Page 33 of On Merit Alone

Chapter Nineteen

Ira

My shower was cold.

Not because I could still feel the way Merit’s hands felt as they pressed softly into the muscles of my leg.

Gentle yet firm. Soft skin with a tentative touch.

Special. And not because of the familiar way she’d picked up calling me “I”—a shortening of my name that just naturally came to be rather than some forced nickname.

It wasn't even because of the way I’d slipped as she helped me to the stairs, barely catching myself as she used her skillful hands to keep me upright.

No, I wasn’t taking a cold shower for any of those reasons. Of all the things, I was taking it because of Merit’s grandfather.

I didn’t know the guy. I didn’t know what kind of relationship she had with him, how old he was, if he was even real.

I just knew that the man was onto something with that freezing water stuff.

And whoever he was to Merit, she loved him very much.

I could tell by the sound of her voice alone as she talked about him with love and maybe a little sadness.

I was grateful that she shared that piece of herself with me. I wanted to do it justice .

I couldn’t lie, I was devastated. I knew almost as soon as I landed that it wasn’t going to be good.

I didn’t know that it would be ‘miss the last two games in the conference finals ‘not good’, though. This was everything I ever worked for on a silver platter, but just outside my reach. Sure, we could win, though I had my doubts. And of course if we did, I’d be ecstatic, but if I was being real, not as ecstatic as I’d be if I was playing too.

But Merit was right. There was so much I had to be happy about. So much I had to be proud of. And so many options I still had on the table. I needed to snap myself out of this funk and be grateful I still had a leg to injure.

So into the cold shower I went, and I’m not going to lie—I came out changed.

Sure it may have had something to do with the cold water, but I was positive it had more to do with the girl downstairs who had gone out of her way to take care of me and make me laugh when all I wanted to do was wallow in that puddle of my own sweat and tears.

She’d come right over, no questions asked and had done all she could for me.

Merit Jones. Hard-ass Merit Jones. Uptight Merit Jones… had been sweet. So freaking sweet. So sweet that, even if my shower wasn’t cold as shit, I probably still would have rushed through it anyway to get back down to her.

I wanted more of this Merit. More of her soft touches and private words of encouragement. More of her close proximity and that warm smell she always had. More of her cute little matching getups. More of her shy looks.

Just, more.

As I crutched my way back into my living room and kitchen, the sound of laughter and chit-chat filling my ears, I couldn’t help but get more excited to see her again.

“Ah, there he is!” a chorus of deep voices called as I entered the room .

All around the kitchen and into the living room sat my teammates.

Not all of them, thank God. I don’t know what I would do if I had some of the newer guys showing up at my house.

But the boys who were close to me were all there.

Stephens, Rogers, and McKivvey littered my home like they owned the place, probably because they’d all been here before on more than one occasion.

The only foreign thing was Merit, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs quietly, with her hands in her lap looking somewhat uncomfortable.

I focused on her first. She had no shoes on, having taken them off at the door like everyone did.

She wore that same matching getup she had on earlier, but now she was wearing some sort of long sleeve to cover herself up.

And she had a piece of pizza on a plate in front of her.

When I noticed the food, I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She winced, nodding toward the culprits—the rest of the guys who all looked like they’d stolen a piece or two already. “They wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Ah,” I said as I crutched the rest of the way into the room. To the guys, I said, “When did I call for the three fucking stooges to bust in here?”

“Well,” Troy said as he raised a piece of pizza over his head and fed it to himself dramatically. “We thought we’d come over to cheer your sorry ass up, but it looks like you’ve got that covered already.”

“It’s not like that,” I grumbled to the room.

The men all just grunted disbelievingly, making sarcastic “uh-huh” noises as they continued to make themselves at home.

Merit ducked her head shyly, not saying anything.

It made me want to crutch over to the three idiots and gift them all with a slap upside the head.

That would be pretty hard at the moment, though.

I’d just have to save their licks for another time.

“Mer here has been telling us all about what she’s been doing to make you feel better,” Stephens said, waggling his eyebrows .

“Don’t make it sound like that, Mike!” Merit said sternly under her breath.

I felt my own eyebrows climb my face, shocked. Shaking my head, I gestured between the two of them. “I'm sorry, was I gone long? When did you two become friends?”

Merit gave me a weird look as if she didn’t know how to answer that, but the guys snickered. Apparently finding something about this quite funny. I wasn’t finding the humor in it at all.

“You know,” Rogers said from his spot on the couch. “We heard you told Scottie that he could, quote, ‘fucking forget about that’ in the locker room the other day.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes cutting to him. He was smirking. “So?”

