* * *
“Are you really not going to tell me?” Cora asks, as we clean up the library, shuffling through all the returned books.
“Unless I want to break down again, I’m going to keep my lips sealed until after school lets out. Which is three more hours.”
“Do you want to grab something from the corner for lunch with me?”
I press my hand to my stomach and shake my head. “No, I’m not very hungry.”
“Which means you probably don’t want me to bring you anything back either.”
“No, it would just be wasting money. Thank you, though. I really appreciate it.”
“Okay.” She lets out a long sigh. “I feel bad leaving you here. Maybe you want some fresh air?”
“I’m really going to be a Debbie Downer here, Cora. I want to hide in a hole right now.” Plus walking anywhere, even if just down to the corner deli, seems like a nightmare. I’m so sore, and I’d rather not be reminded with every step what I did last night, what happened. How he treated me. Rejected me.
“Fair enough. I know the feeling. Well, I have my phone, so if you need anything, let me know.”
“I will, thank you.”
When Cora leaves, I head to the office and check my phone for the fiftieth time since this morning. There are three text messages, but none from Knox.
Leaning back in my chair, I open up the text messages.
Dottie: Lindsay sent me a text, told me in brief terms what went down. Emergency meeting tonight.
Dottie: Come to my place. I’ll have Yan make us those delicious crab cakes.
Dottie: I have a private investigator. We’re going to bring this motherfucker down.
I laugh at the last text before more tears stream down my face. It’s like there’s no cure to stop them, no matter how hard I try.
Not in the mood to text her back, I set my phone down and rest my arms on the desk and my head on my arms. I take that moment to soak in the overwhelming sorrow. The heartache that seems to be walking over me like a dark cloud, never letting up.
I thought . . . God, I thought that after he confessed his love, he’d want me. I was so wrong. It’s just unfathomable that he would be so mean. He’s never hurt me like this, then again, he made it quite clear how badly I hurt him.
But to seek vengeance, it doesn’t—
Knock. Knock.
I prop my head up just as the door opens, Cora’s head popping through the crack.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yup.” I give her a fake smile and wipe at my eyes. “Fine. Was there something you need?”
She bites on her bottom lip just as the door swings open wider and Knox stands on the other side.
My heart seizes in my chest from the mere sight of him—again—and when he excuses himself past Cora, thanking her and closing the door, I lose all ability to breathe. From behind his back, he holds out a bouquet of flowers and then studies my face, confusion in his expression.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft.
What’s wrong? He can’t be serious.
What is happening right now?
Is he really here, standing in front of me, holding a bouquet?
“Wh-why are you . . . here?” I swallow hard, my voice cracking with emotion.
“Why are you crying?” He rounds the desk and kneels in front of me, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
Babe?
Am I missing something?
“You . . . you left. This morning, when I woke up, you were gone, and when I texted you, you didn’t respond.”
“I told you I had morning weights, and I would see you for lunch.” His brow knits together. “Em, I left you a note.”
“What?” My mouth quivers. “Where? I didn’t see it.”
“On your nightstand, next to your phone. Jesus, did you think I left you without saying a damn thing?”
Shamefully, I nod. “I thought you got what you wanted after eight years and left.”
“Fuck . . . no. Christ, Em, I told you I loved you last night. Does that not mean anything to you?”
“I’m sorry.” I bury my head in my hands, relief starting to ease up my spine. “I didn’t know what to think. Everything has happened so fast, seeing you again, falling for you all over again, spending the night with you. I’m honestly a mess.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, hugging me. “I love you, Knox, and after last night, when I woke up without you in my bed, I couldn’t fathom what happened. Maybe I wasn’t as good as you thought, maybe I wasn’t the same girl, maybe I wasn’t—”
“Maybe you need to stop thinking so low about yourself and see the woman I see.” He pushes a stray hair behind my ear and traces his fingers down my neck. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’re so fucking kind and sweet. You’re passionate, and even though it will still take me time to accept what happened between us, I know, deep in my fucking bones, that you’re the most selfless person I know.”
A sob escapes me.
“I love you, babe, and nothing is ever going to change that.”
“But . . . you didn’t answer my text message.”
“Phone died last night. Didn’t charge it. I was kind of too busy fucking you to remember. I came straight from training to here, because I have an important question to ask you.”
“You do?”
He nods, the corner of his lips peeking up in the sexiest of ways. He hands me the flowers that I clutch to my chest, letting the floral fragrance ease my nervous heart.
“Emory Ealson”—he takes my hand in his—“after over eight years of knowing your beautiful self, I’m going to ask you one more time, and I really hope you don’t say no.” He takes a deep breath, connects his beautiful eyes with mine, and asks, “Will you go to lunch with me?”
The most unladylike snort shoots out of me right before I cover my mouth. This is really happening. He’s kneeling in front of me, confessing his love, bringing our entire relationship full circle, and I couldn’t love him more for it.
I reach out and caress his face, still in shock that he’s here, wanting me again. “But, Knox, you lost the bet last night. Which means . . . you owe me a steak dinner in one hell of a revealing outfit.”
