Chapter 9
NINE
Ramsey
Whether she intends them to or not, the words cut, but I do my best not to falter. Forcing a smile as I shift her weight in my arms. A whiff of her apple perfume drifts over me, and my stomach clenches. That fragrance elicits an instant response from my whole body, because as much as I try to force myself to forget, it remembers exactly what it’s like to have it all over my sheets and skin.
“Are you wincing? I’m not that heavy. Don’t act like I’m heavy. You lift weights three times my weight,” she complains, snapping me out of my daydream.
“I’m not wincing, just trying to keep you steady on my good arm. You don’t want to get dropped, do you?” I cover for myself.
“No. Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot about your bad arm. You shouldn’t have picked me up, you know.”
“You asked me to pick you up.”
“I mean physically pick me up.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. You always know what I mean and pretend like you don’t. I think you do it just to fuck with me.”
“Sometimes.” I smile. “How do you know about my arm? It happened two years ago.”
“I’ve seen you play.”
“You watched?” I’m surprised. She told me during our divorce if she ever saw another football in her life it’d be too soon.
“Sometimes. Hard to miss when my whole family lives and breathes Rampage football. You play them occasionally, right?”
“Right.” I study her face as her nose scrunches up like she’s thinking about something else she hates. “I could have gotten you all tickets, you know. Just had to ask.”
“I can imagine how that conversation would have gone. Also, apparently, I could have been sitting up in the wives’ box the whole time,” she snarks as I set her down to unlock the back door.
“You would have asked, and I would have looked into it and sent you the tickets and some field passes. Simple.”
“And what would field passes have cost me? A blowjob? Maybe a quickie in the locker room?” More snark piles on as I get the door open, and she stumbles through it. I follow after her silently because I’m fairly certain anything I say in response can and will be held against me, but I’m half afraid she’s going to faceplant on the floor if she’s not careful. “Why are you following me?” She stops short when she gets to the door of her room. “You think you’re coming in? You have a hell of a lot more groveling to do. You can’t just fix a few things around the place and think I’m going to get on my back for you.”
“I prefer you riding me anyway.” I can’t help the slow grin when her eyes light at the response.
She lets out a low grumble but turns and doesn’t slam the door in my face. Surprising us both, I think, considering the way her lashes flutter as she notices my proximity to the bed.
“You’re still not getting in this bed. So what are you doing?” She tosses her purse onto her dresser and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Putting these in here with you.” I hold her shoes up for her to see and then set them gently on the floor inside her door before turning to leave.
“Now you’re just gonna walk out?”
I stop short and turn around to look at her. I know this is drunk Haze I’m dealing with, and drunk Haze is the least rational version of her. The one who’s either sweet as peach pie or sharp as a razor at your throat, depending on what mood drove her to drink.
“What would you like me to do?” I ask bluntly, because I’m not in the mood for playing games. She looks fucking breathtaking despite the angry furrow in her brow, and having had my hands all over her just now, and that fucking apple perfume, I’m finding it hard to not want more.
“I just think it’s something that you’re always walking out. You’re real good at that.” There’s the ice water I needed.
“I don’t think now is a good time to discuss that.”
“It’s as good a time as any.”
“So we can repeat it tomorrow when you don’t remember because you had one too many whiskey sours?” I lean against the doorframe. I don’t want to fight with her, not really, but getting her a little more riled than she already is is probably the perfect way to ensure we don’t do anything stupid. Because when she finally asks for me again, I want her to be begging for it.
“Oh fuuuuck you. Like you’re all high and mighty. Like I never had to scrape you off the floor.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
“You’re the one driving me to drink anyway. You just fuckin’ show up here one day, naked as a jaybird, telling me I need to pretend to be your wife again. Turning this whole place upside down. Everyone’s just so fascinated that you’re back. Thinking you’re the hero because your face is plastered all over TV. ‘Wronged football hero must serve sentence.’ Please! Wronged?” She scoffs. “More like attention-loving football jerk. It’s like you don’t think. But who cares? No matter what you do, people love you anyway. Purgatory Fall’s hero!” She’s ranting blindly and following rabbit holes left and right while she does it.
“I don’t think I’m a hero.”
“Good. I don’t think so either. I think it was stupid. You could have gotten yourself killed like that. And what did you do it for anyway? Some woman? Who got engaged to the other guy anyway from what I heard.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Didn’t want to wait for you to get out of prison, I guess. Is that why you’re here? She didn’t want you even after you nearly killed yourself for her, so now you come crawling back home?”
I’d swear her blue eyes were almost turning green in this light, but I don’t dare mention it.
“I did it because they were my friends. I wasn’t thinking it through. I thought they were gonna die, and I had to do something. I was never involved with her. She was always with him, for the record.”
“And you what? You’ve just been single this whole time?” Now we’re getting to the real questions.
“I haven’t been getting engaged, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking if you have a girlfriend or someone back in Cincinnati. ”
“I told you, Haze. I don’t fucking cheat. There’s no one back there.”
“There’s been no one this whole time?” Her fingers dig into her forearm, and the motion causes the engagement ring on her finger to glint when it catches the dull light from the hallway.
“I’ve had a couple of friends who I had a mutual understanding with.”
She presses her lips together, and there’s a subtle shake of her head. “Of course you have.”
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. We both thought we were divorced, and if you remember, you’re about to get married to someone else. Got a ring on your finger and everything.”
“Yeah, well. He left me with you, didn’t he?” There’s a quick inhale of breath like she might be holding back tears.
“Haze…” I say softly, taking a step forward. “I think we should get you into bed. It’s late, and you’ve had a lot to drink. I can get you some water.”
“No!” She holds out her hand and takes a step back. The motion makes her catch her leg on the bed, and she trips back onto it, falling into a seated position. She recovers quickly, though, and slides back against the pillows, drawing her legs up underneath her. “Don’t touch me, and don’t do that whole patronizing ‘Oh, Haze’ bullshit with me. I’m fine. I can take care of myself. It’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn to head for the door. I want to help but I’m not looking to get torn open in the process.
“Just don’t think you’re going to wear me down. You left. And you’ll leave again. I know you. I learned my lesson, and I know better this time,” she mumbles, her head already on the pillow, her eyes heavy.
I pause at the doorway, holding there for a long moment and bracing myself against it for what I’m gonna say next .
“Haze… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was… finding my parents like that…” I’m searching for the right words and failing. “It tore a hole in me. I was terrified it was going to happen again, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. That it would be you next time.”
I turn back when she doesn’t answer, and her eyes are already closed. There’s a soft little snort, and I can’t help but smile at it. I hit the lights, drenching the room in darkness and walk back to pull the blanket off the foot of the bed, draping it over her. She frowns when she feels it fall over her but pulls it tighter around her shoulders.
“Always leaving. Him leaving. You leaving. Why does everyone always leave me…” she mumbles, and I can tell she’s half-asleep from the way her words fade.
“I’m not leaving anymore, sugar. Not unless you make me.” I kiss her forehead and make sure she’s well tucked in, looking back at her one last time before I close the door. She deserves so much better than anyone’s ever given her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to her.