“Because aside from him having his arm around you for no reason just a few minutes ago—”
“You don’t know why his arm was there,” I interrupt and receive the coldest glare in history.
“There is no reason for him to ever touch you unless you’re dying or he’s shaking your hand,” he quickly informs me. “When we were on the trip, I decided to ask him if you ever ignored him. He grinned and was sure to tell me you did and that it was because you didn’t want to talk to him or because you were with someone else.”
Ouch. Way to hit low, Zane. I try to gather my thoughts and figure out how to respond. “So, what? Now, you’re pissed at me because I didn’t immediately push him away?”
“No, you were just oblivious as usual.”
How much shit do I take from him because I hurt him before I’m allowed to get pissed at him taking it out on me? There should be some sort of balance. What he’s saying isn’t helping and it’s not making me like him any more right now. I take a deep breath to soothe the irritations. “I came tonight because I want to fix things with you, not to make things worse. I most certainly didn’t come for Zane to be all we talked about.”
Brayden doesn’t respond. I don’t know if he plans to, if he’s thinking about things, or if he’s ignoring me. A sigh escapes me when he pulls into my driveway. I yank on the door handle, but Brayden’s hand flies over to grab my knee before I can slide out. “I don’t want to deal with this tonight.”
“Okay.” Feeling his fingers glide over my jeans as I move away and hop out of the truck is almost too much. It’s almost as if he was touching bare skin. A sense of hopelessness begins to fill my soul. Getting back into Brayden’s good graces will be harder than I thought. I glance over my shoulder once I push open my door just a few inches and he starts to back up.
Hard or not, I’m not giving up.
About halfway to Deanna’s house, a headache started building with tremendous pressure. My mood soured immediately as I panicked. Was I having concussion symptoms again? Did I get another one? Or was it a simple headache? How often did I get headaches before? I couldn’t remember. Hell, I barely remember the ride to Deanna’s because I kept getting distracted by my headache.
Waking up first thing this morning to find it gone causes me to breathe a huge sigh of relief. My phone beeps. It’s too early for texts. I haven’t even rolled out of bed yet. I reach over to grab it.
Deanna: Do you want join Otis and me for our morning run? We can meet at your house.
Her message surprises me. We didn’t exactly end things on a high note, or even on neutral grounds, last night. I feel bad for taking my anger at seeing her with Zane out on her. I was more pissed at him than her. The fact that he dropped his arm like she was poisonous the moment he saw me was proof enough that he knew he shouldn’t be so damn cozy with her. I was slightly irritated with her because she misses what I think should be obvious signs, but it’s not like she’ll change overnight and suddenly start seeing them.
Me: Sure. I can meet you at your house. Be there in a little bit.
I get out of bed, get ready within minutes, and head out the door. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see her, to be honest. But I pushed her off last night, I won’t push her off again. I want this to work. There’s no way for it to work if I don’t give her a chance to fix things. If I don’t give myself a chance to get over it.
I’ve been trying to dissect what pisses me off and bothers me the most. Is it the part where she ran and ignored me for a few days? Is it the part where she thought she was pregnant, bailed, and thought I’d dump her because I would make my career a priority? Or is it the part where she clearly doesn’t trust me to keep my word?
All of the above.
What she’s failing to realize is what I chose to ignore for so long: my career won’t last forever. I used to think that meant I definitely needed to give it my everything with no distractions to give it my all while I had it. Since meeting Deanna, something else has clicked for me. My career will be part of the best years of my life. Do I really want to spend that time alone? When I could spend it with someone like Deanna? Do I want to wait until I’m retired and finding something to do with my spare time to find the love of my life? No, on all accounts. The hard part remains making Deanna see that instead of my history.
She must’ve been waiting for me because she walks out her front door as I pull the key from the ignition of my truck. Otis is on his leash, tugging her forward, but Deanna’s mouth is moving, most likely talking to him and trying to keep him under control. Her smile wobbles, conveying her unease and nerves while I get out of the truck.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.” I lean down to pet Otis.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Gotta start somewhere.” I stand upright, leaving Otis alone, even though he paws at my foot for more attention.
“Right. Well, let’s go then. Come, Otis,” she adds, as she starts a slow jog down the driveway, even though he jogs next to her immediately.
I take up on her other side, trying to match her slow stride. Are we talking or simply running? If the former, is she expecting me to talk first?
“I had a pregnancy scare once in high school,” Deanna starts, answering my questions for me. “Back then, I was two weeks late. I was sleeping with a guy on the baseball team and a guy on the football team.” A car drives by, interrupting the sounds of our footfalls on the sidewalk. Deanna pauses to steady her breathing. “I was freaking the hell out and scared. I was only seventeen. I had the same view on kids back then as I do now. They’re cute, but not for me for a long, long time. I went to my mother.”
Oh, fuck. This is not going to turn out well. I glance over at Deanna to catch her swallowing hard. She increases her speed, so I run a little faster to stay next to her. I want to take her hand, but she’s pumping her arms.