His smiles grows wider. “How about this? You go to lunch with me right now, and this weekend, after our afternoon game, I take you out for steak, and then for dessert I eat that delicious pussy of yours.”
Can’t argue with that.
I lean forward and press a chaste kiss across his lips. “Deal.”
* * *
I pace my living room unable to stand still. The girls left an hour ago after I filled them in on everything, and I mean everything. Their questions were very specific, and I had no problem answering them because after this morning, I wanted them to fully be on Team Knox.
And they are.
They couldn’t be happier for us.
I called my mom when I got out of work and told her everything. She screamed for a good five minutes and then broke down into sobs, thanking the good Lord for bringing us back together. She was always a huge Knox fan, especially after seeing what he did to pull me out of my Neil funk.
Now, I wait.
The Bobcats won. Four to two, and Knox was incredible, making a few diving plays, one into the stands, and hitting three singles across the field. It was amazing watching him again. I always felt like he was an art form on the diamond, a perfect example of what a baseball player should look like and play like. Seeing him execute his moves so simply, after all the hard work he put in, it was a huge turn-on.
Its why I’m thrumming with excitement, pacing back and forth, waiting for him to come to my apartment.
From outside, a car beeps, stilling my pacing. I run to the window where I catch a glimpse of Knox walking to the back door.
He’s here.
I scan my clothing one last time, a simple nighttime romper with nothing underneath it. Check my hair, cut
e and styled—I might have taken a shower and made myself more presentable after work. And pop my lips, making sure my Chapstick is still fresh.
Pleased with how I look, I run over to the door and fling it open, just in time for Knox to be at the front. His smile consumes me, and I can’t help myself as I leap into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me with ease and works his hands up my back, a chuckle on his tongue.
Hands gripping my ass, he walks into the apartment and slams the door with his foot, only to spin me around and plaster me against the wood. His lips find mine with greedy hunger, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my butt, sliding beneath the shorts of my romper. Although I’m not comfortable with the weight I’ve put on, his love of my body—his desire for my body—is helping. Just as he helped my broken heart all those years ago.
Groaning, he pulls away and observes my outfit. My nipples are puckered and poking against the fabric of my romper. There is no disguising how turned on I am. “Are you wearing anything under this?”
I shake my head. “No. Thought you’d want easy access.”
“Fuck, babe, you know me so well.”
I reach in for another kiss but when he pulls me away and sets me on my feet, I’m thoroughly confused.
“We need to talk.”
And just like that, my heart plummets to the floor. Those four words are a death sentence to every relationship. Nothing good comes from “we need to talk.”
“About what?” I ask, feeling almost stupid for being so excited that he was here.
He takes my hands and leads me to the couch where we sit. Still holding my hand, he links his fingers with mine and when he stares at me, I see unmistakable adoration. I realize I’m not about to experience heartache, but I’m about to embark on a journey.
“I love you, Em, more than anything, but we have some hurt feelings between us. Some things were said, some misunderstandings, years of neglect to our friendship.”
“Yeah, I know.” I lower my head but he tilts my chin up high.
“We could rehash it,” he continues. “We could pivot around in circles until we’re blue in the face, but I don’t want to do that. I want to build off what we have and make this into something more. I know what you did in college was selfless, wanting me to focus on baseball, I get that completely now, and it’s one of the many reasons why I love you so much. But I want you to listen to me when I say, my life is a thousand times better with you in it. However I can take you. Over the last few years when our communication started to dwindle, something deep within me was missing, and when I saw you for the first time in the library, that something resurfaced. Anger overshadowed it for a second, but once that blew away, I realized, it’s you I want, you I need.”
Beyond the point of an emotional basket case, I attempt to blink back the tears, but it’s no use. They fall, but he catches them on his thumbs.
“I want to move past the hurt and the pain, and I want to focus on the good with you. The fun, the jokes, the teasing . . . the passion. I want all of it.” He swipes another tear. “Do you want that, Em?”
I nod, not giving a second to consider. “I want nothing more.”
The corner of his lips curve as he reaches into his pocket. “Perfect, I was hoping you were going to say that because I have something for you.” From his pocket, he pulls out a flashy, silver object and hands it over.
I take it out of his palm and look at the medallion. “What’s this? A keychain?”
He chuckles and rubs his thumb over my furrowed brow. “Sort of. It’s a key to my apartment. I want you to move in with me.”
“Wait?” I look at the circular object. “How is this a key?”
“It’s magnetic, fancy shit.” He takes my hand in his. “Did you hear me? I want you to move in.”
Yeah, I heard him, and I’m trying not to jump out of my skin in excitement. But just to be sure, I say, “You don’t think it’s too early?”
“No.”
He’s so confident, so sure in this decision that I want to test him a little bit more, because my answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I want to make sure this is what he truly wants.
“We just got back together like twenty-four hours ago, and you want me to move in?”
