Page 26

emma

. . .

Of course I lost the bet. Hawke took me to dinner in a small town outside of where the campus is, knowing full well having everyone’s eyes on me wouldn’t make the night better.

I had heard of the location before but had not had the chance to venture to it.

Despite the cooler fall air, and changing leaves, he took me to a park where several food trucks were lined up.

Benches were placed out and several small campfires kept the area warm and glowing.

Lights were strung across the trees and gave the area a fun vibe as some of them changed color.

I couldn’t make up my mind on which truck to try, so in true Hawke fashion, we had something from every truck.

Not that I complained since I was promised mint-chip ice cream from the last truck in the row when we were done eating.

Clearly, this man knows the way to my heart.

“I love this,” I tell him, my voice cracking slightly.

I meet his eyes and I see the softness that he only seems to show me. Hawke leans forward and takes my hand in his, his warm, slightly callused, strong fingers run over mine, sending a pulse of heat right to my heart.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he replies and I watch his tattooed fingers while they continue stroking over my palm and up my wrist, over my beating pulse.

The more I watch, the more I start to really pay attention to the ink on his knuckles of his right hand.

It was obvious the second I saw Hawke again after two years that he had grown a collection of tats, but I had never let myself study him too long to really see them.

My eyes take in the strong, bold, roman numeral lettering. XXIV.

My eyes narrow and I lift them to meet his. I expect him to look caught or embarrassed, but he’s watching me instead, head tilted to the side, like he’s seeing if I’ll bolt.

“You didn’t have these the last time we were together, two years ago.”

Hawke nods, a brief tilt of his chin. “I got it done two days after I got home. When I realized I couldn’t come back to you like I wanted.

And when it finally sank in that you weren’t coming to Texas to be with me.

I realized the mess I had made of your heart and I needed a reminder of what I was fighting for. ”

I inhale and it sounds sharp to my ears, slightly pained. I feel the prickling sensation of my eyes watering, but I can’t look away from his hand. My fingers drag across the numbers again.

“Ten. Fourteen.” I take a chance looking up at him. Hawke’s usual, cool eyes have darkened some, while he watches me. Not denying what he’s done or the madness of it. “You tattooed my birthday on your hand.”

“It's an important day.” He shrugs and his hand wraps around mine, caging it and squeezing gently. I feel the warmth of his skin seep into mine.

“Don’t people ask about it? How…why?” I can’t form a sentence. My mind spins trying to catch up while my heart is doing a little dance in my chest.

Hawke tugs my hand gently, bringing our hands together to his chest, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. My gaze lifts and he’s already waiting for me. There's a devotion in his gaze that I recognize and something else I’m not ready to admit yet.

“No one says anything about it. It's my throwing hand and more often than not, the first X gets missed. And the rest, well fourteen is my jersey number.”

The truth and the way he says it is my undoing. My body warms, a flush spreading up to my cheeks. My heart pounds, and my stomach swoops. Everything inside me screams to acknowledge what he’s saying. “Your jersey number? Hawke you’ve been wearing that number since high school.”

He laughs, the sound low and intense, before reaching out with his free hand and gripping my jaw. “You’ve never been far from my heart, Emmarys. Ever.”

I could lean forward right now, and our lips would meet.

It would be easy. I don’t even think I’d feel a shred of guilt anymore.

Hearing that he wears my birthdate as his jersey, and it’s tattooed on his skin shouldn’t make me happy, but it does.

A dark, possessive flame ignites in me, and I pull back slowly, my hand dropping.

Hawke picks it up, his eyes watching, almost like he knows where my thoughts are going.

I can’t look away as he places a kiss on the inside of my wrist, right on my pulse, and winks.

“Time to get you home, sweetness,” he says and helps me up from the table.

I’m still in shock, still processing his claim that all this time his jersey number was always meant for me, while at the same time trying to examine my own conflicting feelings.

I like that he has me branded on him in some way.

It makes me feel better that other women can see it, even if they don’t know what it means.

Shaking my head, I follow Hawke to his truck and he helps me in before closing the door.

