33. Troy
thirty-three
troy
A Tinman In A Baseball Uniform
I run the tips of my fingers down her bare back, mesmerized by her silky skin. She’s lying on her stomach, her tight curls draped over one shoulder and her arms in a halo around her head like a fallen angel sprawled on my sheets. Sheets that’ll feel cold and empty after today.
A part of me wants to touch every square inch of her skin, the way I did with my tongue last night. Or I should say, up until the early hours of the morning, when the sun’s first rays tapped against my bedroom window like an unwelcome visitor, and the woman I’d just finished worshipping finally let her eyes droop shut.
I didn’t miss the broken smile on her face. The one that seared my heart in two. The one that cued the conversation neither one of us wanted to have, but both knew was coming like a shadow creeping over the countryside.
Because in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be back on the mound at Blazers Stadium, surrounded by thousands of fans . . . none of whom will be the woman here in my bed. The press release went out yesterday—looks like I’ll get another shot to play the sport I was born to play, after all.
My career’s resurrected, my dream has been realized.
Hasn’t it?
My eyes trail over the woman in front of me, taking in the pale patch around her eye—the one she hid from me and the world for so long. The one that makes her more beautiful than any woman on the planet.
Every moment spent with her feels fleeting, like trying to capture water inside your fist. Yet each moment leaves its mark behind, branding me so far past the layers of my skin, they’re inked on my bones.
And as I lay here, sifting through the various moments we’ve spent together, I know the way our story ends.
Without her in my arms.
Truth is, I’ve known this woman was mine since the day we met. An even bigger truth is that I knew then what I know now—that if she’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life holding her, kissing her, fucking her into oblivion. If she’d let me, I’d love her in all the ways she deserves, in all the ways only I can love her. If she’d let me, I’d tether our lives and fates together to make us both whole.
If only she’d let me . . .
She stirs when I pick up a strand of her curls, letting it coil around my finger like I’ve done countless times.
Lids and lashes bat over eyes as dark as espresso before widening slightly as she takes me in. Her throat bobs as her fingernails run across my beard in an achingly familiar gesture that makes my chest tighten.
“Good morning.”
This morning is anything but.
“Morning.” My voice is as rough as hers, except I never slept. Instead, I lay here, counting the minutes until . . . what? Until this? For what? To have my heart ripped from its cavity? To watch the best thing in my life walk away?
“Troy . . . I . . .” She blinks, but it does nothing to wipe away the sheen over her eyes.
Tell me. Tell me you want more, need more.
Tell me this isn’t the end. That there will never be an end for us.
Say you’re mine, the way your body did last night as you came apart in my arms when I was buried so deep inside you, you felt me beating down on the door to your heart.
Just the thought of not being able to hold her after today is making me ill, like I’ve caught something that will require a lot more than bedrest. Like it’ll require a transplant.
Sarina scoots closer to me, her bare chest pressing up against mine and fingers skimming the hair at my nape in the way that always makes me shiver. Except today, it just alerts me to a twist inside my stomach.
She’d left Rome at her dad and Emanuel’s place last night before coming over, and I’d asked my parents to take Pearl. The four of us—Pearl, Rome, Sarina, and me—have spent so many weekends together at one of our places for the past months, the kids practically act like siblings. More than that, they’ve become family.
From chasing each other around the backyard with endless energy and laughter, to sharing both bowls of ice cream and secrets, and playing Candy Land until someone—usually me—admits defeat, our kids have become a fixture in each other’s lives.
This is what we were both afraid of, wasn’t it?
Finding the most beautiful thing, only to realize we couldn’t keep it.
My arms wrap around her, pulling her to me, claiming her as mine. My forehead stills on hers as we stare into each other’s eyes, breathing in each other’s air.
“I love you.”
A tear pools at the corner of her eye before it falls to the bridge of her nose. “Troy . . .”
I shake my head, catching her tear with my thumb. “I don’t need you to say it back. I just need you to listen to me, okay?”
Her chin trembles, but she gives me a short nod.
