Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(23)

“Did I offend you or something?”

“Sorry?”

“You didn’t even crack a smile.” Ransom moved his massive shoulders in a shrug and my attention dragged a bit on the slow movement. “That’s not usual.”

Feeling like a scared idiot, I took a breath and managed to reclaim my calm. “Usual for who?”

“I just…” He wasn’t trying to charm me anymore and just then, when Ransom stretched his neck, looking hesitant, I saw a glimpse of the man I’d been with at Summerland’s. The decent guy who was just trying to help. The tension in his eyes eased and when he spoke, his tone was light, almost shy. “My mom is kind of desperate, though she’d never admit it, and with school and practice and everything, I just can’t be there for her like I’d like.”

Honestly, I felt bad for him, for all of them. I got it, the whole wanting to help out your family thing, but I’d spoken to Ransom for less than five minutes and already felt like leap frogging at him like a skank. I couldn’t imagine taking care of his little brother and even pretending to be sane if he was hanging around all the time. There had to be another option. Ransom continued to stare, looking at me as though I could save his family a lot of grief. “What about your dad?”

Kona Hale. Me zanmi, that beautiful man gave Ransom those big shoulders and too-perfect smile. Like everyone else in the country, I’d heard about Kona and Keira’s lives. The media had painted them as something out of a chick flick. That video, well, the media had jumped all over it, even though it had been old, had happened years earlier. Had made their lives a living hell until the furor died down and the gossip mongers had moved on to something else. That poor family.

Ransom squeezed the bridge of his nose, like he needed to stop a headache from crushing him. “His paternity leave doesn’t start for another month. Please,” he said, reaching out and taking my wrist. I was too startled to move. His fingers were large with big knuckles and curved nails. Watching them on my skin, feeling how sure, how confidently he held onto me shot back the memory of us together. Couldn’t he feel how my pulse was racing? Those fingers had been inside me, had pleasured me right there in that public place, had made me forget myself, and just then I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be anywhere near where he might be.

Ransom didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d settle for a no, though, so I didn’t bother. I’d make an excuse later, but at that moment, I just couldn’t take him touching me for one more minute, giving me that expression that bordered on begging. That look alone could make me scream yes.

He didn’t stop me when I pulled out of his touch or when I took another step up. “Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll give her a call. Leann gave me her number.” That was a total lie, but I’d say just about anything to keep him from staring at me like that.

God help me, I thought when the smile returned to his face. “Okay. Thanks. We appreciate it…”

My feet running up the steps cut him off and I slipped inside my apartment before he could tell me how much my “yes” would help his family. I felt bad enough for lying. I really didn’t want to hear him say it. Back against my door once I slammed it shut, I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, to focus on anything but the quickening in my chest and the twinge of my skin where Ransom had held my wrist.





5





Football is brutal.

It’s not every man that can handle it, but God knows every man wishes he could. It’s why Sundays are sacred during the season. It’s the reason grown men teach their sons to catch and throw, hug that pigskin close to their chests before those poor kids have really gotten the concept of running. It’s the battlefield for every boy who wanted to be a superhero but instead became an adult.

Laying back, my knee icing in the locker room, I thought that I wasn’t really edging too close to that adulthood like I should be. But hell, neither had my father. It was the game, the drills and calls I was supposed to be focused on out on that field. It was the nods, the subtle gestures from my teammates that I was supposed to be watching for as we practiced.

Football is especially brutal when your head isn’t in the game. Mine had been somewhere else, distracted by my worry, the stress of classes, the pressure to prove myself. It was the memory of soft skin, brown, not pale, and the crushing guilt I felt for thinking about her that had me missing Richard diving right at me.

My knee was twisted. The injury was so minor Dad almost let me finish out our drills when I landed under Richard’s sweaty grunts. He might be Kona Hale, new Defensive Coach at CPU, but he was still my father. Sent me straight to the team doctor.

Now I waited for that over-cautious doctor to tell me I was good to go. And waiting was never good for me. There was too much silence, too much quiet in those moments when I was alone. Too much recollection. Too much f*cking reality.

Shit, I thought when an image of the dancer came back to me. That soft, beautiful skin, the heavy pant of her breath across my lips. Why couldn’t I get her out of my head? My eyelids felt tight, wrinkled when I squeezed them shut. Even gripping my phone in my hand didn’t keep the images of that body from flooding my mind.

At least the guilt was lessening, maybe more than it should. I watched myself, not understanding why I did it, as I scanned through the contacts on my phone and found Ironside’s number. He hadn’t been really returning my texts, instead kind of brushing me off when he did answer. Trent had mentioned not seeing the man when my teammates had spent Saturday night ogling the dancers at Summerland’s. Still, I had to try.