Taking the Handoff, page 9
I stand beside her bed as the seconds tick by. The same helplessness I felt in the car creeps in until I’m completely at a loss for what to do here. Should I stay? Should I go?
Does she even want me in here with her, or would she rather be alone?
I don’t want to force my presence on her. Making up my mind, I start to head toward the door, but her hand shoots out and grips my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.
I look down at her, her eyes fierce and pleading. “Don’t go, please.”
I shake my head and sit down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll stay as long as you want me.”
She nibbles her lip and looks down at her bedspread before looking back at me. She whispers softly, “Will you hold me?”
Unable to speak because I’m dying to hold her, I immediately slide up until my back is leaning against the headboard and pull her gently into my arms. She comes willingly and snuggles against my side, her head resting on my chest.
For the first time since I got her phone call, peace fills me. I hold her close until exhaustion overwhelms me, and I finally drift off to sleep knowing she’s safe in my arms.
Fifteen
Warmth seeps through my body as the soft morning light peeks through the gap in the curtains. Luke’s heavy arm rests over my stomach holding me against his hard body, my back to his front. My eyes drift shut, and a smile fills my face as I let out a contented sigh. A part of me was worried I’d be alone when I woke up. That Luke would’ve remembered I was Drew’s little sister and fled as soon as I was asleep.
I don’t know what it means that he’s still here, but I’m grateful he is.
Yesterday feels like a distant memory—like it happened to someone else—now that I’m wrapped in the safety of Luke’s arms. Instead of wondering how long this side of Luke will last, I decide to simply bask in his warmth and comfort and cuddle with him. His breathing changes, and I know he’s awake, so I roll over to see his sleepy hazel eyes watching me carefully. He keeps one arm wrapped around me, but his fingers find their way into my hair, running through it in a soothing gesture.
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asks softly.
I take a deep breath and try to process the events from yesterday. Finally, I look at him and admit, “I should’ve listened to you.”
He doesn’t say a word, just lets me unload on him.
I tell him about how I originally planned to have Bernie come with me until she got sick and how I made the choice to keep the appointment instead of trying to reschedule because I didn’t want to miss out on what could’ve been the chance of a lifetime. “But it didn’t feel right when I got there. I should’ve listened to my gut, but I was stubborn.”
“I think he’d been drinking,” I say, looking down at his chest and replaying every moment like a movie reel. “And maybe doing drugs. There was some white residue on a table in his living room, but I don’t know if it was recent. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but not overwhelmingly so.”
Luke’s fingers curl up in a fist, and his body becomes noticeably more tense. But he still doesn’t say anything, and I’m thankful he’s letting me get it all out. I’m afraid of what it’ll do to me if I don’t.
“We went to his studio.” I roll my eyes in frustration as tears already start to fall. “I was actually relieved to see he really had one and thought I’d been silly to think the setup was sketchy.” The tears fall silently down my cheeks. “I let my guard down,” I say faintly.
“He came up behind me, grabbed me, and I froze. I just stood there. I just fucking stood there,” I repeat, my teeth clenched as my frustration morphs to anger at myself for not doing more. Not fighting him or running the hell out of there. I just stood there like a damn deer in headlights. “His hands moved over my body, and I just stood there.”
My gaze clashes with Luke’s, and my hoarse voice cracks when I whisper, “Why did I just stand there?”
He shakes his head, clearly unable to speak.
“I have a temper. I’ve fought with Drew, hell, even my parents, plenty of times, but with Jason,” I say his name with disgust, “I couldn’t. Fucking. Move. I stood there and let him touch me.” A shiver wracks my body as I relive the moment.
I look up at Luke. “All I could think about was how I should’ve listened to you.”
He shakes his head. “Em…,” his voice breaks and the helplessness he feels is unmistakable.
“I never should’ve been there. He only wanted to help me with my career if I gave him my body in return.” A hiccup escapes as I try to calm my breathing while fear consumes me. Luke pulls me close to him and whispers soothing words in my hair that barely penetrate the memories I’m now trapped in. When the fear finally subsides, I continue quietly.
“He ultimately gave me a choice, and I said no.”
Luke interrupts me. “Forcing himself on you isn’t giving you a choice.” Anger is thick in his voice, but the hand caressing my hair remains gentle and soothing.
“You’re right, but it could’ve been so much worse. When I said no again,”—I don’t tell Luke I said no many times, since he’s mad enough as it is and I’m worried he’ll actually try to go after Jason—“he called me a cock tease and then stormed out. He said he was going to blacklist me.”
I huff out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I actually think he does have the power to do that. Do you know who he is?”
Luke’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head.
“Jason Berker. He’s super famous. He’s made the career of most of the pop artists on the charts right now. He’s music’s golden boy. And it turns out he’s also a total sleaze.”
I look at him, worry in my eyes, finally voicing the thought that ran through my head on repeat all night long once I was finally in the safety of Luke’s house and arms. “How many other women do you think he’s done that to? How many of those chart-topping pop artists were assaulted by him?” My voice cracks as more tears gather in my eyes.
