Never Let Go: Top Shelf Romance Collection 6

by Steiner, Kandi

  My phone buzzed in that moment.

  Reese: You’re with Stan? Are you in the SUV?

  Me: We’re going now.

  Reese: I got questions about you, just to warn you.

  My throat swelled up. There he was, thinking about me when a part of his world crumbled today.

  Me: Don’t worry about me. How bad are you?

  Reese: Getting through it. See you soon.

  Reese: Love you.

  Fuck the throat. A tear escaped my eyelid. I flicked it away.

  Me: Love you back.

  Reese: Feels good to type that.

  Me: Yes, it does.

  He didn’t text again. Putting my phone away, all eyes were on me.

  A sad smile stretched over Marie’s face. “How’s he doing?”

  I lifted a shoulder up. “Said he got questions about me.”

  Stan swore under his breath. “I was hoping they’d hold off considering he lost his brother. Okay. That’s it then. We need to go.”

  Hugs were done at the door. I hugged Trent, even Dwayne.

  Trent murmured in my ear before letting me go, “Please reach out if you need anything. I travel a lot for my job. It’s very easy for me to book a gig in Washington, just saying.”

  I stepped back, flicking him on the shoulder. “Go back and be with your woman. I like Lauren.”

  “She likes you too. And maybe I will.”

  He took Dwayne then, a hand on his arm as the guy was weaving all around people. With another wave over his shoulder, Trent and Dwayne went around the corner. We went the other way, and like before, I just followed Stan where he was going. It was a myriad of cement steps and back doors. Marie went with us, all the way to the parking area.

  I wasn’t ready for the attention, but we were getting it. As soon as we stepped out the last door, a woman with a camera was there. “Stan! How’s Reese doing? Is that his girlfriend?”

  Marie came to my other side, draping a sweatshirt over me and I tugged down the hood. This felt weird, adopting Reese’s method of camouflage. A few months ago, I only had a cheating ex and a pervy grandpa in my life. That’d been it.

  I paused in my thoughts as we walked down toward a row of SUVs waiting.

  Breaking at one, Marie gave me a tight squeeze. “Stan has my number, but I got yours from him. Hope that’s okay? I’m going to text you, see if you need anything. And I’ll reach out once we get to Seattle in the morning.”

  Another squeeze, then she was off and getting into one of the other vehicles.

  Stan had opened the door to the one we stood by, and I climbed in. He leaned in. The reporters had remained at the exit, but there were other people standing around, and a couple had their phones pointed at us. He blocked their view, his hands on both sides of the door. “I’m going to get in the front with the driver. Reese is heading out now. Do you need anything while I’m here? I can grab a water or anything else?”

  My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I shook my head. “I’m good.”

  I just wanted Reese.

  He dipped his head down and stood back, shutting the door. He climbed into the front a second later, then we waited. The vehicle was silent, even the driver. Then a whole surge of activity happened toward the front. Lights were flashing, and out strolled a few of the players.

  Garth Carzoni.

  Lestroy.

  Beau Michems.

  Then Juan, and following him: Reese.

  Everything raised a whole octave at Reese’s appearance, but he walked through, ignoring everyone. Juan waited, and Reese bumped the side of his fist against his. Both separated. Juan went to where Marie was waiting, and Reese came to us.

  He got in, tossing his bag in the back before sliding next to me. The door was shut, and he reached for my hand, entwining our hands. The SUV started, and within a minute, we were pulling away from the arena.

  * * *

  Life was a whirlwind after that.

  We flew back to Washington that night. Both his parents were already checked into their respective facilities by the time we landed, and as Reese had said, they attended Roman’s funeral. It was an emotional day for all of them. I sat beside Reese, holding his hand, and that night, I held him in my arms.

  He was peppering kisses up my spine, his hand shifting over my hip as he rolled me to look at me. He was looming above me, resting on an arm to hold himself up.