“We took bets on what that meant.” He leaned back, then he slid his gaze to the other guys in the room. “Run me my money, boys.”

Instead of being upset that they lost their little bet, Stephens and Troy moved over to stand behind him and began making it rain over his head with fives, tens, and twenties.

I tried to keep a scowl, but as I shook my head, I cracked a smile. Chuckling under my breath, I said, “Idiots.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Merit. She was watching the exchange with a confused and somewhat anxious look in her eye. When she saw I was looking at her, she asked, “Who’s Scottie?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She bit her lip. Ducking a little, she tried to whisper, “Should I go?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly. In the other room, my nosey-ass friends all made cooing noises, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Crutching closer to Merit, I stood just a few feet away from her so I could talk to her at least semi-privately.

So I could see her face and her reactions clearly.

“I mean, if you want you can leave, but we probably won’t do anything crazy here. Just watch a game and eat some more.”

“Need me to order more food?” she asked, pulling out her phone.

“No,” I said, again too quickly. It made her frown.

Hobbling forward a little more, I set my crutches aside and set my hands over hers.

She was officially giving me a toothache.

So sweet. I never thought I’d see this side of Merit, and I was immediately obsessed.

“You’ve done more than enough. I feel much better, thanks to you.

Whatever Grandpa Jones says, I’m officially a believer in. ”

“Jackson,” she corrected softly. “My mom’s maiden name was Jackson.”

I nodded, adjusting. “Grandpa J, then.”

Her eyes flickered up to me, a weird expression passing through them as she smiled weakly. She seemed almost dejected all of a sudden. Something changed in her from just moments before. Was it that we had company now, and she didn’t feel welcome? Or was it something else?

Either way, I decided I did not want her leaving with that look on her face, and I hated to say it, but I knew three idiots that it was hard not to crack a smile around.

So, deciding for her, I said, “Matter of fact, I need you to stay. You saw what happened the first time you didn’t come to a game.

Who knows what I’ll do if I’m left without my good luck charm again.

Probably fall on a pair of scissors or some shit. ”

She quirked a smile. “Good luck charm, huh?”

I smiled too. “Damn straight. Now, c’mon. Hang with us.”

“Oh my god! You two do know we’re in the fucking room, right?” Troy called, the volume on the TV turning up immediately following his question.

“Mind your business,” I called back.

They snickered, and Merit began fussing around with a plate. “Come sit. This one is for you. ”

She rose to give me her seat, and as she did, something weird caught my eye—something that immediately made me see red.

“Six.”

“Yeah?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me half-distracted as her braids whipped around her back. The nerve of her looking so beautiful with that shit on her body made me scowl.

Tipping my chin, I said, “Come here for a sec.”

She did, standing under me as she looked me over to see if something was wrong. “Yeah?”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

She looked down at herself surprised, and then she smiled—seriously, she had the nerve to smile , a grateful look coming over her face. “Oh, I was cold, so Mike lent me his sweater.”

“Take it off,” I said, holding my hand out for her to give it to me.

“What?” She took a step back. I tracked every extra millimeter she put between us, each one adding another degree of annoyance.

“Take it off, Mer. You can wear mine,” I said, already unzipping my hoodie.

She blinked at me. “But weren’t you cold?”

Yes, I just took a cold as fuck shower, I thought. To her, I shook my head. “No. Come on, Mer. Off, now.”

She frowned. At me , she frowned after just smiling at those fuckers. My annoyance doubled.

Giving me one of her pert little looks, she shook her head. “I don’t answer to you, Ira. Last time I checked, you weren’t a real king.”

This little brat.

Reaching forward, I grasped her elbow and tugged her gently toward me. She allowed it, stopping right under me. I leaned the rest of the way down so I was speaking close to her ear.

“Sweetheart?” I started. She blinked up at me, her body going a little more alert at the term of endearment.

She gave a soft hum of acknowledgment while I barely restrained my growl.

Somehow my voice still managed to come out even.

“If you don’t take it off in the next five seconds, I’m taking it off for you.

So just be good for me and put on my sweatshirt, alright? ”

She pouted, screwing her mouth up to the side as she glared up at me, but she nodded. Seconds later, she was in the correct clothes and handing me Stephens’ piece of shit—sorry, his hoodie.

When my attention returned to the other guys, it was to find them staring. I just chucked Stephens back his shirt, hitting him in the face with it. And those assholes, they pulled out their wallets again and started throwing money on him this time.

They could save their money, though. There was no need to bet. When it came to Merit, I had no problem telling her and them what the score was.

Merit Jones was winning my heart.