by Meghan Quinn
No good would come from calling him back and asking what happened.
I need to mind my own business and cut this man out of my life the best that I can. He just gave me the perfect opening to do that.
Even though, in my gut, I know I should call back, I set my phone back down and turn away.
It’s better this way. Keep him mad at me—it’s a clean break, no lingering feelings.
Chapter Forty-Two
WALKER
Real fucking mature.
I curse myself and toss my phone on the other side of the bed. What the fuck was I thinking, calling her in the first place?
And then hanging up on her?
So fucking smooth.
If I wanted to drive her away, I just did a perfect job of that.
I drag both hands over my face.
What an idiot.
But hearing her defend Penn, it grated on me. I didn’t like the way she made it seem as if his shitty performance was okay.
What makes it even worse is I know there’s a part of her that’s right. From the outside looking in, with no prior knowledge of Penn’s life off the field, he just had a bad night like every other athlete out there. We can’t be perfect, or else sports wouldn’t be entertaining to watch. It’s the failure that makes watching that much more interesting, because without failure, there would never be success.
One bad pitch turns into a good hit for the other team. In baseball, in any sport for that matter, you need the good with the bad, because without it, there’s no battle.
So, Penn losing tonight really was just about him having a bad game to every fan and other observer out there. To me, as his teammate, the guy who gets to smell the alcohol on his breath when he walks into the locker room, or the one who gets to see the amount of eye drops he puts in before going on camera to rid his bloodshot expression, I know it isn’t just a bad night, it’s a culmination of bad choices.
And I meant it when I said he was a waste of talent. He’s booming with talent, with potential, but can’t seem to get his personal life together.
It’s a damn shame.
But I didn’t have to show my frustration to Kate, nor did I have to yell at her, or hang up on her before she could get another word in.
That was just being a dick.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I whip the sheets off my heated body and swing my feet off the edge of the bed, unsure of what I’m going to do, but sleeping is the last thing on my mind. I stand, naked in my hotel room, and start to pace just as my phone rings.
I pause, hand sifting through my hair as I stare down at the lit-up screen on my bed.
I can’t see the caller ID very well but when I move closer, my heart hammers in my chest.
Why is she fucking calling back?
I bite on my bottom lip, a coppery taste filling my mouth from the indecision I’m waffling through.
Fuck it.
I reach across my bed and answer, my voice hoarse. “Hello?”
“Don’t hang up on me,” Kate demands. “If you ever want to talk to me again, I suggest you don’t hang up on me.”
This is exactly why this girl has captured me. She doesn’t put up with my shit, but calls me out on it. She has from the very first meeting we had in the stadium cafeteria. She’s held her ground.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Kate,” I say automatically, guilt swarming me.
“Thank you for apologizing,” she says, her voice rigid. “I understand being angry, Walker, but don’t take it out on me. Understood?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Now tell me, what happened today?” she asks, cutting to the chase.
I drag my hand over my face. “I told you. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“I am worried about it if you’re going to snap at me like that. And I get it, you don’t owe me anything. We’re just . . . friends or co-workers or whatever, but don’t call me at a late hour just to be a dick. I’m not your punching bag, Walker.”
I rest on my bed and lean back on the mattress. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“So, then tell me what happened tonight that turned you against me so quickly. Does it have to do with Penn?”
From the authoritative tone in her voice, I know she’s not going to drop this, and a small part of me doesn’t want to drop it, because I’m always holding this shit in. I want her to drag it out of me. “Yes. It was stupid bullshit, though, and I let it get to me.”
“And so, you called to . . . what? Beat me up about it? Take out your aggression on me?”
“No,” I answer, insulted she’d even think that of me. Yeah, I can be an angry dick at times, but I don’t make it a point to call up the girl I can’t stop thinking about just to rip her a new one. I called for one reason and one reason alone—to be relieved of the ache in my chest. “I called to hear your goddamn voice.”
Silence.
And then finally, “Oh.”
I shift on my bed and sit up, sifting my hand once again through my hair, repeating a motion I’ve done far too many times tonight already.
This girl wants to know the truth. Well, I’ll give it to her.
“You ease me, Kate. I know we’re supposed to break this off, whatever this is, but fuck . . . I needed to hear your sweet, compassionate voice tonight, desperately.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just know it’s the truth.” I grind my teeth together, unsure of how much I want to share, but knowing I need to get this off my chest. “Penn knows how to push my buttons. We both know how to irritate each other, and we’re good at it. Tonight was one of those nights, and he pushed my buttons harder than usual this go-around.”
“Can I ask how?”
My lips purse to the side as I consider if I should tell her. I’m not sure if she’d ever look at me the same way, but there’s a dark cloud looming over my head, beating me down, reminding me over and over of that night, and I know if I don’t do something about it, the cloud is going to grow and carry over to tomorrow only to fuck up my game some more.
