Page 122 of Loving the Legend
He wasn’t due home for two more days.
A few seconds later, the bathroom door closes in the hallway. I drag my head under the covers, then scold myself for being a coward and drag myself back out. I take a deep breath. Of all the days for him to come home…today was rough. I mustered the energy to peel myself out of bed and work out. One second, I was increasing the speed on the treadmill heading into my fifth mile; the next, I was hunched in the corner, choking for air before everything went dark. I woke with a start, stretched out on the floor with Lily’s concerned face hovering over me. I was so confused—I still am, honestly. I don’t recall passing out. Running five miles is nothing. It doesn’t make sense why it’d cause a panic attack. For fuck’s sake, I wish my body would get a grip. It’s mortifying.
And now Sid’s home. I had a panic attack in front of him, but this is different. I can’t give him much of anything…fuck. I can’t even give myself anything.
His footsteps approach the room, and I stiffen. I will myself to turn to face him, but fear that he won’t like what he sees keeps my gaze peeled to the wall. His belt buckle clanks against the floor. The bed dips, and then I’m wrapped up by his arm and pulled against his chest. His grasp is strong—possessive. The gnawing feeling turning my stomach inside out eases up as his scent fills my nostrils. I choke down the unexpected swell spreading through my chest. A tender kiss is brushed against my temple. I tuck my chin, hiding my face as a quiet sob wrenches up from that raw place inside of me.
“I’m so sorry, baby…for you…for Adam. I’m sorry that you’re depressed. I missed you so fucking much. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he whispers against my ear.
He was there for me in all of the ways that matter. I nestle closer to him, never remembering feeling so small in his arms. The full force of how much we’ve missed each other hits like thunder, rattling everything inside of me.
“Let me see you,” he says hoarsely. Tender kisses land on my neck and cheek, and I relinquish the urge to hide from him. I angle my face in his direction. My fingers trail the crescent-shaped dark circles framing his watery eyes. I can tell he hasn’t slept well either. Guilt scrapes my chest. I did this.
He huffs out a breath of relief. “God, I missed you so much.”
The ache that’s settled in my bones starts to dull. I didn’t realize the magnitude of his absence until this moment.
“I love you.” It comes out warbled.
"I love you too." He brushes a kiss against my lips.
I turn to face him fully and nestle my face in his neck.
No more words.
We fall asleep clinging to each other.
A few days later,we’re splayed across the couch in the living room. I just finished giving him a foot massage, and he’s returning the favor as we watch the hundredth movie since he returned home. We haven’t been apart for more than a few minutes. At night, I sleep against his chest. We both wake up covered in sweat, but it doesn’t matter so long as we’re together. The days pass easily with movies, food, sleep, and, begrudgingly, meditation. He’s gotten us into a routine of meditating first thing in the morning and before we go to sleep. The last place I want to be is inside of my head, but it helps to latch on to his voice as he counts breaths, inhaling and exhaling on cue.
I was worried I’d be too mellow for his normally upbeat energy, but I’ve never seen him so exhausted. Going from the NBA regular season to the Playoffs, then the Finals to the Olympics without a substantial break is hardcore. The last few days together have been a preview of what life might be likewhen he moves to the Royals, and we live together. News broke that he was leaving Miami back when he was in Spain. It caused a shitstorm online. Angry Marvels fans posted pictures burning his jersey, while others posted their gratitude for his contribution to securing a championship. LA Royals fans, on the other hand, are hyped. His Royals jersey is already selling out online.
Lily flew back home this morning. Despite wanting to be left alone at first, I grew used to her company. I surprised myself by pulling her in for a tight hug in the driveway after we’d already hugged goodbye. She palmed my face and said, “If you need me, I’ll come. Anytime.” The ferocity of her love is humbling. I pity the idiot that’ll try to hurt someone she loves.
Before she left, we ordered takeout and popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate Sid’s Olympic triumph. When I skipped making a plate, Sid pulled me into his lap and fed me from his. I’m starting to come back to myself, but I still don’t have much of an appetite, and I can tell it concerns him.
I haven't had the energy to work out, which has only increased my anxiety about being prepared for training camp in a few weeks. Sid keeps reminding me that my health is more important than basketball, but I can’t shake the feeling that my hard work is slipping away and I’m letting my parents down. He offered to run drills with me when I’m up for it.
I moan as he massages the arch of my foot, applying perfect pressure. A rush of desire stirs in my belly—something I haven’t felt in weeks. Outside of kissing and lying wrapped around each other, Sid and I haven’t had sex since he returned home. Neither of us initiated it, and I get the sense he’s giving me the space to come to him when I’m ready.
My head falls back as he rubs his knuckles up the arch of my foot, and I moan.
“Yeah?” His husky voice wraps around the back of my neck like a ray of sun.
I swallow, thinking about his taste. “I miss you.”
He hums. His gaze is heated and penetrating. “I’m yours.”
I pull my foot back and crawl to him. He lifts as I pull down his shorts and briefs. I lick my lips when his hardened length springs free. “Need to prep?”
“Oh, it’s that kinda night?” he asks, a sexy smirk on his face.
I grin. “It could be that kinda night.”
“Be right back then.”
My cock twitches, watching his ripped back and sculpted ass depart.
“Scoot down. I want you to be comfortable,” I tell him when he returns.