  The stark need in his eyes had me biting back tears. He’d had that look quite frequently this weekend, and I slid my hands up his arms, then moved one around his neck, going up into his hair and I fisted it there, pulling him down to me.

  His mouth met mine. A soft graze. Loving.

  It made me ache, but this time it wasn’t a body ache. It was a soul ache. He brought me to life, and I just wanted to do the same for him now. I wanted to push all his haunts away.

  He lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

  My top lip curved up at that. “You’re asking me what’s wrong?”

  He rested on his side, his hand tracing circles over my stomach. The sheet fell to the side. He was seeing all of me and he bent forward, his lips finding my breast, tasting me.

  I closed my eyes, that soul ache shifting to peace. He filled me up in every way now.

  Then I started talking, “You have not once pushed me away during this time. You’ve not once tried to avoid dealing with your parents or your brother. You’ve not once shied away from all the responsibilities on your shoulder.”

  That meant something.

  He carried it all, and he did it without a thought, without breaking stride, and I knew he’d continue to do so as long as his parents were seeking help.

  He lifted his head up, gazing down at me. “Yeah. Why would I?”

  A half-laugh slipped from me. “I would’ve. I did. You changed me.” I trailed a hand down his shoulder, his arm, his chest. “I couldn’t even feel my emotions before. I asked those questions to evade it all, and here I am, actually feeling tears and peace and not shitting my pants because of it.” I looked him in the eyes, drawing him back in. “That’s because of you.”

  He shook his head, his hand going to the side of my face, tracing down my jawline. “No, that was you. You were starting to face the world again. I just happened to be in the way.” His lip curled up, and he leaned down, nuzzling my jawline and moving south.

  I closed my eyes, reaching up, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

  My breath was shortening. Panting.

  He was growing closer to my mouth.

  He paused before touching his lips to mine and murmured, “You know my tattoo?”

  I nodded. Did I? I admitted, “I might’ve salivated over it a few times.” He lifted his head farther and moved so we could both see it on his side. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s Hebrew for teardrop shot.”

  “What?”

  He was holding back a grin. “I know. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Why Hebrew?”

  He laughed, burying his head in his arm for a second. “Because I thought it looked cool. I got it in college, and one of my friends was obsessed with learning Hebrew. I have no idea why, but we got drunk one night and resolved to get something that stood for our future. I got teardrop shot because it’s rare and it’s under utilized, and I wanted one thing to excel at in ball. I knew I was fast. I knew I could handle the ball decent, but I wanted one more thing that would make me stand out. I wanted to further pack my resume, I guess. But it also means more than that to me now.” He paused, a dark emotion starting to blaze from his eyes as he gazed at me.

  I whispered out, “Reese.” My hand cupped the side of his face.

  He caught my hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. Then he rested it against the side of his face. “You think you had all this baggage when we first started.”

  I quirked an eyebrow up.

  He relented, “And yeah, you might’ve, but you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be amaz
ing. You can do anything you want, and I really believe that. All that stuff you went through, it didn’t break you. It made you stronger, and I think it made you perfect for me.” He paused, swallowing before he spoke again, his voice dropping low to a rasp, “Life with me is going to be hard. I’m the one with the baggage now. There’s going to be fan pressure, women, publicity. Life’s different at this stage, and I think, I really think, you’re my teardrop shot. You’re the high arch in my life. You’re beautiful inside and out, and you’re rare. So very rare.” He leaned down, his mouth capturing mine.

  All the love, pleasure, peace in me swirled up, flooding my senses.

  I was blinking back tears, my hand moving to his chest. “There was a time when I thought I would never be happy again.” My eyes held his. “I gave it up. I was just trying to find the will to keep going, then you happened.”

  Trent.

  Owen.

  Hadley.

  Grant.

  “I got back a part of my old life. I got a piece of a new life.” Reese. “And suddenly, I could deal with losing a huge chunk of myself in the in-between. You think I was made for you. Well, I think you were made for me too.” Then I grinned. “I mean, who else still responds to me when I randomly text for thoughts on beluga procreation?”