Luke pulls me closer to him and hugs me tight. I wrap my arm around his middle and snuggle into him, absorbing his warmth, scent, and comfort.
“You’re safe. He’ll never touch you again. I promise,” he says, his voice so strong and sure, he makes me believe it. I’ve never felt safer than being wrapped in his arms.
“What if he really does ruin my career before it’s ever had a chance to start?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because I won’t let him.” I hear the determination and promise in his tone, so I don’t question him further. Instead, I snuggle deeper into his embrace and close my eyes, until my body finally relaxes, and sleep takes me.
An hour later, my alarm goes off letting me know I need to start getting ready for work.
“You don’t have to go, you know. You can call in sick.”
I nestle against his chest, wishing I could stay here all day but also knowing that I need to go to work. I need things to be normal, so I’m not just lying here all day thinking about how much worse last night could’ve turned out. “I need to do this. I need it to be a normal day.”
Luke drops a tender kiss to my forehead that makes my heart ache with longing. God, how I wish he would treat me this way because he wanted to and not just because he feels bad for me. But I’m selfish and needy for his comfort, so I’ll take it all the same. After a few more minutes, I reluctantly climb out of bed and get in the shower while Luke goes down to make us breakfast.
When I come downstairs, the table is set with coffee, eggs, bacon, and fruit. We move around each other with more ease than we have in weeks—maybe ever. When I head toward the door to leave, Luke grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms, giving me a hug that lasts much longer than is appropriate between friends.
I’m definitely not complaining.
The urge to kiss him goodbye is strong, but I refuse to make my middle school dream come true right before I have to rush out the door so I’m not late for work.
Besides, if I ever get the chance to kiss Luke Carter, I plan to savor his mouth for hours.
* * *
The day passes in a blur, my body and mind torn between moments of fear as I relive my encounter with Jason last night and bliss as I remember waking up with Luke’s arms wrapped around me. I force the truth out of my mouth when Bernie, who’s thankfully feeling much better, asks me what happened with Jason. It isn’t until she goes on a rant about how he sexually assaulted me and should rot in prison that it really truly hits me.
I was sexually assaulted.
It still feels like a dream—a nightmare—that happened to someone else. Like an out-of-body experience.
But throughout the day, memories from last night hit me. When bending to clear a table, I remember the feel of Jason’s hand crawling over my body, unwanted, while I stood frozen in fear. I can practically feel his slimy hands roaming over my body.
Later, I bump into a table and instantly feel the bruise from his fingers on my hip, which sends a wave of nausea through me.
The only thing that seems to help get me through these moments is remembering everything that happened after. Luke coming when I called. Him caring for me, his tender touch and soothing voice. Being wrapped in the safety of his arms.
Worry starts to creep in as I make my way home. Will I be greeted by the Luke I left this morning? My Luke?
Or will I be greeted by Drew’s Luke? The guy just doing a solid for his best friend.
My heart aches a little at the thought.
I park the car in the driveway and shore up my defenses, prepared for the worst. My heart beats faster and faster the closer I get to the door, to the point where I stop right outside and close my eyes, inhaling a deep lungful of air in an effort to slow my heart rate.
I will survive, no matter what.
This wouldn’t be the first time Luke’s cracked my heart.
Okay, time to get in there.
I open the door and step inside, immediately hearing the ding of the microwave and inhaling the smell of fresh popcorn. Luke peeks around the corner and offers me a dazzling smile that lights up his whole face and leaves me breathless.
“Hey, perfect timing. I just cued up that movie you talked about a while back and made some popcorn. Movie night sound good to you?”
Tears burn against my eyelids, but I refuse to be the crazy girl who cries at the drop of a hat right now.
I clear my throat. “Sounds perfect.”
We snuggle on the couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and the bowl of popcorn sitting in my lap. I glance up at him when he laughs at the movie, mesmerized that this is really happening. Luke freaking Carter is holding me.
His arm never moves away, not the entire time the movie plays. When it ends, he stands up, puts the bowl on the coffee table, and then holds his hand out to me to help me off the couch. We walk together upstairs, and when we reach my door, I feel panic seize me.
I don’t want this night to end.
I don’t want this perfect bubble of bliss we’ve found ourselves in to pop.
But I also don’t want him to reject me.
I grab my door handle and then turn to him. Finding as much courage as I can muster, I grab his hand and whisper, “Will you hold me while I sleep again?”
His gaze softens, and his lips quirk up in the smallest semblance of a smile. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and then leans down and places a delicate kiss against my forehead.
My eyes close at the feel of his lips and warm breath against my skin. The tender gesture makes me fall for him even more.
“Sure,” he breathes.
My heart soars, and I smile at him, pulling him gently into the room behind me and knowing that something has definitely shifted between us.
Now, all I can hope is that it stays this way.