“Yeah, because it feels like we’ve been together forever. You’re the one I want everything from, Em. I’m giving you my heart and soul and . . . my apartment.” He glances around my tiny studio. “I can’t have you living here, not with the hooligans outside and the lock that barely works on your door. I was fucking worried sick, knowing this is where you live. It’s not safe, and I need you safe for my own peace of mind.”
I hold up the keychain thing. “And I’m guessing your place is safe?”
“Very.” He winks. “Plus, it has amenities.”
“This place has amenities.” I point to the floor. “Did you not see the easily accessible deli below?”
“Uh yeah, I can smell the meat, babe.”
I shrug. “You get used to it.”
“Come on, move in with me, give me the gift of waking up next to you every morning.”
Well, how on earth can I say no to that?
“You’re not going to change your mind in a few months, realize there’s someone better out there for you?”
“No, because I’m looking at her. You’re the girl I’ve been looking for that’s better than anything I could dream up. You’re it for me, Em. You’re it.” He leans in, his lips inches from mine. “What do you say, be my roommate?”
I twist my lips to the side, pretending to mull it over.
“What kind of roommate are we talking about here? Do we share a bed? Do you cook? Clean?”
Moving in closer, he whispers, “I clean, can’t cook for shit, but I know how to fuck my girl, and that will make up for it, I promise.”
“So that’s a yes on the bed sharing?”
“That’s a hell yes.” He presses his lips to mine and pulls me onto his lap, his hands reaching up the back of my romper where he starts to unzip it. The sleeves fall down my arms and instantly my boobs are exposed and his hands are all over them.
“You know I didn’t say yes, yet.”
His head lowers and his mouth takes in my nipple, and between sucks, he says, “I’m making the decision for you.”
I chuckle and then gasp when he bites down.
This man is going to be the death of me.
I pull away and scoot down his body until I’m sitting between his knees. “If that’s the case, I think I’m going to make a decision for the both of us. It’s about time you see what else these lips can do.”
His eyes narrow. “Jesus Christ, I think I just came in my pants.”
I begin undoing his jeans while saying, “I sure hope not, because in your pants wasn’t where I was planning for you to come.”
He leans back on the couch and spreads his legs, pure joy pulling at his lips. “Goddamn, Emory. I’m so fucking in love with you.”
I don’t know how this happened, how I possibly reconnected with Knox Gentry, but I know one thing for sure: I’m going to be one selfish girl, because there’s no way in hell I’m ever letting him go again. This decision to stay is the perfect one.
Epilogue
KNOX
“Thank you, again. This means so much to me.”
“Well deserved,” Coach Disik says, shaking my hand one more time. I remember the first time I met him, how intimidating he was, but now, I don’t get a small quiver when I see him. But then again, since I’m no longer on his roster, he’s eased up.
I squeeze Emory’s hand and ask, “Are you ready?”
She nods and waves to Mrs. Flower. “It was great seeing you again.”
“You too,” she replies coldly. I don’t know if the old coot has ever been able to lighten up.
“Take care, Gentry. And I’m counting on those tickets.”
“I got you, Coach.”
I give him a quick pat on the back and hop off the
stage where my mom gathers me and Emory into her arms. To say my mom was over-the-moon excited about me reconnecting with Emory is an understatement. We FaceTimed her together and I swear, she nearly had a heart attack. It was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed. After she screamed for what seemed like ten minutes, we told her we just rekindled our old flame—Emory’s words, not mine—and we’re now living together. My mom was on the next flight out. She spent a week fawning over Emory, taking her out to do girly shit, and bonding with my girl. It felt good knowing how much she’s still accepted in my life.
Carson and Holt were just as shocked as Lindsay and Dottie. We had everyone over for one big party to celebrate. Got fucking wasted and ended up having a giant sleepover. Emory kept saying it was like her dorm days, while Carson was on the verge of tears about the loft years. What a fucking douche.
“I am so proud of you,” my mom says. “My baby is in his college’s hall of fame, and I can’t believe it.” Taking a deep breath, she continues, “I knew you were meant for great things, Knox, but honestly, the greatest thing you ever accomplished was landing this girl right here. You gave her your heart and soul. No one will ever mean more to him, Em.” My mom takes Emory’s other hand and holds tight. “I could not be happier to call you the mother of my grandchild.”
I glance at Emory’s small but growing belly.
Yeah, I couldn’t be happier either.
When Emory first found out she was pregnant—drunk sleepover night, yeah, someone forgot a condom—she was so nervous to tell me, but fuck, I cried. I cried so damn hard that I felt like my mother. We’re having a baby. We made a living thing, and the girl I’m madly in love with is the mother. Yeah, I’m fucking pumped.
“Thank you, Mama G. But this day really is about Knox.”
She waves her hand in the air. “He’s had his moment. Let’s talk about you now.”
“Or, I can show Emory something and we can meet you at The Hot Spot in thirty minutes. Grab us a table?”
My mom concedes, gives us both a kiss, and then takes off.
“You want to show me something?”
The Locker Room Page 29
