I hug myself tighter. “Jordan—”

“I’m so sorry.”

My brow furrows. “For what?”

Jordan laughs and the sound is high and nervous. “I had this whole thing in my head of what I wanted to say to you, and I can’t remember any of it.”

A drunken group of three approaches me, roaring our team song. I wave them away and turn, giving them my back. “So just say anything.”

“I’m scared.”

I press the phone harder to my ear, needing to hear her better over the loud noise of the bar that’s filtering outside to the front entrance. “Why?”

“You’re messed up, Brody, and I don’t know how to help you. You saw what happened. I found those pills and I freaked out. I love you, and instead of helping you, I made you leave.”

Turning, I press my forehead against the rough brick and close my eyes, my stomach a queasy lump. “Because I lied to you.”

“You did.”

There’s a long pause and I don’t know how to fill it.

“Are you still taking that stuff? Are you taking anything else?”

“No! I—” Jesus, I have a hospital prescription for Percocet and my team doctor prescription for the same thing. I’m swimming in pills right now. But it’s not the same thing. I need these. My face hurts like a bitch, my rib is throbbing, and my body took a huge battering at the game. I put a hand inside the pocket of my letterman jacket. My fingers curve around the bottle, holding tight, and my voice is a rasp when I speak. “I’m not taking anything.”

“I don’t know if I should believe you.”

“I deserve that.”

“Brody … why?”

My throat closes up. I stare down at my feet. “Because I’m not good enough without it, and please don’t try and tell me I am. It’s a fact, Jordan. It got the job done when I needed it to…” my tone hardens a little “…and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she snaps in response.

My voice rises. “Then why are you calling me? If you want to let me go, then just fucking do it. Don’t string me along with your pity calls.” It hurts too damn much when I’m already hurting enough.

“I don’t want to let you go, but we’re no good together!”

“Goddammit!” Turning, I ram my fist into the brick wall of the bar. Jordan’s cries reach me through the roaring pain that ricochets up from my knuckles. “Don’t cry. Baby … please.” Reaching in my pocket, I thumb open the cap of the bottle and palm a pill, swallowing it dry without a second thought. “We can be good together. We’ve just never had a chance.”

“Will we ever have it?”

“We have to. I love you, Jordan. I’m not letting you out of my life. Not ever.”

After a shaky breath, she says, “I should go.”

“It’s the pressure,” I blurt out, desperate to keep her on the line, just for a minute longer. “It’s really bad right now, but it won’t always be there.”

“What are you saying? We should put our relationship on ice for a while?”

“No ice, Jordan. Just … one day at time.” Which is more than I have any right to ask, but I’m asking anyway because what have I got left to lose? I can deal with anything if I know I have Jordan at the end of each day. “Let’s just do that.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly and my shoulders slump with relief. “One day at a time.”

Brody

A week later I’m watching Jordan’s team bus pull to the curb, returning them to campus from the airport. I’m anxious. I know I am. But the Percocet keeps it buried well below the dark, murky surface where it can’t touch me. With hands jammed in my pockets, I watch as she bounds down the steps behind her teammates, her cheeks flushed pink with elation because they won their semifinal, moved up to the championship final, and then won that too.

A beanie covers her head and silky waves ripple over her shoulders and down her back. Her face is turned and she’s laughing at something Paige is yelling from behind her.

When she turns back, her eyes catch mine and she sobers instantly, pausing on the bottom step. I didn’t tell her I’d be here. I wasn’t sure I would be. But it felt right and I didn’t want to wait, so here I am.

Her clear blue eyes run over me like she hasn’t seen me in years. It gives me hope. Tense shoulders ease beneath me, and I breathe out in a rush, my lips curving slowly. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

Paige gives Jordan’s back a nudge and she steps off, walking toward me. When she reaches my side, she lifts a hand, her eyes on my bruised face.

“You’re hurt.”

Gentle fingers trail down the side of my face. All her teammates pour out of the bus, swarming the pavement, excitedly hugging family and friends, but I don’t see them. It’s just the two of us.

“It’s nothing.” I take her hand and move it away from my face, linking our fingers. “Just the price of the game.”

“It looks sore.”

“It’s fine. I can barely feel it.”

Jordan starts pulling away, her gaze caught on the driver removing luggage from under the bus. “I should get my bag.”

“I’ll get it.” I know which bag is hers and find it quickly. Picking it up off the ground, I sling it over my shoulder and turn, nodding toward my car parked by the curb. “Can I take you home?”

Affection warms her eyes. I’m trying this ‘one day at a time’ thing, and I know she sees and appreciates it. “That would be nice.”

We start for my car, walking side by side. Her hand slips in mine, fitting perfectly. My fingers close around it, and my heart expands when she squeezes gently, silently telling me we might just be okay.

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing the back of it as we walk. “Congratulations on the Championships. I knew you’d do it.”

Jordan grins. “It still hasn’t sunk in.”

“Well, I know just how to celebrate,” I tell her with a wink, letting go of her hand to tug the keys from my pocket. I beep the locks.

“Oh?” Jordan arches a brow at the innuendo in my tone. “And that is?”

I open the rear passenger door and toss her bag on the seat. Slamming it closed, I turn and grin. “With champagne of course. Why? Were you thinking of something a little more … intimate?”

Jordan grabs the handle and jerks open the passenger door, but not fast enough for me to miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes. “Of course not,” she mumbles, sliding inside the car.

I chuckle to myself as walk around to the driver’s side.

I wake early to filtered sunlight and my body spooning Jordan in a warm cocoon. Pushing up on an elbow, I rub my face. We’re still wearing our clothes from yesterday, but sometime during the night Jordan grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed and pulled it up over both of us.

Shifting hair away from her neck, I lean close and press my lips to the bared skin. It’s impossible not to. Jordan gives a sleepy moan and my cock twitches. When I’m with her I only ever feel good. I want more of it. My lips trail down, nibbling, until I reach the point where her neck meets her shoulder.

She rolls over, blinking lazily, a smile curving her lips. Last night we drank champagne, ate vegemite toast, and talked about nothing in particular. It ended with us lying in bed watching a Game of Thrones marathon on her laptop. Blood. Violence. Nudity. It was awesome. I’d never seen the show before, but I was now a convert. Kicking back in bed together and watching Jon Snow fight the good fight against the White Walkers felt so normal. I loved Jordan giving me that because my life felt so far beyond normal right now.

“If this is one day at a time, I like it,” she says with a voice husky from sleep.

“Me too.”

Jordan’s eyes roam over my face. “I like waking to your pretty face too.”

I roll my eyes with disgust. Her response is to giggle, and my heart soars at the lightness in the sound. “I think the correct term is manly and sexy.”