I pick up my gloves that have been hanging out on the bench and start chucking them into my soccer bag. “I can’t believe that I was so stupid.” I shake my head and say, “You fucking Cromwells, you always find a way to blow up my world.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. He sprung all of this on me this morning. I had no time to warn you. But don’t worry, I’m going to fix this, somehow. I’m not leaving you or the team,” he says, attempting to reassure me.
“Didn’t you tell him that you didn’t want to change teams like that? That maybe you are happy with the Blaze!” I shout.
“Yeah, because my dad is so good at listening to what I have to say,” he reminds me.
I shake my head. “Well, thanks for sticking up for yourself. Forus.”
He opens his mouth to say something but closes it, his words dying before they even leave his lips. The tension between us is stretched too tight. He looks like he’s been holding himself together for hours—jaw tight, eyes burning with everything that he hasn’t said yet.
I step toward him, it’s just an inch, but it’s enough to snap him into action.
He reaches for me as if he’s being pulled by instinct, one hand at my waist, the other brushing over my jaw. I love it when he touches me like this. It’s so soft yet deliberate. His mouth comes crashing down on me—urgent, unplanned and impossible for him to hold back. Like he’s been doing it all day.
I respond instantly. My fingers curl into the form of his polo, yanking him closer to me. Like I’ve been starving for him. Because right now that’s how it feels. It’s not gentle. It’s full of longing and need and the frustration breaking loose that we’re here in this position again. Being pushed and pulled around by Maxwell Cromwell.
For a heartbeat, the world shrinks to only this locker room and the way his mouth feels on mine. I lean into him like I need to remember exactly how he holds me. Then reality slams back in. We’re here in the Blaze locker room, where anyone could walk in and find us.
Maybe he’s leaving me again.
Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this right now.
I pull back from his lips. We’re both breathing raggedly.
He looks me in the eye, raising on eyebrow, challenging me. Like he’s reminding me that weshouldn’tgo any further in here but, damn, does he want to. Every part of me is begging for us not to stop, but I can’t bring myself to say anything in this moment.
“Hendrix, I do not want to leave you,” he finally breathes out. “I am not putting you in this position again. I promise you. And neither is he.”
