Page 37

TWENTY-THREE

AUGUSTE

The hallway outside the apartment is a crime scene of flowers. Petals everywhere… and the echo of Courtney’s apartment door slamming shut faster than I could stop her from running.

Confused doesn’t cut how I feel as I stare at the dark mahogany wood Samson’s pawing at, wishing I could see through it. See her.

I need to put eyes on her.

So damn bad that my hand reaches inside my pocket for my phone, only to come up empty. Because while Lizzie was working the kink in my shoulder, I put it on charge in the bedroom. It was about to die from all the time I spent testing the doggie cams this morning and setting the closed network up.

Then of course, I had to keep checking it was working because I didn’t get a single notification telling me Court had logged on. So no phone means I’m flying blind here. Means I have no idea what in the fuck is going on.

I’m trying to process what just happened—Courtney was mad one second and the next she was crying and suddenly she’s running.

“So, I’ll book you in for next week,” Lizzie says, pausing next to me while I continue staring at Courtney’s door. “I would recommend you work on keeping your shoulder loose with the team PTs. Even when it feels good, keep working on it so you avoid injury again.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Chick is kind of wild, huh?” Lizzie chuckles next to me. “Guess now I know why she was staring me out when I arrived.”

“She what?” I glance at Lizzie, finding a shit-eating grin on her face .

“Your girl was staring me out when I walked in,” she repeats.

“Narcissistic much?” The words come out low and biting.

“Whoa there… okay…” Lizzie takes a step back, face screwed tight, hazel eyes narrowed. “Serious to God, you hockey bozos really are useless with feelings. Your girl got the wrong impression, Broussard. She did the math wrong on why I’m here.”

Huh? “Are you saying she thought we…” I gesture between us.

“ Ding, ding, ding. ” Lizzie rolls her eyes. “How would you feel about another dude walking into her place? Not knowing who or why?”

My jaw clenches hard at the thought.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I glare at Courtney’s door behind her. “So Court’s jealous?” Why?

“Bingo! Although, at this point I’d say she’s embarrassed, probably feeling guilty. It’s a cycle, okay?”

“A cycle?”

“Listen, the sports world from the female standby perspective is not pretty. At any one time there’s a queue of women trying to seduce you guys, and it’s really fucking hard to stay on the up all the time.

Impossible not to get insecure…” Lizzie swallows, shaking her head down at the floor.

“It’s a cycle and it’s hard. You get jealous, then mad, when you realize you got it all wrong it’s humiliating and you feel so guilty for assuming the worst in someone you love. ”

Lizzie blows out a breath with a faint smile. I’m totally seeing her in a new light and understanding why Ansel is still so protective of her even though they’re just friends.

“So, ummm,” she clears her throat, “you’ll let me know when you want to book in for next week?”

I nod, but ask her, “Do you think Gray has a slot for me instead?”

A broad grin cuts her face. “For sure, a new client came in yesterday, we can trade.”

“Thanks… for the advice and… yeah…”

“You’re welcome, smart guy,” she croons with an exaggerated flip of her long ponytail over her shoulder as she spins and heads for the elevator. “Oh, and stop overusing the gun, it’s going to inflame the tissues on your neck. Try a gentle massage… maybe an oil rub.” She winks back at me.

The doors ping and as they start to close, Lizzie lunges to stop them. “FYI, Bruce, you’re gonna have to knock.”

I know that, but I’m afraid that I’ll make Court feel worse than she already does. Even though I don’t want that, I’m acutely aware that I need to man up and face the fallout of my actions.

Because it’s what this is, right?

Court’s jealous because she doesn’t trust me anymore. Because I didn’t think of what my choices would do to her until after the fact.

With a deep inhale, I knock on her door and count to ten before I do it again—louder this time so that I know she can hear it in the living area.

This time I count to twenty, resisting the urge to go back into my apartment and grab my phone.

I could talk to her through the doggie cams, Matheo used to do it all the time.

It feels counter intuitive though. Too soon.

This time I ring the doorbell. The obnoxious tone that Matheo chose echoes through the door.

After it ends there’s a drag of silence before I hear the quiet shuffle on the other side. Samson hears it too because he’s nosing and sniffing loudly at the bottom of the door. His impatient grunts pull a huffy laugh from behind it and my chest fucking flutters at the sound.

“Court…” I say, pushing the side of my face to the cool wood.

“Go away, Auguste,” she sniffles back.

“I’m not gonna do that, Princess.”

Another sniffle. “Just… please…”

“You don’t get to cry alone, remember?” Lowering myself to the floor, I sit with my back to her door, my ear still pressed to it. “Even if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna stay right here.”

Samson yaps in agreement sitting up straight between my spread legs. His droopy jowl in a grumpy set.

“Do you remember what I told you at the bar? That I couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching you. How it fucking hollows me out?”

“What about it?” She asks eventually.

“The thought of another man touching you drives me so damn mad because I want to be the one touching you. The only one near you… breathing your air all the goddamn time. I see red because I get jealous of anyone else that gets any part of you.”

“Why?” There’s another sniffle, followed by a shuffle.

I can picture Courtney leaning into the door, closer to me, to my voice as I tell her, “I want every part of you, Courtney. Every last little bit that makes you who you are.”

An audible swallow is followed by a long sigh.

Court stays quiet. I say nothing more than I already have.

We’re both sitting in silence for the longest while.

My breaths cut through my lungs with each second that passes and I dig my fingertips a tad deeper into Samson’s loose skin while he licks my arm in response.

