Page 35 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Jo

My Man Larry

"Easy Killer," Bryson says as he places his palm on my knee. I didn't realize it was bouncing furiously until he stopped it. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I dunno, because I am!" I hiss out and try to avoid the Uber driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. Truth? I know exactly what it is. I’ve been feeling a growing sense of unease and anxiety since our parents dropped us off at the airport this morning. The last time I was home I was given a suspension; which is not something I ever thought would happen to me. And, since then, I’ve acquired a boyfriend who is my childhood best friend. I’ve also acquired a new girlfriend in Harper who asked if I wanted to be a part of the wives and girlfriends chat, The Stick Handlers.

After thumbing through the messages on her phone I agreed I wasn't ready for that level of involvement.

She promised to inform me of any coordinated jacket decisions.

"Is it me? Is it just being back?" Bryson asks.

"Both?" I shrug. Because it is. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him for a whole week before I can return to practice.

Bryson slides his palm up my thigh and maneuvers between my legs, his pinky finger getting dangerously close to the apex.

I guess we could stay in bed and fuck all week.

But then he takes my hand in his and kisses the inside of my wrist. It’s sweet and tender and when he shoots his dazzling smile at me, a shiver slides down my spine.

We can absolutely spend the week in, and on, each other but I think this thing with Bryson might be more than lust. There’s no use denying his touch turns my anxiety down.

He can support me in ways I haven’t acknowledged I need.

"Well, I can’t wait for you to show me Jo Hamilton’s SLC. All the restaurants you love, your favorite coffee shop, bookstore. We’ve got one week to cram it all in before practice starts again."

Bryson is going to realize quickly I have zero social life. I wake up, train, rest, and repeat.

"I honestly don't do ‘time off’ very well." Is that enough explanation?

"No kidding." Bryson laughs but it's good natured.

I turn my head out the window to the changing neighborhoods as we travel to my condo.

I do have a favorite bookstore but I usually preorder new releases online and get them shipped.

I make my coffee at home because it's cheaper.

I cook at home so I can control the nutrient density.

There was a team dinner the week before our last home game; I could take Bryson to that restaurant.

It was good but I don't eat out enough to have a favorite.

I look over at Bryson who is also looking out the window and then my gaze travels down to our hands.

There is a dusting of hair on the back of his.

It’s light and normally I think knuckle hair would be a turn off but it gives off a manliness I am responding to.

His strong fingers alternate with the dotted freckles of mine.

They fit though, perfectly.

We fit.

That thought has me stiffening. We haven't talked about what happens when both of our seasons are active. Or what happens when he leaves.

I've never had a boyfriend, let alone a long distance one. But things with Bryson feel easy and inevitable.

We'll figure something out.

Right ?

The car pulls up in front of the building and I release Bryson's hand to get out. My palm feels cold and hot without his touch. He takes our bags out of the trunk, we thank the driver, and then we head inside.

"Hello Ms. Hamilton," Larry, my doorman, greets us with a kind and welcoming smile. "And, Ms. Hamilton's guest."

"Bryson Svoboda," Bryson says as he sets our bag down to shake Larry's hand.

"Conn Smythe Winner Bryson Svoboda?" Larry asks and his eyes light up.

"The very one." Bryson says before forcing a swallow.

"But he wants to keep a low profile this week." I say to Larry.

"Of course. We're the model of discretion here at The Lampton." Larry confirms as he steps back and stands up a little straighter.

"Ah, it's alright Larry,” Bryson says as he reads his nametag. "I'm sure Ms. Hamilton will be too busy with soccer soon and I'll come chat hockey when she is."

"That would be great. I still play in a men's league. It's the 55+ group and we've slowed quite a bit but it's the greatest sport." He flushes a little and then turns to me. "Soccer is still the most beautiful game, Ms. Hamilton."

"Yes it is." I say with mock dignity and then I give him a smile. "We'll see you soon, Larry."

"Of course, enjoy your day." He says and Bryson follows me to the elevator.

"I just won so many points with your doorman." He says as the doors close.

"Why would you need points with my doorman?"

"Oh baby, just you wait. He's going to help me get flowers delivered to you, he'll tell me your schedule. I've got a man on the inside now. You're screwed, Hamilton."

I bite back a giggle. "Oh, is our relationship going to be competitive? "

"You thought it wouldn't be?" Bryson raises an eyebrow at me. I smile. He has a point. "Yeah, I thought so. Plus the distance thing is going to suck and I know we haven't talked about it but I'm not giving you up after finally getting you."

Finally. I’m not ready to admit it but younger Josie is kicking her feet over this development. It is everything she doodled in her diary and more.

But she didn’t plan for us playing on teams across the country from each other.

At my apartment door, I turn the lock but Bryson slides up behind me and kisses my neck before I can open the door. I turn my head to give him more room and his hands splay across my belly pulling me back to him.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been alone with you.” He grumbles and he turns me to face him. I go willingly and fling my arms around his neck.

“We’re still in the hallway, we’re not technically alone.” I tell him as his mouth heats a trail along my neck and it has my core flooding with arousal.

“Details Josie.” Bryson whispers and he leans forward to open the door behind my back.

The tender nickname melts me further. It would be fine if we stayed in the hallway making out wouldn’t it?

Guess not. Just a moment later, Bryson pushes me into the apartment as our kiss breaks with a pop.

I giggle as I stumble backwards as he reaches for the bags.

"Oh fuck!" I yell out as I whip my arm up over my nose and mouth. I’m only one full step into my apartment and immediately a rancid odor is assaulting my senses.