I can’t afford that, not right now.
Not telling her doesn’t seem like a choice.
Fucking hell.
“You know how you asked me to tell you something that would make me look less perfect?”
“Yes,” she says, hesitancy in her voice.
“Well, I have one that I’m pretty sure will vanish you from my life forever.”
“I doubt that, Walker.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Trust me.” I stand from my bed and begin to pace the room. “You wouldn’t look at me the same.”
“Then why tell me?” she asks, and fuck, I wish I was telling her this in person. So I could read her facial expressions.
“If you want to know what happened tonight, then you’d need to hear the whole story. And you don’t want to hear the whole story.”
She’s quiet for a second and then says, “Try me.”
I lean against the window of my hotel room and I stare down at the floor, my hand driving through my hair yet again.
“Penn knows just how to provoke me; he knows what will blast me to red hot anger, and tonight he pushed that button. A button that sets my mind into a tailspin of hatred . . . for myself.”
“What did he say?”
“He mentioned the reason why we don’t get along is because of Dawn . . . my sister.”
Sounding confused, she says, “I didn’t know you have a sister.”
“Had,” I say, using past tense. “I had a sister.” My chest grows tight, with memories of her floating through my head.
“Oh, Walker—”
“Please don’t.” I take a deep breath. “She had spina bifida. She spent her whole life on forearm crutches but she fucking loved life.” My chest swells just remembering her smile. “She never let anything hold her back, and she helped me through my entire high school baseball career. Cheered for me at every game, would make a point to carry my g
love for me, and kept all my stats for me for every game. She was my rock.” My throat grows tight. “She also followed me around everywhere, which I never cared about until one night.”
Kate is quiet as she lets me tell my story.
“It was a party our senior year. Dawn begged to go with me and I told her no. I went without her, only for her to follow closely behind without my knowledge. I was irritated when I saw her at the party, because I was trying to get with this girl, and even though I love my sister, she was always an unintentional cockblock with her millions of questions. Penn was there and told me he would get her a ride home. At that point, we didn’t hate each other as fiercely. Just typical teenage animosity.” I pause, my voice heavy with emotion. Why did I entrust her to his care? How could I have been so insanely stupid? “That was the last time I saw her. Her ride home ended up getting hit by a drunk driver and she was killed on the spot.” And that’s also why it fucks with me that Penn drinks. He knows what happens when . . .
She’s quiet and I wonder if she’s still on the phone. When I look at the screen, I realize she’s there, just probably disgusted with me.
“I’ve never forgiven myself for letting Penn take care of her, and I’ve never forgiven him for sending her off that night.” I wet my lips and continue, “He says I hate him because he doesn’t try at his job, but wastes it away with alcohol, and yeah, I do hate him for that, because what a goddamn waste of breath, when someone like Dawn would’ve been better to have on this planet, someone who gave a damn about the life she was given and made the most of it. I hate him for sending her on her way. But even more importantly than that, I fucking despise myself for thinking any baseless hookup was more important than my sister. And after all that, my relationship with my parents is strained. Can’t tell you the last time I spoke with them.” And why would they want to talk to a fuck-up like me? Someone who took their baby girl from them? It’s why I’m alone. It’s why I don’t open up, because no one wants someone like me to infect their lives. I deserve the loneliness. And now Kate knows why.
I slump against the wall and slide down it until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees in close to my chest and prop my arms up on them.
After a bout of silence, Kate finally says, “You’re right, I’ll never look at you the same.”
My heart falls and I bury my forehead in my hand.
“Because you just changed everything, Walker.”
“I told you—”
“No, you listen to me.” I hear her take a breath. “You changed everything, Walker, because you trusted me enough to tell me that, to let me into your world, into your soul, and that’s something I don’t take lightly. You’ve been through a terrible tragedy—”
“I didn’t tell you so you could pity me.”
“I don’t pity you.”
“I can hear it in your voice,” I say. “I could hear it in your pause. There’s pity and I don’t want it; I don’t deserve it.” I scrub my hand over my mouth. “This whole fucking night was a mistake. Talking to Penn, thinking for one goddamn second that he’d actually listen to me, that he was invested in something other than himself. And then calling you. Fuck,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have called you in the first place.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t have answered,” she says in a sharp tone.
I cringe at the thought of her growing angry with me again. “Why did you?”
She waits to answer and I grow anxious with anticipation. “I don’t know,” she answers, defeated.
I grip my knees tightly. “Did you want to hear my voice?”
“Maybe.”
Fuck. I want to look into those beautifully dark eyes of hers. I want to see her pretty, pink lips curve up. That blonde hair float over her shoulders like a silky waterfall.
Just a glimpse.
A small one.
I want to make sure that even though I told her my deepest, darkest secret that she doesn’t hate me. That she can still look at me, at the monster that I am.
