Chapter 38
I wiped the sweat from my brow as Gabe and I walked off the basketball court to grab our water bottles.
We were taking advantage of the decent Sunday afternoon at the park near my apartment—it was early October, and we wouldn’t have too many more days like this before colder weather started rolling in.
“How’s he been?”
Gabe glanced over to where Blake and Lucas were talking on the court, where we were playing two-on-two. “He’s been okay.” He took a sip of his water, still looking at his brother. “He’s struggling, but he doesn’t seem ready to talk about it yet.”
A week after the drone strike, another team was sent in to replace Blake’s due to what they explained as extreme loss within his unit, and he was sent home from his deployment four months early.
After returning to the States, he did a week of debriefing before they allowed him and the others twenty days of post-deployment leave.
When he came home last week, I immediately noticed a difference in him, as did Gabe and Lucas, but after what he went through, it was expected.
I didn’t have all of the details—no one did—but from what little he did tell Gabe, his good friend that he met when he first went into training, was stationed with in Fort Liberty, and was sent with on the deployment had been one of the casualties from the strike.
He didn’t say much more about it, but Blake was clearly taking the loss hard—rightfully so.
We’d all been trying to keep him company and just be there for him without being too pushy for when—if—the time came and he wanted to talk about it.
“Come on, guys,” Blake called out.
“Yeah, we want to finish wiping the court with you,” Lucas said with a chuckle.
They were killing me and Gabe. “Yeah, yeah,” I scoffed before taking another sip of my water; I tossed the bottle on top of my stuff before walking back onto the court.
Unlike my horrible game of golf that day with Chad, I couldn’t blame the way Morgan and my feelings for her flooded my thoughts on me losing in basketball.
I’d never been particularly good at it. It just wasn’t my game, but I still enjoyed playing from time to time with my friends, even if I was shit at it.
And it was helping to keep me semi-distracted from those said thoughts of Morgan, which were even worse now that I realized the extent of my feelings for her.
I’d broken yet another rule. But this time, it wasn’t one of hers. It was my own. I told her she couldn’t fall in love with me, and my ass went and fell in love with her.
Love. A part of me still couldn’t believe it. If someone told me two years ago that I would fall in love, I would have dismissed it entirely. If they told me I would not only fall in love, but it would be with Morgan Hayes, I would have died of laughter.
Here I was now, and both of those things were true. And I didn’t know what to do about it.
Trying to talk myself into telling Morgan I had measly little feelings for her was one thing.
Talking myself into telling Morgan I was in love with her?
That was an entirely different story. What the hell would I even say?
Oh, hey, Princess, so like…I know we were supposed to dislike each other and all, but while secretly hooking up for almost two years, I made the rookie mistake of catching feelings, and now it’s turned into full-blown love bordering on obsession.
How do you feel about that? That seemed like it would go over real well.
And at that point, I was convinced she would just laugh in my face.
It didn’t matter how long I stared at her when we were together or how much I overanalyzed every way she looked at me and talked to me.
I couldn’t gauge what she was thinking or feeling if anything at all.
It was like she had this impenetrable wall up.
I used to think she was easy to read, using my knowledge of how to get under her skin so effortlessly to support that notion, but it turned out that when it came to feelings, Morgan Hayes was a tough nut to crack.
And that got me thinking even more…
In the nearly five years I’d known Morgan, I watched her dating life play out from the sidelines, even took part in ruining several since our stupid drunken pact that one night, but I’d never once known her to have a serious relationship.
I’d never heard her, or anyone else, talk about her having a boyfriend or someone truly significant in her life.
I’d never even heard the mention of an ex, someone who maybe broke her heart or did her dirty.
Perhaps this area was as uncharted for her as it was for me.
I glanced over at Morgan as I pulled my jeans up; she was still in her bed, her naked body barely covered by the sheet, wearing a blissed-out expression and still trying to catch her breath.
I’d gone to her place after trivia that night, and as much as I’d prefer to stay, she had a big meeting first thing in the morning that she said she needed to be up earlier than normal to prepare for.
