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I got undressed, put on one of Van’s T-shirts and fell into a deep sleep the minute my head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER 12
Van
As I driveby my house, I frown seeing that Simone’s car isn’t parallel parked in front. I glance to the other side of the street, in my mirrors to see if I passed it.
Maybe she parked in the back alley by my single-car garage but that would be foolish. It’s dark back there with only one streetlamp on the corner for the entire short street. I’ve never specifically told her not to park back there because I was trying not to initiate contact or show her my concern but I assumed she was smart enough not to. Plus, she’s been parked out front every single day since arriving.
I circle the block and my frown deepens as I note Simone’s car isn’t there.
Which means she’s not home, and that means she’s out somewhere. My eyes drop to the dashboard clock. It’s almost two a.m. I had a game in Atlanta tonight—an out-and-back—and my ass is dragging. I want nothing more than to pass out in my bed for some solid sleep, but I’m so irritated by Simone not being here, I know sleep won’t be in my future.
I park, close the garage behind me and walk through the door that leads into the backyard. All the homes here have stand-alone garages at the back of the property. Great to protect your car from the elements but sucks if you have to walk through the backyard in snow or rain. Luckily, there’s no precipitation and it’s a relatively mild evening in the upper forties. Despite the nice chill in the air, my blood is boiling as I slog up the steps to the kitchen door.
I’m just about to slip my key in the lock when a light comes on in the kitchen. Not the overhead light, but the one from the refrigerator door, and it illuminates Simone standing before it perusing the shelves, which would be empty except for the groceries she buys.
I go still, watching her. Her back is to me and it gives me the opportunity to drink her in. To watch her without her knowing. I spend so much time lately averting my gaze from her, this feels like a refreshing drink of water after being out in the sun all day.
She’s wearing one of my T-shirts—Dartmouth Hockey—and it comes to mid-thigh, absolutely swallowing her up. Simone always wore my shirts at home and that strikes something deep within me.
Mostly, though, I’m relieved to see her standing there and not out with God knows who, doing God knows what. I know how fucked up that is since I’ve given her no reason to be at home waiting for me. Quite the opposite, I’ve pushed her away at every chance, except for that one mistake I made three nights ago when she came on my tongue.
My dick pulses just thinking about it.
Slipping my key in the lock, I turn it and Simone looks my way. She can see me clearly through the glass panes and with the porch light casting enough illumination. I can only see half her face from the glow of the refrigerator, the other side shadowed. I see enough, though, to know she doesn’t smile at me or look in the mood to talk, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved.
Simone turns back to stare inside the fridge as I enter the house. I close and lock the door behind me and because she’s usually all up in my space trying to get me to interact with her, I’m momentarily dumbfounded that she’s ignoring me.
I can’t fucking help myself. “What are you doing up?”
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” she replies, reaching in to grab some yogurt.
“Why not?” I wince internally, berating myself for asking the question.Just walk away, Van.
Simone moves over to the counter, sets the cup of yogurt down and rummages through a drawer for a spoon. Her back is to me. “Got in a car accident today. By the time I got home from the emergency room I was exhausted so I went to sleep. Just woke up.”
She says it all so blandly, like it’s not a big deal, but I feel like I’m about to blow a circuit.
“You were in a car accident?” I demand, flipping on the overhead light. “Are you okay?”
She turns to glance at me over her shoulder, her fingers working at tearing the top off the yogurt. “Just banged up a bit, but I’m fine. The car, not so much.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I toss my keys down and drop my duffel on the floor. I move to her, letting my eyes run over what visible skin I can see.
And right there, her left elbow is mottled black and blue. Carefully, I take her arm to examine it. “Is this it?”
She leans to the side, glances down at her left leg and lifts the T-shirt to reveal a bruise on her hip. “I got hit in the driver’s side door by a truck. Just a few bruises. Nothing broken.”
“No one called me.” I’m not sure why that bothers me, but it does.
She shrugs without explaining why I was left in the dark. Reluctantly, I let her arm go and she turns away. I’m puzzled that I’m not getting more from her. This is the perfect time for her to get attention from me because I’m obviously worried. She could milk this. Simone would merely need to tell me that she feels weird all over her body and I’d examine it to make sure the doctors didn’t miss something. I’d fall for it, too, not just because I will love her until my dying day, but because after touching her the other night, all I can think about is getting my hands on her again. The proximity to her right now has me half-hard.
Why the hell isn’t she using this against me?
“You’re sure you’re okay?” I press.
“Fine,” she murmurs, dipping her spoon into the yogurt and staring down at the container as she brings it to her mouth.
