Chapter 18
brANDON
“Pink now your color, BJ?” Simpson sneers.
What? I have no words. It’s a freaking pile of rainbow clothes. Then I see the folded piece of paper.
Note to self: Flowers and laundry do not mix.
“You know any color looks good on me, man.” I wink at Simpson, controlling my building frustration.
Byron walks into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s going on?”
Is he in on this?
Simpson nods toward me. “BJ has changed his style since we last saw him.”
Byron frowns at Simpson, then looks at the pile of clothes. “Maybe we didn’t know him at all.” He eyes me before heading to his locker.
I hold my tongue, scoop up the laundry, and intend to deal with the root of the problem. “See you tomorrow,” I shoot over my shoulder.
I storm out to my car, rev the motor of my McLaren, and flatten the pedal for a few seconds. The sound calms me momentarily. This wasn’t a laundry issue. If she wants to play dirty, then I’m all in. The farther I drive, the more my thoughts align.
Address the problem.
Me.
I’ve never seen Charlotte’s new home, but I’m about to, and not under the circumstances I had hoped. The day I arrived in LA, Jobe sent me a text with her details attached.
When the right moment arises, you might need her address to say sorry.
The pathetic part of me thought she would give it willingly when we had worked everything out.
“Siri, find Lottie Hendrick’s address.”
I plug Bel Air into maps.
When I arrive, as expected, the long driveway is gated with security cameras. I don’t say anything. Instead, I grab the top pink shirt with the hippy-ish tied dye effect and hold it up at the camera. Nothing. I know she has been alerted that someone’s at her property.
“Charlotte,” I yell, and the huge iron gates begin to open.
“Fucking finally,” I grumble as I speed up her paved driveway, passing palm trees until I get to a perfectly manicured garden in front of a modern architectural house constructed of concrete and wood.
Through the expansive glass, a massive crystal chandelier momentarily distracts me.
Getting out of my car, I grab the pile of washing and storm past the security at her door. “Where is she?” I demand.
The sasquatch folds his arms. “Best you change your attitude before entering Ms. Hendricks’ home.”
I glare at him, daring him to say more. “Noted.”
The huge double doors open slowly, only to be greeted by another security guard, dwarfed by the high ceilings.
“Ms. Hendricks is waiting in her office.”
“Which is?” I snap.
He slowly nods as though testing my relevance. No, I haven’t been here before, fucker, but you’re about to see a whole lot more of me.
He jabs a thumb. “To the left.”
I’m acutely aware of the substantial space surrounding the foyer that leads to Charlotte’s office, but I only see the doors before me because hell is on the other side.
I touch the door handle tentatively, as though a fire burns behind it, and the moment it opens, I’ll be engulfed by the blaze.
Ignoring the fight or flight, causing my heart to thump hard in my chest, there is no turning back.
I push it open, ready for the fight.
The moment I see her, I lose my train of thought.
She is standing by the window, still in her navy designer suit from the day.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, falling straight, following the line of her spine.
She is more beautiful than I remember—the wanting never faded—still, she doesn’t turn to acknowledge me.
Her arms remain folded as she stares beyond the glass.
For too long, I have been fucking invisible. “Hello, Charlotte.”
“How did you get my address?” she asks without looking at me.
“Jobe.”
“Of course, it was fucking Jobe,” she mutters. “Well, I have nothing to say, so just leave.”
It’s all it takes for me to see red. “I have a whole lot to say, so let’s do this.”
She spins, her eyes shooting lasers at me. “Do what?”
I dump the pile of clothes on her desk. “For one, explain the need to ruin my clothes? If you don’t want flowers, just say it.”
“If clothes are wearable, then they’re not ruined.
Consider it an alternate fashion statement.
” She moves behind her desk as though it offers protection or power, but it’s not going to deter me in the least. She remains standing and leans forward with her hands on the wood surface, supporting her weight.
“If you think a bunch of flowers can undo all your mistakes, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. ”
Here we go…
“I’m not a fool, Charlotte, only one in love.”
She jolts back at the word and shakes her head. “No. No. Don’t you dare go there!”
I take a step closer. “I am going there.”
She looks up at the ceiling with a sarcastic expression. “Bullshit.” She then glares at me, adding, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have left.”
Straight to the target, but fuck, that arrow still hurts.
“I left because I loved you,” I snap. “You deserved more than—” I duck when she throws a photo frame at me. “Jesus.”
“Out,” she screams and points to the door.
I turn to see her talking to her security guard, who closes the door.
Next, she picks up a paperweight and throws it at me, narrowly missing again.
Thank fuck I have quick feet. My heart is racing, but I remain undeterred.
The venomous look in her eyes would send any man running, but I know Charlotte, know if she’s emotional about something, then she cares, and I fucking care a whole lot for her. I round the desk, but she lifts an arm.
“No. Do not come any closer.”
“You deserved someone who didn’t disappoint you,” I offer gently.
She’s shaking her head vehemently, then covers her ears. “Just fucking stop.”
My gut tightens, feeling the pain she feels, a sword twisting when we spent years suppressing the painful truth. “Your parents had high hopes for you. I could never live up to the man they expected for you.”
“Ah… you’re an idiot,” she screams.
I push on, knowing her anger will open the door that she has tightly locked around her heart. And I promised myself I would do what it takes, which is to break through her armor. “I betrayed Byron, disappointed your family, and lost the trust of my teammates. How could I stay?”