“I loved you the moment I saw you in that bar, wearing those ridiculous slippers and dipping your fry into a packet of mustard you probably took out of your purse. I loved you while wearing a glow-in-the-dark alien condom and an outlandish BigFoot costume.” I smile, watching another tear trickle down from the corner of her eye. “I loved you when you let me see the real you—no makeup, no walls, just pure you. And I’ll love you every day, long after today.”
“Why?” She shakes her head, closing her eyes so her wet lashes rest against the tops of her cheeks. “Why tell me how you feel now ?” A sob bubbles out of her. “Why, when it’ll just make it so much harder for both of us?”
I smile, my thumb brushing across her bottom lip. “Because you deserve to know that this— us —was never temporary for me. You became a permanent part of me a long time ago, baby. And while this might be the first time you’re hearing the words from me, I’ve said them wordlessly a hundred times before.”
“I know.” She nods as her fingers trail down my neck. “I think I’ve always known.”
I tilt her chin up to gaze into her coffee-browns. “Then you also know how much I want this. How much I want you , not temporarily, but forever. Stay with me, Rina. We can figure out how to make it all work—the media, the spotlight, all of it. We’ll face it together.”
The words escape my lips before I can stop them. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pressure her, but I also know I’ll kick myself for not placing my entire truth at her feet for her to do with as she pleases.
Her breath hitches as she tries unsuccessfully to hold back more tears. “Troy . . . you were meant to be admired by fans, sell out stadiums, and be on the cover of Sports Illustrated .” She cups my face, her touch sending pangs of longing through me. “And I was meant for a quiet life. A life where I run a small salon, raise my son, and be . . .”—she shrugs—“just Sarina.”
“You’ve never been ‘just Sarina’.”
Her eyes bounce against mine. “And knowing that you see that is all I need. You’ve seen all of me—the strong parts and the ones with all the cracks, the ones I tried to hide but couldn’t from you. You didn’t just see me, Troy; you helped me recognize myself again. You helped me build this new version of me. And because of you, I’m stronger and bolder than I ever was before.”
“Then show me a little more of that strength,” I beg. “Stay.”
Her lips brush mine softly, slowly, her answer as devastating as her kiss. She’s saying goodbye before she gathers the courage to speak the words.
Cupping her face, I deepen the kiss, my mouth claiming her with both desperation and melancholy as I succumb to the fate she’s decided for us. My tongue meets hers, ripping a groan from my chest as every molecule in my body ignites.
Will this be the last time I get to taste her? The last time I get to hold her and feel her against my skin? How will I ever get over it—over her?
Her breasts press against my chest and, with a soft moan, she starts to writhe, rubbing her warm and wet center against my heavy erection. Her blunt nails skate down my back as her tongue lashes against mine, claiming. Staking.
Every sound and shudder sends zips of pleasure and pain through my veins, causing me to throb with a kind of desire I’ve never felt for anyone else in my life. Only this woman.
A woman who’s mine in the quiet of the night, in the sacred space between these walls, where the outside world can’t touch us. But a woman who’s a dream that dissolves with the touch of daylight.
Sarina’s grip tightens on my shoulders as I lay her back, hovering over her with my elbows on both sides of her head. Missionary hasn’t been something we’ve been able to perform until recently, and from what I’ve learned, it’s her favorite.
My dick throbs against her wet seam as my eyes coast over her wet cheeks. I brush away stray tears with the pad of my thumb. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.” Her voice is barely above a strangled whisper.
“Promise me you’ll never forget that someone once saw every part of you—inside and out—and thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Promise me you’ll never forget you deserve that.”
Her chest heaves beneath me as her hands capture my face, pulling me in for another kiss. “Forgetting you isn’t a possibility for me, Troy.”
Sarina swallows my rough groan inside her mouth as I position myself at her entrance. Our mouths never part as I push inside her, thrusting deep. My hand drags down her neck and collarbone to find her erect nipple. I pluck and tease it as I drive into her in long and aching strokes, trying to memorize her body’s every response to me. I can already feel myself coming apart—not just from the physical euphoria of being inside her, but in more permanent and devastating ways.
