by Sierra Hill
Letting Carver back in is just so damn risky.
He’s officially a pro basketball player in the NBA.
He’s going to be traveling the country, making money, becoming famous.
How in the world will I be able to handle that?
Carver says he loves me. But how long will that last before he succumbs to the temptations of the road? To the female fans who will do anything to get in his bed?
I’m not a jealous person by nature, but I’ve read enough celebrity mags to know about the unfaithfulness of professional athletes. The women they keep at home must know what’s going on while their boyfriend or spouse is on the road, right? Those women must either have really open minds or be completely clueless to their man’s infidelities.
That’s not me. I’m too independent to just pick up my life and travel with him wherever he goes. And I respect myself too much to turn a blind eye to the possibility that there will be women in his bed.
I can’t and I won’t.
So, I plan to end things with Carver today. After we meet with the lawyer and the adoption agency today and determine our next steps, that is. That way, we’ll be able to find resolution from our past, and move on with our future – and hearts – intact.
It will hurt like hell, but at least we can move forward and not get trapped into holding onto something that we shouldn’t.
I keep telling myself it’s the only way.
After last night, when he told me he loved me, I knew I had to end things. I love him, too, but I couldn’t return the sentiment. Instead, I made a sarcastic comment to lighten the mood.
“Oh, come on, Carver,” I said, feeling the wet stickiness of his release on my back begin to turn cold. “You just love me because I let you defile me. And because I liked it.”
A flash of disappointment appeared in his eyes, but quickly vanished as he got up to get me a towel. When he returned, he gently wiped the remnants from my body, making my heart clench so hard I thought it would hammer right through my ribs.
“You know that’s not true,” he said quietly. “I do love how dirty you let me be. But that’s not the reason I love you.”
And then he went on to list all the reasons he loved me, placing soft butterfly kisses all over my body, nibbling on my earlobes and various other sensitive spots, until it turned into another round of hot sex.
“Ahem. Don’t let me interrupt your sexy daydream, but it’s getting me hot over here,” Ali cackles from the hallway as she enters the kitchen.
My head jerks up to find her standing on the other side of the kitchen counter, filling her coffee cup with her favorite coffee blend from the pot I made earlier this morning.
My high-pitched refute is obvious admission of guilt. But that doesn’t stop me. “I was not daydreaming about sex...”
“Ha!” she exclaims giddily as if she’s caught me with one hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t say you were dreaming about sex, but you just admitted to it! So, tell me, how pornographic was it? Give me all the details.”
I roll my eyes and take another sip of my coffee that’s already grown cold as she sits down in the chair next to me at the table.
“You’re blushing, so I know you were thinking about Carver. Just admit it.”
“No,” I respond haughtily. “You can’t make me. So there.”
She tries to slap my tongue that I’ve stuck out at her but I quickly suck it back between my lips.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But where is your hot pro-baller this morning? I heard you come in early this morning all stealthy-like. As if I was going to bust you for breaking curfew. Carver’s not here with you?”
Ali scans the room, like he might be hiding in the corner somewhere. I shake my head, remembering how I left him asleep in his comfy hotel bed as I tiptoed out the door at five a.m.
I tap an imaginary tune on the countertop with my fingers, looking anywhere but at her. I can feel her inquisitive gaze burning a hole in my head.
“Nah. He needed his rest.”
“Mm-hm. I see...”
“Really? Just what exactly do you see? Are you clairvoyant now?”
“Well,” she drawls. “The word on the street is that Mr. NBA draft had his agent work out a deal so he could play here in Seattle. Any guesses why it would be so important for him to live here?”
She lifts her cup to her lips, smirking as she does.
I shrug innocently. “How should I know? Maybe because he grew up here and it’s his hometown?”
“Riiiight. You mean the hometown where the love of his life currently resides?”
I wave her off like she’s full of shit. But it does make me wonder. I mean, what are the chances that Carver would get drafted and then immediately traded to Seattle? Although he never mentioned wanting to move back here, maybe the rumors are true.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This is a big enough city for the both of us to live and not bump into each other. He’ll be gone half the year, anyway. NBA seasons are long, I think. His travel schedule will be grueling and relentless, so there should be no concern over running into each other by accident.
I feign disinterest. “Whatever. Carver and I are not a long-term thing. So, don’t go romanticizing the reasons he’s playing for Seattle. Carver told me last night that the Clippers needed the other player, and the Pilots needed his talents and that’s where he ended up. End of story.”
“You are so oblivious, Logan. You were blind to Mr. Potato Head’s interest and devotion, and now you’re absolutely clueless when it comes to Carver. I saw how he looked at you last night. That boy is in lurhv.”
I cock an eyebrow at her.
She heaves a big dramatic sigh. “Like you were the tiered cake on the dessert buffet table and he was in desperate need of a sugar fix.”
I spit out my coffee. “So, now I’m just something to satisfy his sweet tooth craving? Is that what you’re saying?”
