Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(53)
But the time that passed would never take away the good things his father had passed on to him—love, respect, and truth. Colin might have spiraled after his dad’s death, but he’d picked himself up since then. He’d apologized for his mistakes. He’d become a better man—the man his father had taught him to be.
That man needed to see one woman now.
*
The blanket fell to the floor.
Elle rustled herself from the couch, sitting up straight as she yawned. The light shone brightly through her living room window. She glanced around, getting her bearings, then she spotted a note on the coffee table. From her mom, it was written on a yellow piece of stationery with a cartoonish fox in the corner. “Hey sweetie, I picked up Alex this morning. You were sound asleep. I’ll take him for the day. Get your rest, my love.”
She grabbed her phone to check the time. It was after nine. She’d been conked out since before midnight. Those pills must have worked brilliantly. She hadn’t even heard anyone leave. She never slept this long. She wiggled her thumb gingerly, and it didn’t hurt anymore.
She wished she could say the same about her heart. She’d need super-duper strength pills to numb the sting of the barrage of notes from Colin. He felt so deceived by her. She understood why, and she’d tried to prepare herself for this moment, but there was no true way to be ready for a reaction to something that huge.
She’d just have to take her lumps like a big girl and move on from him. He clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
As she placed her phone on the table, a memory boomeranged front and center. An odd Facebook comment from last night. Something strangely…menacing. She clicked on her app and scanned the post on the team’s wall. But whatever she’d been remembering was now gone. The post only included comments from her derby teammates, fans, and friends.
Weird. She shrugged, figuring the pain pill had made her a little loopy.
She padded to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and took a quick shower. When she was through, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, headed to the kitchen, and punched in the 90s channel on her satellite radio. She hummed along to a Pearl Jam tune as she hunted for eggs and bread in the fridge.
The music was interrupted by a knock on the door.
With one hand gripping the open fridge door, she made a wish. She couldn’t help it. She hoped against hope that it would be Colin. A foolish, ridiculous wish.
After all his notes, there was no way he’d be here this morning. She’d need to rid him from her mind. After breakfast, she’d tackle the Forget Colin project.
She headed to the front door, peered through the peephole, and squeaked when she saw that dark hair, that sandpaper stubble, and those yummy lips. That man.
She burst into a grin.
Wait.
Prickles of worry tripped across her skin. What if he was still pissed? What if he’d come here to tell her he never wanted to see her again? And what the hell? Had that dumb pill made her forget that he’d been kind of mean to her?
She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her chest, and gathered her strength. Whether he was mad or not, whether she was hurt or not, she needed to say her piece. She opened the door, ready to finally explain that she’d been bound by her ethics not to say a word.
He was faster. He locked eyes with her. “Hey, so I’m an *, and I’m so f*cking sorry.”
The grin returned to her face, and she shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she said quickly, needing to reassure him. “Not at all. But do you want to come in?”
He nodded and walked inside. She shut the door behind him, and they stood in her tiny entryway. He wore cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt that revealed his strong biceps without being showy. A part of her wanted to run her hands along his arms, but that was not what this visit was about. There were things to be said. So many things. And though she was happy to see him, her heart still hurt from his messages, and from the weight of the secrets she’d had to keep.
“Colin,” she said, starting with her own mea culpa. “You have to know how sorry I am. If there were a way I could have told you, I would have. I desperately wanted to. It was so hard for me not to say anything. I hated keeping it from you. But I couldn’t do that to Marcus.”
“I know. I swear, I know,” he said, relief and frustration in his voice as he dragged one hand through his hair. “And I should have known better. I was so blindsided, and then a million times more shocked to learn you had been helping him. But instead of sitting down and talking to you to try to understand the situation, I just lashed out.” He stopped to take a quiet breath. “And that’s not the kind of person I want to be. My ex did that to me, and I don’t want to be that guy. That guy who sends those messages.”
“Then don’t be that guy,” she said matter-of-factly. She understood that he’d been knocked to his knees by news he couldn’t have prepared for, but she also wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of his anger. “Be the guy who gives me a chance to explain and work it out. And be the guy who treats me with respect even if you’re upset.”
“I will. I promise I will,” he said, his voice a plea for forgiveness. “That’s not how I want to treat you. I was just so stunned by everything that I stopped thinking.” He rocked lightly on his heels as Eddie Vedder sang on the stereo in the kitchen. “It was all so out of the blue. There I was, talking to Ryan about how he’s planning to propose to Sophie—”