Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
~HENDRIX~
Islam my car door closed. “Fucking arrogant prick,” I say to the empty car.
I sigh, leaning back in the seat, running my hands slowly over the leather steering wheel, trying to center myself and calm down.
I can’t decide right now who I’m angrier at - myself or August. Can you really be mad at a dog for just being a dog?
I think to myself and chuckle. Because that’s all he’s doing - being August. Being the carefree boy that I met all those years ago in college.
Back when we were young and trying to find our way in the world.
Finding that perfect balance between training and studying, all the while trying to fit in some fun for ourselves.
That was how we found each other and ended up in each other’s beds.
That bit of fun for us was the sex. At UNC you couldn’t drink and party and be a Division I athlete; the university wouldn’t stand for it.
So, we made our own good time.
And in turn I got my heart shredded into a million pieces by a boy who I now play for.
And that I still want, even though I’m telling myself that it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.
Because now I know how this ends. I know that nothing good can come from giving my heart back over to him.
His father didn’t approve then and he probably wouldn’t now.
If only the part where I climb into his bed wasn’t quite so satisfying.
I clench my thighs together remembering the way he moved and made me feel. All of those little moans that he coerced out of my body. How much I enjoyed it and knew instantly that this couldn’t happen again because if there is one thing I know about August Cromwell: he’s a dangerous addiction.
My phone beeps in the quiet car, signaling that I have a text message.
Ash: Hey kiddo, did you forget that I was coming? I’m waiting outside of your door.
“Fuck!” I yell. Yes, I totally forgot that for a moment. Being around August has a way of making me forget just about everything and all common sense. It’s what makes him so risky.
Ash Monroe is almost ten years older than I am and stands over six feet tall, dwarfing my own five-foot-five frame.
The older we’ve gotten the closer we’ve grown.
Being ten years older than me, we were never in the same schools or the same phase of life.
My mom often told me that I was the clingy younger sister trailing after him, wanting to do the same things that he was.
But being so much younger than him, that wasn’t always possible.
Now that we’re both adults, we have promised to start visiting each other as often as possible.
It totally slipped my mind that Ash was coming to see me for a while.
He still lives in Philly, sort of near our parents and owns his own consulting firm.
He’s one of the youngest in Philly to achieve such success in his field right out of college.
But he had the right connections and made it happen.
As he always told me, it’s all about who you know.
Hendrix: On my way, sorry practice ran long.
I lie so easily to him. Had I not stopped to talk to August and then spent so much extra time in the locker room dissecting our conversation, I might be home by now.
Ash: Can’t wait to see you kid.
I roll my eyes. Sure, he’s older than me, but I’m not a kid anymore. He always thought of me as a little kid and most of the time acted like a father figure to me growing up. Even though I already had one. Sure, he wasn’t around much, but I had one.
Hendrix: I’ve missed you too.
And I mean it. I have missed him. We haven’t been in the same city together since the summer before my senior year. I was drafted right after I graduated in the fall, and headed right to Tampa to train with the Blaze after the holidays. It’ll be nice to get to spend some time with him.
I have no idea how long he plans on staying with me.
He was pretty vague about that when he texted me that he was driving from Philadelphia to Tampa.
My brother told me he couldn’t live without his precious Audi A4, which is a hybrid, apparently, and he refuses to drive anything else.
I love my brother, but he is sometimes so very particular about certain things.
His car and his clothes being some of them.
When I arrive at the apartment complex, I hop out of my BMW 330 ci convertible that he found for me on my twenty-first birthday. I still remember how excited he was to give it to me. Ash isn’t in sight yet, my apartment isn’t visible from the lot, but I do see his sleek dark grey Audi parked there.
He’s here! The thought makes me giddy as I hurry to grab my bag and head toward the steps that lead to my apartment.
It’s a second-floor apartment, near the rest of my friends.
We all live a few doors apart, which is nice.