“Easily,” she yells, then she dives at me and pushes my chest, but I remain unmoving. A dull headache pulses above my brow. I hate seeing the agony in her eyes because I understand what it does.
“By leaving, you betrayed me.” She shoves me again, and this time, I take a step back, her words striking where it hurts.
“I was protecting you.”
She thumps my chest, but I barely feel the contact, numb from the anger and hurt flowing between us.
“You were a fucking coward, nothing more.” Charlotte turns her back and walks to the door.
“If you won’t leave, then I will because nothing, nothing you say can fix what you broke.
” I promised myself her words would not spear the skin because they are just words, but my gut is twisting despite all my efforts to remain composed without pulling her into my arms and holding her tight.
I leap in front of her, blocking her way. We need to finish this. “That’s where you’re wrong. I will fix us. You fucking got me back here, and it won’t be for nothing.”
“I never got you back,” she growls out. “I fought it on every level except the desire to win a championship, and then common sense overruled. You will never get another chance at us.”
I smile because she doesn’t sound convincing despite the venom lacing her voice. “You know me, Lottie, I won’t give up trying.”
“Oh, but you did, three years ago, to be exact. Or was it because I wasn’t worth fighting for?”
My heart fucking hurts for her, for us. “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her again.
“At least your teammates will be pleased.”
My chest heaves in and out as frustration deepens the throb in my temples. “Stop acting as though everything you do is for the team,” I bite back.
“Everything I do is for the team,” she splutters. “It’s the only reason you’re here.”
I nod. “Because it’s easier to heal your heart if you don’t have to see the person who hurt you every day.”
“Hurt me? You fucking destroyed me.” Her face glows red. “Now get out so I can enjoy my night.”
For a moment, I can’t breathe. I have lost her. “Lottie,” I whisper and hold out a hand. “Can we at least be friends?”
For a brief moment, she closes her eyes, then slowly opens them again before striding over to the bar table and pouring herself a bourbon. I nervously watch as she downs it in one hit.
“My father once told me if someone hurts you, forgive them. But never forget what they did. So… do you deserve my forgiveness?” She rolls her wrist, twisting the empty crystal glass in her hand. “Choose careful words, BJ.”
“I do,” I say quickly and take a step closer. “And a second chance, you owe us that.”
She raises her hand, and this close she won’t miss.
I fly at her and have her hand and body pushed against the wall.
A whimper escapes my throat, not from the effort of restraining her.
I have thought about this moment for three years, and this close proximity to Charlotte is dangerous.
My knees weaken as I breathe in her air, minty with traces of bourbon.
Our lips are so close it would be easy to steal a taste.
Arousal overtakes my every thought, the blood rushing to my cock.
God, I love everything about Charlotte, especially her passion.
She glares as she twists against my weight until I push my chest harder into hers. “I hope the day comes that I never have to see you again,” she growls out.
“Well, if I didn’t stop you throwing this, that day was almost today.” I pry the glass from her hand while keeping her pinned to the wall. “Don’t hate me, Lottie.” I hold her eyes as I lower my lips toward hers, slowly, watching her watch me. She bucks but doesn’t say a word.
Charlotte shakes her head as tears stream down her cheeks.
Wrapping her ponytail around my hand, I pull gently and wait for her to see me, really see me.
My body quivers against hers as though the fear of rejection and the longing to touch her collide.
In her eyes, something snaps, the power of familiar lust flowing between us.
My mouth crashes onto her lips, and in seconds, she surrenders.
Memories of what we shared flood back, and I fight the urge to kiss her like it’s our last. Fight the urge to take what has always been mine.
She tugs desperately at my shirt, with our kiss heating up.
Our breaths are hot and fast. We can’t control our needy hands roaming everywhere clothes don’t restrict.
“This fucking bra…” I can’t stop and tug at it blindly, trying to free her breasts. She draws in a sharp breath, and it sends me wild. I push my cock into her pelvis… and freeze.
Fuck.
My heartbeat pounds behind my ears. Even though it takes more strength than I thought I was capable of, I pull away to give her space. Her head falls forward, and the disappointment on her face reflects the heaviness in my chest. She raises her fingertips to her lips.
Taking her chin between my thumb and fingers, I tip her head until she looks at me. “Give me time to prove I can make you happy. Then, the next time, I won’t stop.”
She wipes her tears. “We can’t. Byron will never forgive you.”
I’m done with him being the mountain between us. “He doesn’t own us.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.” She turns and pours another drink. “The storm hasn’t gone away.”
“Hey.” I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and nuzzle the soft skin of her neck. I inhale her scent and close my eyes, savoring what time has stolen from us. “You need to find other ways to relieve your stress.”
“You mean with you?”
“Not what I meant.”
“I know,” she whispers, and finally, there is calm in her voice.
“But you were thinking it.”
She turns and holds my gaze before downing the drink. “For now, this works.”
For now…
I slide my hand up and down her hip, stealing this connection for me. Charlotte moans and leans her head on my shoulder, and I can’t stop as my hand glides over her stomach to the zipper of her designer pants.
As much as it pains me, I let go. This is not how I imagined reconnecting. I collect my pile of clothes as she pours another drink. “I don’t regret coming here.”
“To my home or LA?”
“Both.” Before opening the door, I turn. “Charlotte…” I wait for her to look at me. “You can stop drinking away your pain because… we’re no longer stuck in reverse.”