25. Ellie #2
My hand slid between us, finding my clit. “Oh fuck—”
“That’s it. Let me see you.”
I could feel it building, pressure coiling tighter and tighter inside me.
“Brashe…”
“I’m here. I’m with you. Come for me.”
I shattered, clenching around him, his name on my lips, pleasure ripping through me so hard I forgot how to breathe. He followed seconds later. Buried himself deep and came hard, both of us shaking and holding each other through it.
Neither of us wanted to move.
He curled forward, lowering his forehead to mine. “I meant what I said about loving you.”
My throat closed up. The words had been sitting in my chest since the parking lot. Since he’d stood in the treatment room doorway looking wrecked. Since the pool, maybe. Since the picnic, if I was being honest.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
He pulled back to look at me, his eyes searching mine like he was afraid he’d misheard.
“I love you,” I said again, louder this time. Braver. “I think I’ve loved you since you asked if I’d eaten breakfast. Or maybe since you laminated that instruction sheet. I don’t know when it started. I just know it’s there and it won’t go away.”
“Good. Because I meant it too.”
He leaned back to look at me. We were both crying again.
“We’re a mess,” I said.
“Best mess we’ve ever made.”
We stayed like that, tangled together, both of us trying to catch our breath. His weight pressed me into the table, the paper crinkling every time one of us shifted. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, still racing.
“I don’t want to move,” he said into my neck.
“We probably should.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us did.
“We just—”
“We did.”
I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it hit all at once. We’d had sex on a treatment table in an empty arena after I’d flown back from an interview for a job I might still take.
He pulled back to look at me, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know.” The laughter turned wet. “I think so?”
“That’s not exactly the response I was hoping for.”
“No, it’s…” I cupped his face. “It was perfect. You were perfect. I’m just overwhelmed.”
“Me too,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” My voice cracked. “And that’s scary.”
“Good scary or bad scary?”
“I don’t know that yet either.”
He pulled out carefully. I winced slightly.
“Sore?”
“Good sore.”
He grabbed paper towels and cleaned us both up with a gentleness that made my breath come in sharp little hitches. When he helped me off the table, my legs were shaky.
“You’re alright?”
“I need a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
I put my panties back on. He handed me my blouse. I slipped my arms through the sleeves and buttoned it with trembling hands, my brain finally catching up to my body.
Denver had been perfect. The CEO had walked me through facilities that made our setup here look like a high school gym.
State-of-the-art equipment. Internationally ranked athletes.
A team of specialists I’d learn from. But while walking through the glass-walled offices, I’d kept thinking about purple sticky notes.
About early morning coffee cups and instruction sheets with smiley faces.
About a parking lot where someone watched to make sure I got to my car safely.
“What are you thinking about?” Brashe asked.
“Denver.” I looked up at him. “They showed me everything. It was impressive.”
His jaw tightened. “And?”
“And I kept thinking about here.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have to put the armor back on?” he asked.
I looked at the blazer on the floor. “Not tonight.”
“I’m glad.”
He helped me into my skirt and pulled his team shirt and compression shorts back on. “I wish I had your hoodie here. It’s in my locker. I told you it was yours. I told you to keep it.”
“It felt wrong wearing it when we weren’t…”
“We’re something now though, right?”
“I don’t know what we are. But yes, we’re something.”
We sat on the treatment table together, his arm around me, my head on his chest.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Denver wants an answer Monday.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“I’m still thinking.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “If you go, I’ll understand.”
“Will you?”
“Yes. This is a wonderful opportunity for you.”
I sat with that for a moment. He truly did love me if he was willing to let me go.
“You were incredible tonight,” I said. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“I worried it was too late, that I’d destroyed everything.”
“You almost did.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t because I love you. And love doesn’t die that easy.”
He pulled me closer. “I’ve been thinking about what Crim said, about me only valuing myself for what I do in the net. He’s right. I’ve spent my whole life thinking that’s all I am.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m starting to believe that because of you.”
I looked up at him. “Because I fixed you?”
“No. Because you saw me at the picnic, and you thought I was worth talking to.”
“You were worth talking to. You still are.”
“Even after everything?”
“Especially after everything.”
“If I asked you to stay—” He shook his head.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to decide for me. Not for you. Not for Crim. Not for anyone else. I need to know I chose this because I want it. Not because someone wants me to want it. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not saying no to you. I’m saying I need time to say yes to myself first.”
“Take the time you need. I’ll be here.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
We walked to the parking lot together, his hand finding mine in the dark.
He kissed me one more time beside my car, a promise instead of a goodbye.
“Text me when you get home?” he said as he stepped back, his fingers lingering on my face.
“I will.”
I got in my car and drove away, watching him get smaller in my rearview mirror until he disappeared.
Marzipan was waiting on the back of the couch when I got home, her yellow eyes landing on me the second I walked through the door.
I dropped my bag. Kicked off my heels. And collapsed onto the couch.
She hopped down and climbed into my lap, purring before I even started petting her.
“I had sex with him,” I told her.
Her tail flicked once.
“In the treatment room. On the table.”
She slow-blinked.
“He said he loves me.”
Another slow blink.
“I said it back.”
She headbutted my hand, demanding scratches.
I gave them to her, staring at nothing. My phone sat on the cushion beside me. I should text him like I’d promised. Let him know I got home safe.
Instead I checked my email, finding one from Denver.
Dr. Lundrig, we hope you’ll seriously consider our offer. The position would start in three weeks.
In three weeks, I could change my entire life.
I closed the email and opened my texts.
Home safe, I typed to Brashe. My cat, Marzipan, says hi.
Tell her I said hi back. Are you alright?
I stared at the text. Was I okay? I’d just had the best sex of my life with a male I loved who’d hurt me. I had a job offer that would change everything. And I only had forty-eight hours to decide.
I finally replied. I will be.
We both will be.
I set the phone down and lay down on the couch. Marzipan climbed onto my chest, settled, and started purring.
Monday felt both impossibly far away and much too close.