Thick & Thin (Thin Love Book 3)

by Eden Butler

  It was only a moment—familiar, sure, content, and then Aly twisted from me, grabbing my wrists so I would stop touching her.

  “Why…are you here?”

  Jaw working, I considered her a moment longer than was comfortable, incapable of looking away from the worry, the temptation I knew cornered in her eyes. Still, I wasn’t an asshole, especially when it came to Aly. “You’ve met Makana, right?” My grin relaxed her, but she quickly recovered with an eye roll. “Little Kona-looking kid? Ten? Thinks she’s twenty? Bossier than you?”

  She ignored my joke. “Why are you in this dressing room?”

  “I told you. I wanted to make sure my girl was happy.” This time she didn’t bother knocking my hand away when I grabbed her fingers. “I wanted to make sure she wasn’t doing something she didn’t want to do just to save face.”

  “I’m not saving face.”

  Eyebrows up, the tension in my face tightened. “So you do love him.”

  “That isn’t your business anymore.”

  “It’s not?”

  There was that spark again. The same combustible hint of heat and something…more thickening the air. The look she gave me spoke of things she’d never admit. There was irritation, sure, but behind that slow, long look, the stiff cast of her mouth, came the penetrating sensation of her desire. I’d seen that look a thousand, maybe a million times.

  Six years I’d loved her. Six years she gave back every touch, every kiss. Six years with the taste of her always on my tongue and the reminder of how I could break her over and over again, how she’d beg me to do it, always there, right between us. That recollection of it coming in quick glances across crowded rooms when we wanted to be away from the bustle of our lives and all to ourselves. With the silent nights on planes, legs touching, knuckles grazing as we flew from one home to another. Behind it all was that hunger, the long ache that could only be quenched with our bodies. Only our bodies.

  It was still there, heating our limbs. It was there, bubbling hard as I moved my hand up her arm, watching those beautiful eyes brighten with the sensation of my breath against her skin, across her lips as I stood closer.

  But Aly would not be handled, not even by me. It wasn’t her way and no matter what her body wanted, no matter if it was me and not someone else that she craved, logic won out. She’d make sure I knew that being near me wouldn’t undo her.

  “Did it hurt?” She nodded toward the door and with one glance smothered the spark itching to ignite. “Seeing that?”

  She meant the proposal. She meant me seeing it all. I could read her like no one else, but she could do the same to me. My frustration must have shown on my face, something about the memory of Ethan on his knee and Aly’s smile, my lip curled into a faint snarl. There would be no hiding what I felt from her. Why bother trying at all?

  “Like a knife right in my gut, nani.”

  “Ransom…”

  The pretense left just then. The battle over whose will was the strongest meant nothing. I wasn’t weak, not ever, except when it came to her. She knew that. I could no more hide that weakness from her than I could have hidden the million stares of desire that I’d sent her way over the years.

  “I’m supposed to be winning you back.”

  Her fingers were cold as I took them to lay against my palms. She wouldn’t fight me, not when I rubbed my thumb along the lines creasing her palm, not when my voice went soft, low and I could barely get the words to sound clear. “I’m supposed to remind you how much you love me. I’m supposed to make sure you understand that I’m hurt. That I didn’t buy any of that shit.” She tried moving away again, but didn’t manage more than a half step when I pulled her palm up, kissing her wrist.

  “Oh?”

  I ignored the argument in that one word, disregarding her rejection when she tried pushing on my chest. “The only thing in my head now is how badly I want to kiss you.” That time she did break free, but only to the corner of the dressing table, sitting atop it as I crowded her. “And how badly I know you want me to kiss you.”

  Aly King was no coward. It was one of the things I loved most about her. She gave me her strength when I had none. She held me up when I couldn’t manage to do it for myself and she would not be manipulated. Not when she knew her own mind.