“She was furious. Told me if I was, she was scheduling an appointment for an abortion.” I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, trying to imagine a seventeen-year-old Deanna going to her mother for help in a moment when she was terrified. A sharp inhale comes from Deanna. “She called me all sorts of names.” Her free hand waves the imaginary words away, as if they don’t still bother her. “Told me I may have caused this, but she’d be damned if she’d be responsible for my actions because she knew there was no way in hell I could ever take care of someone else. That I wouldn’t be any good at it.”
“Deanna,” I start once she runs a little bit faster once again, but she ignores me.
“When I told her,” inhale, exhale, “she slapped me.” Inhale, exhale. “While we waited for the test results,” inhale, exhale, “she reminded me of the,” inhale, exhale, “ways I had failed and would fail.” Big inhale, exhale. “She asked who the dad might be,” ragged inhale and exhale, “and I had to tell her I didn’t know.” Deanna stops running, her hands on her hips, her chest labors with every breath, but she refuses to look at me. Instead, she stares straight ahead. “That was when my relationship with my mother changed to the way it is now. To the way it was,” she corrects.
“She slapped me twice that day. The only other time she ever hit me was when she found out my grandmother left the shop to me and I told her I deserved it more than she did.” Deanna shakes her head. “My point is that when I realized I was late, it was like I was seventeen again. I could hear my mother in my head, and I could hear you.”
“Deanna,” I start again.
“I knew kids weren’t any more on your radar than they were on mine and I panicked without thinking. I reacted terribly and I’m sorry. You deserve more credit than I gave you, but there was too much shit going on in my head for me to find it. I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’ve never been so insecure about something in my entire life; I don’t know how to deal with it well, obviously.”
“Are you done?” I ask. I don’t want to be interrupted for a third time, even though I guess I was technically interrupting her.
She cut
s her eyes over to peek at me. “Depends. Are you still mad?”
I grab her shoulders and pull her against me for a hug, my arms holding her tight around her shoulders. She presses her cheek against my chest. Her sigh releases the tension in her body as her arms loop around my waist. “Do you know what I’ve realized?” I ask, feeling Otis’s leash around my legs. He’s getting antsy. He leans against our legs, wanting attention that isn’t being spared to him.
“What?” she asks softly.
“I need someone who’s worth my while. Who’s worth it to me to make them a priority in my life. I need someone who doesn’t make me want to wait until I’ve retired to find someone to be with. I want someone to spend the best years of my career with, especially since I’m up there in age in the sports world. And I’ve come to this realization since knowing you, so thanks.”
“Well, you’re welcome, I guess,” she says, sounding like she’s confused.
“Deanna, darlin’, look at me.” She lifts her head, her chin resting on my chest. I tug on her ponytail. “How many times do I have to explicitly or covertly say that you’re that person before you get it?”
“But why am I that person?”
I frown. “That’s what keeps tripping you up?”
“Part of it. How am I better than anyone else you’ve dated where it failed?”
“Deanna, what kind of question is that?”
“The kind I keep thinking about.”
I sigh, realizing I need to think of an answer for her. “It’s not that you’re better; we’re just better together than me and any of those other girls were together. I’m not the same person I was back then, either. I’m older, so naturally, I’m smarter.”
“Naturally?” She smirks.
“Don’t start with me.”
“Are we good?” Her eyes are back to being worried.
“We’re better,” I amend. We’ll be good when she can prove she trusts me.
“Let’s race back?” Her grin is full of arrogance, not that I mind in this particular instance. “Unless you’re worried you’ll lose to a girl again?” She presses her hips into mine. “Loser goes down on the winner.”
As if I needed any more motivation to be the loser than that. I’m competitive, but I lost our last race because I was distracted by watching her run while she was in front of me. I’ll lose again today. I’d rather get her off first anyway.
“Good luck,” I tell her sincerely, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth.
Once we untangle Otis, I take his leash. I don’t want him to hinder her and cause her to be slower than normal. Plus, I can always say he slowed me down. Deanna counts us down and off we go. She takes off running, and I’m right behind her, my gaze glued to her entire backside. I stay only two paces behind her, despite wanting to whip around her when I hear her laughter. As it turns out, I do lose because of Otis. We’re nearly to her house when he comes to a full stop and hikes his leg on a tree. Deanna runs into her yard and twirls in a circle with her arms outstretched.
“I win! AGAIN!” She laughs and then plops down on her porch steps, breathing heavily as I walk into the yard, but not quite reaching her as Otis once again holds me up.
“Quit your gloating.” I’m not serious, though my voice makes me sound like I am.
“You’re a professional athlete and I just kicked your ass again!” She laughs, thoroughly enjoying this.
“Otis held me up. You didn’t actually win.”
She rolls her eyes. “Lame excuse. I’m going up to get my shower started. You’re welcome to join me once Otis is done,” she lifts her hands for air quotes, “holding you up.” She stands and walks inside, giggling.
Once Otis is ready to go inside, we head in, I free him of his leash and harness, and then walk straight to the bathroom, undressing as I go. Deanna jumps when I pull the shower curtain back to step in.
“Oh, it’s you.”
I frown. “Who else would it be?” I ask as I step into the tub.
She rinses her hair and then switches places with me to shave her legs. I keep my frown as I realize I will be using her girly-smelling soap and shampoo.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I’ll smell like you.”
