Page 82 of Force Play

“We get in early. I have some meetings at the stadium after we land, but I’ll pick you up, just like we talked about.”

He’s insisted on coming and driving me. It goes against all my instincts to let him help like this, but I know I shouldn’t shy away from the support, even if it feels foreign.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “Nice game tonight,” I add, desperate to take a step back from the heavy conversation. “The girls noticed your thong.”

“Well, duh, I wear the shit out of that thing.”

“So humble. How’d I get so lucky?”

“You want me to put it on and remind you just how cocky I am?” He wiggles his eyebrows. Something so ludicrous has no right looking as hot as it does.

“That’s it. This relationship was fun, but it’s over now.”

“You couldn’t quit me if you tried. Now tell me more about your nigh—” Banging in the background interrupts him mid-thought. “Hold on, that’s probably room service.” He stands from the bed, phone held out in front of him as he walks. I hear the locks click and confusion crosses his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, stepping back from the door.

From my limited view, I can see the guys filter in without waiting for an invitation.

“Seems like we have company,” Dom says, his normally sunny disposition souring at the intrusion.

“Never stopped you before,” Dean grumbles, sticking his head in view of the camera. “Hey, Indie.”

Without acknowledging his friend, I tell Dom, “So, I told the girls tonight. I hope that’s okay.”

“Fuck yeah it is. I’ve been dying to shout it from the rooftops,” he practically cheers, dropping onto the side of the bed.

“You want to deal with this and call me back?” I ask through a huff of laughter.

“No. I want to talk to my girlfriend, but Blanche and her gabbers aren’t going anywhere until I fill them in.” Hendrix proves his point by dropping on to the bed next to him.

“You have fun with that.”

“I wanted to have fun with you,” he grumbles and then we say a too-quick goodbye.

By the time Dom calls me back, I’m asleep, and the next time I hear from him is the following morning when I wake up to a panic-filled phone call because storms have them stuck on the tarmac.

As much as I try to assure him it’s okay, he’s already beating himself up over a situation that’s completely out of his control. I’m still filled with anxiety over going alone, but he’s done so much for me and I want to protect him from his own guilt. I reassure him it’s okay and I can go on my own, dreading it the whole time.

Hours later, I’m alone in the sterile waiting room of the clinic, twisting the hem of my t-shirt in my hands until it’s stretched beyond repair. I swipe my sweaty hands on my shaking thighs and try to focus on anything but how badly I want to walk back out the door. It’s the fear talking, and I’m done letting it win.

Dom took off just over two hours ago, and promised to come straight here, but there’s no way he’s going to make it. Being this close to the postseason, they have the team at the stadium almost nonstop—reviewing tape and putting in extra time with trainers to stay on top of their game. Any hope I’ve held onto is dashed when a nurse steps into the lobby from the back and calls my name. With one last glance towards the entrance, I stand, resigned to being here alone.

I’m halfway across the room when the door to the waiting room bangs open and a red-faced Dom rushes in. I’m so relieved to see him I could cry, but he’s got his arms around me before I have the chance.

I bury my face in his shirt and suck in a deep breath. When he kisses my head and whispers, “I’ve got you,” all the nerves melt away. And he means it because his hand never leaves mine, not when he holds the door for me, or when the medical assistant ties off the rubber tourniquet and draws my blood.

Chapter 33

Dom

I’ve never felt as out of control and frustrated as I did sitting on that tarmac. Even Dean noticed, asking repeatedly if everything was okay because I couldn’t stop checking the time. Now that I’m here, my whole body is still rumbling from the leftover adrenaline.

Indie might think I’m just being a dutiful boyfriend holding her hand, but my grip on her is the only thing keeping me from losing it. She fought her attraction to me with everything she had, convinced that I was this unreliable playboy, and I almost gave credence to all of that by missing this appointment.

Even if it was out of my hands, even if she said she understood, I couldn’t give her a reason to doubt me. Not with something this important. Not when we’ve come so far.

“Dr. Smith will be in to see you shortly,” the medical assistant says with a sweet smile, gathering up the tubes she collected.

The kind gesture doesn’t do anything to calm the way every muscle in my body is pulled tight like a rubber band, and seeing those vials in her hand has them close to snapping. Judging by the way Indie’s eyes dart around the room, never settling on me for more than just a second, she’s feeling the same way.

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