Player(75)

“Maybe she’s the perfect person to teach me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You honestly think you can be one of those happily-ever-after people? That you can just change? That’s never gonna happen.”

“You’re a fucking cynic.”

“I’m a fucking realist. Guys like us don’t get happy endings.”

“Guys like you maybe. I don’t subscribe to that line.”

He watched me, the darkness behind his eyes hard and cold. For a long, pregnant moment, he was silent. Then, a smile meant to be genuine. But in the tight lines of his face was betrayal. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day. Sam Haddad, all settled down with the little awkward trumpet player and all their hopes and dreams and fucking rainbows and happily ever afters. Wonders never cease.”

I turned to lay the full weight of my gaze on him. He’d said the right things with a tone that was all wrong.

“Angles, right? What’s yours?” I asked.

“Can’t a guy just be happy for his buddy?” He pushed off the wall and rolled his eyes, the tension gone with a snap. “God, you’re so fucking paranoid. If nothing else, I’m glad you got laid. Your celibacy was disturbing, man. So congrats on the ass,” he said as he passed.

I watched him walk to the drum cage. The bet was over. Now Ian knew I was with Val. Everything was fine. I had nothing to worry about.

Ian would never betray me.

I turned my gaze to Val as she set up her music. The light of her stand lamp highlighted the curve of her forearms, the curls framing her face.

And I hoped to God I was right.





Val’s arm slipped into the warm space between my coat and shirt when we hit the sidewalk outside of the theater. “I can’t believe you survived dinner with my family.”

I adjusted the strap of her trumpet bag so the case wouldn’t bump her. “And I didn’t even end up with my shoelaces tied together or poisoned or anything.”

Val laughed. “I dunno. Pretty sure Abuelita wanted to drug you and keep you for herself.”

“If she made me paella every day, I’d go willingly. Really, I’d be ripping her off.”

“I told you my brothers were a nightmare.”

“No, you said they were a furry hurricane. A furricane. And I’m not worried about them. They said as long as I don’t make you cry, I’m safe. Little do they know that’s already on my vision board.”

“Oh my God,” she said on a chuckle. “I just imagined you sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, listening to Katy Perry while you cut pictures out of Seventeen and wallpaper them to your closet door.”

“I prefer Taylor Swift and Cosmopolitan, but you’re not far off.” I tucked her into me a little tighter. “I had a thought.”

“Mmm? What’s that?”

“We shouldn’t go dancing.”

“No?”

I smiled at the trace of disappointment in her voice.

“No. We should go home instead and spend the night in bed.”

She squeezed my middle. “Yes, please. Tomorrow, we’ll dance.”

“Tomorrow, your birthday.”

A sheepish laugh. “It’s not a big deal. Please don’t make it a big deal. And tonight, your bed sounds like the only place I want to be.”

“No promises. And good.”

With a sigh, she settled into my side. We were quiet on the walk back, a content, introspective silence that never came between us. It was something we shared.

The night had held the potential for disaster, but I’d made it through unscathed. I had Dante’s tenuous approval, had eaten the meal of a lifetime, and had played with her grandfather and bowed to a master.

It had been a good night.

I wondered if she’d ever brought a man home before. From what I knew about her, I’d be willing to bet the answer was no. But she’d allowed me to crash that dinner, and the allowance was a testament to her trust in me and her faith in us.

Worry licked at my heart like fog. She trusted me. And I was responsible for nurturing that, protecting it.

I didn’t want to fail. Not at anything, but especially not at this. I couldn’t fail her.

Ian crossed my mind again. I hadn’t been able to shake our conversation, the sense that it wasn’t over even though he’d said it was. At least, I thought he’d said it was.

It’d better be over, I thought, shifting to press a kiss into her hair.

Ian had no reason to bring it up again. There was nothing left to say.

Possession surged in my chest. Possession and protection.

She walked up the stairs of my building with me trailing behind her by a step. And when I looked up, all I could see was Val. The curve of her cheek. Her curly hair. Her shoulder, her arm.

All I could see was her.

I stopped, tugging her hand until she stopped, too.

When she looked back, amusement and curiosity flickered across her brow. When she saw I wasn’t budging, she turned to face me.

She was far enough above me that I had to look up to see her. The hallway was dim, lit only by an old, out-of-style dome light, obscured by her head. The light lit her hair up like a halo, casting her face in shadow.

She cupped my jaw and smiled, lips together. “What is it, Sam?”