  He laughed, his mouth closing in over mine. “That’s true. I mean, if there’s one thing that keeps me up at night, it’s beluga fucking each other, especially at three in the morning when I’m lying right next to you.”

  I laughed, but then his mouth grew more commanding, and I knew the talking was done for the night. I was okay with that.

  I was happy.

  * * *

  Reese was right. Life happened after that. A lot of life.

  His father emerged from rehab six months later sober and he remained that way. Reese got his dad back. It wasn’t quite the same with his mother. She was treated for chronic depression, survivor’s guilt, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

  Through the years, she had ups and downs, but she continued to struggle the rest of her life. She was in and out of mental hospitals, but she tried. She really tried.

  As for Damian, the first day he met Reese, he beamed from ear to ear. He ate all of his meals. The nurses marveled at how happy he’d been. By that time, he’d already forgotten about me. I was his friend who watched sporting games with him, and then I became Reese Forster’s woman.

  I always got a little sad when he called me that. He never understood why, and I never shared. It was easier to go with the new name. It was the happiest for him. He was proud to know me.

  He forgot AJ, but not Mickey or his mother. He remembered both to the end.

  He passed in his sleep, five years from Roman’s death. The nurses never heard his bed alarm. When they checked on him for their three am rounds, he was gone.

  My family came around, but it wasn’t a happily-ever-after ending with them. They were excited to meet Reese, but I was never able to get past what had happened with Damian. A piece of my heart had died, and though I tried to put it back, it never filled again. I was on polite terms with my family. Polite, but distant, and it stayed that way even while I worked close by in marketing for Echo Island Camp.

  I remained with the camp for two years, going back and forth from Seattle.

  I only needed to be there half the time, when I was in charge of photo ops and had to document all the busy camp schedules. Reese came with me if he wasn’t training in his off-season, and during my off-season at work, I went where Reese was.

  I put in my resignation when I was ready for a career change—and remember that book I said I was going to do for therapy? I finished it.

  I published it.

  And I’m pretty sure two people bought it: one was Reese, and the other was Stan.

  Reese offered to post it on his social media, but I didn’t want that. I wrote that book about Damian and me. It was our relationship, and I enjoyed knowing it was out there in the netherworld of sales. Over the next six months, three more people bought it.

  Thank you, whoever you are.

  As for Reese and I…

  Epilogue

  “I’m going to murder you!”

  I was holding on to his hand in a death grip, my thighs spread wide, and it wasn’t his head between my legs. A fucking basketball was coming out of me.

  I know, I know.

  I would love the little basketball. I would adore it. This twenty-two hours of pain would be worth it, or so I’d been promised. The outlook wasn’t pointing that way, but then the doctor looked up. His face serious, his mouth in a perpetual firm line, he said the three most heavenly words that made me want to profess my undying adoration of him.

  “One. Last. Push.”

  Well, I pushed.

  I heaved.

  I tried to punish Reese by breaking his hand, and he was cringing, but I knew it wasn’t because of me. His gaze was fixed firmly on that doctor too, and then, with a last shove—I was trying here, so bad, but the epidural was working wonderfully—thank goodness—then the basketball was out of me.

  I paused, holding my breath, tears streaming down my face.

  The doctor lifted up our little basketball, curled up in a fetal position, all wrinkly and purple, and he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “She’s a girl!” the doctor announced.

  She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  Reese was crying. I was crying, and a heartbeat later, she was crying. See. We were the most perfect family there was.

  We named her Echo, call me a sentimental mess, but that’s where Reese and I met. Echo Roman Forster, and yes, her last name matched mine because Reese and I tied the knot a year ago.

  Holding Echo, holding Reese’s hand, feeling a swell of feelings, I couldn’t help myself. With the doctor still there, and a roomful of nurses, I asked no one in particular, “Thoughts on why we don’t set toilet paper vertical instead of horizontal?”