I don’t know why I’m even debating this with Ali. She always wins arguments. Maybe that’s why she’s an aspiring writer, because she’s really good at twisting words to ensure her perfect outcome.
“Girl, what I’m saying is that whatever you think this is with Carver, it’s a whole helluva lot bigger for him.”
“Ali,” I admonish, glaring at her as if she is a petulant child. “You know nothing about Carver. He’s not looking to settle down. He’s a young, hot pro-athlete and he’s ready to capitalize on that fame. He’s not looking for a girlfriend experience. We’re just having fun.”
I wash out my coffee cup and place it in the dishrack to dry. All this talk about him makes me antsy. I don’t know where he expects things to go from here. Sure, he thinks he loves me, but that’s just residual feelings and emotions coming into play from opening up Pandora’s Box. They’ll soon pass and he’ll move on.
We just need to get through this meeting with the attorney today and then I can part ways with Carver. We can both shut the door on the past and move forward in our respective lives with no hard feelings and no past regrets.
As I head back toward the bathroom to jump in the shower, there’s a knock on the door.
Ali scurries over in her stocking feet, peering through the peephole before she wiggles like she has to pee.
“Ooh...looks like lover boy misses his sweetie already!”
She swings open the door, as Carver appears in the hallway, looking absolutely devastating in a charcoal gray suit and white collared shirt open at the neck. But the most beautiful thing he wears is the bright smile on his face. He also has with him a bag of Top Pot donuts in his hand.
Ali turns her head over her shoulder, staring wide-eyed at me, giggling at her inside secret. “Mm-hm. As I mentioned, Lo. Carver here has a hankering for the sweet stuff.”
Chapter 26
Carver
Logan seemed weirdly distracted this morning when I stopped by her apartment with breakfast. Although she claimed she was just nervous about our meeting with the lawyer this afternoon
, it felt like something else entirely.
I stayed only thirty minutes before I had to dash off to meet Crissy for my press conference with the Pilots. I had dressed up in a suit before stopping at Logan’s and teased her a little for the way she gawked at me when I strode through her front door.
Not gonna lie. I know women have a thing for me in suits and I’ve gotten a lot of action when I’ve worn them in the past. But seeing the admiration in Logan’s eyes this morning filled my chest with warmth and smugness. If I’d have had the time, I would’ve let her undress me and do wicked things to me. But alas, I didn’t want to be late for my first official media session.
The press conference was a breeze. Nothing I hadn’t dealt with in the past at ASU. This time, however, the questions weren’t just about play, or the team, or even my physical abilities. They pressed with questions about my contract and salary and whether I felt I was deserving of the weighty paycheck I’d been promised.
There were already some rather pointed questions – all thankfully diverted by Crissy and my publicist – about my personal life. One day into my pro-career, and someone has already captured a video of Logan and I making out in the back corner of the bar last night, as well as pictures of me carrying her out the door over my shoulder.
I have nothing to be ashamed of over my burgeoning relationship with Logan. She’s not some chick I just happened to pick up and bang for a night; and she’s not a gold-digging skank who’s out to get notoriety and a pay day. We have shared history together, and hopefully a future.
My concern, though over those photos and video, is that they’ll end up plastered all over the internet, infringing on Logan’s privacy. She didn’t sign up for this crazy, media-frenzied life.
The minute our press meeting ended, I asked Crissy and the publicist to get those images removed before they ended up splashed all over the headlines. It didn’t matter that I was exposed, but I’m one hundred percent certain Logan wouldn’t want the attention.
With all those items checked off my list, I return to Logan’s apartment around three to pick her up for our four o’clock appointment with the attorney. I’m waiting for her outside her building. She texted me fifteen minutes ago to say she’s running a bit behind because of a patient. I laughed out loud, because that’s so typical of her.
While I wait, I decide to text my dad to tell him what’s going on. He and my mom stopped by the party last night, but we didn’t get a chance to talk much. I figured since he put me in touch with the attorney, I should update him on our progress.
Me: Hey dad. Just want you to know that Logan and I meet today with the attorney and the Ashfords. The couple who adopted our son.
I see the three dots pop up immediately.
Dad: That’s good to hear. How do you think it’ll go? Do you think you’ll be able to walk away if they deny your request?
Well, fuck. I hadn’t thought that far in advance. Maybe I’ve been living in a dream world, imagining only a happy ending where the adoptive parents introduce us to their son and we get to know him. I didn’t even consider that they might be fearful of this reunion and not want to give us this chance.
Me: Well, thanks for putting a damper on this for me.
Dad: Just being realistic, son. You have to be prepared if it doesn’t go smoothly. I want the best for you.
Me: Sure. I know.
And I do. After I returned to Phoenix and before returning to Seattle for the draft, my dad and I spent an hour on the phone talking about everything that had gone down during my visit. My mom was finally coming to terms with the situation and had forgiven my father for keeping her in the dark so long. And I was willing to concede that my father had only done what he felt was best for everyone involved, even though it still pissed me off the way he went about it.
