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She knew it, too. She’d looked at him with worried eyes the last couple of nights when they met up after the games. He’d shrugged it off and told her not to worry, but he knew she had. And, he had a feeling it wasn’t simply because she wanted him to play well or because she felt concern for him. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that he was going to leave her, and that raked at his heart. But, he needed to focus on what mattered. She was a good luck kiss and nothing more. After a month, that luck had run its course.
That afternoon, he didn’t go to her for his pregame kiss. He kept his head down and focused on the game. A game he played for shit in and a game his team lost. He didn’t go to her after the game either. Instead, he texted her like a freaking wuss, telling her that he had a car waiting to take her home. That he needed to focus on his game right now.
If he’d thought she would go quietly and let him slip away, he was an idiot. Even more of an idiot than he was for leaving her in the first place.
Chapter Eleven
Ashlyn blinked back the tears on the ride back to her house. She’d known this was coming, and she’d done her best to prepare herself for it, but damn it hit her hard anyway. She wouldn’t cry in front of the driver who’d been tasked with taking her home, though. Seeing his sympathetic glances in the rearview mirror of the Town Car was bad enough. She watched the scenery whisk by the windows and thanked him when he dropped her at the entrance to her apartment complex. He offered to walk her upstairs, but she declined. The apartment common areas were well lit and she’d never had to worry about her safety here.
She wanted to be alone right now. But, when she stepped into her too quiet apartment and looked around, she realized she was wrong. She didn’t want to be alone after all. She wanted to get her feelings off her chest. She had gone from being a woman who couldn't tell a man what she needed, toneedingto tell Rafe what she wanted. She grabbed her purse and keys, locking up on her way out, and then drove the twenty minutes to Rafe’s home.
He took a while to answer the door and when he did, she was satisfied to see he looked just as bad as she felt.
She didn’t make any attempt to enter and he didn’t invite her in. Hands on her hips, she shook her head at him.
“You’re a complete ass. A first class idiot.”
He didn’t argue, just watched her, eyes wary and guarded.
“You think you’re running because your game is suffering and it’s time to change your routine, but you’re just scared because you found a lot more than you bargained for in this deal, didn’t you? And, the thought that you might have feelings for me, that you might want more out of this than just sex, has you running scared.”
She just kept shaking her head at him. It was all she could do because as she stood here and voiced what she’d known in her heart for longer than she’d care to admit, she felt that heart crack in two. She wanted more from him. She wasn’t just falling, she’d fallen all the way and there was no getting back up from this.
“Running scared because you’re too chicken to give this a chance,” she said, her voice quiet as the sight of him watching her in utter silence was more than she could handle. “And, the funny thing is, the thing that you’re too blind to figure out, is that you don’t need all those routines to play well, Rafe. They just give you the power to believe in yourself and your game. They’re just a crutch because you’re not strong enough to believe in yourself without them, and that’s just sad.”
She didn’t tell him she loved him. As much as she’d learned about speaking out about her needs and her feelings, there wouldn't be any point. It wouldn’t bring him back to her. He was already gone.
Ashlyn turned on the steps and walked back to her car, realizing she shouldn’t have come. There was nothing she could say to him to change his mind, to make him admit he needed her for more than a pregame kiss.
If she’d secretly hoped he would run after her, call her back and tell her he wanted her, wanted the picket fence and the family and the whole damned dream, she would have been disappointed. She heard the front door of his house shut before she even reached her car. He shut the door on any hope she’d had of bringing him back to her. She didn’t make it through the drive home this time without tears. They streamed down her face as she drove, each heart-wrenching minute of the drive agony as she moved further away from the man she loved.
Chapter Twelve
Rafe’s game went downhill from there. His teammates were alternating between relief he hadn’t activated the curse by falling in love with Ashlyn and suggesting other ways he could get his game back. Someone suggested he bring in a new girl to give the pregame kiss another shot. That had resulted in Rafe decking the teammate and having to pay a hefty fine to his coach for the privilege.
His teammates had pulled wins out in most of their games despite his performance, but he was at a loss as to how to turn things around this time. Not to mention, half the time, his head wasn’t even focused on fixing the problem.
He was focused on Ashlyn.
He wanted to know what she was doing, if she was still hurting—and the thought that he’d hurt her gutted him. He wanted to see her, smell her, touch her. He wanted to talk to her and hold her long into the night. And his body ached for her. He had no desire to be with anyone other than her to alleviate that ache either, and that pissed him off to no end.
Rafe pulled into his driveway and saw Kane waiting for him, leaning a shoulder on the column that framed his front porch.
“Hey.” Rafe stepped warily from the car.
“Hey yourself, jerkwad.”
Rafe flinched. Kane was nothing if not direct and, apparently, he had as many opinions about Rafe’s state of mind as Rafe’s teammates did.
But friend or not, Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He shoved past Kane and opened the door, stalking to the kitchen for a drink without checking to see if Kane was following him. When he turned around, water bottle in hand, Kane was behind him. He handed the water to Kane and turned back to grab another from the fridge for himself. What he really wanted was a beer but he didn’t drink during the season as a general rule, and with the way his game was going, breaking that rule right now would be foolish.
“I don’t feel like talking about my game, Kane. I’m getting enough crap from everyone else in my world. I don’t need it from you.”
“Good,” said Kane as he shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not here to talk about the game.”
Rafe walked to the living room and tossed himself down on the couch, gesturing to Kane to take the chair opposite him. Kane stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked at Rafe.
“I came to talk about what a fudge graham you are.”