It’s like my body knows I’ll never be whole again.
Tearing my mouth from hers, I kiss down the column of her neck, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. I nip at the hollow, feeling her pulse hammering beneath my lips before biting and sucking my way to her nipple. I draw it into my mouth and roll it over my tongue, making her mewl before biting it. Sarina arches against me, her eyes shut tight as she cries out.
Our fingers entwine desperately above her head, the way our bodies have below, not ready to accept our fate. Her thighs open further as her body surrenders to my thrusts, taking me deeper than I ever thought possible. With each thrust, I make a declaration—a proclamation she already knows. I love you. I’ll always love you. For me, this will never be over.
“Troy . . .” Her ragged whisper has me finding her eyes once again.
But this time, the sheen inside them matches mine. This time, the raw emotion I see in them undoes the last of my restraint.
“You’re mine.”
She nods, her throat bobbing as her chin quivers. “Yes.”
“You’ll always be mine, Rina,” I assert, rocking against her. “Nobody can make you feel this because no one is us .”
A tear breaks free from the corner of her eye, tracing down her temple and into her hair. “No one is us.”
Our hearts entangle along with our lips, tongues, and moans as Sarina’s hips meet mine, thrust for thrust. Heartbeat for heartbeat, we’re perfectly in sync.
And perfectly broken.
Pulling one of her hands free, she scrapes her nails down my back before looping her legs around my waist, as if demanding more. And like the desperate heathen I am for this heaven inside my arms, I oblige.
My pace quickens as my strokes become harsher, less controlled. A growl builds inside my chest and my hand tightens around hers as I slam into her, holding nothing back. Baring my soul for her to accept and keep.
God, I need her, want her, love her . . . so fucking much.
A sheen of sweat dances over her skin as I watch her swollen lips part to take in a breath. I swear, I feel her everywhere—with every heartbeat and every breath, every cell inside me singing her name.
She arches up when she feels my fingers on her clit, rubbing circles just the way she likes, while I drag my length in and out of her, working her toward her climax. She gasps and mewls, shudders and cries, but our eyes stay locked, like neither of us can bear to miss even a second of the emotion passing between us.
The air is so thick and dense, looming with the weight of our sorrow, that I can barely breathe. We’re desire and grief, devotion and despair—each touch a contradiction of pleasure and pain.
My lips graze along her jaw before they find her ear, repeating the promise I made to her earlier. “I’ll love you long after today, baby.”
Her fingernails bite down on my shoulders and her breath catches, suspended between us like a plea. Her entire body tenses beneath me before another tear escapes from her eye. Her walls pulse around me, gripping me so tight, currents zip up my spine. She holds me captive inside her, and seconds later, I’m right there with her.
Collapsing. Splintering. Drowning beneath a rising tide.
Irreparably destroyed.
Searing white heat flares behind my eyelids as wave after wave of ecstasy pulls me under. And then, like a planet turning to cosmic dust, I detonate with a force that steals my breath. My body collapses over hers, trembling and spent, the thuds of my heart pounding against hers.
Seconds pass before our ragged breaths start to even out, and I realize she’s still pinned beneath me, though she doesn’t move to urge me off her. Perhaps we’re both thinking the same futile thought—that if we stay entangled just like this, we’ll stop time itself.
I ease myself off her before settling beside her on the rumpled sheets. When I scoop her into my arms, she comes willingly, her body pressing against mine like it was custom designed for me.
She sniffles against my chest while I bury my nose in her hair, breathing in her lilac scent that will haunt me long after she’s gone. Neither of us speaks, crushed beneath the weight of our memories and fate. What’s left to say, anyway? Even if I tried, the words would die inside my throat.
The morning light dances over my bedroom floor, its happy rays not having received the memo of our private heartbreak.
Because soon, she’ll leave.
And soon, I’ll be standing on a mound, a tinman in a baseball uniform—living out my dream with a hollow chest.
“Troy,” she whispers hoarsely against my chest, and never has my name sounded so much like a goodbye.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, tightening my hold around her, memorizing the weight of her in my arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”