But all of that was now water under the bridge. Today was the reckoning day. At the very least, we’d get to meet our son’s parents and maybe even have a chance to see pictures of him.
God, how many times have I wondered what he looked like? Whether he had my skin tone? Logan’s cute nose? My eye color? If he would grow up to be tall and play sports like me?
I jump when there’s a knock on my car window. Logan’s wearing a strange look.
I roll down my window and smile.
“You look lost in thought.”
“I was. Sorry, you startled me.”
I reach over the center console and open the door for her to slide in. I don’t move, crowding in her personal space. Her eyes pop open in surprise as I place a brief kiss on her cheek, her hair flowing over her shoulder, providing me a whiff of her shampoo.
I want to bury myself in her neck and not come back up for air.
“How was your day, babe?”
“Good.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Carver.” I hear the disapproval in her tone and I shrug.
“What? I’m just stating a fact.”
My need to touch her is overwhelming, so I reach for her hand, entwining my fingers with hers. She seems to relax infinitesimally when I give her a reassuring squeeze.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
Not exactly true, but I can tell she needs to know things will be okay. Even if it doesn’t go as planned, things between us shouldn’t change. We’re good.
“I know. It’s not that.”
My ears perk up, curious as to what could be troubling her if it’s not our upcoming meeting.
“What is it, then?”
Nothing like Logan’s bluntness. “You.”
“Um, okay. Care to elaborate? You make it seem like I’m a problem. And there were no problems last night when I made you come three times.”
I know she’s staring at me so I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. I’d heard no complaints from her last night. There’s no doubt she left my hotel this morning one satisfied woman. So, I’m confused what happened between now and then.
Through my sidelong glance, I get a peek at her blush, creeping up her neck to her rosy cheeks.
She scoffs and tries pulling her hand free from mine, but I don’t let go. She’s stuck until she comes clean.
Sighing heavily, Logan drops her chin to her chest. “This isn’t going to work between us.”
I practically swerve into oncoming traffic. “What the fuck? What do you mean, Lo? I just moved up here for...” I stop before I can blurt out the real reason I’m playing for Seattle. She doesn’t need to know that I came here specifically for her.
Swallowing my bitterness and confusion, I continue with a softer tone this time. “We’ve just reconnected and spent a fan-fucking-tastic night together. What part of this” – I point to the space between us – “isn’t going to work?”
She stares out the passenger window, lost in thought until she speaks.
“There’s too much history between us. And after today – I know it’s going to be even more difficult. Meeting the Ashfords and learning about our child’s life is going to destroy me.”
I want to stop her before she says more. I pull her hand to my lips and kiss her palm.
“Logan, I’ll be here with you. I won’t let it destroy you.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand what it was like to have to give him up. To let him go. You were long gone and I was left to suffer with this shame that nearly wrecked me. All of that will be ripped wide open again today.”
Logan hides her sniffles, but I know she’s close to tears. It’s gut-wrenching to hear the pain of her loss. I felt it too, but as she says, not nearly as acutely and intensely as she did.
I pull into the underground parking lot of the large Seattle skyscraper and find a space. The minute I turn off the engine, the silence engulfs us, highlighting the distance she’s created with her words. I can’t let it become emotional. I need her to share her baggage with me so I can make it right. Once and for all.
I shift toward her in my seat, wrapping my hand behind her head and forcing her to
look at me.
“Logan, all I can say is that I’m so sorry the way things turned out. Please believe me that if I’d have had a choice, I would have been right by your side the entire way. I could have deferred school until you had the baby. You wouldn’t have been alone.”
A sob escapes her chest as I lay my palm across her cheek, lightly stroking her jaw with my thumb.
“I know it’s impossible to undo the past. So here we are, at this fork in the road. We can either go upstairs, meet the parents of our son and see where things go from there. Or, we can just walk away and never look back. It’s up to you, babe. You choose.”
I stare into her reddened eyes, her lashes wet from the unshed tears, and know in that instant that I would do anything for this girl. I’d lay down my life for her. Give her the moon and the stars if she wants them.
I just can’t give her back the past.
Her eyes close in anguish, but when they open again, they stare at me with resolve.
“I have to do this, Carver. We need to know. I won’t be able to live another minute without knowing he’s okay. And if that’s all there is, and they don’t allow us access into his life, then that’s that. I won’t push it. It’ll have to be enough.”
My smile is wan and tight, but it’s there for her. I’m here for her.
“Okay then. Let’s do this. Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you. For as long as you want.”
I just hope she’ll want me by her side forever. Because that’s where I want to be.
Chapter 27
Logan
My hands shake as we walk into the foyer of the attorney’s office. The room is decorated in a modern style and is framed in windows overlooking the Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. It’s warm and welcoming, even though I don’t feel particularly warm as we wait.
My body trembles with nerves. With fear. Anticipation that this meeting could go horribly wrong and we never get the chance to meet our son.
“Mr. Edwards. Miss Shaw. Don will see you now.”
