Oh, fuck.
I halted, my heart jackhammering against my chest bone as I stared at him. My gut cramped, and my hands grew clammy. I was beginning to panic, but I couldn’t stop it. My teammates couldn’t know about us yet. They would alienate me, and we were at a crucial point in the season. We literally had the fucking championship game in two days. A rift in our team could ruin our chances of scoring that win.
“Why is he here?” Wesley, one of my teammates, asked, looking at me with a frown.
“I—” I couldn’t make my throat or my lips work enough to form more words.
“We’re together,” Rafe bluntly stated as he made his way down the steps to me, his eyes locked on mine. “And he was fucking ignoring me, and I’m not a fan of my man ignoring me.”
Wesley’s frown deepened as Rafe grabbed my hand and linked our fingers together. Despite being irate, he comfortingly squeezed my fingers and pulled me closer, pressing our sides together. My heart rate slowed some, and I felt like I could breathe a little easier. He was handling this situation so I wouldn’t have to.
“You okay with him being here?” Wesley asked me. “Because we’ll send him on his damn way if you don’t.”
“I’d like to fucking—” Rafe growled, his eyes narrowed at Wesley, but I cut him off, thankful I could find my words again.
“He’s okay,” I rasped. Looking at Rafe, I said, “I was asleep. I wasn’t ignoring you. I was going to text you back once I got here.”
He hummed, narrowing his eyes at me. “You opened my texts.”
I sighed, too tired for this. “I did, yeah,” I agreed. “But I just wanted to get home, Rafe. I’m fucking exhausted.” And it was all his fault, though I didn’t dare say that out loud with so many of my teammates standing around.
I grunted in surprise when Rafe suddenly began tugging me through my teammates and into the house. “Then we’ll get you to bed. And later when you’ve had some sleep, we’ll do something about you ignoring me.”
One of the guys laughed from behind me, and my cheeks colored red. But I still allowed Rafe to tug me into the house, and once I told him where my room was, he led me down the hall and pushed open my door. As soon as the door was shut behind us, he tugged my hoodie over my head with my shirt, then shoved my shorts and boxers down, leaving me naked as I toed my shoes and socks off.
“Bed,” he rumbled, jerking his chin in the direction of my twin-sized bed.
“We won’t fit,” I muttered but made my way to the bed, nonetheless.
“We will,” he said, his voice filled with confidence as he shucked his own clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Usually, that would irritate me, but I was too tired to care. I just wanted sleep… and skin-to-skin contact with Rafe.
Once I was on my back on the bed, Rafe squeezed in next to me on his side and tugged the blankets over us. With one leg tossed over mine and his arm over my torso, he rested his head on my chest. Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, holding him close.
“Go to sleep,” he said quietly when I yawned. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
I couldn’t stop the stupid, dopey smile from tilting my lips even if I tried.
“Good,” I whispered.
Epilogue
Rafe
I slid my key into the lock and turned it before pushing my way into the apartment I shared with Finch. Toeing my shoes off by the front door, I took notice that Finch’s shoes were haphazardly tossed there, not organized in the row he usually kept our shoes in.
The house was silent apart from a basketball game playing on TV. When I glanced at it, I saw Damien running across the court, the ball in his possession. Finch tried to catch all of Damien’s games now that his old teammate had gone pro, but one look at the couch told me Finch had missed the majority of the game.
My man was passed out on our leather sofa, one leg stretched out, the other draped down toward the floor. He had one arm across his flat stomach, and the other was thrown over his head. His face was turned toward the back of the couch, and his lips were parted, soft snores escaping. Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, and his cheeks were red.
Frowning, I set my bag down and moved closer to him, pressing my fingers to his forehead. He was warm to the touch, a sure sign he’d caught something from the gym he was a personal trainer at.
Kream, our orange and white cat, softly meowed at me from the back of the couch before standing and arching her back. She stepped down onto Finch’s chest, and I gently batted her away, not wanting her to disturb him. But since she was a cat—and an extra feisty, demanding one at that—she gave me a pissy meow, swatted at my hand, then launched herself onto the floor, but not before she made sure to dig all her claws into Finch’s chest.
Finch groaned and dropped his arm from above his head to his chest, rubbing at the sore, no doubt slightly bleeding claw marks. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, looking up at me.
“Why are you being a creep?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
I took a seat beside his hip on the edge of the sofa and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “How long have you been feeling bad, baby?” I asked him, still frowning.
