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"You have practice."
"Fuck practice."
"Kris."
He turns those eyes on me, his expression implacable. "Fuck practice, Kelsey. I'm taking you home."
I don't bother arguing anymore. It won't get me anywhere.
By the time Krischanges into street shoes, and we hit the road, I'm fighting to stay awake. The medication for the dizziness and nausea always makes me sleepy.
Luckily, I don't have to take it often.
Kris pulls up in front of my house twenty minutes later and hops out of his truck without a word. We haven't spoken at all since he helped me into the truck. I don't know what to say. There aren't enough apologies in the world to cover this scenario.
He circles around to the passenger side while I'm still fighting with the seatbelt. Before I can even get the stupid thing unlatched, he's got my door open.
"I've got you," he says, lifting me as if I weigh nothing.
I should argue with him, but I don't. I just nestle in his arms and let him carry me to the front door. There will be plenty of time to miss him later. God knows, I've done enough of that for the last month and a half. I've been completely miserable since I ran off and left him in the conference room.
Seeing him hurts. Thinking about him hurts. I feel like falling out of remission is my punishment for letting him go. Or maybe I'm falling out of remission because I've made myself sick agonizing over the fact that I let him go. I don't know anymore.
"Where are your keys?" he asks as he carries me up the steps to my white bungalow. Unlike the guys on the team, I don't live in a mansion surrounded by gates. My house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by acres of trees. It's quiet and peaceful. Most mornings, I find deer or rabbits in the backyard. I gave up trying to keep the squirrels and raccoons out of the bird feeders last year. They're too smart for me.
I gave up trying to keep plants alive too. All the plants in pots on the porch are fake. Even the flowers in the flowerboxes on the windowsill are fake. I don't have a green thumb, but I like how they look.
"Don't need one. There's a code." I breathe him in, letting him settle in my lungs. "1219."
He grunts and rearranges me before punching the code into the smart lock. The door beeps as the lock cycles and then beeps again when it springs free, allowing him to push it open.
He carries me inside without a word.
"You can put me down now."
"Why that code?" he asks, carrying me straight through the living room and down the hallway. He peers into my home office and the home gym I rarely use before dismissing both rooms. He dismisses the guestroom and bathroom too. As soon as he finds my room, he carries me inside, heading straight for the bed.
Having him in my space should feel strange, but it doesn't. Everything is soft purple and feminine, but he doesn't look out of place. My room has always been my safe place, my shelter. I push myself hard every day, refusing to let my disease slow me down or define me. But I made this room a haven for the days when it knocks me flat. I like the room better with him in it.
He eclipses the small space, bringing it to life in a way it never has been before now.
He pulls the covers back before gently depositing me in the bed.
I sink into the luxurious mattress, fighting to keep my eyes open.
"Why that code, Kelsey?" he growls, watching me intently.
He knows the answer. I know he does. But he's going to make me say it anyway.
"Because it's your birthday. Because I never stop thinking about you either, Kris."
"Jesus."
My eyes drift close.
Chapter Six
Kris
