Page 25

emma

. . .

The door of the apartment slams shut behind me and I don’t even have it in me to care how loud it may be for anyone else.

My hands are shaking as I set down the perfect burrito bowl and chips and queso from my favorite Mexican restaurant that showed up, hand delivered to me as I left my evening class.

Hawke strikes again. His stalker behavior only seems to be ramping up.

I should be running from him, reporting it even, but right now, looking at the delicious queso, all I can think about is how well he knows me.

I’m not sure how he found out my favorite restaurant or what I ordered, but my stomach appreciates the meal I’m about to eat.

And that's the biggest kicker of all. None of Hawke’s surprises and gifts have been meant to strong arm me into talking or to remind me of the past. It's my favorite foods, my favorite morning coffees, the afternoon smoothies I need but rarely have time for before practices. It’s the fact that my skates were removed from my bag without my knowing, my blades sharpened and new, bright pink laces put in.

It's the way an extra stack of notecards were put in my bag and someone dropped off the first page of notes I missed in my morning class on Tuesday because I accidentally overslept.

Without Hawke interfering, I could have fixed all these things on my own like I have been doing since he disappeared two years ago, but with him doing it all silently for me, I feel like I’m being taken care of.

And it's messing with my head. All he’s asked of me this week is the repeated date question.

I keep turning him down, justifying that I need time.

I just broke up with someone and deep inside I know a date with Hawke is more than just a date.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my hand. I look down to see it’s our girl group chat.

RILEY: Make him take you out somewhere nice. :)

SAM: Don’t listen to her, she's a romantic now. Do what feels right for you.

I roll my eyes and drop the phone next to the burrito bowl.

My stomach rumbles, knowing it's being neglected and exactly what I’m planning to put in it thanks to my nose.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself and dive for the plastic fork in the bag and pop the top off.

The first bite is heaven and the second gives me a mini orgasm.

Hawke does not play fair. How can I ignore him when I get delicious meals like this after nights where my brain is screaming from class and my body is exhausted from practice.

I have no idea how I survived last season without this care and attention.

Looking back I realize I just did what I had to do.

I didn’t have anyone caring if I ate between classes.

Except I was dating Jax then, and not once did he do anything this considerate.

Frowning at my own thoughts, I sit up straighter in my chair.

How long does this last? Until Hawke gets what he wants?

Until he’s tired of trying? What happens when his time here is done and he’s drafted, do I just fade into the background again?

My mind is on a warpath to keep me in limbo while my body just wants to relax and rest. It's beyond frustrating, and right as I’m about to spiral, a knock sounds at my door.

My head pops up and looking around, I notice for the first time how empty it is here. Biting my lip I walk over to the door, and there's another knock, strong, sure, and whoever it is is not going away. I open the door and come face to face with the man of my recent obsession.

Sighing, I lean against the door, my arms crossing in front of my chest. “What are you doing here, Hawke?”

His brow furrows, and he glares down at me. “Did you even look to see who it was or ask before opening the door?”

“It's a safe building. I know my neighbors.” I shrug and his brow jumps into his hairline.

“Knowing your neighbors doesn’t mean safety, sweetheart.”

“You’re right, obviously stalker ex-boyfriends are so much safer,” I chuckle. Hawke does not respond and proceeds to step around me and into my space. “Sure, come in.”

He throws me one of his signature smirks and nods toward the table. “This place is tiny. Do you like your dinner?”

My shoulders instantly tense. “It's not that small and I don’t need you to keep doing these things, Hawke.”

“I want to, Em. I want to take care of you,” he replies instantly and I hate how my heart warms at his response. “And yeah, it is. Like a shoebox. Do you even have your own room?”

My cheeks flush and I move closer to where he’s standing next to the couch. “Well, we all can’t be pompous southern millionaires, I guess.”

Hawke laughs and for the first time I pay attention to his hands as they swing out in front of him and notice what he’s holding in his tattooed grip. I haven’t seen once since we first dated and he made it for me for our big rival away game in high school.

“Is that….”

“A candy bouquet, yes.” His lips tip up and his eyes go soft while they drag over my face. “I thought it might help my cause this time when I ask for a date.”

My brow rises. “That's playing dirty, Sheppard.”

“I’ll do about anything right now, Emma, just for you to agree to dinner with me. That's all I’m asking. Just talk to me and let me feed you.”

My eyes roll and I step away, leaning against the back of the couch. “It is more than that, Hawke. We both know it. You want a second chance and I’ve moved on.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs and gets into my face, his hand grasping my jaw.

“You don’t just move on from the love we have, Emmarys.

I knew the second I saw you that you were going to change my life and every minute we spent together after that was the best. I loved you then, before I even really knew what it was.

I’d say I love you now but what I feel for you isn’t just that anymore.

It's a deep, soul consuming yearning and want.”

“Sounds terrible,” I mutter through my lips that are pressed together.

He grins and drops a soft kiss on my mouth. “It's painfully terrible knowing I want to give you everything and having to watch you walk away over and over again.”

“Hawke—-”

“I’m sorry, Emmarys. Please, let me make it up to you. I just want to talk.” He cuts me off, his forehead dropping to my mine, briefly, before he pulls back.

Our eyes clash and the usual wave of rage that crashes into me is absent. It could be the delicious queso or it could be that my heart is yearning just as much as his. “Just dinner?”

His green eyes brighten and the genuine smile that I remember crosses his face. “Dinner and talking. Better yet, how about a bet, Em, for old times’ sake.”

My heart lurches. Of course he’s going to play dirty now that I gave him an inch of space to work with. “Bet?”

He nods, his fingers drawing down my arms. “I seem to remember a girl who loved a good bet, a challenge.”

“Name the terms,” I manage to grit out, refusing to go down.

I hate that he's right; I have never turned down a bet he made me over our time together.

Back then, some of our bets were in fun, some were in competition, and some were made in the spiciest of moments that make my skin heat just thinking of them.

Hawke is full-on grinning now and I’m shook. I don’t even fight him when he winds his arms around my waist, pulling my body into his.

“Let's make it about dinner. If things go well, I bet you that I will get a second date. If it’s bad then I bet you we keep moving at the slow snail's pace you’ve set for us,” he rasps against my neck where his lips are lazily dropping kisses. My skin breaks out into shivers.

“You agreed to give me space,” I remind him.

Hawke laughs and pulls back, using his hands to brush the hair from my forehead.

“I would have said yes to anything to get you talking to me.

I promise right here and right now, Emmarys, I won't ever leave you again. I also won’t lie about things to keep you safe.

I won't break another promise to you for as long as I live.”

“Dinner, Hawke,” I respond shakily and step out of his embrace, going to the door. I hold it open for him and watch the silent laughter in his eyes. “I’ll take your bet.”

“I have a game Saturday so how about Friday,” he says, and I nod my head. I have two days to mentally prepare myself then. “Sleep tight, Em.”

He leans in and drops a kiss on my cheek. One that lingers. One that was soft but also holds so much meaning. Once he’s out the door I close it, sliding the lock back into place before sitting back down at the table. My eyes roam all over my delicious burrito bowl. “I blame you.”