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I pull his T-shirt over my head and pad out into the hall, sure I’ll find him scarfing down a bag of gummy bears in the kitchen. He stocks my cupboards something fierce. Lance eats a lot of candy despite it not being on his meal plan.
When I reach the landing, I can hear his voice, low and aggravated. I descend a few steps and pause again.
“No. That’s not happening. I don’t want to see you. There’s nothing to talk about.”
There’s a pause, and I can see him pacing the length of living room. “I’ll block this number like I did the last one… No—I will never fucking forgive you if you—why can’t you let me have this? Why do you want to fuck this up for me?”
He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Stop fucking with my head. I told you I was done.”
He drops down into a crouch, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Goddamn it. You made it this way. Not me. You. Stop calling and stay away from me.”
He hangs up the phone and drops it on the floor. It starts buzzing again almost immediately. He makes a low, deep sound in his throat and grabs his hair with both hands, pulling hard. It can’t feel good.
I take another step down the stairs, hitting the one that creaks on purpose. He drops his hand and unfurls from his crouch, spinning around to face me.
“Who’s calling in the middle of the night?” I look to his phone, lighting up on the floor.
“Fucking telemarketers,” he lies. He snatches it up off the floor and powers it down, then tosses it roughly on the coffee table. I wonder if it was DO NOT FUCKING REPLY. I should ask, but I’m afraid to know.
“I thought maybe you went looking for gummy bears.” I try to make my smile even. I’m not sure how successful I am.
“I’m not hungry for gummies any more.” His hands ball into fists and then open as he stalks up the stairs.
His eyes are full of pain and fear. I feel it cracking open my heart.
“I need to be in you. I need you to let me get inside you.”
“Are you okay?” I should demand the truth, make him open up and give me more, but I’m also scared of pushing him too far when he’s like this.
“I want to be.”
I run my hands up his bare chest, giving in to him, though I know that may not be my wisest move. “And I’ll make it better?”
He cups my cheeks in his palms, kisses me tenderly and rests his forehead against mine. “Yes.”
As much as I want to know more, I want this, too. His need for me is heady.
“Then you should take me back to bed so I can do that for you.”
He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carries me up the stairs. Shortly thereafter, he makes me come three times. He tells me he needs me, this, us.
And I want to believe him—I think he’s telling the truth—but I’m so scared.
Because I’ve fallen now, and someone else seems to have a hold on him.CHAPTER 21HEAD GAMES
LANCE
I get it now. I’ve found someone who consumes my world, so I don’t say anything to Miller about the excessive display of affection he’s engaged in right now. Instead, I grab his bag from his front porch and toss it into the back of my Hummer while he cradles baby Logan in one arm and close-talks Sunny with the other.
I get his bad moods. I get why he’s quiet and anxious these days. This thing with Poppy is new, and Miller and Sunny have been together for a long time now, but the restlessness that’s settled in my chest is directly related to leaving Poppy this morning. And knowing I won’t see her for five days dampens the usual excitement of the games. Miller must feel this times a million.
Randy tosses Miller’s equipment on top of mine, and I use my shoulder to force the door shut.
“Two minutes, Butterson,” I call, and then Randy and I get back in the Hummer and wait.
My phone goes off, so I check it, thinking maybe it’s Poppy messaging me between appointments. It’s not, it’s unknown. “Fuckin’ell.”
Randy looks up from his own phone. “What’s up?”
“Tash.”
“Why don’t you just block her?”
“I did. She got a new phone. Or another one. I don’t fucking know.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She won’t let up. It’s been pretty constant since all the pictures of me and Poppy showed up.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit is right. She wants to meet up and talk when we’re in LA, which is Tash-speak for fucking with my head. I told her no, but she always does what she wants.”
“You think she’ll show up anyway?”
“I don’t know. Probably. She’ll want to see the team, right? It’s like she wants to screw this up for me.”
