Page 167 of Scoring the Player
“You’re here, like, in Chicago?” I repeat, not quite believing it. I stab the first-floor button again. “Hello?” I pull the phone away from my ear and see that the call dropped.
As soon as the door opens, I beeline for the lobby. I make it a few steps when I hear, “Hey.”
I turn so fast that I flinch when I spot him standing in the corner.
“Hey!” I exclaim so loudly that he grins.
Removing his shades, he pushes off the wall. “I almost tried the Four Seasons first, but our team stayed here last time, so figured it was a better guess.”
“You’re really here.” I pull him into a hug. “You flew from Milwaukee?”
“Took a car.” He says, hugging me back. “Tell me about Denzel.”
Huh?I step back. “You’re here because of Denzel?”
The sound of voices drawing near makes us shuffle toward the elevator.
“Yes,” he replies as the doors open and we get in. “Anaïs only told me a few hours ago.” He removes his beanie. “Are you okay?”
He drove a car two hours to ask if I’m okay?
His shoulders draw up slightly, and I realize I’m staring and not speaking.
“Yeah. I mean no.” I lean against the elevator wall. “I’m actually kinda freaked out.”
He moves closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to, but the door had just opened with you and me. I was holding out hope that he’d pop up and all our concerns were for nothing.” We arrive at my floor, and I lead him toward my room. “It never felt like the right time.”
I unlock the door and flick on the light.
“But the cabin…” he says, and I wince at the hurt in his voice.
“I know…I’m sorry.” I turn and perch on the bed.
“We talked for hours.”
I know.
“I knew you were off that last time at the cabin before we made love in the rain,” he ruminates out loud as he tosses his coat on the armchair. “I don’t want you to be sorry.” He walks over and lifts my chin. “I want to know everything. Tell me.”
Arnaz
The sun is breaking through the night by the time I’m out of questions, Salem’s out of answers, and we’re both out of ideas on how to find Denzel except for abandoning the season and searching for him ourselves.
I don’t know what I’d do if Anaïs disappeared. It would be a reality I’m not sure I could face.
“Hey,” he says, lying across from me. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
I’ve been waiting for him to bring it up. I still don’t know how to tell him about Aiden, and how he brought up stuff with Mom and Carter. I have to soon, though. Tonight, I just want to be here for him. “My bad for that. Things got off track for me for a minute. My therapist helped me work through it.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I lift my head from the pillow and lean forward to press a kiss against his lips. “You deserve an explanation. I’ll tell you more soon.”
“I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you too.” I press another kiss against his lips, then his cheekbone, and then his neck, my mouth latching on to the skin there.
