I shoved the door open and Jessica walked ahead of me. Her ass was round and tight. I groaned to myself, knowing what I should want to do to it. How six months ago, I would have kissed her and stroked her in the parking lot until she begged for more.
"My hotel is this way." I pointed, staying a step or two behind her so I could take in her legs. I followed her thighs, watching them slice back and forth. Nothing.
She fumbled with her purse and I heard something drop to the pavement. "Shit," she whispered. She bent over, the jersey hung loosely from her chest, and I caught a full glimpse of her heaving tits. Fuck. My cock should be hard as steel by now.
I shook my head.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"Darlin', I think I'm just going to make sure you get home. I'll hail a cab for you."
"What? Why? Did I do something?" Her face fell with disappointment.
I stood on the sidewalk, waving down any yellow taxi I could. One pulled up to the cubr and I opened the passenger door for her.
"You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all. Not a damn thing."
And that was the truth. This woman dripped of sex. And it didn't do anything for me. I didn't want her.
"But maybe breakfast?" she pleaded.
I shook my head. "Not this trip. Have a good night."
"But-"
I closed the door and tapped the top of the cab to send her back into traffic. I watched the taillights fade as the taxi rounded the corner.
Maybe tonight I had been ready to let go of the anger, but I crossed the street knowing I wasn't ready to let go of everything else. Not yet.
34
Sierra
I managed to make it through another week before I knew exactly what I had to face.
At our round table production meeting I had rushed out of the conference room, feigning a stomach virus. I had ended up in the women's room throwing up into the first trash can I could find.
There was also my sudden aversion to poultry. Just the thought of a turkey sandwich or a drumstick made me gag. It was the weirdest thing. It came out of nowhere. And I was late. I never kept track of my period, but I was beyond late. It all added up to one explanation. One impossible, hard-to-believe, unreal explanation.
I walked into the drugstore. At the end of the family planning aisle was a shelf with box after box of kits and tests. There were so many options with purple and pink labels they made my head spin. I grabbed the first three I spotted and rushed to the counter. I didn't read the percentages or the response rates.
The clerk took his time ringing me up and even asked if I wanted to join the rewards club.
"No," I shuffled impatiently on my feet. I had finally gotten up the courage to walk in here and I had to pee something fiercely. "I'm good."
He handed the plastic bag to me and I hurried to the car. I was only a few blocks from home.
At some point I knew the ice cravings and sudden hot flashes weren't because I was in Texas. We weren't going through a heat wave. October wasn't that cruel.
And then there was the constant peeing and my boobs were killing me. They were prickly and almost hot to the touch. Something was going on with my body. It might have been eight years ago, but there was a sensation that came over me that I distinctly remembered. My tongue felt dry and I couldn't believe how dizzy I was. I had to face the possibility that the impossible had happened.
I knew my IUD wasn't one hundred percent effective, but given my past history, I used it as an emergency backup. Pregnancy wasn't something I thought I'd face again without serious medical intervention. And my doctor seemed to dole out IUDs to all her patients in their twenties. She said it was the most popular birth control, so I went with it.
I took the elevator to my floor, clutching the bag between my sweaty palms.
I dropped my keys at the door and was hit with a wave of vertigo went I bent to pick them up.
"Oh God." I clutched the wall for support, trying to stand up without falling over.
As soon as I opened the door I sprinted to the bathroom, tore open the first box in the bag without reading the instructions, and held it under me.
I swore after the last time I'd never take another pregnancy test like that again. The next time I was going to be married. It was all going to be planned. Down to the birth month. And my husband and I would sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the results. We'd make jokes and be nervous. Giggling together and worried together. Maybe even daring the other one to look at it first.
But hell no, that wasn't how this was playing out. I was alone. Completely alone. I looked at my phone for the hundredth time, waiting for the minutes to tick by.
What was I going to do when I read the results? How was I going to tell Blake? Or what if it was negative? Maybe I wasn't pregnant and instead I had some horrible incurable illness. Maybe I was alone and sick. My fingers began to shake. I had to know what was happening. I needed the truth.
I picked up the stick on the counter and sank to my knees.
I knew the answer before the flashing words told me what my body had been screaming for weeks.
I was pregnant.
35
Blake
The wind whipped hard across the sound. It cut to the bone it was so damn cold. I couldn't stay long, but a few days here was what I needed. A place to figure out why this season had been harder than any other. Why no matter what I did, I couldn't keep the team together.
While the rest of the team was in Cabo for the weekend mending bruised egos, I was back on the island, looking for the answers I only found in this place.
A place I could be quiet. A place I could think away from the noise and the speculation. Orlando had given up on us. The fans were disgusted. The commentators saw the writing on the wall. The Thrashers were wasting talent every Sunday.
I still had to make it through the rest of the season knowing everyone had given up.
I tossed a log on the fire I had made in the pit behind the house. I took a sip of beer and cushioned my guitar in my lap.
The strings stung my fingers as I strummed the first chord. Every part of me felt the chill through the wire. But it was what I needed. I wanted to linger in the numbness as I drank myself drunk. As I watched the flames turn to embers. As I sang words I didn't have the guts to admit to anyone else except an empty backyard.
The fire crackled as I put the song together, one broken thought after another. I reached for the last beer in the case. How in the hell was I all out of beer? Maybe if the Thrashers released me I had a backup career. I kicked the coals with the heel of my boot. Fuck. That wasn't even funny.
I didn't have anything if I didn't have football. I shook my head. It was worse than that-I didn't have anything if I didn't have her.
And that's what I had to face here. That's why I truly came back in the middle of the season. I never showed my face here in the fall.
I had to let go of Sierra once and for all, or I was going to re-break over and over. There wasn't anything I could do until I said goodbye. She was like a ghost on this island. I saw glimpses of her when I drove over the bridge. Every corner took me back to the first time and the last.
I knew there was a bottle of bourbon in the house somewhere. I staggered inside, fumbling for the lights and grabbed the bottle from the back of the kitchen cabinet.
I twisted off the top, feeling the thirst pool in my mouth for the relief of the whiskey. My salvation might be in the bottom of that bottle. I tipped it back and strolled to the fire.
I picked up the guitar and let the words tumble.
I had to remember before I could forget. I knew she had forgotten. Tonight I'd drink the whiskey. I'd let the fire burn and I'd remember enough for the both of us.
36
Sierra
It was hard to believe this morning I was sitting on the floor in my tiny apartment crying my eyes out and now I was here.
My hands trembled as I parked the car in front of the boathouse. This had to be the single most insane thing I had ever done. I looked through the window of the workshop building and saw a figure walk past the glass. An instant swirl of butterflies descended on my stomach, followed by nausea.
Of all the nights for Emily to work late, this would be the one. I needed her. Needed her more than any other time. It was nine o'clock, and my phone hadn't rung once. I had left her three desperate voicemails.
I had rushed straight to the airport with the pregnancy test in my purse. Luckily, flights between Raleigh and Dallas were frequent-I was on the next flight to Raleigh three hours later, and touching down in my home state at five o'clock.
It had all happened so fast; I didn't have a great plan. All I knew was I had to get to Blake. I thought that was going to be tracking him down in Orlando, but with a quick online search I read that he had gone home while the rest of the team was in Mexico.