Teardrop Shot(112)

I wasn’t ready for the attention, but we were getting it. As soon as we stepped out the last door, a woman with a camera was there. “Stan! How’s Reese doing? Is that his girlfriend?”

Marie came to my other side, draping a sweatshirt over me and I tugged down the hood. This felt weird, adopting Reese’s method of camouflage. A few months ago, I only had a cheating ex and a pervy grandpa in my life. That’d been it.

I paused in my thoughts as we walked down toward a row of SUVs waiting.

Breaking at one, Marie gave me a tight squeeze. “Stan has my number, but I got yours from him. Hope that’s okay? I’m going to text you, see if you need anything. And I’ll reach out once we get to Seattle in the morning.”

Another squeeze, then she was off and getting into one of the other vehicles.

Stan had opened the door to the one we stood by, and I climbed in. He leaned in. The reporters had remained at the exit, but there were other people standing around, and a couple had their phones pointed at us. He blocked their view, his hands on both sides of the door. “I’m going to get in the front with the driver. Reese is heading out now. Do you need anything while I’m here? I can grab a water or anything else?”

My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I shook my head. “I’m good.”

I just wanted Reese.

He dipped his head down and stood back, shutting the door. He climbed into the front a second later, then we waited. The vehicle was silent, even the driver. Then a whole surge of activity happened toward the front. Lights were flashing, and out strolled a few of the players.

Garth Carzoni.

Lestroy.

Beau Michems.

Then Juan, and following him: Reese.

Everything raised a whole octave at Reese’s appearance, but he walked through, ignoring everyone. Juan waited, and Reese bumped the side of his fist against his. Both separated. Juan went to where Marie was waiting, and Reese came to us.

He got in, tossing his bag in the back before sliding next to me. The door was shut, and he reached for my hand, entwining our hands. The SUV started, and within a minute, we were pulling away from the arena.

? ? ?

Life was a whirlwind after that.

We flew back to Washington that night. Both his parents were already checked into their respective facilities by the time we landed, and as Reese had said, they attended Roman’s funeral. It was an emotional day for all of them. I sat beside Reese, holding his hand, and that night, I held him in my arms.

He was peppering kisses up my spine, his hand shifting over my hip as he rolled me to look at me. He was looming above me, resting on an arm to hold himself up.

The stark need in his eyes had me biting back tears. He’d had that look quite frequently this weekend, and I slid my hands up his arms, then moved one around his neck, going up into his hair and I fisted it there, pulling him down to me.

His mouth met mine. A soft graze. Loving.

It made me ache, but this time it wasn’t a body ache. It was a soul ache. He brought me to life, and I just wanted to do the same for him now. I wanted to push all his haunts away.

He lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

My top lip curved up at that. “You’re asking me what’s wrong?”

He rested on his side, his hand tracing circles over my stomach. The sheet fell to the side. He was seeing all of me and he bent forward, his lips finding my breast, tasting me.

I closed my eyes, that soul ache shifting to peace. He filled me up in every way now.

Then I started talking, “You have not once pushed me away during this time. You’ve not once tried to avoid dealing with your parents or your brother. You’ve not once shied away from all the responsibilities on your shoulder.”

That meant something.

He carried it all, and he did it without a thought, without breaking stride, and I knew he’d continue to do so as long as his parents were seeking help.

He lifted his head up, gazing down at me. “Yeah. Why would I?”

A half-laugh slipped from me. “I would’ve. I did. You changed me.” I trailed a hand down his shoulder, his arm, his chest. “I couldn’t even feel my emotions before. I asked those questions to evade it all, and here I am, actually feeling tears and peace and not shitting my pants because of it.” I looked him in the eyes, drawing him back in. “That’s because of you.”

He shook his head, his hand going to the side of my face, tracing down my jawline. “No, that was you. You were starting to face the world again. I just happened to be in the way.” His lip curled up, and he leaned down, nuzzling my jawline and moving south.

I closed my eyes, reaching up, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

My breath was shortening. Panting.

He was growing closer to my mouth.

He paused before touching his lips to mine and murmured, “You know my tattoo?”

I nodded. Did I? I admitted, “I might’ve salivated over it a few times.” He lifted his head farther and moved so we could both see it on his side. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Hebrew for teardrop shot.”

“What?”

He was holding back a grin. “I know. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Why Hebrew?”

He laughed, burying his head in his arm for a second. “Because I thought it looked cool. I got it in college, and one of my friends was obsessed with learning Hebrew. I have no idea why, but we got drunk one night and resolved to get something that stood for our future. I got teardrop shot because it’s rare and it’s under utilized, and I wanted one thing to excel at in ball. I knew I was fast. I knew I could handle the ball decent, but I wanted one more thing that would make me stand out. I wanted to further pack my resume, I guess. But it also means more than that to me now.” He paused, a dark emotion starting to blaze from his eyes as he gazed at me.