It’s forever when there’s movement. Samson’s ears perk along with my pulse. Then the door opens and I almost fall back into Courtney’s legs. My ass is so numb from sitting on the cold stone floor that I can’t get up. Instead, I twist onto my knees while Samson scurries through the threshold.

Courtney steps forward. Her blue tennis shoes come into view, putting my sole focus on her when I trail my stare up her shapely legs.

Pausing at the hem of her white dress where her thighs fill out.

So fucking perfect that I can’t think past the memory of how they felt wrapped around me, straddling me on her couch.

Saliva pools in my mouth when she rubs them together, her hands balling the light cotton fabric tight… a tad higher.

Man, it takes everything for me not to hug the fuck out of her legs. Not to bury my face in her smooth skin. Breathe in every goddamn nuance of her scent until it is all I can smell, permanently burnished in my senses.

Lifting my eyes up her body, I find her tear-swollen gaze. So red that her baby blues take on a lavender haze.

Fuck.

Every thought goes out of the window. Replaced by a crushing heaviness that chokes me from the inside out.

“Don’t.” Courtney hiccups between throaty breaths. “Don’t look at me. I’m a mess.”

“I’m sorry.” My eyes fall to her ankles, focussing on her white socks and the delicate gold chains wrapped around her left ankle. “I’m so sorry, Court.”

It’s so fitting that I’m down on my knees. That there isn’t enough strength in my whole fucking body to lift me to my feet with the evidence of the hurt I’ve caused streaked down her pretty face.

When I lift my eyes back to hers, she’s watching me intently. Trepidation trembling in her hands as they hover by my shoulders.

“Stop.” They press over my face, covering my eyes. “I’m all ugly and blotchy and?—”

“Perfect.” I cut her off. “You’re beautiful, Courtney, all the fucking time.”

Warm palms trace down to my jaw. “You don’t have to lie. ”

My hands wrap around her dainty wrists. Tighter than I intended as I tell her, “I have never lied to you. To your face…”

“Because it’s so pretty,” she chuffs back.

“Fucking beautiful,” I correct, my hands drop to her hips when she shuffles forward.

Before I can do or say anymore, Courtney’s hands trail to my nape. Her fingers lock on the back of my neck, pulling me to her at the same time as I wrap my arms around her waist and press my face to her stomach.

All I do is hold her. I keep holding her for as long as she allows me to before she takes a step back, raking her long nails against the grain of my fade.

My God, it feels incredible.

Every inch of my skin is covered in goosebumps with the shiver that rolls from the burning path of her touch to my toes.

Then she pulls back and with one last stroke of her fingers along my jaw, pulls away from me.

It’s the worst sensation. Like a literal part of me is being ripped out of my chest. There’s nothing I can do about it. I haven’t earned the right to hold on. So even though it goes against the fabric of my DNA to watch her disappear inside her apartment again, I hold myself in check.

Maybe étty is right—I do have a death wish.

Maneuvering to a crouch, I turn and focus on gathering the flower debris. It’s something to do. Something to focus on aside from the emptiness surrounding me.

“What are you doing?” I look over my shoulder to find Courtney standing in her open doorway with a broom in one hand and dustpan and brush in the other. “You’ll be here forever doing that by hand.”

Beats going back into my empty apartment. I don’t tell her that though. There’s being down bad and then there’s being a little bitch.

Maybe for her I would be. Fuck, I’d do anything and everything she wants or needs just to have her around me, but still…

“Come on,” she says, coming to stand in front of me and offering me her hand. “You’ll hurt your back if you stay like that for much longer and… sweeping is my least favorite chore, so…”

Fuck me, the sight of her grin does things to me that should be forbidden. It’s as fucking sexy as the curves of her body I can’t stop thinking about. It loosens the vice around my insides.

When I take her hand and rise to my feet, she slots the broom into my other hand. We clean up the daisy catastrophe quietly with Samson going bonkers around us.

Then we’re done and I don’t know what to say to hold on to her for a little longer. Just a while.

Courtney hesitates and I hesitate and we’re caught hesitating together, and it’s the best goddamn moment I’ve had in days.

“So…” she starts and my pulse bites at the hopeful lilt to her voice. “I’ve got to run some errands for my dad… for the cookout tomorrow?—”

“Want me to drive you?” I offer before she’s finished.

“Umm… I can Uber.”

I nod, but the desperation is too real. “ Can I drive you?”

After a beat she answers, “Sure.”

A sigh whooshes from my chest. In spite of the awkward tension between us, Courtney smiles.

“Maybe you can help me figure out the oven. I tried to use it the other day but there are so many functions and I swear there’s like so many buttons… too many…”

Shit. “Nobody knows how to use that thing except for Matheo’s mom. So… umm… I don’t… I mean you can use mine.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod eagerly, putting Samson’s wagging tail to shame. “What are you making?”

“Cornbread and meringues. My dad loves Eton Mess, and after our lunch yesterday, I wanted to do something nice for him. Apparently I’ve been distracting his star player…”

“Did he tell you that? That I’m his star player?”

She chuckles, the lines of her face relaxing in spite of the puffiness that’s still present. “Figure out how to work my oven and I’ll tell you.”

With that she plucks the broom from my hand and sashays to her doorway with Samson leaping after her. He’s shooting down her hallway while she laughs at his occasional clumsy skid.

“See you in thirty, Masterchef.”

“I’ll be here, Princess.”