Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
~AUGUST~
It’s been almost two days since I had her in my bed. I knew I shouldn’t have let her fall asleep so quickly that night. She left before we really had a chance to talk. I had so much I wanted to say to her. Things like:
She’s different.
There’s only been her.
And please fucking please give me a second chance.
But I never got to say any of it. Hendrix woke up and bailed on me.
Had she been any other girl, I would have celebrated quietly as she dressed and left me.
But it was her. I needed her to stay so that I could run and get her breakfast, show her the view from my balcony.
Talk with her about how this absolutely could work for us.
But she bailed.
And now, I’m here in my office trying to concentrate on the interview requests that were put in front of me.
Apparently, the reporters just don’t want to talk to teams and coaches.
I’m supposed to do some interviews as well.
I try not to think that this is only because I’m Maxwell Cromwell’s son, but the thought keeps pricking up again and again.
I tried texting her yesterday and a bit today.
August: I know you said it didn’t happen. But I can’t stop thinking about it.
August: Not just the sex. The way you looked at me like you still knew me.
August: Can we talk, just talk.
She never replied to any of it.
I throw the pen down in frustration. Rising, I walk to the large windows behind me.
They are my favorite feature of the office.
The only thing I told the architect that I needed was windows.
I didn’t want to feel like I was trapped in a box for ten-plus hours a day.
I wanted to have a view of the outside. And he delivered.
I have a view of the practice facility so I can see the girls training while I work if I want to.
Sometimes I do watch them or track how long the practice is so that I can head out and talk to Coach Watts about upcoming commitments or ask how the team is looking.
The latter is something I think he could punch me the face for every time I ask.
Like he thinks I’m trying to undermine him or take over the team.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
I know nothing about soccer, but I have to ask.
I’ve heard my dad ask all of his coaches that same thing.
So, I do it too. Because regardless of how I feel about my father or how complicated our relationship is, I do respect him as a businessman.
And deep down, I know I want him to be proud of me and the job I’ve done with this team.
Today, the same view is taunting me with visions of Hendrix Monroe.
Thankfully, she’s easy to spot since the goalies always wear a different color, either in a game or during practice.
She’s probably dripping with sweat in the hot Tampa sun.
I want to head out there and help her cool off… or find ways to make her even hotter.
Fuck.
I can’t keep having these thoughts. Sure, they were always there, but they never made it so hard for me to concentrate. But now that I’ve tasted her again, it’s harder for me to tear my eyes away from her.
I walk closer to the window, crossing my arms across my chest and casually leaning against the wall.
There she is. The girl of my dreams. Standing down there chugging some water while Jase is talking to her.
Her long brown hair is spilling down her back in a ponytail.
She always wore her hair like that. I remember taking that ponytail, winding it around my hand and using it as leverage to pull her head back or to direct her to where I needed to.
I smile remembering the good ol’ days of when I was able to kiss her and make love to her.
I wonder what her friends would say if they knew that she spent a night in my bed.
Would they believe it? Would there be a string of ‘I told you so’s’ from them?
I’ve always noticed the way that Mac studies us when we are verbally sparring with one another.
I try to be a little extra guarded when Mac is around and I think she notices that.
I wonder if that makes my attraction to Hendrix that much more obvious.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck, you need to focus.”
My intercom dings and I hear my assistant, Nancy, talking through the intercom. “Are you talking to me or yourself again, August?” There’s a bit of humor in her voice.
I chuckle along with her, “Sorry, Nancy, I’m just talking to me again.”
“Alright, let me know if you need me.”
“I will,” I promise.
I wasn’t thrilled with my dad picking an assistant for me.
I’m professional enough not to hire what my dad called “bikini-clad bimbos.” But Nancy has worked out so well and she’s been such a great source of support for me.
Almost like a substitute mother, since my own exited my life a young age.
There’s nothing distracting about her, which is fine with me.
She’s a tiny woman of barely five feet tall and always dresses professionally yet comfortably in short-sleeved tops and pants or long skirts.
She’s the perfect non-distraction but also the perfect assistant who has been great at helping me keep the Blaze up and running.
It doesn’t hurt that she has made more than one attempt to remind me that I’m doing a good job and that I should be proud of all I’m accomplishing here.
I sigh and glance back at the field. I can see that practice looks like it’s wrapping up. Most of the players have left the field, but I can still see Hendrix in her bright purple goalie jersey working with Jase. I decide to head down and see if I can get a minute of her time alone.
And if I can’t, I’ll just make up an excuse about the listing of interviews I have my desk. Make sure that Coach Watts received a similar list, or some bullshit like that to hopefully not reveal the real reason that I’m down there.
The sun is brutal on my back, so I roll my dress shirt sleeves up to my elbows, hoping that it’ll help keep me cool out here, even though I’m sure it’s not quite enough. I didn’t expect to be heading out to the practice field to see her, or I would have worn shorts and a T-shirt.
“Hey, August,” Coach Andie, our assistant Blaze coach, greets me as I make my way towards the field. “Did you need something?”
“Hey, Andie, I do. I’m hoping to grab Jase for a minute. We’ve got some outlets asking about meetings with him and Hendrix.” It’s a bit of a lie that comes out so easily. Sure, the outlets want to talk to Hendrix but I’m sure I could add in Jase if I had to and no one would think anything of it.
“Oh, cool. I think he’s finishing up something with Hendrix before she does her stretches,” she says, turning to walk away. “Have a good night.”
“You too!” I call after her.
I stand underneath the awning that is off to the side of the field.
The locker rooms are just beyond me and thankfully, the rest of the girls have already headed in.
