She nodded, and the relief on her face took away my guilt.
We watched stupid sitcoms. I stuffed her with the remaining pizza and even rubbed her feet while she moaned loud enough to get my dick sticking up through my shorts. She noticed right away, but I couldn’t read her expression.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I said.
“But I do want to.”
And that was it. We made love on the couch, with her doing all the work. I got to watch her glorious body rise and lower on me. I got to fondle her breasts and thumb her clit until she screamed. And when I finally came, the orgasm wiped away all my pain. All of it, except one.
I hadn’t told her I loved her. I wanted to. God knew it was on my tongue for most of the evening. But instead of saying it aloud, I kissed her. I nibbled and licked her until she screamed my name. And then I pulled her close until we both fell asleep.
She brought me water when I needed more painkillers, and she made breakfast for me in the morning. I still couldn’t say the words, not even when I realized that this was how I wanted every day of my life to be—cuddled up with Gia in the evenings, Gia in my bed at night, and waking up to Gia each morning. Nothing else mattered to me but her.
And yet, I still didn’t say the words.
We lost the second game of the series, and I figured I’d wallowed long enough. My knee was healing, so I grabbed my crutches and caught a cab to the stadium. It was hard getting inside. I was an athlete, but crutches made even my shoulders ache. Thankfully, I got inside before the guys went home, and I did everything I could to make them feel better.
Gia didn’t come that night. She was supervising a special party for Joe’s friends. I missed her, but it gave me more time to hang with the team.
I didn’t travel with them for games three and four, but I made sure I kept in contact with those who wanted to hear from me. We won both games, with Rob hitting a grand slam home run to finish up the fourth. Then they were back in Indianapolis, and I was determined to be with them every step of the way. It felt good to be in the locker room, especially since the swelling in my knee had gone down. I was still using the crutches as a precaution, but I could walk without them if I needed to.
When we won game five and six, securing our place in the series finals, everyone was flying high. I joined in both the celebration and the don’t-get-too-cocky talk. And then I went to find Gia in her office, hoping that we could celebrate in our own way. I didn’t find her. Instead, as I rounded the corner, I saw Sophia snooping through Gia’s desk.
“Get out!”
I barked the two words from the doorway, and she jerked in reaction. She shut the desk drawer but then rushed forward with every appearance of glee. “You’re up and walking! I’m so happy for—”
I didn’t let her hug me but held out my hand to keep her back. And then I set the crutches aside and stood solidly on both legs.
“Why do you think it’s okay to dig around in someone else’s desk?”
“What? Oh, Gia and I have been working together. There’s some stuff I needed, and she said to just grab—”
“Bullshit. You’re not working together, and she’d never let you in here alone.”
Sophia laughed as if I’d just made a bad joke. “Don’t be silly. I’ve been helping her with the articles about you. Didn’t you see? The features are continuing. Thanks to me, you’re going to be bigger than ever, once you come back.”
I was aware of the articles, but I sincerely doubted Sophia had done any of the work. Because I wasn’t playing, the promotion had shifted to the number of home runs hit by the entire team. And though my social media feed was filled with wishes for a speedy recovery, there’d also been some blowback from those who hated that I made myself out to be a hero.
“Have you been reading the media feed?” I asked, my tone hard. Then I thumbed on my phone and read some of the tweets I’d saved for just this moment. “@ConnorHart thinks grabbing a boy at a birthday party is the same as leaping from a burning building with a kid in his arms. #HeroFail.” I scrolled to the next one. “How tiny is @ConnorHart’s penis to—”
“Stop it! You know the haters are going to hate. And besides, there is no such thing as bad publicity. They’re talking about you. That’s—”
“Wrong,” I said, my voice hard as I held up a graphic cartoon with the caption “Connor’s version of heroism.” It was gross, and I hated that I’d even saved it to my phone, but I needed to show Sophia that people noticed when she lied.
“Ewww,” she said as she waved my phone away.
“Exactly. You can’t lie, Sophia. It always gets out.”
“Really, I’d be worried if you didn’t get some ugly publicity. It’s all a sign—”
“I don’t like it. And if you lie about me again, I’m ending our contract.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Is your leg hurting you? Let me buy you a drink and—”
“No.”
“—we can talk new publicity ideas. We need to get going on—”
