IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

by Erika Kelly

  Slowly, she came back down to earth, to the smell of rich earth, the breeze on her damp thighs, and the man gazing down at her in awe.

  Her skin cooled. A fly dive-bombed her. The sunflower stalks rustled.

  Reality hit. “Oh, boy.” Righting her bra and lowering her T-shirt, she drew in a shaky breath. “I can’t believe we did that.”

  He watched her, as though balancing a razor-thin line between hope and the bottom dropping out of his world.

  Yeah, well, brace yourself, QB. “That…” She wagged a finger between them. “Was crazy.” She wasn’t embarrassed, exactly. More like…stunned, shaky, happy…scared.

  Yeah, mostly just really scared that she’d opened herself up to him so completely. “I…um…” She had no words.

  He reached for her. “Gigi—”

  “No.” She didn’t want to hear any more of his magic words. Turning away, she buttoned her shorts. “Let’s just go eat dinner, okay?”

  Chapter Eight

  Feet pounding on rubber, sweat dripping into his eyes, Cassian couldn’t get the sensations out of his mind.

  The hot tangle of their tongues, the grip she’d had on his hair—yanking it so hard the roots stung. The urgent rocking of her hips…and those sounds. Jesus Christ, whimpers had turned to gasps…until she’d cried out with a release that transformed her features into pure rapture.

  The toe of his running shoe caught on the mat, jarring him. Fuck it. He had to get off the treadmill before he injured himself. He hit the red Stop button and stepped off.

  An hour in the gym, and his body still vibrated with the thrill of kissing her.

  Everything he’d ever believed about them had sprung to life the moment they’d touched. It was like plugging into a life force, their energies colliding with enough impact to birth a star.

  Except…now what? For him, they’d finally blasted through the barrier keeping them apart.

  They’d burned that motherfucker down.

  But, for her…After they’d gotten back to the hotel, she’d gone to her room. When he’d tried to follow, to make sure they were okay, she’d said a crisp, “’Night.”

  Yeah, that’s because she doesn’t trust me. He’d thought he could tell her the truth, let her rip into him, get it all out and…then what? They’d be back to where they’d started?

  He didn’t want to go back. All the torment of wanting someone he couldn’t have?

  No, he wanted her.

  Jesus fuck, did he want her. But he’d need a lot more than the four days left on this tour to get there.

  Dammit. He couldn’t miss his own football camp, and two weeks after the final session he headed to training camp for his sixth season with the Mavericks.

  Grabbing a towel off the stack, he swiped his face.

  What could he do? How did he fix the situation?

  Fix yourself.

  The first rays of hope slanted across his heart, warming him. He did have time. He had all the time in the world. First—the easy stuff—no more partying, flirting, and fucking around with women who meant nothing to him. That way he’d stay out of the tabloids.

  That would build her trust right there. It would take time, but it’d be worth it.

  And, then, he’d stay in touch with her. Text messages, emails. Those would lead to phone calls. He’d send her gifts from the road. Buckeyes from Cleveland, a Mardi Gras mask from New Orleans…yeah, he liked this idea a lot.

  He tossed his sweaty towel in the laundry basket. Filling a cup with water, he downed it. He felt good, confident. He had a plan. It just…

  It had to work. He needed her in his life. He glanced at himself in the mirror, acknowledging the truth he fought like hell to avoid.

  I’m lonely.

  Didn’t matter how many people crowded into his apartment or filled the yachts he rented…the only person that made him feel happy, safe, settled…the only one who felt like home…was Gigi.

  Pushing out of the gym, he headed down the long hallway toward the lobby. Soft splashing sounds grabbed his attention, and he peered through the long, rectangular window into the pool area.

  Gigi. Just the sight of her hit like a shock to his heart.

  Nice timing, since his plan to earn her trust started right the fuck now.

  Someone dove into the pool, a sleek body cruising toward her like a missile under the water. A dark head of hair emerged right in front of her, and she laughed.

  Grant Banner. What the hell was going on between them?

  He stood there like a kid hiding on the staircase as his parents kissed in the living room. He should leave her alone. But, dammit, this was his only chance to spend real time with her.

  Fuck it. He wasn’t going to stand there and watch her relationship with Grant grow deeper. He flung the door open and headed in.

  “Hey, man.” Grant checked him out. “It’s late for a work-out.”

  “Got to get it in at some point.”

  “Right.” The man nodded, pleasant as could be. “Your season starts soon.”

  “Yep. Training starts the end of July.” Neither looked at him like he was intruding on a date, so he kicked off his running shoes, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and dove into the deep end. The water cooled his hot skin. When he popped up, he found the two of them standing by the rack of towels, drying off.

  Now, he felt like shit for acting like a possessive caveman. “Don’t leave on my account. I’m heading back to my room.”

  “Gotta head upstairs anyhow. Have to check in at home.” Grant nodded to both of them, slung the damp towel around his neck, and walked out the door.

  Gigi lingered, and he propped his arms on the edge of the pool, watching her. “Did you know him before the tour?”

  “Yes, because all musicians know each other.”

  “Yeah? Ball players have a secret society, too.”