As I buttoned my jeans, that thought I had from a couple of days prior popped into my head again. “Can I ask you something?”
She opened her eyes to look at me. “Sure.”
“Have you ever had a long-term relationship?”
Her brow furrowed as she pushed herself up on her elbows, tilting her head. “Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you talk about anything serious with somebody. I was just curious…”
“I mean…I guess that depends on your definition of serious…”
I smirked at her obvious deflection. “Like, someone you labeled as more than a guy you went on a few dates with or were seeing casually. Someone you called a boyfriend.”
“Well, yeah, but not in a while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?”
“I don’t know,” she said a bit defensively before flopping back on the bed. “A while. But I don’t know if I would say they were…serious.”
“Okay, let me ask you this. What was your longest relationship?”
She snorted. “A whopping eleven months.”
My brows rose in surprise. I’d expected to hear an answer much longer than that. “Really? That’s it?” I chuckled as I pulled my shirt over my head. “Damn, Princess.”
“Shut up. You’ve never even had a relationship, so you quite literally can’t even beat that.”
“You are correct, yes. But that’s been by choice.” Up until now, it was, anyway. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but yours doesn’t seem by choice…”
She looked from me to the ceiling, blowing out a breath. “I just…I haven’t ever found anyone that’s given me that…feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of irritation. “Just…” She threw her arms up.
I chuckled but didn’t push the issue. I learned what I wanted to.
She’d never had a serious relationship and said she never felt a certain way—whatever that way was—about anyone, so she was just as inexperienced in this area as I was.
I also learned that Morgan didn’t like to talk about feelings, even hypothetical ones.
“So, what’s this big meeting about tomorrow?”
“Some big potential client Grace is meeting with. She wants me to be there.”
She sat up in the bed and grabbed her robe, and I watched as she slipped it on.
She had this way of doing it where she showed just enough skin without showing too much—she’d leave the sheet covering her chest until she slipped her arms into the sleeves, then drop the sheet, but the valley of her breasts down to her belly button would be on display just before she wrapped it to cover herself entirely.
It was always just enough to make me ready for round two.
“And then I have phone calls and orders to check on for my Miami trip,” she said.
It felt like a bucket of ice water was thrown on me, pulling me from my debauched thoughts. I’d been so caught up in these damn thoughts of and feelings for her that I forgot she was leaving for that damn work trip. “Shit, Miami…that’s right. When, uh…when do you leave?”
“Saturday morning.”
Fuck. I nodded. “And how long will you be gone? A couple of weeks or—”
“Two months,” she interrupted as she tipped her head back, gathering her hair into a ponytail.
I didn’t remember her saying she would be gone that long. Double fuck. “Two months?”
“Yeah, barring everything goes according to plan.”
“That seems, uh…that’s a little longer than I would have thought.”
She glanced at me with a teasing smirk. “You almost sound like you might miss me.”
Now, it was my turn to deflect so she couldn’t see the truth of her words. “More like I’m going to miss sabotaging any dates you might line up. How the hell am I supposed to do that from here?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” she playfully scoffed.
“Well, yeah. I hear those Miami guys are…something else.”
I suddenly found myself jealous of hypothetical men.
Great. This was just great.
I’d been debating all day whether or not to do this, not knowing if it was a good idea—more for myself, but I had a “fuck it” moment. Now, I was standing outside of Morgan’s apartment door Friday night. We didn’t have plans to meet up, but I needed to see her one more time before she left.
I knocked on the door and waited a few moments before it swung open, and my gaze met hers; her hair was up in a ponytail, showing off the curve of her neck, and she wore a cropped black t-shirt that stopped just below her ribs and a pair of oversized sweatpants that hung low on her hips.
The sight of her shot straight to my dick.
I cleared my throat. “Hey.”
“Hi…” She offered me a curious look but stepped aside to let me in without question.
I saw two massive suitcases in the living room when I walked inside. “Jesus, you realize you’re only going for two months, right?”
“I still have one more I’m working on,” she said with a chuckle as she started down the hall, and I followed out of habit.