Sixteen
The sound of the snap rushes through my ears, and I move immediately toward the ball. The grips on my gloves make contact as I take the handoff and run like my life depends on it down the field. A linebacker comes straight for me, and as he dives toward my stomach to take me down, I shift my direction. My body barely slides by him before I push myself forward as fast as my legs can carry me. Wind whips past me, but I barely notice it, the screams from the crowd washing over me and encouraging me further. When I pass the line marking the end zone, I throw the ball down and fist my hands at my side screaming, adrenaline pumping furiously through my body. I raise my arms at the crowd, and they go wild.
My cheeks hurt from the force of my smile, and my body feels lighter than air as I soak in the praise from our fans. I live for this moment.
Of course, I’m also on a high that’s all Emma. We’ve fallen into a routine in the past week. We both go about our day—her working or playing music and me either at practice or dealing with other football responsibilities—then come home and snuggle on the couch while we watch movies we find interesting or funny TV shows. But my favorite part of the night—the part I can barely admit to myself—is when Emma asks me to hold her. Every night for a week, I’ve fallen asleep holding her in my arms, breathing in her lilac scent as we both drift off after a long day.
I’ve never been so intimate with a woman without actually getting intimate. I never touch her apart from wrapping my arm around her shoulder while we watch TV or holding her close when we sleep. I never take advantage of the trust she’s placed in me. No wandering hands while she sleeps or pushing for anything. Just holding her is enough. It’s left me revitalized in a way I’ve never experienced before.
In fact, my life would be fucking perfect if it weren’t for Drew hanging over my head like a storm cloud. Despite how perfectly Emma fits in my arms—like she was always supposed to be there—it still feels like a massive betrayal to Drew. He doesn’t know about her assault. She begged me not to tell him, saying he’d just end up on a flight down here and would then need bail money after dealing with Jason. She’s not wrong. Drew would definitely react the same way I wanted to. He’s protective of the people he loves, which adds another layer of guilt when I remember how he protected me once upon a time and all that I owe him for that sacrifice.
I reluctantly let go of the idea that I could take down the shitty producer, after I made a call to my attorney asking for his advice. He said without any evidence it would become a he-said-she-said and wouldn’t result in anything. It was disappointing to hear but also not surprising. I can only hope karma hits him like a son of a bitch someday.
Since I can’t destroy the man who hurt her, I’ve thrown myself into caring for Emma every chance I get and showing her she’s protected and safe.
I thought it would be harder to be her friend. I’ve never been friends with a woman before, and I never expected it to be so easy or feel like this. It could be enough just being her friend.
Probably.
Maybe.
Except you’re not supposed to get boners for your friends, right? That’s probably a big red flag in the friendship arena.
“Nice touchdown, man!” A hard slap to the back snaps me back into the moment. Matt gives me a high five and we run off to the sidelines, letting the defense do their thing. I’m on fire the rest of the game, scoring another touchdown before the game is over.
My victory high is still in full effect when I come home and find Emma asleep on the couch. I try to tamp down the adrenaline still pumping fiercely through me, but the sight of Emma just ramps up everything I’m feeling.
God, she’s beautiful. I sometimes wonder if she realizes how beautiful she is, inside and out. She dresses confident and acts confident, but there are moments I’ll catch a look in her eye, something that tells me she’s maybe not one hundred percent there yet. I’d give anything to be able to tell her she’s beautiful, but I feel like that definitely crosses the friendship line.
And I cannot, under any circumstances, cross that line.
I grab a throw blanket from the hall closet and drape it carefully over her body. Her face is slack and her expression serene. This might be the most peaceful I’ve ever seen her. My fingers itch to touch her, and before I’m even fully aware of it, my hand reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.
She lets out a soft hum that causes my heart to beat faster. Part of me wants her to wake up and be in this moment with me, to tell me I’m not crazy for wanting her. But the other part—the bigger part—doesn’t want her to know I ever gave in to the temptation to touch her. It would be cruel to tease her with the taste of something that can never happen.
It would be cruel to tease us both.
With one more longing stare, I back away from the couch, turn off the TV, and head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and some food. Not surprisingly, leftovers with a small bright blue Post-it note with my name on it sit on the shelf at eye level as soon as I open the door. A smile spreads across my face. She does this for me all the time, and yet I’m always somehow mildly surprised when I see it. It’s just another small way that Emma takes care of those around her, those she cares about.
She cares about me.
The thought shouldn’t hit me as hard as it does. I’ve known for years that she had a crush on me growing up. Does she still? Am I being cruel by being her friend?
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to hurt her. God, that’s the last fucking thing I want to do. Maybe I can’t be friends with Emma. Maybe that would be pushing things too far. It might give her hope that something can happen when she has to know nothing ever can. My loyalty is with Drew. It has to be with Drew. He’s been my friend and my lifeline my entire life. Hell, he’s the reason I even have all that I have.
I close the fridge, leaving the leftovers in their place. I’ve lost my appetite anyway. It shouldn’t hit me this hard. I’ve always known I couldn’t have her. Since the first moment this spark of attraction flared to life, I’ve known.
Then why do I feel so gutted that she can never truly be mine?
