Chapter Forty-Three
Todd
After the commencement ceremony, my body expects to collapse in front of the TV with a bag of chips and wallow in the fact that my postgrad plan involves nothing but waiting for the NBA draft—and overthinking the rest of my life.
Instead, I change into mesh shorts, lace up my oldest sneakers, and head to the gym.
The court lights are off when I enter, but I know where the switch is.
The place floods with a fluorescent hum, so bright it actually hurts for a second.
I’m not sure what I’m hoping for—maybe a couple of easy baskets, a chance to empty my head, or some peace. But I don’t get that, because the second I step onto the floor Jacob appears in the doorway.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that basketball season’s over?” he asks, motioning for the ball, which he catches on a bounce. “So, I know why I’m here, but why are you here?”
“Why are you here?”
He shoots a three-pointer, the swish of the net blending with his sigh. “It’s mine.”
“I know—Taylor told me.” I stop the ball from rolling away with my foot. “What are you going to do?”
“Right now I’m going to shoot some hoops.”
I humor him since I came here to do the same thing.
We don’t say anything for a while, just let the squeak of our shoes and the irregular thump of the ball take over.
After about ten minutes, we shift into a lazy one-on-one—neither of us bothering to keep score, both of us playing like we’re saving our best for some imaginary game later.
“You never told me why you’re here,” Jacob says, launching a shot. It rattles around and drops in.
I chase the ball along the baseline. “I fucked things up with Taylor.”
“I thought you guys were just friends.”
I hold the ball against my hip. “We are because I’m too much of a coward to make us more.”
He holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, you said it, I didn’t.”
I dribble to the top of the key, stretching my arms overhead until my shoulder gives a satisfying pop. “How you feeling about Emma?”
He resets, taking the ball up the key, shoots, and clanks it. “My parents want me to be involved. Like, get a lawyer, figure out visitation, all that shit, especially with my impending NBA career. Emma says I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want to, though, that she’s not expecting anything.”
I snag the ball off the rim and hold onto it, rolling it between my hands. “So she’s giving you an out.”
He laughs but it’s hollow. “Yep.”
I set the ball down and lean against the padded wall, arms crossed. “Are you gonna take it?”
“I don’t know. I mean, how am I supposed to be a dad?”
I pick the ball back up and dribble it absentmindedly. “No one’s ever ready, I guess.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing—it’s like she doesn’t even want me around. Says it’d mess up the baby more if I bounced in and out.” He looks up at me, and for once, there’s no smirk, no attitude, just straight panic. “But I don’t want to be that guy.”
I don’t have an answer, so I start a slow drive toward the basket, giving him a chance to block me if he wants. He doesn’t; I dunk and hang on the rim, mostly because the sting in my hands feels more real than anything we’re saying.
He sits on the baseline, knees up, arms draped over them. “You ever gonna tell her?”
“That I love her or that I called her brother in my misguided attempt to help her but only ended up making things worse?”
He snorts. “Either, man.”
I walk to where he’s sitting and flop down beside him.
“It’s complicated. I knew she wasn’t ready for a relationship, so I tried to meet her at her level—keep it casual—but now, instead of being in the friend-zone, we’re in this fucked-up situationship.
What’s worse is I’m pretty sure if she finds out I was the one who called Chase, she’ll never trust me again. ”
He considers this, then shrugs. “She’s Taylor. She’ll forgive you. She’s just as much in love with you as you are with her.”
We sit there a while, sweating into the worn floor, letting the silence stretch until it feels almost safe.
“You should just tell her, man,” he says, standing. He offers me a hand, and I take it, surprised by how solid his grip feels.
“Who? Taylor?”
“Yeah. Tell her you love her. Or at least tell her you called Chase.”
We push open the heavy exit doors. Outside, the night is humid, the air thick with honeysuckle and car exhaust. We’re both alone, but less so than when we started.
Neither of us says goodbye.
I watch him cross the parking lot, shoulders set, the outline of him familiar and strange all at once. Then I turn toward my car, the ache in my arms a dull companion. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll tell Taylor.
Or maybe I’ll just shoot free throws until my hands bleed.
When I get back to the apartment, the lights are on and the TV is playing some postgame, but Taylor’s not on the couch. I drop my backpack and do a quick scan—her keys and bag are on the counter and the place smells like microwave popcorn.
For a second, I think she’s waiting for me in my room, but when I nudge the door open it’s empty, the sheets rumpled just how we left them this morning. Then I hear voices—two of them—coming from her bedroom down the hall.
