BLUE
It’s been a week of public silence, punctuated with moments of West and I being as nasty to each other as we could possibly stand, and now we’re back at game day.
Peering out into the stands, the only faces I see are Scar’s, Mike’s, Jules’s, and Ricky’s. West and crew, on the other hand, are nowhere in sight. Staging the breakdown of our relationship has been hell for both of us, but we frequently remind each other that it’s for a good cause. Doing this buys us time, it means my sister is safer for now, and means Detective Roby and Boone’s investigator have a little more time to work.
I’m on edge like I was last week, but I’m also being mindful to not accidently injure anyone this time. We’re ahead by two points with less than a minute on the clock. It’s still anyone’s game, which means it’ll come down to who wants it more.
Sweat pours down my face and I blink it away, focusing on the brunette dribbling the ball in front of me. She’s got determination in her eyes and I know she’s about to try her best to pull out the win for her team. I focus on her waist and not the ball—something Hunter and Ricky taught me years ago. She can move left or right, quickly changing the direction of the ball, but the movement in her waist will give away her next move.
Works every time.
She fakes left, then dribbles right and I’m on her, not leaving any room for her to pass the ball or get past me. I’m reminded of the day I was forced to play defense on West during gym, and I’m also reminded of punching him in the face right after. Not my best moment, but we made it past that, built something real. Something solid.
Before sadness can bring me down, I focus on the game again, going up into the air with the girl when she makes a shift. A fraction of a second later, my fingertips catch the bottom of the ball, changing its direction, sending it soaring opposite of where she intended.
The crowd goes crazy, and I peer up at the clock, not getting too excited too quickly.
Seventeen seconds left. A lot can happen in seventeen seconds.
Their shooting guard passes the ball in and the point guard swipes it quickly. She runs it down the court and gets ready to make a pass, but I stop her momentum, steal the ball right out of her hands, and toss it toward our basket.
It’s a clean shot.
My teammates don’t waste a second before celebrating, and while I should feel like a million bucks right now, I don’t. I’m all out of positive energy these days, so I slap a few high-fives, then head back to the bench to grab my towel.
I spot Mike and Scar on their feet, applauding the play. He’s really been laying it on thick lately, trying to pretend he’s father of the year, but I’m not buying it. After waving at Jules when she jumps around like a wild woman to get my attention, I turn my back on the crowd and head straight for the locker room.
The team is still buzzing with energy, riding the high from tonight’s win, but I’m simply not feeling it.
I strip down, grab my things for the shower, and try to let all the bad shit go.
Hot water rolls off my skin and I’m in no hurry to leave. This is the first time all day I’ve felt relaxed, felt any kind of relief. The voices go quiet in the background and I have no idea how much time has passed. All I know is I’ve been in here forever and I’m alone now.
My mind wanders and the next thing I know, the moisture on my face isn’t only from the shower. There are tears mingled in with it and I just let them fall. I spend so much time pretending to be strong, letting it all out feels like a weight’s lifting off my shoulders.
Hinges squeal from the other side of the locker room and I think nothing of it. We forget things all the time and rush back in to grab them. I’m convinced that’s what’s happened, until the deep timbre of a male voice has me gasping and spinning on my heels.
“You were on fire tonight,” West says from where he’s leaned against the tiled archway, watching as water streams down my skin in sheets.
His gaze blazes a trail from where they first land on my eyes, then down from my breasts to my piercing. My chest heaves because I needed him here, and then he showed up seemingly out of thin air.
“Where’d you come from?”
He smiles and nods toward the door. “I couldn’t be at the game, so I watched from the second-story track. No one even noticed.”
Clever and sexy.
“Can’t have my girl dominating on the court and I’m not around to see it,” he adds, prompting me to walk over to where he stands and kiss him like my life depends on it. Hell, it sure feels like it does.
He doesn’t mind that I’m soaked and getting water all over his clothes and shoes. Nor does he mind when I undo his belt and lower his zipper. He steps out of his sneakers and socks, then takes off everything else.
“Did you lock us in?” I ask when he hoists me up and my legs encircle his waist.
“Of course,” he groans against my neck, sucking and biting there as he moves us both beneath the running water.
The tile is cool when my back first presses against it, but then I don’t notice so much. It’s been a week since we’ve shared even a hug, which felt as critical as going without water or air.
I was so distracted by being able to feel his flesh against my hands, I didn’t even notice that he managed to grab a condom from his jeans before taking them off. He reaches down to slide it on, then enters me fast and rough.
I lose my breath and he feels so good inside me I can’t even form a meaningful thought. My fingertips dig into his back and I’m already close to coming. His slick chest grazes my nipples in rhythm, and I can’t believe I made it this long without him.
One inked arm holds me in place, while the other stretches beside my head, where his fingers splay against the tile as he fucks me into oblivion.
“Harder,” I whimper against his shoulder, and he meets my demand without hesitation.
More than the physical distance, the emotional gulf between us leaves me feeling so empty, hollow on the inside. Being reduced to phone calls at the end of the day simply isn’t enough, which is why I can hardly control myself now.
“You can’t ever leave me. I’d fucking die,” he pants.
Those breathy words graze my ear and I’m coming undone, wondering how he could think I’d ever even consider it.
“Promise me,” he breathes. “I need to hear you say that shit.”
He slams into me harder, bringing as much pain as there is pleasure.
“I promise.”
He presses his forehead to mine and, staring into his green eyes, I come for him.
My voice carries, echoing off the tiled floor and walls before reverberating right back into my ears. His hips pump faster and, a moment later, he comes and never looks away. He wants me to know I own him—his heart, his body, his soul.
Everything.
He gives it all and I happily accept it.
My feet lower to the water pooling below and I’m no longer a shell of myself. It took his touch to bring me back to life. He asked me to promise him I’d never leave, and I meant it when I gave my word.
I’m in this.
One-hundred percent.