Before I can stop myself, I press the FaceTime button on my phone.
Chapter Forty-Three
KATE
I’m about to tell him that I should get to bed when the sound of FaceTime rings through the phone. I sit up and see the call coming in, from Walker.
Oh my God.
I can’t see him, not right now. It’ll break down all my defenses.
Hearing his confession—his voice so distraught, so soft—cracked the wall I’d haphazardly erected once I left his apartment. I tried to duct tape it together, patch it up, anything to keep him from penetrating my heart.
And then he had to go and call me. He had to use that crushed tone in his voice. He had to speak from his heart.
Devastating.
Completely obliterated my wall and undid me.
I can’t look at him. Not like this, not now, not when one glance into those deep, soulful eyes will cause me to forget everything I’ve worked for and fall for the one man I shouldn’t.
My brain overturns my heart in one fell swoop and I quickly press the red button on my screen, ending the call altogether.
Heart beating rapidly, I feel instant regret.
What if he thinks I ended the call because of what he confessed to me?
I waver between calling him back and turning my phone off completely when a text comes in . . . from him.
Walker: Please pick up, Kate. I want to see you.
Christ, what is this man doing to me?
Any stronger woman would be able to deal with the temptation, would be able to say no and walk away, but to me, he’s like a giant piece of cake I can’t seem to keep my hands off.
Kate: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m . . . naked.
I press send without thinking. That last part, I thought that would be a deterrent, but when he texts back, I know I’m gravely wrong.
Walker: Answer. Now.
The phone rings and my stomach somersaults with nerves. Two words, that’s all it takes.
Answer.
Now.
The phone continues to ring in my hand, tempting, persuading, and before I can stop myself, I answer, holding it up so only my face is showing. It takes a second for the picture to come in so I pull the sheet up and over my breasts just in case he catches sight of anything.
When he comes on screen, his eyes are smoldering, his hair is a mess, as if he’s been running his hands through it all night, and the scruff on his beard looks thicker than I’m used to seeing on him.
We don’t say anything at first; instead, we just stare at each other, both our eyes searching.
Is he naked too?
From the look of it, he isn’t wearing a shirt.
He’s the first one to break the silence. “I needed to see you.”
“We shouldn’t be talking at all.”
His eyes fall.
“But I can’t help but revel in the fact that I get to see your face. That I get to talk to you. That you gave me the privilege of hearing your story.”
“Fuck, Kate.” His eyes connect with mine. “You should be running away after that story.”
“All that story did was drive me closer to you. You need someone to love on you, Walker, not hate.”
He blows out a long breath and tilts his head back so it rests on the headboard of his hotel bed. “I wish you were mine.” His eyes flash to the screen. “I wish I didn’t have to feel guilty about talking to you right now. I wish I could call you every goddamn night after a long-ass game and talk to you, let your calming voice wash over me, easing the tension in my shoulders.”
I wish the same thing. I wish there weren’t a giant, impenetrable roadblock between us.
“If only that were the case,” I say softly.
“Would you want to be mine?” he asks, desperation lacing his words.
“I don’t think there would be any good in answering that question.”
“You’re probably right.” He lets out a pent-up breath.
> “But . . . yes, I would,” I answer softly. “A part of me thinks a little piece of me is yours already.”
His eyes snap up to the phone just as I shift under the covers, my sheets sliding to just above my nipples.
He presses his hand to the side of his jaw. “Tilt the phone down.”
That commanding voice, it’s my undoing. All thought goes out the window and his voice determines my actions, directing me what to do even though, in the back of my head, I know I shouldn’t.
Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I do as he says, showing him my sheet-covered breasts, but even from the small picture in the corner, I can see how hard my nipples are.
The fight. His apology. His confession. His voice. His demands.
My nipples are hard from all of the above.
“Pull the sheet down,” he says next.
But I bring the phone back to my face. “No.”
“Damn it, Kate,” he says in a pained voice.
“Do you really think I’m about to show you my breasts? That’s not how this works, Walker.”
“How does it work?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one who called. What do you want?”
“You.”
His eyes spear me through the phone, his eyebrows pulling together as his jaw tightens.
My body heats up and I feel the need to shed all the blankets and sheets, needing a second to catch my breath from the way this man can light me up inside. How he can cause a raging inferno through my veins within seconds. No one has ever created such a visceral reaction in me, and yet, all it takes is one command and I’m putty in his hands.
I let the sheet fall but don’t tell him; instead, I keep the phone pointed at my face and talk to this man completely naked.
It sends a thrill through my veins, knowing if I move the phone down, he could get just what he wants.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“I can say whatever the fuck I want,” he growls, sending a thudding throb straight between my legs.
God, what I wouldn’t give to have his voice rumble over my skin, to feel his scruff mark my fair skin, leaving it brazen red . . . claimed.