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The next thing I know, I feel knuckles brushing against my cheek. When I open my eyes, I find Austin crouching down beside me, smiling.
“Hey,” I manage, still half-asleep and rubbing at my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Umm, a little after five.”
“Oh, wow.” I push myself up till my back rests along the arm of the couch and slide my legs up. I wince at the tightness of my muscles. There is definitely a menthol bath with my name on it later.
Austin moves the laundry basket to the floor and takes a seat next to me.
“What did I tell you about pushing yourself too hard, huh?” he asks as he rests his arm on the back of the couch, and I scoot into the space beside him.
Closing his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me into his chest. I soak in the warmth of being in his arms. There’s comfort and safety as I listen to the beat of his heart. He smells like his Irish Spring bodywash, so he must have showered before he woke me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know, as my best friend, you’re supposed to be nice to me.”
His deep laugh vibrates throughout my body. Austin tips my chin upward with his finger. “No, as your best friend, I’m supposed to tell you the truth.”
We settle in and watch the chefs run through the aisles of Target, looking for food to cook.
Austin groans. “Why do you always get me to watch these shows? I ate my face off earlier, and now my stomach is already growling.”
“Because you love me.”
He rests his head on top of mine as he whispers, “That I do.”
A lump forms in my throat as sadness washes over me knowing at one point there was more behind those three words for him. I wish things were different for Austin and me. I would have loved to have given him my heart. Austin deserves someone who can love him unconditionally. He has a heart of gold, and the woman who sweeps him off his feet one day, well, she is a lucky woman.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, my heart still belongs to the only person who has ever owned it—the same person who broke it into a million pieces.
Chapter 5
Cooper
Sweatdripsfrommybrow as I walk through the back door and head straight for the fridge. I guzzle down the bottle of water in one go. Jesus, I know I’m not out of shape, but this was worse than any team conditioning session. Maybe I should have accepted my father’s help when he came out two hours ago and offered, but I let my pride get in the way and told him it was a piece of cake.
Why did I agree to help Dad with the few projects outside?
For the last five days, I’ve done nothing but manual labor around here. My dad’s honey-do list has only grown over the years. Some tasks I’m sure have been on there since I was a kid. I’ve tried to keep my mind and my hands busy by helping him cross things off one task at a time. I’ve pushed myself past my limits so that by the time I make my way to bed in the evening, my eyes are closed before my head even hits the pillow.
The delicious aroma from the gumbo Mama has simmering on the stove has my stomach growling, screaming,Feed me, feed me.
I’m halfway to the living room to tell Dad I finished replacing the broken posts on the back fence when a familiar voice has me stopping in my tracks.
“Well, you have to wonder if the Knights’ loss and end of the season has anything to do with the recent release of pitcher Cooper Graham,” the distinct voice of sportscaster Emory “The Captain” Sherman says.
What the hell?
I quicken the pace of my steps, making it to the living room in just a few long strides. Dad is sitting in his favorite recliner with his feet propped up. In the television’s reflection, I can see his head hanging to the side, sound asleep. If that wasn’t enough, the soft sounds of his snoring linger in the air. Falling asleep to sports—some things never change.
I remain back in the shadows but close enough to still hear what they’re discussing on the show. Although, I’m pretty sure the neighbors who are miles away could hear with the volume of the television.
“Don’t get me started on him. He clearly was only thinking about himself when he threw that punch that cost him his career.”
“Yeah, but let’s face it, he’s always had his behavior in the spotlight. Tabloids and Cooper Graham went hand in hand.” The men on the screen laugh, and I grind the back of my teeth together. Those fuckers hide behind their stupid-looking, expensive suits and cameras.
“Ha, we all can’t forget the one—” He cuts himself off. I’m sure his ass would be handed to him by his bosses if he brought that up on national television. I thought this show was about sports, not fucking gossip.
“Look,” the Captain says with his hands splayed out on the counter in front of him. The seriousness in his features has me craning my neck from side to side, telling myself not to punch a hole in the TV. “All I’m saying is that he clearly didn’t think it through how his actions would affect his teammates, and I think, more than anything, he could be the reason they lost their game against the Diamonds. The major change in the team lineup, I assume, shifted the team morale and focus.”
