Teardrop Shot(60)

After we began eating, which I insisted we do at the table, I asked a question. “How’d you know something was going on yesterday?”

He picked up a slice, folding it and lounging back in his chair. His legs kicked out under the table. “I guessed something was up, but I figured I couldn’t do anything till you came to see me. You never did, so I asked Coach. He told me what happened—oh, and I have that check for you. When he looked at it, he felt bad, said no one should earn that little after working morning to night like he knew you did.”

He gazed over his pizza at me, his grin wolfish. “You’re a hot chick who knows basketball. Okay, that’s not that rare, but you’re a girl who gets noticed. We all saw you doing dishes when we came in for breakfast, and you closed the courts at night. You’re a hard worker, and you never complained about it.”

“I still can’t believe what you said happened.” I’d checked my phone. There’d only been a call for a job interview. “Are you sure? My friends are really coming tomorrow?”

He nodded, biting into his pizza. He chewed. He swallowed. “Trust me. It wasn’t just four tickets I gave away. Two of the guys wanted another for a date. That made six tickets, plus one for you because there’s no way your friends are coming and you aren’t. I made them promise that part, even if they had to drag you there.”

“You really think I wouldn’t want to go to your game?”

He snorted, grabbing his water bottle. “By now, who knows with you. You didn’t want your friends to know about our friendship. We’re fucking, and you’re aghast at anyone knowing. I had no clue what you’d do if I invited you to a game.”

“I am a basketball fanatic.” I pointed toward my bedroom. “You gave me a shirt to wear, and a sweatshirt. If you think you’re getting either of those back, think again, buddy.” I snorted and couldn’t dim my grin. “It’s like you don’t know me.”

Sex, food, and feeling wanted went a long way toward making this person happy.

I stared at Reese, really seeing him. He was here. He’d come after me. He’d fought for me. He screwed me six ways to Sunday, and oh so amazingly. Yeah. I’m pretty sure I was glowing at this point.

He stared back, his gaze growing somber. Putting his bottle back on the table, he twisted the cap on it and cleared his throat. That was his signal. We were going serious.

“I know I put off having the talk, but I didn’t realize you’d hightail it out of there two hours later. Based on our history…” He adjusted in his seat, squirming. “Maybe we should have the talk.”

Oh boy.

Deep breaths.

A whole new churning started in my gut.

He opened his mouth, but I stopped him. I had to go first, especially with this one.

“You know I have baggage. Caregiving for someone who wanted to deny he was losing his mind, that’s a lot. For me. For the next guy. For anyone.” I pulled my knees up again, pressing them against my chest. “I went to camp a little out of my mind—I’ll be honest. I think I’ve been out of my mind for a while. But at some point these last few weeks, I started talking about Damian. Not just to you, though you got the most, but to the others too. Grant knows. Now Owen and Hadley do too. No one knew what I was going through for all those years. Damian wouldn’t let me tell anyone. We had to pretend everything was normal, when it was so not normal, and I slipped away. Little by little. Every day. I’m just now starting to feel like a person again. You’re part of the reason for that, but…”

I was so stupid. I knew it, but I had to say this.

“I can’t be anything right now. I can be a friend, but anything more? I can’t take that on. I will never lose myself to a guy again, ever. And I don’t know what you’re going to say, but that’s what I had to say first.”

He stared at me long and hard before scooting his chair back so he could lean his elbows on his knees. “I will tell you this. I like our friendship.”

“I do too.”

“And I really like fucking you.”

I grinned. “I do too.” But then my smile dimmed. “But not if you’re dipping in others.” That was a deal breaker for me.

He lowered his head. “Got it. Okay, I will not screw anyone, except when I see you. Then I’ll screw you.”

I nodded. Such crude words, but that was what we needed. Those words held no emotional attachment, and the only attachment I could handle was what we were spelling out right now.

“So…” I sat up, lowering my feet back to the ground. “Still friends?”

His head bounced up and down once. He laid his hand out on the table for me, palm up.

“And we have sex when we see each other?”

He nodded again. “And neither of us does that with anyone else. It has to go both ways. I’m all about female sexual equality, so I know you ladies get as horny as we do.” He wiggled his fingers at me. “Deal?”

I started to reach for his hand, but paused. “Should we be ironing out how often we see each other? How often we talk to each other?”

He stood abruptly. “Shake my damn hand, woman. Friends is friends. We talk as much as we can, and we see each other as much as we can.”

“Deal.” I reached over and slapped his hand.