Coach studies me for a long moment, something like regret in his eyes. “Right now? Stay out of it. Let me talk to the powers that be. Let things cool down. The last thing we need is more fuel on the fire.”
I understand the thinly veiled warning. You don’t want to get caught in the crossfires.
Stay out of it.
Right. Sure. Okay.
I nod anyway. “Yes, sir.”
He claps a hand once on my shoulder, then lets it fall. “Start rallying the team towards the bus. I’m going to talk to Nebraska’s admin about what we can do to track Miller down.”
Brody still hasn’t returned. I was too embarrassed to ask housekeeping for fresh sheets this morning, so I’m lying on his bed watching the minutes and hours tick by on the red glowing numbers of the digital alarm clock. I’ve been lying here since we got back to the hotel. At some point, the last rays of light disappeared, leaving only blackness outside the window I’m staring out of.
Was it really less than twenty-four hours ago that we were lying here, tangled up together? Less than twelve since I woke up with him next to me.
When I close my eyes, I can pretend I still feel his body heat next to me, especially when I press my face into his pillow and breathe in whatever lingers of his scent. My hand runs over the invisible indentation of where he was lying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow. He was still asleep when I woke up, so I had time to just look at him, at all his muscle and tan skin on display as I slowly peeled the sheet down his body until it rested just below the perfect round globes of his ass.
My first impulse when he started to stir was to jump out of bed and lock myself in the bathroom to get ready for the day. To go back to pretending there was nothing between us.
Instead, I leaned over and kissed his shoulder, then trailed my lips down his spine.
“I don’t think we have time for that kind of wake-up, but I’ll most definitely take a raincheck,” he said, voice gravelly and eyes still shut. I hummed and caressed my fingers over his skin, lightly dragging my nails around the curve of Brody’s butt.
“Do you want to top me next?” He asked, surprising me with such a casual offer. When I could drag my eyes away from the rash of gooseflesh on his skin, I found his eyes, bright and clear, on mine. “You can fuck me if you want to, Beck. Tonight, or whenever we have a night to ourselves again.”
My face got warm, but I didn’t hide from him even though I wanted to. I was honest, with my eyes, at least. I let him read the truth. That I didn’t want to be in control. That I like when he takes me, not just because of how it makes me feel physically, which is beyond comprehension, but mentally and emotionally, too.
Brody is the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to drop my guard around. I think it’s what makes the sex so good.
Will it ever be like that again? Will we get back to where we were this morning, when we laughed while we wrestled for the last clean towel after showering together and making each other come? Will I ever have the thrill of nearly being late because Brody’s mouth on me was suddenly more important than my obsessive need to be twenty minutes early to everything?
I lie awake staring at the ceiling, Brody’s words replaying on a loop.
You are your father’s son after all.
Rolling to my other side, I reach for my phone again. As I’ve done a dozen or more times since Brody ran out of the locker room, I check for calls and messages, in case some kind of glitchmade me miss a notification. I check that my ringer is on and turned up as loud as it goes, and change his notification tone to something obnoxious so there’s no possibility of me missing a message from him.
And then I send him two more texts, and call his number a few more times, it goes straight to voicemail like it has all day. The first time I’m silent, listening to the dead silence of the line before hanging up. The second time I leave another message.
“Brody, baby. Please call me back. I just want to know you’re okay. I didn’t tell him. I swear to God, I didn’t tell him anything. But it might still be my fault, because I snapped at him and told him to lay off. I should have known he’d…” I take a shaky breath. “Just call me back, okay? Please.”
I hang up and stare at the black screen until my eyes blur.
He doesn’t call back.
Becky: I packed your things from the hotel. I’ll bring your bag to the airport. You’ll be there, right?
Becky: Where are you?
Becky: Just tell me you’re okay.
The next morning, the team is subdued as we climb off the bus and onto our charter flight to go home. Pierce sits up front with team admin, the area beneath his eyes a deep purple and a bandage over his nose despite it being confirmed that it wasn’tbroken. I overheard the trainer who accompanied Pierce to the hospital tell Coach that all imaging showed no signs of damage other than minor bruising.
The plane fills up, but there’s no Brody when the flight attendant pulls the door closed and latches it.
Coach makes his way through the plane, taking a head count and checking in on everyone. When he walks past our section of the small jet, he eyes the empty seat Brody was supposed to be in, then looks around at those of us sitting nearby.
I really thought he’d be here. Why isn’t he here?