Well, we do most of the time. When Mac is not living at Danny’s or Cassie isn’t living with Jase.
Dex and Amelia spend nearly every night together.
At least Ash visiting me will help fill that gap of my friends not sleeping in their respective apartments.
That’s what will make it so great to spend some time with my brother.
I’ll have someone to hang with while my other friends have coupled off.
A twinge of hope sparks in as I think about how easily it would be if I just gave into August. Then I would have someone too. And it’s even someone that hangs out with our group of friends on the regular. It theoretically could be so easy. But in reality it would be anything but.
I round the corner and see Ash standing there, looking deep in thought as he stares at his phone, leaning against the railing in front of my door.
I walk swiftly, noticing that nothing has really changed.
He’s still prematurely grey, the same way he has been since he was about twenty-five.
There’s still bit of brown left, but there’s no hiding that grey.
He doesn’t dye it because he says he doesn’t care.
Franky, I think it makes him look distinguished.
He’s casual Ash today, not dressed in a suit like he normally is.
He’s in a pair of khaki shorts and a tight-fitting polo that shows off the all the muscles he still has from playing college hoops.
I wonder for a moment if I’ll be left with little mementos, like polos, when this wild ride is over. I don’t have time to wonder for long because he because he chooses that moment to look up and notice me staring.
“It’s about time you got here!” he says, standing to his full height and grinning widely, his chocolate brown eyes that match mine are shining warmly. “Come here,” he says, outstretching his arms so that I can easily come into them.
I do. Sighing, I take in a whiff of him. He still smells like home to me, like a piece of my childhood was brought all the way to Tampa to keep me company. I squeeze him tightly.
“I missed you,” I say into his chest.
He strokes my back lightly. “I missed you too, kiddo.”
I pull back and reach up to smack him on the head. He dodges it and pats my head playfully.
“Nice try,” he says, laughing.
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s get you inside before you melt out here in the Tampa Bay sun. You are probably not used to humidity like this in September,” I tease him.
He nods, wheeling his large suitcase forward so that he can guide it into my apartment. “I’m sure not. I mean, it’s warm back home, but not like this.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I tell him.
He nods again and follows me in.
Since this is the first time he has seen my apartment, I take a moment to look around, trying to see it through his eyes.
I have minimal knickknacks sitting around, just photos.
Photos of me with my club team when I was a teenager, my high school team, my girls from UNC and the girls that I’ve come to call my family here in Tampa.
I have a small collection of framed articles that have been written about me sitting on the bookcase.
My mom used to always track them down and mail them to me.
I made an offhand comment about it once, and now Jase had Cindy in the PR office clip all the articles for me.
“I can’t believe that you play for this prick.” He picks up the group picture that August is in. It was taken at the Backwoods one night after a win. Mac had printed them for us and I had it framed. It’s a good picture of everyone. I just can’t believe Ash spotted him in the picture.
“He drafted me. It was a shot to play professional soccer, Ash. There is no way I would turn that down,” I remind him. Annoyance flickers in my chest; he doesn’t trust me. He still thinks of me as that heartbroken teenager he saw after August fled UNC.
He shakes his head. “Does history not mean anything to you?”
I nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “It does. But if it helps you, I don’t think his dad remembers who I was. Maxwell Cromwell was the one that built the team.”
“No, it doesn’t help me. I was the one who found you, Hendrix,” he reminds me, staring me down, daring me to defend August or his father for what I had done to myself because of them. “You were in such a bad place that winter break and we almost lost you...” His voice trails off.
“I know. But things are fine here. We don’t really interact. He just hangs out with the guys that I hang out with. There are a couple of jabs thrown around but other than that, nothing.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
“Uh-huh. You shouldn’t be anywhere near him.” His voice is icy and final. Based on the cold stare he’s giving me, I think he’d pack me up and move me home, contract be damned.
“I’m fine, Ash,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“He’s standing right beside you in the picture,” he says, holding the picture out for me to take.