  “That is not going to happen.” The firmness in her tone, the bite in each word was the final warning I needed to hear. It was the one that had me checking myself, moving back, putting enough space between us so that Aly could stand, shoulders straight, chin uplifted.

  “Because of your fiancé?”

  “Yes.” The nod was quick, but certain. She’d convinced herself of her decision no matter how quickly it had come to her. “Because of Ethan.”

  There were a million things I looked for in her features—a lie, a protest, something to convince me that she didn’t want me anymore. There was nothing there.

  After a moment, I could only grin at her, grasping for things I didn’t see in her expression. “Bullshit.”

  I would have kissed her then. Damn the warnings. A kiss, taking back what I knew would always be mine, was my intention, but then the door slipped open and Ethan’s warm greeting and bright eyes lowered only slightly when he stepped into the room, leveling a glance between me and Aly before he approached.

  “Ransom Riley-Hale.” This greeting was preceded by a large hand with trimmed nails coming at me and I tightened my stance, stepping in front of Aly, not sure what to expect from this guy. “I’m a big fan, man.” He glanced at Aly, smirking, a little apologetic. “I’ve been telling Aly for a while that I wanted to meet you. I…uh, I’m a little stupid over football.”

  “You like the Dolphins?” I asked, laughing when Ethan made a face.

  “Well, I mean…”

  “It’s fine, man. I’m just messing with you,” I said as I took his extended hand. I couldn’t help myself. It was the same reaction I got from fans outside of Miami who recognized me, who still seemed excited to meet me even though they wore a Broncos or a Cowboys jersey, so I gave him the same automatic reply.

  Ethan returned my humor, shaking my hand, slapping me once on the bicep. This would have been easier if Aly had hooked up with some jackass, maybe a loser with no job or some artistic type that was pushing thirty-five and still trying to be a rapper. Ethan wasn’t any of those things. He had a level of swag that was all class. He dressed in an Armani suit, and was built like most dudes that hit the gym to keep themselves up without any real goal for size in mind.

  “Good to meet you.” Despite my stupid jealousy, I meant it. Ethan gave me the same look I typically got from every fan I met, though his was more reserved. There was a pause while he looked me over, sizing me up, not as the man who’d taken my girl when I’d stupidly let her slip away, but as a man full of respect and maybe a little envy that I made a living playing a game he loved. I’d seen that look for what it was thousands of times and it never failed to surprise me. And as much as I hated to admit it, he seemed damn genuine.

  Ethan’s gaze broke away from me as he settled his hand against Aly’s lower back and he turned to her. “Baby, you almost ready? We’ve got the after party and then we’re meeting Steph and Micah at Restaurant August.” He glanced at me, shrugging. “My sister and her husband. They wanted to celebrate with us.”

  I nodded toward Aly, and looked pointedly at the ring on her finger. “Nice piece of ice.” She didn’t seem bothered by the compliment, but Ethan took her hand in his, motioning the ring toward the light, examining it with a satisfied grin brightening his expression. He should be proud. It was a good piece. “You got good taste.”

  “Thanks, man.” Another nod, but then when Aly moved around the room to gather her things, he ignored me completely, watching her as I watched him watch her, I got the impression that Ethan was amazed. He reminded me of the first year players coming right out of college onto our team. There was always this dazzled expression on their faces, as though they’d somehow lucked up,
snuck into training, making the team without anyone realizing they shouldn’t be there. Ethan watched Aly with that same stunned look—as though he half expected her to wake and realize she was too good for him.

  I was familiar with giving her that same look.

  He stood next to her, stopping her flurry of activity with a hand to her hip. “We need to go.” He took the blue bin from her, edging her toward the door. I lowered my eyes when he kissed her, hating that I had to watch that kiss, hating that I wanted to tell him he was standing too close to her, touching her with too much familiarity.

  “I’m ready,” Aly told Ethan through a nervous smile before she glanced at me. “Can you give me a second?”

