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“You should call him,” she suggests.
I snort. “You were there…” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want her thinking about how cruel I was to her. “He kicked me out of his room and his life.”
She goes deathly quiet as the doors ping open and we step inside. “And out of mine too, I guess.”
Her voice is a low, barely audible whisper, but her words are sharp enough to cut into my hollowed-out chest.
The elevator moves, and my hand brushes hers. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me or hear from me again either, Em.”
“Yeah,” is all she answers.
Did she want to hear from me?
I want to ask, but digging up the past is fucking painful for both of us. What’s done is done. We can’t change that now, and how could I have called her? I’d made enough of a mess of her and her brother life as it was.
“Do you get home often?” she asks.
“Not as much as I used to when I was in college. Pretty busy on the road. Once the season is over, I plan to head back home for a while.” The elevator doors ping open, and I instinctively put my hand on her back to guide her off. Her entire body stiffens under my touch. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She steps off the elevator and walks ahead of me to her room. She swipes the key band on her wrist over the door lock and it pings green. “Thanks for walking me.” She holds her hand out and I stare at it for a second. Is she inviting me in? Do I want her to invite me in? Fuck yeah, I do, but crossing the threshold would be the second worst mistake I’ve ever made. I’ve hurt her enough. “My bag.”
“Oh, right.” I slide her bag off my shoulder and hand it over. She takes it from me, and I can’t tell if the sound she just made when our hands touched was from hate or desire. Probably hate. She puts her fingers on the door and I stand there, not wanting to stay, but not wanting to leave either. I shift from one foot to the next.
“I hope you win,” she says quietly.
“Do you have time to take in the game?”
“I wouldn’t be able to get tickets this late.” She glances at something on her desk inside the room. “I’m here to work, anyway.”
“Okay, I hope you have a great weekend.” I put my hand on the doorframe and push off. “See you around, Em.” She tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You look uh…great. Really great actually, and I’m sorry I knocked you into the pool.”
“It’s okay.” She glances down at her wet dress before her eyes turn to me, running down the length of my body. “You look great too, Josh. The MLB has been good for you.”
“Been working on fitness and stamina,” I say for lack of anything else.
She nods, and looks away as she whispers, “You always had that.”
I walk down the hall and listen for her door to click shut. It doesn’t and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to turn around. I head to the stairs instead of the elevator, needing to burn off a bit of pent-up energy and take the steps two at a time. I make a beeline to my room, toss my bag onto the floor and collapse on the bed.
What the fuck just happened?
Oh, you just ran into—literally—the only girl you’ve ever loved, the only girl you can never have.
I take a few deep breaths and put my forearm over my eyes, wanting to block out painful memories from the past. Too bad they’re imprinted on my brain, a constant reminder that I’m not a good guy, and probably don’t deserve to play second base for Philadelphia. I’m supposed to meet the team for dinner in an hour and all I want to do is curl into a ball and fall asleep. That way I can forget about the past for a little while. Although every now and then it seeps into my dreams too.
Stomach tight, I sit up and pull my phone from my bag. I scan through my contacts and come to Liam’s number. I run my fingers over the screen, and debate on sending him a message. What would I say: Oh, just ran into Ember. Remember when you caught me fucking her?
Groaning, I toss my phone onto my bed and glance around the empty room. Last I heard from my folks, Liam had a girlfriend he was serious about. I snort out a laugh that has no humor. We always used to talk about being each other’s best man if we ever got married. Fuck, it’s been three years since we talked, and I miss him like crazy.
I miss Ember too.
I grab my phone again and find her contact. I squeeze my fingers around the phone and debate on sending her a message to apologize again, which is just an excuse to begin a conversation. I’m sure she’s changed her number too.
Honestly, it seems weird that she’s here in Houston for a course at the academy. I wanted to ask more and maybe if I run into her again I will. Seriously, though, what literature course requires her to go to Houston? I can’t help but think she was being a bit cagey. What she does and why she’s here is none of my business, even though for a second there I thought she might have come to watch the series playoffs.
I glance around the room again and a bout of loneliness hits harder than a fast ball. A lot of the guys on the team are happily married, and while I want the same, how can it happen for me? The one woman I want I can’t have. Jesus. I can’t sit staring at these four walls any longer feeling sorry for myself. I made my bed when I slept with Ember in her brother’s bed, and now I have to lie in it.
Pushing to my feet, I head to the door. Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head. I take the stairs to the main lobby, and that’s when I notice all the signs, indicating that there’s a romance conference going on at the hotel. Is this what brought her here? Is she doing a thesis on romance writing? Is that something she doesn’t want me to know about. I mean, I don’t read romance, but I certainly respect the genre, and the work that goes into writing a book. Does Em want to be a writer?