  THE END

  For bonus scenes or more stories to read, head to www.tijansbooks.com.

  Loving this collection by Top Shelf Romance?

  Check out the other Top Shelf Romance Collections available now:

  Kiss Me Slow

  Featuring: Tijan, Willow Winters, Corinne Michaels & Louise Bay

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  Featuring: Skye Warren, Annika Martin, Claire Contreras, Sierra Simone & Laurelin Paige

  Promise Me Forever (Free with Kindle Unlimited)

  Featuring: Kate Stewart, A. Zavarelli, Kennedy Ryan & BB Reid

  Make Me Yours

  Featuring: Devney Perry, Amo Jones, Chelle Bliss & K. Bromberg

  Don’t Break This Kiss

  Featuring: Jessica Hawkins, Kylie Scott, Marni Mann & Carrie Ann Ryan

  Other sport romances by Tijan:

  Hate To Love You (http://www.tijansbooks.com/hate-to-love-you.html)

  Broken and Screwed (http://www.tijansbooks.com/broken-and-screwed-series.html)

  Fallen Crest Series (http://www.tijansbooks.com/fallen-crest-series.html)

  Ryan’s Bed (http://www.tijansbooks.com/ryans-bed.html)

  And more are coming!

  Acknowledgments

  This book gutted me, and I hope, in a good way, that it gutted you too.

  I hope it made you laugh. I hope it made you cry. And really, I just hope it made you feel.

  Thank you to everyone who has helped me with this one!

  To Amy, Eileen, Crystal, Mari, Kara, Paige, Chris and so many more.

  Thank you to my readers in the Tijan Crew group! To those in my Audiomen group! To all the bookstagrammers and bloggers! If I miss a post, message me. I appreciate every single one of them.

  I worked with dementia residents for almost twenty years, so I wanted to acknowledge them and their loved ones.

  I’d like to acknowledge someone I know in my personal life who’s going through something similar. This book is for you. This book is mostly for you.
r />   Last, and I’m keeping these short for this book, just a thank you from me to you.

  Love in Lingerie

  By Alessandra Torre

  Chapter 1

  HER

  Some men reek of trouble. Trey Marks is one of those men. His fingers haven’t stopped moving since I sat down. Right now they are turning the dial of his watch, an expensive piece that peeks out of the edge of his custom suit. I can hear the click of the dial as he gently slides it forward, just one notch at a time, spaced out just enough to drive me mad. Is he even listening to me? I’m barely listening to myself, my ears pricked and tuned to the next click of the timepiece. Click.

  “If you look at the last page, you can see some of my ideas for your Isabella line…” Click.

  “I have contacts that could lower your costs, especially in the…” Click.

  “I’m looking for a position that will allow me to have greater decision-making ability and…” Click.

  I tighten my hands around the leather portfolio, fighting the urge to reach over and snatch his hands away from the watch. He removes the distraction, the offending hand moving up to rub over his lips. I look away. He doesn’t just reek of trouble. The damn man is dipped in temptation, the center of it all radiating out of those eyes. I stepped in this office, and those eyes undressed me. I sat down before him and he all but rubbed his hands in glee.

  “You seem apprehensive, Ms. Martin.” His hand drops from his mouth and I force myself to meet his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Interview nerves.” I smile and he studies me.

  “Is that it?” He doesn’t believe me. One point for Marks, though I’m not entirely surprised by his ability to read women. His business is seduction, designing lingerie pieces that lure women to purchase and men to take off. According to industry rumors, he’s never been married, fucks like an animal, and has a mouth like my shower massager. It doesn’t matter. He needs a Creative Director, and I need a new job. Word on the street is that Marks Lingerie is struggling, and I don’t need a psychology degree to read the stress that frames his cocky stare. Deep lines across his forehead, the tight clench of his jaw, that damn reach of his fingers to his watch. I recognize the signs. Stress, at the moment, is my life.