The Trade(75)

More silence.

Did she leave and I not know about it?

Nervous, I look over my shoulder to see her standing a few feet away, a contemplative look on her face, hands twined together, eyes drawn down. What’s going through her mind? Is she trying to figure out an easy way to back away? Hell, I laid it all out there, I’d be shocked if she didn’t have one foot out the door, waiting to make a quick exit.

So I make it easy on her and say, “It’s okay, Natalie.” She glances up at me and I nod toward the door. “Don’t feel like you need to stay here. We’re cool, okay?”

I push my hand through my hair and can’t decide what I should do. She still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t said anything, and the longer I stay in the room with her, the more I itch to go to her, take back everything I said, and say I can do a fling, hoping and praying it would turn into more.

So instead of losing that last shred of self-control, I grip the back of my neck and move past her, slowly. “I, uh, I’m going to give you some space to leave in peace.” I reach out and graze my finger over her arm. “You’re beautiful, Natalie. Don’t let your ex dictate what you feel about yourself any longer. He’s blind and extremely stupid. Because you? You’re extraordinary. You’re a force to be reckoned with, funny, intelligent, and I’ll be honest, sexy as fuck. And when you’re ready, there’s no doubt in my mind you’ll find what you’re looking for. Who you’re looking for.”

On that last note, I move past her and down the hallway to my room where I quietly shut the door, only to fall against it. Elbows on my knees, I spike my hands through my hair and wonder how the fuck I got to this point? Completely distraught over a girl who wasn’t in my life a few months ago, but now controls my every damn thought.

I hear her feet travel across my hardwood floors to the entryway where there’s the telltale sign of her suitcase being moved, followed by the click of the front door shutting behind her.

Fuck . . .

I was right. She wasn’t ready for me. Better to know now than later. Better to only have a small taste of her rather than the whole thing. Better to start to repair this aching feeling in my bones now rather than during the season.

There’s only one way I know how to make this better, and it’s to pull a Carson . . . bury myself in my training.





Chapter Eighteen





NATALIE





“Did you forget something on the plane?” Jason asks over the phone as I lean against the wall right next to the elevator of Cory’s apartment, my heart in my throat.

“Jason . . .” I say, my voice choked up and short.

“Where are you? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you?”

I shake my head despite him not being able to see me. I hate that he sounds so distraught, but thankful for such a wonderful brother all the same. Tears stream down my face and I slowly lower myself to the floor of the hallway, my suitcase propped up next to me, my emotions drowning me as I try to comprehend what’s sprinting through my head.

“I need . . .” I choke on a sob and try to collect myself. Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Where are you? I’ll come there right now.”

“That . . . might not be a good idea,” I say, slow and deliberate, trying not to hiccup sob again.

Why am I so emotional?

Because never in my life has a man talked to me like Cory just did—so passionate, so determined, so real. It’s like night and day to Ansel. Where he would never communicate, hide things, and not tell me his true feelings. Cory just bled it all out on the floor, showing me exactly where he stands and it was . . . too much.

Too much to comprehend. Too much for me to handle in that moment, surrounded by him, his things, his fresh scent. My mind was whirling, buzzing, terrified of what I might say or not say. I had to leave to collect myself. Or at least to let myself feel without his eyes trained on me. I know for a fact if Cory saw me right now, he would do everything in his power to make sure I was okay, because that’s who he is. And this is something I need to figure out without him.

“Why is that not a good idea?” Jason asks. I can hear Dottie in the background, asking him if everything is okay. He must cover the phone because I can hear him muffle out my name.

“I’m in Cory’s apartment hallway right now.”

“You’re what?” he asks, his voice growing with anger. “I love that man, but if he did something to you, you have to fucking tell me. Did he?”

I shake my head again, the word, “No,” barely slipping past my lips before more tears return. “He . . . he did nothing wrong. Everything right actually.”

“I’m not following.”

“Well, um . . . something happened between us last night, something sexual—”

“Okay. Don’t need details, keep moving along.” His panicked voice actually makes me chuckle, easing the heavy burn in my chest.

“I’ve had feelings for him for a while now and they all kind of crashed together last night and this morning, but before I could even talk to him about it all, he bolted.”

“Yeah, he was pretty quick to leave.”