  She grinned. “No, we just met. He heard me working on a song, brought out his guitar and…turned it into a duet. It was pretty cool, actually.”

  “You’re into country?”

  “I didn’t think I was, but Grant thinks I have the perfect voice for it.”

  Grant thinks…? “Yeah, but do you like country music?”

  “I didn’t used to, but he sent me a Playlist, and I couldn’t believe how good some of the songs are. Really smart, emotional lyrics and powerful voices.”

  “Sounds like you.”

  “Maybe.” She threw on her black cover-up. “All I know is it’s really nice to work with someone talented. The girls in my band…well. Anyhow, it’s late.” She gestured to the door. “I’m going to go.”

  “The girls in your band what?”

  “Nothing. We’re just all very different. In a good way. That’s what makes our music so strong.” She leaned to the side, patting her hair with a towel.

  “There’s no paparazzi recording this conversation.”

  “With you around, you never know.”

  “You got me there.” Hands braced on the rim of the pool, he hoisted himself out. Water coursing down his body, he came right up to her. “You should know, this ground we’ve gained the last few days? I’m building a house on it. A mansion. A fucking palace.”

  Excitement flared in her eyes.

  He got so close he could smell the chlorine in her hair. Tipping her chin, he said, “Don’t repeat this, but my coach said he’d trade me if I got caught in another compromising situation, but I’m telling you right now that’s nothing compared to the incentive you gave me earlier tonight. Without you in my life, nothing outside of football matters to me. With even just the hope of having you back? You can bet your ass I’ll do everything in my power to earn your trust. I’m going to show you just how important you are to me.”

  She swallowed, and her eyes gave away everything. How badly she wanted to believe him, but how far she was from being there. With a tentative nod, she said, “Okay. Well, goodnight.” But she didn’t go. “I know I already said it but thank you for tonight. I
t was a-maze-ing. Ha ha. See what I did there?”

  He grinned. “Clever. And you’re welcome.”

  “See you in the morning.” Shoving her feet into her sparkly flip flops, she reached for the door.

  He didn’t want her to go. Wanted more of her. Always, relentlessly, more. “Truth or dare.”

  “What?” And then she smirked. “Okay, it’s late, and I’m not playing games with you.” She picked up her phone and key card from a small table, before flashing a smile. “Dare.”

  Yes. “I dare you to get on the diving board, squawk like a chicken, and then cannonball into the pool.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I would never do that.”

  And then she surprised the hell out of him by breaking out in a grin. It was like she’d thrown off all the doubt and wariness, and standing before him was his Gigi. It was exhilarating.

  She tossed her phone and keycard back onto the table, kicked off her shoes, lifted the dress, and sent it flying. She ran for the diving board and leapt onto it. Bouncing in place, she let out one loud, “Buck,” before jumping high, drawing up her legs, and crashing into the water. When she broke the surface, she had a big smile on her face. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “I can’t, either. You looked ridiculous.”

  She spit a mouthful of water at him, even though he stood at the side of the pool. “Truth or dare? And, by that, I mean brace yourself for your dare.”

  He cupped his hand, flicking it, in a gesture that said, Bring it.

  “I really hope someone’s got a hidden camera around here, because I dare you to sing a Lollipop song on the diving board before doing a belly flop. A real one. I mean, I want to see that six-pack crushed like a soda can and tears streaming out of your eyes.”

  “Funny, I never saw that evil streak in you before.”

  “Told you.” She shrugged, treading water. “You changed me.”

  Ouch. “You know, some people become kinder after adversity.”

  “And others want to hear bellies slap against the surface of water. Now, get on that dare, Mr. Bad Boy Quarterback.”

  Without hesitation, he made his way over to the deep end.

  “And if you don’t know the lyrics to any of my songs, you have to at least hum one.”

  “What if I’ve never heard any of them?”

  “Then, you can choose option number two, which is to deliver a room service tray to every single person on this tour…in nothing but a thong.” She tipped her head. “Choose your poison.”

  “Tough choice, but since I don’t own a thong, I guess I’m gonna have to wing it.” Hopping onto the diving board, he started humming something tuneless.

  “That doesn’t count. I don’t know if we wear the same size, but you’re welcome to have a look in my underwear drawer.”

  He chuckled, playing it cool, but inside he was going out of his mind. This moment together—no anger, no betrayal—just us. His heart was full.

  Diving under the water, she swam to the side of the pool. When she popped up, he was singing. “Let’s do this, let’s jam, let’s take the chance while we can. Let’s do this, let’s fly, let’s reach our hands to the sky.”

  As he did the dance moves, she covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide in delight. “There’s no way. No way you not only know the lyrics but the moves, too. Is this real life?”

  But he just kept singing and dancing. “Get up, on your feet, get up and move with the beat. Get up, and dance, let’s make the most of this chance.”

  The joy glittering in her eyes, the delight in her smile…he hadn’t felt this happy in nine long years. And he couldn’t stand it. Sucking in a breath, he bounced high on the board and assumed the Superman flying pose, before landing flat on top of the water.

  Holy shit. He might as well have fallen onto concrete. He stayed under for a minute, just to deal with the pain. Only when it began to subside did he come up for air.