“Sweet Jesus, did you have a pet you forgot about?” Bryson says as he pulls his collar up over his face. “Something definitely died in here.”

"No, I don't have a pet I forgot about." I get out between gags. My eyes are watering and I think I might have to move out.

Bryson crosses over to the windows and cranks them open as far as they'll go. It's a high rise building with glass all around the outside so the only open window space is the little rectangle at the bottom that opens a few inches .

Safety first.

I turn towards the kitchen and remember exactly what died.

One week ago I had pulled out salmon from my freezer and set it on the counter to defrost for dinner. There is also a frozen bag of kale that was left out from my smoothie that morning. In the sink is the blender and there are white mold spots on the remnants of the unwashed pitcher.

"Gross." Bryson says from behind me and I nod. I reach under the sink for a garbage bag and toss everything in it before tying it off and marching it down the hall to the chute. I try to breathe the fresher air of the hallway before going back in.

When I get back inside Bryson is fanning the air in the room and looking around with his face still half turtled in his shirt.

“Where’s a candle?” He asks as he keeps looking around.

“Why would I have a candle?” I ask as I grab a baking sheet and help him circulate the air. Bryson freezes and looks at me. “What?”

“You don’t have a single candle?” And then he starts really looking around. “Or a throw pillow.” He walks over towards my television and I suddenly see my apartment in his eyes.

This is literally where I sleep, shower, and eat. Except for when I shower at the facility. I haven’t hung anything on the walls. My books are stacked on the floor in the corner. My laptop is plugged in at the counter and the two stools there are mismatched.

There is a skills mat in the corner I use to practice my footwork and a workout bench with a few weights.

The bedroom isn’t much better with a mattress on a frame and no headboard.

Shit.

I didn’t think about bringing Bryson into my apartment and what he’d think about it. I’ve lived here for six years but it looks like I moved in a week ago.

“Okay, so I need to take a trip to the home goods store or whatever. But my apartment is fine.”

Bryson walks over and grabs me by the shoulders.

“No, your apartment is depressing. C’mon.”

He takes my hand and pulls me out the door. “Where are we going?” I ask as I lock the door behind me.

“Larry will be able to help.”

***

“Larry, my man, you nailed it!” Bryson says as he lifts the shopping bag in his hand and fist bumps his new bff, my doorman. When we got downstairs he asked Larry for the closest home goods store or boutique and Larry gave him three to pick from.

Three stores I didn't realize were just blocks from my condo.

And then, Bryson went shopping.

It was a sight to see. I followed him around in awe as he picked out two candles, a candle accessory kit that seemed completely unnecessary, throw pillows, a blanket that I’ll never admit is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and a potted plant.

When I complained about how much stuff he was getting he told me I was lucky it was him and not Felix who discovered the dreary state of my home.

By the time we get upstairs things had aired out and Bryson lights the Rosewood Forest candle. He tosses the pillows on the sofa and then plops down and kicks his feet up on my coffee table.

“There, so much better.” He says and then he crooks his finger at me and I slowly walk over to him .

“Why haven’t you decorated your apartment, Killer?” He asks as I take a seat next to him and tuck my legs under me.

“I didn’t see the reason to.” Boy, this little fuzz on the cushion sure is fascinating.

“You didn’t want to come home to something soothing or at least filled with your favorite things?” Bryson asks as he shifts to face me.

“Never crossed my mind. I wake up, get ready, eat, practice or play, come home, and sleep.” I shrug, it’s the truth. “Why, what's your apartment like?”

“It’s very homey.” Bryson says with pride. “My books are on shelves, for one,” I punch his bicep and he laughs. “And I’ve got art and pictures on the wall.”

“Of what?”

“Well there are some family photos, and pictures of me with the boys on different trips.” He runs his fingers through his curly hair and I watch it bounce back into place as he looks around the rest of the open living area.

“And I have a dining table. Although it mostly gets used for card games with Crosby and Duncan.”

I hum to myself as I nod and picture him with his friends. The group seemed so close knit when they came to the parade. And the fact they flew across the country to try and rescue us proves their connection runs deep.

Do I have that with anyone?

Al is probably the closest I have to it but we both live our own lives.

She knows I can’t drop everything to be with her just like she can’t do that for me.

After all, I understood it when she went into labor and couldn’t make it to my championship game.

It stung that Mom and Dad stayed in Colorado too but it made logical sense.

I was just doing my job. Al was having their grandchild.

It still stung .

I do remember coming back to this apartment after the game in Kansas City before I flew to Colorado the next day to meet baby Dylan. The loss was fresh and I had no one to console or distract me. I stared at my ceiling until my eyes shut.

“What about your bedroom?” I blurt out.

“Thinking about my bedroom, Killer?” He teases.

“Shut up.” I toss back and try to shove him back but he uses his strong body to stay exactly where he is. Then he leans closer and it’s like my world becomes only Bryson.

“I have a big bed, with a headboard, and lots of pillows of various firmness, and a navy duvet.”

“You have a duvet?” I whisper as my mind struggles to keep up with the lust taking over my thought process. I’ve been next to him all day but the option to be with him now drives my lust higher and higher. My shoulders shift in his direction and we’re squared off to each other.

“I do, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Josie.”

“No?” I ask breathlessly because the affection in his gaze is knocking me off kilter.

“No. Come’re.” Bryson scoops me up like my body is filled with air and carries me to my bedroom. “Tomorrow I’m getting you a bedframe so you can grip the headboard while riding my face but for now I want to ride you like a fucking cowboy.”

“Yeehaw!” I giggle as he tosses me down on the bed.