  “A quick one, yeah. I’ll bring the car around.” He stuck out his right hand at me, again, the bin hanging from his left. “Ransom, man, it’s good to meet you. I’ve got you in my bracket. Do me proud this season.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I shook his hand, grinning with a humor I didn’t quite mean as he kissed Aly’s forehead and disappeared through the door.

  The room had gotten colder somehow, just in the small minutes since Ethan had entered. Maybe it had been cold before. Maybe I’d only just noticed it. She stared at me as I watched that door close, sure that the entire evening had been some fucked up nightmare.

  “Are you okay?” Aly’s voice softened, missed the harshness it held just a few minutes before.

  I answered her truthfully because she was the one person who’d know my lies when they came. “No.”

  Two steps and I felt her behind me, smelled that delicious scent of her hair, her skin. “I’m sorry.” Despite her protest that she didn’t want my kiss, Aly didn’t keep her hands to herself. The touch, when it came, was sweet, meant to give me comfort, not entice me into something that would only lead me on. She pressed her cheek against my back and I held her fingers when she circled my waist with her hands. “It was…I was surprised.”

  “Did you mean it?” A glance over my shoulder and I caught her gaze. “The yes?”

  There was a long moment when she seemed only capable of staring, watching my features like she hoped there was an answer she’d find in them. When she didn’t, Aly looked away, resting her forehead on my shoulder.

  “Aly?”

  “I don’t know.” Her sigh warmed my back, heated my skin through the linen fabric of my shirt before she pushed away from me, standing near the door. “I know he’s solid.” I hated how she seemed more interested in her nails, in the pattern of tile on the floor, anything but the expression on my face. “I know he doesn’t expect anything from me. There’s zero pressure.”

  I tilted my head, wondering if what I heard was what she actually said. Aly wasn’t timid, said nothing she didn’t mean and that pissed me off. “I pressured you?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” We met in the middle of the room, not touching, just on the verge of needing to.

  “Then what the hell did you mean?”

  “I don’t have time to get into this and you probably have to get back.” She glanced behind me at the clock and pressed her lips together. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

  “We can table this for now.” She arched an eyebrow at me but I ignored that expression. “I still think we need to have a conversation.”

  “We really don’t. There’s nothing left to say.” I saw the decision to brush me off the second she made it. How many times had she done that to me over the years? A hundred? She was done, there would be no arguments and as she clicked off the light on the dressing table and headed out the room, I followed her. It’s what I always did. It’s what I’d likely always do just to hear her out. Just to make sure she heard me. “What happened between us in the past. I’ve moved on.”

  That’s when I stopped her, pulling on her arm as she pushed it through her thin cardigan. “Thought that wouldn’t happen.”

  Right there in her pause, in the breath she held, Aly told me everything: what she remembered, what she felt, what she tried to hold back from me.

  It had been late back in Miami four years ago, the night everything fell apart. The first night after months of us not touching, not saying or doing more than was necessary to keep ourselves sane. Emails and texts that informed each other of groceries running low or maintenance needed for the condo; updates on friends’ birthdays, the birth of children or who had broken up, what weeks my family would visit. But there had been little in the way of time spent between the two of us.

  Relationships fall apart when we stop tending to them. Aly and I let our lives happen without paying attention to each other. We’d become selfish, needy for the things we wanted apart from each other.

  We forgot what we wanted together.

  So that night, with the warmth of her body still heating her pillow, with the exertion of our

  love making still dotted in the sweat of my forehead, Aly left the bed and in one sentence, sent my world spinning.

  “I’m leaving. I…I’m moving back home.”

  I’d known it was coming, but had somehow convinced myself that she’d never turn me loose, that what we had together was too comfortable, too important to cast aside.

