Page 72

Anger slithers in my chest, slimy and unsettling. If there’s one person on my shit list these days, it’s Reginald Astor.“Is everything okay?” I ask. I expect it’s not, simply because wherever Reginald Astor is, there’s fire.

“Yeah. They just paid me a surprise visit,” she says, with a flap of her hand. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?” I ask, clutching my towel at my waist.

“I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you, but I just thought you might need a caffeine fix.”

I tilt my head, my grin deepening. “Is that the only reason you stopped by? To caffeinate me?”

“And I wanted to say sorry and wish you good luck and to tell you that I’m going to your game. I booked a flight.” She bites her lip, eyes glittering as she waits for my reaction.

I lift the coffee cup, hiding my grin behind it as I take a sip to deflect how much this admission affects me. Regardless, just knowing she’ll be there sends a flood of warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with caffeine or the heat of the drink in my hands.

“Seriously?” I ask, and when she nods, I shake my head. I can’t believe she’s coming. I asked her on a whim, but I never really expected her to come. “That’s . . . amazing.”

“Does it make up for last night?” she asks, scrunching her nose.

“It might be the best apology I’ve ever had.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, those hazel eyes darting from mine to her surroundings, taking everything in and looking everywhere but at my bare chest or the towel slung low on my hips. And suddenly, I’m hyperaware of every bead of water still clinging to my shoulders, the dampness of my hair, the precarious position of my towel, and the way her cheeks flush every time she glances this way.

There’s an odd kind of power that comes from knowing you still affect someone this much—especially someone who once shattered you?but I try not to let it go to my head as a I hook athumb toward my bedroom and say, “Give me one second, and I’ll change.”

“Okay, yeah. Good idea,” she says, and the relief in her voice nearly makes me laugh.

I disappear into my bedroom, letting the door click softly shut behind me. I lean against the frame and take a moment to breathe while my heart beats like a stampede of buffalo?not because of the upcoming game or the threat of inclement weather, but because Avery Astor just stood in my living room while I was half-naked, wearing that nervous, hopeful smile, like she wanted something more than to just wish me luck.

And damn if I don’t want to give her that chance, even if it fucking terrifies me.

My thoughts flicker to the text she got from Travis yesterday outside the coffee shop, and I remind myself she might have come here for me, but it doesn’t mean things will change. Especially with her parents still interfering in her life.

Which means I need to keep a cool head, stay cautious. Defense is the best course of action when you don’t know where the other team’s head is at.

Pushing off the door, I change quickly into the AAU joggers and hoodie I had laid out, my towel forgotten on the floor as I rake my fingers through my damp hair, then step back into the living room.

When I find her by the window staring out into the street below, the urge to walk up behind her and pull her into my arms wraps me like a vise grip.

But that’s what the old Damon would do. This, whatever this is between us, is new. It’s uncharted waters, and I need to wade carefully.

Tucking my hands into my pockets, I clear my throat, smiling when she turns to face me. “Thanks for coming to the game. Iknow it’s a big ask,” I say, my voice low. “But having you there, even after all this time, means a lot.”

Her amber eyes soften as she closes the gap between us, until the scent of sugared almonds surrounds me, and she’s close enough to pull into my arms.

“Having you ask,” she says, “after everything I put you through, means a lot.”

“You had your reasons,” I say, searching her eyes for confirmation.

“Still, we both know I could’ve chosen differently.”

We stay like that for a moment. Still as statues, lost in each other’s eyes with nothing but the sound of our breath in the space between us.

Hope unfurls in my stomach like the fronds of a fern. I want to believe this is real, that we have another chance at something, but I’ve been burned by her before, and I have the scars to prove it. The text from Travis, standing me up?they’re both signs I need to be careful.

My phone buzzes from its spot on the couch, breaking whatever spell has settled between us. It’s a reminder I need to get moving or risk being late for the biggest game of my life. One she’ll be there to see.

“Well, I should go,” she says, hugging her arms across her chest. “You’ve got to get ready.”

“Yeah,” I nod, stepping closer, until I’m towering over her, soaking in the smattering of freckles across her nose and the golden flecks in her eyes. “But I’m glad you came.”