I knock once, softly, before Taylor calls, “Come in.”
Inside the scene is weirdly domestic. Taylor sits cross-legged on her bed, in gym shorts and a faded Cardinals T-shirt, hair falling in damp clumps, while Emma sorts through clothes.
“Sorry to interrupt . . .” I turn back to Taylor. “What’s going on?”
“Taylor’s saved me from St. Louis, so I’ll be crashing here again until we move to Arlington,” Emma replies, a slow smirk pulling at her lips. “I promise not to cock-block you or otherwise get in your way.”
“You guys are moving to Arlington?” I swallow hard. “Together?”
“Yeah, it was the best solution we could come up with today.” Taylor meets my gaze. “I told her she has to pull her own weight. You know, be a responsible adult and she agreed.”
I nod slowly, still processing.
“Where’ve you been?” Taylor asks, eyeing me. “I thought you’d be out celebrating with your parents.”
I lean against the doorframe, trying to act casual. “Yeah, I hit the gym afterward—had nothing better to do.”
Emma shoves her sister playfully. “Go give him something to do.”
Taylor turns beet red but chuckles, relieving some of the tension in the room.
“Seriously go,” Emma says, turning to another pile of clothes. “I got this under control.”
Taylor gets up and we head to my room. “I know what you’re thinking,” she says, closing the door behind us. “You think I’m just clinging to my caregiver role.”
“No . . . no . . . not at all.”
“Then what?” she asks, sitting on my bed. “I can tell you have something on your mind.”
I run my hand through my hair, wanting to tell her everything—how I called Chase, how I love her, how the only time I feel like myself is when I’m with her.
But I can’t.
“I just want you to be happy,” I say instead.
She fists my shirt, pulling me into her. “Believe it or not, I think I’m finally getting there.”
I kiss her, wanting to imagine that I play a small role in her happiness even though I know I’m more the reason for her pain. She’s smart, she could have come to this solution with Emma without my calling Chase—without all the grief and frustration. But no—I believed I knew what’s best for her.
“Hey, I almost forgot,” I say suddenly, thinking of a better way to channel my guilt. “I got you a graduation present.”
She licks her swollen lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I move toward my nightstand to get it. “Well, it’s not entirely selfless.”
She flips open the case and gasps. “Todd?”
“It’s for your clit.” I turn it on to show her. “Like we talked about.”
Her eyes widen as she watches it move, and she shifts her weight between her legs. “You want to try it out?”
I smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We strip in record time and hop on the bed, my cock already pointing at the ceiling. She positions the toy to her liking and straddles my leg, but stops short of taking me into her mouth.
“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to focus,” she says.
My gaze washes over her already shivering from the thumping sensations, and I’m overcome with the need to claim her.
“Can I fuck your face?” I ask, my heart in my stomach.
Her eyes meet mine, glazed with desire, and she nods slowly.
I throw a pillow on the floor. “On your knees.”
She scrambles onto the floor, then looks up at me expectantly.
“Tap out if it gets too much and keep that vibe on your clit. I want to feel your jaw lock when you come.”
She moans when I grab the back of her head and start feeding her my cock. Breathing deeply, she lets me in, and for all her fear of not being able to focus on sucking me, she starts off with a few good licks.
But it isn’t long before she’s completely lost in her own pleasure, giving me the opportunity to really fuck her. Tears start streaming down her face when I hit the back of her throat.
“So . . . fucking . . . good . . .” I grunt out as I wipe them away.
She groans, agreeing, and the vibrations nearly send me over the edge. I piston my hips, and she gags a little, but doesn’t tap out.
“Please tell me you’re close,” I say, fisting her hair.
“Uh huh,” she replies.
I swipe my thumb over one of her pebbled nipples, and it sets her off. She gasps for breath, and I force myself to slow down so she can enjoy her orgasm. Not that it matters, her jaw locks, holding me in, and I come down her throat.
“Holy hell.” She pulls the toy out from between her legs. “That was . . .”
I take her hands in mine, urging her to stand. “Amazing?”
She nods quickly. “I’m pretty sure I could hear colors.”
I brush her hair back, strands sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. “I’m glad you enjoyed it—and that I got to enjoy it with you.”
She averts her gaze. “You know we haven’t talked about what we’re doing here for a while.”
My stomach drops. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She opens her mouth then closes it, biting her lip. “No . . . we don’t have to. We’ve been sticking to the rules—we’re still friends.”
“Right . . .” I force a smile even though my stomach continues to roll. “Still friends.”