Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(89)
“I know. It’s okay.” I let my lips lift somewhat before I’m pulled into a rare hug. I know that the awkwardness I feel is shared between the two of us, but I try to ignore it and enjoy the moment.
“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Now let me drive you to the airport so you can go get your girl.”
My smile grows into a full-fledged grin as I nod twice and straighten my back with a new-found sense of confidence. It feels like I can breathe again, my head clear and body at the ready. There’s a glimmer of hope in the horizon, one that I can almost taste.
It won’t be easy, I know that. But I have to hope that she’ll at least hear me out and understand where I was coming from. I still can’t promise her forever, or that I’ll be completely confident in handing her the reins and letting her lead me through the unknown, but she already owns me in a way that terrifies me the shit out of me. Why not offer her my heart on a silver fucking platter while I’m at it?
I look at my dad, eager and buzzing and say, “Let’s go.”
Car horns blare and police lights reflect off the glass windows of the building beside us. My legs shake, my hands balled into fists on my lap. I try Sierra’s cell phone again and get her voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message, not trusting myself not to blurt out that I love her. She’s not going to find out how I feel through a voicemail, that’s for fucking sure.
“Can you not get around them?” I snap at Dad, unable to keep my calm.
“No.” He’s frustrated, like me. The four car pile up ahead has the entire highway backed up. We haven’t moved in twenty minutes.
With the car in park and the knowledge that there’s no way of getting out of here anytime soon, I push open the passenger door and get out. I face the car and slam my palms on the roof hard enough for the sound to echo through the street.
“Fuck!” I scream, feeling the weight of the past week fall heavy on my shoulders, threatening to crush me like a bug under a boot. I welcome the feeling, knowing that all of this is my fault, my doing.
If I had just let the past go and focused on the future I could have had with Sierra, none of this would have ever fucking happened. We would be on that plane together right now, her head on my shoulder, my arm slung around her. I wouldn’t be here, in the middle of the highway, banging my fists on the roof of a car and shouting like a maniac.
She left thinking I thought so little of her. Thinking that she was just some woman I chose at a bar to keep my bed warm until I found something better. But there is nobody better for me than my little fighter. The woman with all the answers all the time, a witty sense of humour that keeps my heart thumping and my dick hard, and a drive for success that has me wanting to do and be better.
She excites me, tortures me, and pisses me off like nobody I’ve ever met. We’re such opposites that to most people, we don’t look like we would work. But we do. We really do. Our chemistry is beyond anything that I’ve felt with anyone else. We fit together like we were made to do so, and just the thought of never having her in my arms again has my chest feeling so tight that every breath I take is like tiny razor blades tearing through my lungs.
I feel a hand on my back and flinch, tensing my body like I’m attempting to protect it from an outside invasion, as if the real monsters weren’t already inside.
“You should call Sophie,” Dad says behind me.
I nod, feeling too numb to do anything else. Sierra’s gone, her plane already boarded and getting ready for takeoff. I only had an hour to get to her, and we’ve been stuck here for too long.
My cellphone is placed in my hand and I call Sierra’s best friend. She answers after the first ring, alarm evident in her voice.
“Braden? What’s wrong?”
“I was too late.”
The seconds pass slowly as she breathes heavily into the phone. When she finally speaks, I almost fall to my knees.
“No, you weren’t. I’m going to help you fix this.”
Epilogue
Sierra, Three Weeks Later.
“See you tomorrow, Sierra!”
Spinning on my heel, I stop and throw a wave at our sweet-as-honey receptionist, my lips forming a genuine smile.
“Have a good night, Gretchen,” I reply, laughing lightly when she throws me a wink and nods, her tightly bound red curls bouncing around her head.
I’ve grown to care for the outgoing red-head over the past three weeks, although it’s been seriously hard not to. Her charismatic energy and warm smile always give me the warm and fuzzies. It’s also been awesome having someone to talk about TV dramas with on slow days. It helps with how much I miss Sophie and my sister.
With a pep in my step, I pull my knee-length coat tighter across my chest and continue walking through the office building, giving the security guard a smile when he pushes open the door for me.
The smell of fresh garlic bread makes my mouth water the second my heels connect with the pavement, courtesy of the small Mom and Pop Italian restaurant a few buildings down. As if on a timer, my stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to plan dinner tonight. I groan, fully aware of the extra weight I’ve packed on since moving to Toronto.
Pizza again it is. Or maybe Chinese. Eh, either work. Stay focused, Sierra.
There’s still no snow on the ground yet and the temperature isn’t too low, so I can walk to and from work without getting too cold. I’m grateful for the moderate weather. I can’t even imagine the nightmare it would be trying to find parking outside of our downtown office every morning. Plus, I really like walking to and from work. It gives me some much-needed time to relax after a busy day.