The drive back to my place is quiet, soothing with the music playing in the background.

I’m starting to realize that Hawke was right: I did enjoy being with him tonight.

Hawke walks me to the door and turns me gently with his hands so I’m facing him.

“Was it good?”

My teeth bit down into my lip, knowing the answer, and being scared of it all at the same time. I nod my head instead.

Hawke exhales slowly, a lazy grin on his lips. “You know what that means then, sugar?”

I nod again and clear my throat. “We’re together.”

“Fuck yea we are.” He leans closer, his fingertips brushing my hair behind my ear. “I’ll still take my cues from you; we’ll move at your speed.”

Tears spring to my eyes and they come faster when Hawke’s hands grip my hips and he kneels down on the floor in front of me. One of my hands goes to my mouth, covering my sobs and the other fists on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

He shakes his head, his green eyes boring into mine.

“I’m sorry, Emmarys. I’m sorry I had to leave, I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m even more sorry that I couldn’t come back to you right away and that I made you wait.

All of those things, I wish I didn’t have to hurt you.

I only wanted to protect you. I want you, Emma.

It's always been you and it always will be. I promise I’ll be better and give you everything you’ve ever dreamt about. ”

My body buckles into him, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, and when Hawke stands back on his feet, he’s holding me.

His body cradles mine, and I can feel his heartbeat in his chest against mine.

Hawke lets me go gently, and I escape into my apartment, the quiet darkness absorbs the rest of my tears.

It's not until I’m in bed that I can finally acknowledge that I’m glad I lost the bet.

“So you and Jax are really over then?” one of my teammates, Sophia, asks, while standing behind me at the boards while we wait for our turn to do the drill.

I glance at her, taking in the way her lips are firm, but the hint of interest in her eyes is clear.

I have no reason to lie and I do hope Jax does move on and that he learns a lesson about cheating.

“Yup,” I tell her, moving the puck in front of me with my stick.

“We ended things amicably. It's not like you need my permission to date him or anything.”

She stiffens and there’s a flash in her eyes. “Like I would even ask. I heard what happened, but a couple of the freshman girls over there have been eyeing him up and he’s not been turning down their advances.”

I wait for the pain or for something in her words to hurt me, but nothing does. All I feel is a tinge of sadness, hoping that Jax isn’t hurting. “He’s free to do what he wants.”

She nods with me and we move up in line.

Megan, another of my teammates, glances over at us and unlike Sophia, she almost glares at me with open hostility.

“I can’t believe you let a fine specimen like Jax go in the first place.

The amount of girls on this team alone who would give their right tit to be with him is insane. ”

“Not the left one though?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. I don’t need anyone putting me down for a decision I made. And yes, Jax is good looking and he’s fun, but in the end, he wasn’t the best boyfriend to me.

“Seriously, Emma, you should be lucky Jax looked at you in the first place. He’s practically royalty around here and there's talk about him going into the NHL someday,” Megan laughs.

“She doesn’t have to worry about that, Meg, Emma has her eye on the new king of campus. Hawke Sheppard has a greater likelihood of going pro in the NFL.” Carson, our team goalie, strides forward, her words instantly setting me on edge.

“Well fuck, I’d let either one do unspeakable things to me.” One of the freshman girls fake moans while elbowing her friend. “Seriously, Emma, when are you going to share your boytoys?”

“Jax is a free man,” her little friend next to hers adds in, her smile growing in intensity. “And if Emma isn’t serious with Hawke then I call dibs. That man is hot.” She pretends to fan herself.

The hairs on my neck prickle and white-hot jealousy courses through my veins.

I don’t want any of the girls on my team or the entire campus to be with Hawke, suddenly realizing how much more painful that would be for me to see than seeing Jax with someone else.

That should have been my first hint that fighting my feelings for Hawke was a losing battle.

Now, listening to the exchange that is taking place right in front of me feels surreal and the only remark that I’m really hanging onto is the accusation that I’m holding onto Hawke because of his chances to be drafted.