  She watched him with a remorseful expression. “I’m sorry. That was mean. I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” She grimaced. “It hurt so bad, didn’t it?” She watched him climb out. “Oh, my God, you’re bright red.” She swam to the side and got out. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve had hits a lot worse.” He lay down on a chaise and closed his eyes.

  Sitting down next to him, hair dripping, she rested a hand on his thigh. “I’m done torturing you now.”

  He took in her concerned expression and the droplets of water he wanted to lick off her breasts. “And if you’re not, I can take it.” They went quiet for a moment. And then he said, “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “You and Grant…anything going on there?”

  “Romantically? God, no. He’s divorcing his third wife, and he really loves her. Unfortunately, it took her leaving for him to finally get clean.” She glanced away, looking uncertain. “Life on the road is hard.”

  “Was it hard for you?”

  “Oh, yeah. My bandmates and I…”

  She hesitated, and he hoped like hell she’d open up to him.

  “We don’t get along. At all.” She said it quietly. “But, also, it’s a lot different than I thought.”

  He was so damn glad she was talking to him. “Different how?”

  She got up and grabbed a towel, wiping her face, before wrapping it around that luscious body. Then, she sat back down. “My first tour, I was so excited. I was going to perform in the biggest venues around the world. What a launch, right? And there’s this huge rush you get when you’re on stage and look out into a sea of ecstatic faces. It’s crazy, because the green room’s filled with people who fawn all over you. You’re never alone, and everyone caters to you.”

  He could relate to everything she was saying. “But…”

  “But you’re more alone than you’ve been in your whole life. Because no one cares about you, the person. They only want to touch a star. Like, at first, when they come up to you, talking to you like you hung the moon, you feel good, special. But then, they ask for a selfie, and you get it. You’re nothing more than a spectacle, something to show their friends and family. Or a connection, someone who can help them jump the line and get a record contract. I feel stupid even saying this. Obviously, it’s an amazing opportunity, and I’m so grateful for—”

  “You don’t have to play that game with me. I get it.”

  She smiled. “Of course you do. Everyone sees the happy-go-lucky playboy quarterback, but they don’t see what goes on behind the scenes.”

  “They don’t see you throwing up after training in hundred-degree heat. Or when your teammates turn on you.” Fucking Zach. “The pressure’s intense, and sometimes you just can’t do anything right.”

  Her relief was palpable. “That’s exactly right. And yet you can’t talk about the negatives or people think you’re ungrateful. I think, for me, the joy is in performing. I love singing. Music has so much power, you know? It can change my mood like that.” She snapped her fingers. “It puts me in touch with what’s really going on inside me. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes I don’t know what I’m feeling until the words pop out in a lyric.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t have anything like that in his life. Except her. She connected him with his real emotions.

  “On the road, there are screaming fans and sound engineers and managers and roadies…it’s just pure noise and chaos—and yet, in the middle of that, there’s no…heart. Until you’re alone in your room, dredging up feelings, and turning them into lyrics. I don’t know how to explain it. There’s no—”

  “Meaning. I get it. I’m surrounded by all the noise of reporters and interviews, constant travel and tabloids, but inside…” He patted his chest. “There’s this big void. And, for me, the only real connection comes when I’m on the field. That moment when I target my receiver, let go of the ball, and wait for him to catch it. We’re surrounded by chaos, half the guys on the field want to clobber us—but there’s th
is one quiet moment of I’m here. I got you.”

  Her smile was so…unburdened. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d get it because, in all the pictures of you, you’re laughing, the life of the party. You’ve got women hanging all over you. You just look like you’re living your best life.”

  He sat up, wanting her to hear him. “The women are strangers and being the life of the party takes a lot of work.”

  She looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her, like she was right there with him, open and willing to give him a chance. “Truth or dare?”

  He wouldn’t blow it. “Truth.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “You know I have.”

  “No, I meant…” She looked embarrassed.

  He cupped her chin. “I know kissing Ashton made you question your instincts about us, but they were right on. Everything you felt for me, I felt it, too. And it was torture, because I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. And the minute I lost you I knew—down to my bones—that I’d lost a piece of myself. The piece that mattered most. And without that piece...” He gazed into those amber eyes, and all the words crashed into each other before they could leave his mouth.

  She’s here. My Gigi is right here.

  “Finish what you were going to say. Without that piece what?”

  He couldn’t believe he had a chance to win her back. But to do that, he had to get very, very real. “I’m lost. The parties, the noise, I use it to fill in the gaps, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works.”

  “I want to believe you. So much. But it’s hard to let go of everything I’ve held onto for a decade.”

  “What you see in the press…a lot of it’s true. I am partying that much. But…” How did he explain what he didn’t entirely understand? “I guess I feel more like a host.” Whoa—the truth clobbered him. But, yeah, that was exactly how he felt. “It’s too hard to get back into shape once you let yourself go, so I’ve learned to maintain my habits year-round. That means I don’t drink much. And you know I don’t do drugs. I sure as hell don’t stay up all night.”

  “Then why do you do throw all these parties? It doesn’t make sense.”