“Uh huh.” She shakes her head, serious. “Pretty.”
Not taking kindly to the term, I launch myself at Jordan. She responds with a shriek, her knee coming up instinctively to block me. It gets me in the ribs. I fall back with a hard grunt and a muttered “fuck.”
Her face looms over me, mussed tendrils of long hair spilling on my neck and chest, tickling my skin. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” I tug at her arm and she collapses on top of me. I hide the wince of pain and stretch up, capturing her lips with mine, holding them for a long, hot moment. She draws back and I see her eyes are filling rapidly. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“You, Brody. That Skype call you had with my brother. You were arranging for him to be there for my finals in Florida.”
“All I did was Skype him to tell him the dates and chip in with the flights. Nicky arranged the rest. It was nothing.”
I know the ache from having no family at your games. At least with Jordan the only barrier was distance and that’s something easily fixed. Her brother and I are Facebook friends now. I saw Nicky’s posts from his visit and having him there meant the world. I could see it in Jordan’s smile from the photos.
“You gave me a week with my brother. That’s not nothing.” Jordan pushes up off me, sitting up on the bed. “I wanted to ring you a million times to thank you.”
“Oh?” My brows wing up. “That’s funny because I didn’t see a million missed calls on my phone.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just thought it would be easier to wait until I got home.” Jordan cups my cheek and leans close, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. Drawing back, she looks at me. “Thank you. So much.” Her eyes shift to the clock on the bedside table. “Don’t you have training? You have a bowl game to prepare for.”
I kiss her again. “It can wait.”
“Tell that to your coach.”
Jordan’s right, but I don’t want her to be—especially when she climbs off me and stands. The sports shorts she’s wearing are a shade of orange so bright I feel blinded. I still look anyway, because the mile of leg they’re pretending to clothe requires a certain level of inspection and appreciation. I watch them walk away, carrying Jordan to the door. “I’ll make you a protein shake.”
I don’t protest her leaving, only because her protein shakes are morning miracles. She adds honey and banana, and something she calls Milo. It’s some kind of crunchy chocolate powder she has her brother ship in special from Australia. She can have her vegemite, but I’ll eat that stuff from the tin until I’m sick.
When the room is clear, I roll from bed and reach for my jacket hanging off Jordan’s desk chair. I shrug it on and after using the bathroom, I stand at the basin, palm a couple of pills from my pocket, and shove them in my mouth. Turning on the water, I lean over, drinking straight from the faucet as I swallow them down.
After washing my face, I straighten, both hands braced on the vanity, and look myself in the eye. I look fine. A little bruised, but all that dark shit eating at my insides isn’t showing on my face. Good.
Brody’s team loses the bowl game. It was close, yet he blames himself when he shouldn’t. Something’s not right with him. Even now, with both of us back in the thick of study and training for our respective combines, I feel dark clouds hovering above.
As I sit here on the edge of his bed waiting for him to get back from the gym, I’m contemplating ransacking his room. He said he wasn’t taking anything. I should believe him. A small part of me doesn’t want to know, and I hate that part. How easy it would be to just bury my head in the sand. I’m one week out from trials with Seattle Reign. Career comes first, no matter what. Focus. And besides, soon Brody and I won’t have this time together anymore. Should I spoil what little we have by voicing my fears?
Yes. You should, my inner voice argues.
Screw it. I’m reaching for the bottom drawer of his bedside table when he walks in the room, tossing his gym bag in the corner. I snap back on the bed, my heart hammering.
Brody faces me, freshly showered and already peeling off his clothes. A grin lights his face, his eyes bright and alert. I give him a tentative smile. Happy seems to be tonight’s mood of choice.
“Let’s go out,” he says, and gives me his back as he opens a dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of pants.
“Out?” I ask, dubious. It’s late and I had plans for an early night.
Brody turns, tugging them up his legs. “Somewhere nice.” Leaning over, he presses a quick, hard kiss to my lips. I’m surrounded by the scent of fresh soap before he draws back, taking it with him. “We’ll stop by your place so you can change.”
It doesn’t take Brody long to railroad me into going. Just under an hour later I’m seated opposite him at a restaurant table. I look away from the waiter pouring expensive wine in my glass and take in the pale timber floors, warm lighting, and nearby diners watching us with recognition in their eyes. There wasn’t much time to make an effort with my appearance, but at least I had that stretchy scrap of black fabric to wear thanks to Leah. The dress is making its debut tonight, and Brody hasn’t been able to drag his eyes off me from the moment I walked out with it on.
When my gaze turns his way, he’s still watching me intently. “I’m not sure we should be here.” My eyes drop to the menu as the waiter leaves us. No prices are listed. “A steak probably costs more than my car.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “A Happy Meal would cost more than your car.”
“That may be true, but it hasn’t let me down yet,” I boast.
He finally looks away, his gaze turning out the window. “Not like me, huh.”
“You didn’t let me down. But what you did? That’s not who you are. I’m sorry you felt taking pills was what you had to do. I just don’t want you to do it anymore.”
“I won’t do it anymore.” He closes his menu and rests it on the corner of the table. Swallowing hard, his eyes lift to mine. “Okay?”
I want to believe him. So much I ache with it. “Okay.”
The waiter returns to take our orders, and halfway through our meal, Brody puts down his knife and fork and clears his throat. “How’s your fish?”
“Incredible,” I reply. It’s cooked perfectly and full of flavor, which surprises me because this is Texas, the unofficial meat state. “How’s your cow?”
Brody’s eyes crinkle and he looks to the half-eaten slab of beef on his plate. “It’s good.” His gaze circles the room before returning to me, and he runs fingers through golden-brown tufts of hair. “You’re probably wondering why we’re in this place, huh?”
“I am,” I reply. Brody’s gone to some effort bringing me to one of Austin’s best restaurants. It’s sleek and upscale, with candlelight adding an air of romance. “I know we’ve been taking things slow so maybe it’s so I’ll put out?” I joke.
I wait for a teasing response but none is forthcoming. When he speaks, there’s a deep chord of sincerity in his voice. “You’re not ready. And I’ll wait however long it takes until you are.”
“I don’t want to wait anymore.”
The acknowledgement has my body breathing a sigh of relief. I know Brody’s is too because he’s half lifting out of his chair before I finish speaking. “I’ll get the check.”
I laugh and wave my fork in his direction. “I’m still eating!”
He grumbles and sits back down while I take a big mouthful of fish, now in a hurry to leave too. Brody watches me chew hurriedly and laughs. It’s deep and ripples across the table. It dies off suddenly and I look up, finding him staring at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Jordan.” Taking a deep breath, he blurts out, “Let’s get married.”
My breath stills, my limbs freeze, and underneath it all my heart pounds a wild, staccato beat. Carefully resting my knife and fork down on my plate, I give him my full attention. His expression is bright with hope and more than a little fear. “What did you just say?”