“Why wouldn’t you want to pick out a place for yourself once you signed with the team?”
“Because I didn’t plan on staying here.” Shock is evident on her face, and I say something I may regret later, but she needs to hear it. “But plans change.”
Leaning forward, I tenderly brush my lips over hers, waiting for her response. When she kisses me back, I dive deeper into it, savoring her every second she allows me to do so. She’s here. She’s letting me in. And I can’t get enough of her, relishing in her as long as she’ll allow. When she breaks the contact, I clasp her hand in mine and lead her to the media room that I’ve only used to study game reels since moving in.
Passing her the remote, I say, “Pick any movie. I’ll be right back.”
Making my way down the hallway, I step into the bathroom and take a second. Pressing my palms against the cold marble countertop, my head hangs down as I utter, “Don’t fuck this up.” Because it’s not the town or this house or even the team that makes it feel like home, it’s her. And that scares the shit out of me. The town my father lives in was supposed to be a pit stop, not the place I hang my hat.
19
AVERY
Sitting on the couch—Carter’s couch—I glance around before flipping through the movie selections and choosing a comedy. A few minutes go by before he joins me on the couch, sitting a few feet away. Alright, you’re letting me know this is not a Netflix-and-chill situation. Message received.
Something is off with him, but I’m not sure if I’m imagining it or if it’s simply the fact that’s we’re both adjusting to whatever is happening between us. After a few minutes, he shifts closer, so I tuck my feet up under me, enjoying when he drapes his arm around my shoulders. I lean against him, failing to focus on the movie. Instead, I study the shelves beside the TV, noting they’re filled with only décor, no pictures. It’s not Carter Barlowe, star pitcher of the Coyotes, represented within these walls. It’s the kid who probably grew up in a home just as grand and uninviting as this one. Money sure didn’t buy the Barlowe family happiness, and though I don’t pity Carter, that fact does make my heart sad for the kid he used to be and the man he is today. He deserved to grow up in a home full of laughter and happy memories; a home where there wasn’t enough wall space to display all the favorite family photos.
Nuzzling closer to him, I let out a contented sigh. Being in Carter’s embrace is cozy; I fit into the nook he’s created for me perfectly. He still smells fresh from the shower he’d taken earlier at my parents’ house, and a little thrill shoots through me when I inhale that familiar scent on him. I’m still enjoying his warmth and being nestled against him when my alarm sounds on my cell phone.
The one that wakes me up for work.
My hands press against a solid chest as I look down. I realize that I must have fallen asleep on Carter’s couch … or rather on Carter. He stirs a bit, and the arm he’s had snaked around my lower back pulls me to him. He’s sleeping too—snuggling closer in his sleep, no less—but my palms press against this chest, and I quickly jump off him, shutting off my alarm.
“I have to go. I’m gonna be late for work.” How did this happen? I just closed my eyes for a few seconds, and … Isn’t that how every story that ends in calamity starts? I don’t know what happened, but … blah, blah, blah. Ugh.
“I’ll drive you.” Carter stretches and yawns, calmly rising off the couch. Apparently, he’s not sharing in my panic.
“I can’t be late.” Translation: Move your ass. “My truck is still at my parents’ store.” Oh no. They’ll realize I didn’t pick it up last night after leaving with Carter. It’s not like it’s a big deal, but some people （named Rhett） will make a big deal about it. “Great.”
“Avery, it’s okay, I don’t need to drive you, just take my truck. We can get yours later. That way you won’t be late.”
“Take your truck?”
“Yeah. I’ll use one of my other vehicles today.”
“Other vehicles?” He says it like we’re discussing me borrowing a spare pair of socks or something. “How many vehicles do you have?”
The grogginess is gone from his face as he flatly replies, “Four.”
“Okay.” Wow. Four vehicles for one person.
“I’ll swing by during your free period with some coffee.”