  “This is home, Aly…”

  She’d shaken her head, refusing to acknowledge that. She didn’t want me fighting. “Before you start trying to convince me how wrong I am, remember that I’ve always given you whatever you needed. I’m…I’m alone here, cut off from the life I had in New Orleans and you’re gone all the time, you don’t see it. And…when you are here, you’re just, not yourself.” She’d waved at my head and I knew she’d meant the injuries, how different the concussions made me act. “I never tried to stop you from being who you are. I just can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore and I won’t let you go on pretending I’m invisible.”

  It had been the second concussion I’d suffered in two seasons. My behavior with past concussions had drifted toward erratic. It had scared her when I stumbled getting out of the tub, when I couldn’t remember missing my father’s birthday or two team meetings. Symptoms, all of them, none of which I gave any weight to. All of which had Aly laying down ultimatums I didn’t take seriously. The other issue…I hadn’t seen it, not until she was gone. The way I’d treated her, like she didn’t matter, like she was there only when I wanted her, that took longer to admit to myself I’d done. It was still hard to see how I’d been, how easily I had discounted her. Out of sight, out of mind.

  “Do you want me to beg?” I’d asked, holding onto her before she could dress. “Because I will. I’ll beg.”

  “I begged, cheri. I’ve been begging for years. It didn’t change anything.”

  My refusal to consider an early retirement was the last straw. One I broke. One I expected. One that still surprised me when it came.

  She’d been naked with me minutes before. My body still buzzed with the sensation of being inside her and then…she said she was leaving. She’d kissed me, something soft, something wet that reminded me of what she’d given up to be with me. How much she’d sacrificed of herself just to stay at my side while I cultivated a career for myself on the gridiron.

  “This is you leaving me? Forever?”

  “Baby,” she’d said, holding my face, touching my skin like she couldn’t keep herself from it. “We’re always.”

  She’d forgotten.

  Looking at her now, seeing the realization that I hadn’t forgotten her promise, that I’d depended on her to remember it to, and Aly’s entire expression transformed. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t angry. Aly simply fought whatever moved around in her head. She fought to come up with a valid excuse for everything she’d agreed to up on that stage.

  Finally, when I guessed she couldn’t take my stare or the desperate way I gripped her, Aly looked away, exhaling like she wanted her breath clear.

  “Ransom, we both said a lot of things we should have kept to ourselves.”

  It was then my control broke and I grabbed her face, staring
her down, hoping that she saw everything I felt in my gaze, all those half-hidden secrets that told her what I wanted.

  “I meant every word I’ve ever said to you.”

  And then I kissed her, slow, deep, so she’d remember me. Us. So she’d recall what we had been to each other. And then I did one of the hardest things I've even done in my life—I left her alone in that hallway with the sting of my kiss bruising her lips.

  Paper cuts.

  Deep

  Slicing

  Blood

  And breath

  Whisper ripping.

  Only I see it.

  The faint mark

  Between the fingerprints

  Etched in my skin.

  Still it’s there

  Small, seemingly insignificant.

  Like a bruise

  Only I can see,

  Feel

  Hurt

  Running deep.

  Hidden from the world.

  Two

  New Orleans is excess. It’s everywhere you go, as long as you go to the right places. The city holds within its breast the faint whiff of culture, history, exhaling it all along with the spice of decadence, debauchery so sweet, so enticing that even the bravest, the boldest can be tempted. It was something I’d known—that excess—since I’d been thrust into the Riley-Hale clan.

  They lived a life completely foreign to what I’d known as a kid. Affluence and influence came with that hyphenated name. The excess that comes with fame and celebrity was a companion to the laughter, the love that has always existed under that lake house roof.

  Ethan had shown me a different sort of excess—tenderness, ease, and a glimpse into a world Keira and Kona tended to steer clear of; one that included social standing and country clubs. Celebrity was one thing. New Orleans society was something altogether different. Even when Ransom and I moved to Miami, when the pomp and circumstance of being with an NFL player brought a decadence reminiscent of New Orleans, we’d still hadn’t subjected ourselves to the kind of wealth that Ethan had always known.