I can see that Jase has left the field and is walking toward the floor that leads to his office.
I wait until the door closes behind him before I look back to where Hendrix is getting ready to stretch.
She’s out there alone.
I hate how much that thought thrills me.
She’s stretching on the turf, extending her arms out in front of her and grabbing her toes.
She has always been so flexible. Hendrix isn’t a dainty girl by any means.
She has muscle and curves all wrapped in a delicious sexy package for me.
I think that’s why the women that I take home don’t even resemble her.
Because if they did, her name might fall from my lips.
Or I might not even be able to go through with it.
Hendrix is the one that holds my heart. Even if in college people couldn’t believe that we were dating.
They saw me with the tiny women that I now gravitate to.
But they were so wrong. She is perfect for me.
And if I’m being honest, those skinny twigs that I sometimes take home aren’t as much fun to play with. So frail and fragile and they never seem to have her flexibility. I always worry that driving into them as hard as my girl likes would snap them in half.
I decide that I’ve waiting long enough to hear her voice again and step out into the sun, onto the turf and head into her direction. Even though my steps are quiet, she sees me.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” She stands, crossing her arms across her chest.
“It’s my time, my field,” I tell her, shrugging. “And I just need five minutes.”
She scoffs. “You had five hours the other night.”
I flinch at the malice in her tone. “I know. I just... I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She doesn’t soften at my admission. “That’s not my problem.”
“I know it’s selfish,” I admit. “But I keep seeing you in my head. Not just that night. Years ago, too. Your laugh. The way you used to look at me when I was being an idiot.”
Hendrix looks away from me, but I can see the pain filling her wide chocolate eyes. “You were always adept at remembering the parts that made you feel good.”
I step closer to her slowly, like I’m approaching a cornered animal. Based on the way she’s glaring at me, I might as well be. “I remember the bad parts too. I remember leaving. I remember your face when we last saw each other back then.”
Hendrix swallows slowly, looking away from me again.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” I tell her. “I just needed you to know that I still feel it. That I never really stopped. The other night was just another reminder for me how good we are together. And how much I truly do miss you.”
It’s her turn to take a step in my direction. “And what I am supposed to do with that?”
“I don’t know.” I fumble over my words; I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I just knew I needed to see her. “But I had to say it.”
She nods sharply, once. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
It’s my turn to swallow audibly. “No, yes.” I run both hands through my hair and sigh.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want the other night to be a one-time thing.
I think the only thing that shouldn’t have happened was you telling me to forget about it.
That was the part that kills me and that I can’t get past.”
“You are so typical,” she spits out at me. “You are only thinking about how this would be for you. And what this means for you. What about me?” she roars.
I freeze, unsure of how to answer her. So, I shoot for honesty. “I hadn’t thought about it. I’m sorry, Hen.”
“It’s obvious that you hadn’t, August. And I can’t even fault you for it because it’s how you’ve been since the day I met you.
You were only worried about you,” her finger jabs forward in the direction of my chest. “I have just as much to lose this time as I did last time, if not more. The only difference is I know you will not stick it out with me. I know you will bail on me. I can’t go through that again. ”
I step forward and reach for the ponytail behind her and gently pull it forward so that the chocolate waves are falling over her shoulder. “You think I want to go through that again? Because I don’t. I think if we’re both brave enough to try, where could it go wrong?”
She smiles, really smiles at me. The same bright smile that I saw on her face that night.
The night she let me hold her, kiss her and have her body again.
A feeling of hope rises up in my chest. I want to hold onto that as long as I can.
As soon as it bubbles up, her tight eyes tell me she just might be smashing it.
“So, so much could go wrong, August. And because you refuse to see that or even acknowledge it tells me that you are still the same selfish person you’ve always been.
” I start to speak but she holds her hand up to silence me.
When she does speak again, her voice is low and softer than before.
“We are better as a memory. Trust me on this one, August. You’re just lonely and bored.
The other night was just a sad time out.
Fun as it was, it’s not happening again. I’m sorry.”
Hendrix looks around for the first time, really looks around like she’s making sure everyone is gone and no one is witnessing our little exchange.
“I like the life I’ve built here, August, and I won’t let you blow up my life again. I can’t, I’m sorry.”
With that she picks up her gear from the turf and struts into the locker room.
I hear a throat clear behind me. I turn around to see Jase standing there.
“How much of that did you hear?” I ask him. He’s caught me at a disadvantage right now and I kinda hate that. I thought everyone was gone. I was sure when he left her on the turf, he was headed for his office and eventually home.
“Just the parts where she called you selfish and said the two of you are better as a memory.” He appraises me for a moment before asking, “What did she mean by that?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
I feel like an ass. If Dex had found us, we would have dissected her words, but with Jase, I can’t. I can’t be that vulnerable with him.
“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Just do me a favor, mate, don’t fuck with her head before playoffs. I need my keeper clear-headed and ready to rock, okay?”
“Sure, man, no problem,” I reply, feeling like a complete and utter asshole.
“And if you decide you wanna talk about it, I’m here. I’ll listen and I won’t judge. I’m pretty good at that shit.” He pats me on the back. “I’ll see ya later.”
“See you,” I call over my shoulder, my head looking up at the sky and my eyes squeezed closed.
I wanna scream so loudly right now, but I don’t.
No tantrum would fix this. And honestly, she wasn’t exactly wrong when she said I was being selfish.
I was in the sense that I wanted to talk to her so badly that I came out here unprepared.
Something in business I’ve learned to never do.
But with her all common sense went out the window and I acted on instinct, which I’m finding is not the best approach when it comes to her.
With my head down, I trudge off the field and head back into my office.