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It’s somehow almost reminiscent of me. Before Lake, I wasn’t full in any sense of the word. My life, as amazing as it is, has been difficult. I’ve ridden around on empty since before becoming an adult. Finding ways to make ends meet, climbing this mountain of debt, scrambling to stretch out one more mile before the metaphorical car died. But here he is, filling me with what I was missing all these years.
Love of my own.
It can’t be love.
I chew on my bottom lip, looking away from the dash to nervously face him again, needing some sort of clarification.It can’t be love.My heart is in my stomach, my stomach on the floor.
His cocky grin has dropped. There's a shift in energy as he slowly slides his hand to the steering wheel to peel mine off of it. He brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles gently as I mouth a silent 'thank you', the tears threatening to pool. The simple gesture somehow speaks to the deepest part of me.
The words he whispered to me in his truck find me again, ringing through my head.You deserve to be looked after, too. Even if you find yourself hating the idea.
He wants to. He wants to take care of me so badly it's killing him. Especially knowing what his net worth is and how much financially he has to offer. But Lake doesn't flaunt it. Nor would I want it. He’s never been the type to showcase that reality, especially not in my presence. It’s as if the money he makes is just a side-effect of the career he happens to be passionate about. But the truth of the matter is there.
It's hard for me to accept things from people. Motives, maliciousness, and selfish gains—words that slide into my head from a past that still haunts me. But Lake's making it so those words never held meaning. He's rewriting what it means to be a man in my book. The definition, becoming something worthy of this open heart.
We finally arrive at the indoor training facility, the same place they held the Special Olympics, the same place Greg told me I was headed before leaving work with Lake. He instructed me to feel out the place while I was there. His excitement for that surprisingly overpowered the invite to his latest Pampered Chef party.
But I don’t understand why Greg told me to feel out the place. It's not as if this would become my workplace. Would it?
I try to push down the feeling of excitement that lingers in my stomach. The dream job. Right here before me. However exciting, I can't allow hopes and dreams to rule me. And a small part of me feels like I'm cheating at achieving the dream, knowing that Lake had something to do with getting my foot in this door.
Getting into the overwhelmingly spacious facility, I'm shocked to see no one inside. The cool, dark space becomes illuminated as Lake turns on the lights, returning from a backroom. I breathe in the smell of the turf, an overwhelming scent of plastic and rubber filling my nostrils. The cool cement of the surrounding walls sends a chill up my coat-covered back.
“Ready?” Lake asks, sneaking up behind me as I take in the indoor field that's becoming brighter by the second as the lights kick on around me.
I melt when I feel his body seal to mine, the sensation already so familiar and wanted. His hands slide around to the front of my hips while he nuzzles me from behind.
“For...what, exactly?” I ask as his five o'clock shadow gently brushes against my neck, causing my heart to thud loudly.
“Practice, Chief.” I feel his smirk against my ear.
“There’s no one here,” I comment, looking around.
He loosens his grip on my hips and jogs around me, turning so he's now lightly walking backwards with a football in hand. Without explaining himself, he watches me with amusement.
“C'mon Crawford.” He smiles with a simple nod. “I know you can juke,” he says, cocking a brow, “but what can that arm do?”
Without warning, he tosses me the ball and I fumble to catch it. Dropping my keys, I grip the oblong end of it in one hand.
“Quick hands,” he says with surprise.
I slump my coat off, chucking it on the metal stands nearby. With determination in my movements, I head out on that turf.
I'll show him what this arm can do.
But I'll make it worthwhile in the process.
My wheels begin turning as an idea comes to mind.
“I got a game for you,” I taunt, tossing the ball in the air before me, watching as it spirals smoothly before I catch it again.
His brow arches, holding back that smile that wants to push through at the sight of me handling this ball with such ease.
“Let’s see what you got, Decker,” I tease.
43
Lake
