Chapter 25
It took a decent amount of finagling, but Elliott and Hans had worked out the schedule for Sloan and me. We were officially on a thirty-day fast until our calendars aligned again.
I hated it. Sloan hated it.
But we couldn”t exactly reschedule a pro football game or leave Dimefront without an opening act for their concerts.
So, we played phone tag and texted all the time. After a particularly hard day, my phone finally rang. His name popped up on the screen, and I answered immediately.
”Sloan.” I stood from the couch on my tour bus to escape to the back, where it was private. The soft hum of the engine beneath me provided a steady backdrop to the distant sounds of the traffic outside.
My sleeping space in the back was dimly lit, with a petite leather couch along one side and a small bed along the other. Not Four Seasons fancy but definitely functional.
”Baby, I miss you.” His words were gruff, and he sounded exhausted.
The bus gently swayed as it navigated a sharp turn, and the streetlights from outside slashed fleeting stripes across the space.
”Sorry about the game.” It hadn”t gone well. They lost by a lot, and he took several hits.
”It happens. You can”t win ”em all.” He groaned, and it wasn”t a good groan.
”We don”t have to talk about that,” I assured.
”Talk about anything. I just need to hear your voice,” he said.
”Are you hurt?” I asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. ”You sound like you”re in pain.”
”Took a hard hit to the ribs. Just sore,” he admitted. ”It”s part of the game.”
A pang of concern fluttered in my chest, along with an image of the worst hit he took today. ”You need to get that checked out.”
”Promise, it”s not a big deal,” he said, his voice husky. ”I wish I could be there with you.”
”Me, too,” I agreed, absentmindedly plucking at a piece of lint on the knee of my jeans. ”When things like this happen—the game goes bad and you come out bruised—do you ever think that maybe the field is better during practice when it”s all pretend, and it doesn”t really count?”
”Who says practice doesn”t count?” he asked.
”You know what I mean. Do you think maybe Vegas during the day is safer because it”s easy? And Vegas at night might be prettier, but it”s not worth the risk of getting mugged?” I asked.
He seemed to chew on that question. ”I”m wondering if maybe they both have their place.”
”You can”t have the wins without the losses kind of thing?” I asked.
”No, it”s not that. Because you can absolutely have the wins without the losses. I”m just thinking that only because it”s day doesn”t mean it”s any worse than night. It”s just perception. I can get bruised during the day, too.”
”But at night, when you get hurt, everyone is watching,” I said.
”That”s the truth,” he said, as his covers rustled in the background.
I missed him. Damn, but I missed him. I missed the half-smirk of his smile and the way he tried to get me to go outside when I didn”t want to.
”I didn”t go outside today,” I said. ”I mean, I did for the show and walking to the stadium, but…”
”You didn”t see any deer,” he finished for me.
”No, there are no deer in downtown Chicago, apparently,” I said, kind of sad about that. ”Didn”t see a chipmunk or a bobcat or anything. Not even a super-neat boulder.”
”When we get back home, I”m so going to take you to my special rock.” He laughed low.
”That sounds like you”re trying to turn me on,” I said.
”Do I have to try?” He laughed. ”Then I”m losing my touch.”
He wasn”t. Not at all.
We sat in silence for a long while, letting our quiet keep the other company.
”Hey, guess what I totally spaced?” I asked.
I didn”t wait for him to respond.
”Jared”s wedding is next week, and I”ve been so self-involved that I forgot. I can”t believe I forgot.”
”Jared?”
”My old friend? Served us chicken fluff at his engagement party before we drank questionable margaritas? I was going to stalk his cousin at the wedding but now I don’t have to?”
”Right. Jared.”
”I totally forgot about his wedding,” I said, again.
”You forgot, or you moved forward with your life?” Sloan asked, gently but with purpose.
”I think I moved forward,” I said. Wasn”t that the surprise of surprises… ”I mean, I”ll send them a nice gift from us.”
”Nice, but not too nice,” Sloan said with a chuckle. ”A decent amount of nice.”
The conversation lingered between us, a silent understanding passing through the phone lines as we held onto each other”s words.
”I”m gonna go catch some sleep,” Sloan finally said.
”Sure, yes, rest,” I agreed, nodding even though he couldn”t see me.
And that was it. There was no demand from our bodies to do more or to find a release with each other. Just talking to each other was enough after a bad day.
And dammit, I was worried about him.
I was worried about him because…
Nope.
I wouldn”t allow myself to go there.
I couldn”t be in love with my husband.
Except I was pretty sure I was, and I needed to figure out how to deal with that. Sometime, in the recent past, I”d gone and let my heart get involved. This was about realizing that I had feelings for him, and I seriously didn”t know what to do with that.
And then I realized what had to happen, and it couldn”t wait thirty days. I needed to talk to Hans.
Lucky for me, Hans didn”t keep normal working hours, so when the buses pulled up to the next stop, and I knocked on his door, he let me in.
Hans was built like a lineman, but he dressed like an investor always heading into an important meeting. So it was odd to see him without his tie and suit jacket. Though he probably didn”t wear those all the time—especially when he was basically off duty.
”What”s going on, Maya?” he asked, gesturing for me to join him.
”I need to go see Sloan,” I said. I hadn”t run to Hans” bus or anything, but I was still out of breath as I spoke. ”It”s important, and it”s a conversation that needs to happen in person.”
Hans frowned.
”Hans, it”s important,” I said, emphasizing the last word.
”Let me see what I can come up with,” he agreed. ”How soon do you need to be there?”
That was sort of the problem, wasn”t it?
”As soon as possible?”
Hans frowned deeper and thought about it. ”I could maybe make Thursday happen? Get you there, get you back before the show?”
I grimaced. ”He”s got a game.”
”Then we”ll have to finagle the times. You sure this is something that can”t wait?” he confirmed.
”Yes,” I said. ”No. I mean, it can”t wait. Sooner is better.”