Page 91 of Courtside

When David saw the beat up silver sedan in the Humphrey Center parking lot, he was overwhelmed with the need to both punch a wall and burst into tears. Probably at the same time.

He ran toward the practice gym. With every step, hurt and fear twisted into anger, and by the time David flung open the double doors, he waslivid. Fucking livid and raw around the edges, like his whole body was a fresh bruise that had spent the past day being repeatedly poked and prodded.

But no matter how hot his rage burned, seeing Sage Fogerty whole and healthy threatened to bring him to his knees. Everything from the flush of her bare arms to the swing of her ponytail was a reminder that she was beautiful and she was okay.

Thank God, Lefty. Thank fucking God she was okay.

Now that he’d confirmed that her heart was still beating and all of her limbs were intact, David marched over to where she was shooting. He went straight to the basket, perfectly timing his arrival so that he could snatch the ball out of the net.

He knew she was going to make it.

For a brief second he considered the ball in his hands. It felt light — a women’s ball, he realized — and the leather was worn and soft against his fingertips.

Using all of his strength, David cocked back his arm and threw the ball as far as he could across the gym. He watched as it bounced once, twice, three times, before rolling and coming to a stop in the distant corner.

Well. That felt pretty damn good.

Letting out a heavy breath, he turned back to Sage, who stood at the top of the key with her hands braced on her hips and her mouth gaping as she stared at him.

“When are you going to get it through your stubborn, beautiful head that you can’t just disappear on me?” His voice came out in a low growl, raw and unrestrained.

Sage’s dark brows knit together, and he could see a response on the tip of her tongue.

“You can’t do that,” he went on, his head shaking as he tried to catch his breath. “I didn’t know where you were, and when you didn’t respond…” His hand tore through his hair, the sharp pain as he caught on a knot bringing a flare of focus with it. “I thought you weredead, Sage. I called and called and got nothing.”

He could see her expression shift, defiance melting into pained regret. “I just needed to be alone for a bit,” Sage said softly.

David let out a laugh that sounded more like a canine whine in his ears. “You…I…Sage?”

Breathing wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it?

“David.”

Sage’s face hovered in front of him. She looked panicked, her green eyes — so goddamn green — darted back and forth. He thought he felt her hands on his arms, and he wondered why someone who’s cheeks were so pink and full of life had hands as cold as ice.

“David,” she pleaded. “Fuck, David. Please, what do you need?”

Someone was wheezing, and David wanted to tell them to shut the hell up with the racket, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air. Firm hands gripped his shoulders and he crumpled, legs folding under him regardless of his furious command for them towork, stay up, don’t let her see you like this.

But then his ass hit the floor and the air was too cold against his cheeks, and he reached for her. Hands stretched out and grasping, because even through the fog he knew that there was someone there who could make it better.

The skin of her neck was still sticky with sweat when he buried his face there, arms wrapping her up and holding her tightly against him. He felt her weight, heavy on his lap, holding him in place, and her body stayed strong, steady, even when he curled in on her.

“I’ve got you,” Sage said softly, her finger-tips tracing up and down his back. “I’m here, and I’ve got you.”

At some point he remembered how to breathe. He identified the natural light streaming in from the high windows and the expanse of hardwood floor beneath him. He tried to match his breaths to the steady rise and fall of the chest that was pressed against his, but quickly gave up. The woman breathed like oxygen was optional — slow, unhurried, and patient.

When he inhaled, his lungs filled to their full capacity.That was good. The exhale that followed was just as complete.

David drew back. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat against the rasp in his voice. “This isn’t…I don’t do this.”

Sage sat back on her heels, still straddling his lap. “Talk to me, David.” The look in her eyes was so concerned, so careful, and he hated that. Hated that she looked at him like he was broken.

And while a part of him wanted to offer some sort of reassurance that he was fine, a louder voice demanded honesty. If he was really going to try to do this with Sage Fogerty, he needed her to understand this — to understandhim.

“When I was a senior I was named captain of the team,” he started, looking around at the gym that hadn’t changed beyond repainted lines and fresh nets. “I was so goddamn proud. I’m sure I was annoying as shit. Just ask Chuck.”

Sage’s lips twitched into a tentative smile. “I can only imagine.”

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