Deanna laughs. “You’ll be okay.”
I watch her lather her leg with shaving cream and then carefully glide the razor over her skin. Every so often, I move to the side for her to rinse the blade off. Who knew that watching her do something so simple could be so mesmerizing. Eventually, my eyes lift to her face, which is when I realize she’s struggling with something. Her mouth opens and closes, like she can’t decide if she should say something or not.
“Something wrong, darlin’?” I ask. We just got back on steady ground. Yes, there’s still work to be done, but I’d like a few moments of peace with her first.
She glances up. “Well, yes and no.”
“Do you want to elaborate?”
“Not really.” She takes a deep breath. “I think you’re right about Zane.”
“Of course I’m right.” What she says suddenly hits me. “Wait, why do you believe me now? What did he do?” I’ve paused my actions, my hands frozen in my hair mid-shampoo. Meanwhile, she’s still shaving her legs.
“He texted me last night. Late last night.” My blood begins to boil. “There was nothing wrong with the text itself. He asked if everything turned out okay, but him checking in on me when he really has no reason to and the time he sent it made me realize that maybe you’re right. I didn’t know if I should text him back or not.”
“Not,” I interrupt. “It’s none of his fucking business what happens with us. Or you, for that matter.”
She glares at me. “Let me finish. I remembered what he told you about how I ignored him if I didn’t want to talk to him or if I was with someone. So, I didn’t respond. He’ll either assume I don’t want to talk to him, or that I was with you. So, see? No reason for you to be angry.”
“There’s plenty to be angry about when he’s texting you.”
“I doubt he’ll do it again after being ignored and once he figures out I’m in your good graces again. I don’t think he’ll overstep that much. Finish washing your hair and move so I can rinse.”
“I don’t like this.” I rinse my hair and move out of her way.
“It’s an uncomfortable situation, sure, but it’s no problem. I would still like to think he was only being nice and checking in, but I couldn’t get what you said out of my head, so I wanted to tell you what he did.” Deanna turns off the water and pulls the curtain away. Otis lies on the floor in front of the tub. She laughs at seeing him. A few drops of water land on him as she reaches out to grab a few towels, and that’s all it takes for him to leave the room. “Let’s dry off; you owe me my prize, and then I have to be quick and go to work.”
Just the mention of her prize is all it takes for my mind to clear except for the one task set before me. “Are you sure you deserve it?” I ask.
She flashes me a quick smile as she drops her towel and walks backward out of the bathroom. “Maybe, maybe not. You can find a way to punish me during if you think I don’t.”
This girl was made for me. I’m certain of it. I stalk after her, eliciting a squeal when I pick her up and laughter when I drop her onto the bed. Laughter which quickly turns into a moan as my mouth touches her body. One hand dives into my hair, grabs a fistful, and yanks as I slip two fingers inside of her. The fingertips of the other bites into my shoulder. The heels of her feet dig into my back. My fingers move fast, her back arches, and I nip her sensitive skin.
“Oh, fuck, Brayden,” she curses as she begins to reach the height of pleasure. Her body continues to tighten until I watch her finally fall apart with a long moan. She’s splayed out on her bed, her body loose and relaxed, and her eyes are closed.
I kiss each of her inner thighs before glancing at her clock on the nightstand. It’s half-past seven. She’ll likely be late. “I have to go.”
“What?” Deanna lifts her head. “Why?” She sits up, causing me to stand upright.
“You have to get ready for work. You’ll be late.”
A quick glance to her clock confirms I’m right. She frowns and cups me through my towel. “But I want more.” She loosens my towel. “I can do without drying my hair and I’ll put my makeup on once I get there. I can look terrible every now and then. Hell, I’ll hole up in my office if I look really bad.”
“There’s no way you’ll ever look bad enough to need to hole up in your office all day.”
She smiles. “Thank you. Now, reach over there, grab a condom, and get on this bed with me.”
The mention of a condom reminds me of her recently wondering if she was pregnant. Fuck. Her pregnant with my kid? I still can’t wrap my mind around such a thing.
“Brayden?” Deanna’s voice along with the fact that her hand wraps around my cock snaps me out of my thoughts.
I reach over to grab the condom, letting her hand and the thought of sex force the rest of my thoughts out of my mind. Thinking about it during a time like this just cements the fact that while we’re definitely still together, we have a lot to work through.
He came over this morning, we talked, and we had sex. Things are slowly returning to normal for us. It gives me peace of mind and allows me to go into work with a clear head, which I very much need. I’m interviewing a few people for my newly vacated position. I glance down at myself. I really should’ve taken the time to do myself up better. Putting sex with Brayden ahead of looking decent as an employer might not have been my best idea.
Oh, well.
Just before the first person is set to arrive, there’s a knock on my office door. “Come in,” I call out. The last person I expect to walk into my office is Rose. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too.”
“Hello. Now, what are you doing here? I don’t have time. I have interviews.” I glare at her since she’s the reason I have interviews in the first place. One of the worst parts of this job is interviews. I hate conducting them. I’d rather fire someone. Seriously.
Attached to You (Carolina Rebels Book 6) Page 19