Page 43 of Run Game
“I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I’ve put in at least thirty applications. I’m starting to think my old boss is bad-mouthing me when they call to confirm my previous employment. Nobody wants to hire someone who was fired for not showing up,” I say with a shrug.
She furrows her brows in confusion. “Theyfired you? Why?”
Oh, fuck.I forgot that I had kept that from her.
I look into my lap, knowing that I can’t lie. But she’s definitely going to blame herself. “I requested Super Bowl weekend off, but they told me at the last minute that I needed to be there. That if I didn’t show up, I’d be fired. I chose what was most important to me.” I chance a look at her and, yep, there’s the guilt.
“You chose me,” she whispers. “And you lost your job and apartment for it.”
“Hey,” I say firmly. “It’s not your fault. I made the decision on my own. And if I hadn’t, I’d still be stuck there allalone.” I smile, trying my best to reassure her. I really do mean everything I said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “And you know that if you can’t find anything right away, you can always stay here. Blaze won’t mind.”
I nod, appreciating her offer, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that. Even though I know I’m welcome, I felt like an interloper while I was here before. And there’s no doubt there will be a period after the divorce that I’ll be missing Dalton. The last thing I’ll want is to watch Blaze and Mads living their life, loving each other so openly. Or worse, making them feel like they have to hide their affection from me so my feelings don’t get hurt. They deserve their own space where they can show their love as loudly as they want and tie each other to whichever household items will hold their weight. I don’t want to stop them from that.
I’ve always figured it out on my own. I know I’ll do it here in my new home.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I say, mainly just to stop this conversation from going any further.
“Okay,” she shrugs, grabbing the remote. “We have two choices. There’s the new Hemsworth rom-com that came out last week, or we can go old school with Little Giants.”
We both look at each other and smile. “Little Giants,” we say in unison.
As she flips through the streaming app, finding our favorite childhood movie, the door inches open and Blaze pops his head in. “Can we crash your movie night? Or is it a‘no boys allowed’ thing?”
“Come on in,” she says, giddy all of a sudden. I lovehow happy she is. And I also kind of love the butterflies in my stomach when I realize that he isn’t alone.
Dalton shoves Blaze out of the way, making a beeline straight for me. “I missed you,” he says, laying down on the massive couch and pulling me with him. “Next time those assholes ask me to go out, I’m telling them my wife said no.”
“I’m right here,” Blaze says, picking Mads up and setting her on his lap. “And we all know Dia pushed you out the door because it’s the only way she can get some peace and quiet.”
Dalton scoffs. “Yeah, right. She loves when I’m home. I amveryuseful. And she’s gotten pretty good at shutting me up, huh baby?” He kisses my cheek.
“Mhmm,” I hum in agreement, snuggling into him.
“Little Giants?” Blaze groans, looking at the movie that’s queued up in front of us. “Again?Didn’t you guys get your fill of Junior Floyd when you were kids? Do you still have to watch this every weekend?”
“Please,” I say, fake disgust evident in my tone. “Mads was all googly-eyed over the golden-boy quarterback. But I knew what was up. Spike might’ve been an asshole, but he could lift a refrigerator.”
Dalton gasps. “That what you’re into, Wifey? Big muscles? Because guess what?” he says, rolling me on top of him and lifting me up and down like he’s bench-pressing. “I can do this all day.”
“Put me down, you meathead!” I laugh, trying to slap at his chest. He lowers me, kissing my lips before settling me back on his side with his arm wrapped around me.
We watch the movie, the four of us lounging next to one another. Dalton makes it a point to scoff loudly every time my childhood crush makes an appearance, mumblingabout how he’s way stronger than the twelve-year-old actor on the screen. I know I’ve said I’m sticking to the original plan when our time is up; that I’m going to do everything I can to protect my heart…but I can’t say that nights like this don’t make me a little curious about how it could be if I didn’t.
TWENTY-NINE
DALTON
“Backup!”Dia says, attempting to swat at me with the spatula while I lean over her shoulder. We decided to take turns cooking breakfast, so today, she’s making pancakes. And not those shitty Power Cakes the guys love so much. I’m talking, not-from-a-box, homemade flapjacks. She swears it’s a secret recipe she got off the internet when she was a kid, but they smell amazing and I’m doing my best to commit the ingredients to memory so I can make them myself in the future.
“Fine,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. I move back, just barely, and take her in. She looks freshly fucked, thanks to me and my very insistent morning wood, wearing a pair of panties under one of my old college football t-shirts. She almost looks as good in scarlet and gray as she does in Blizzard colors.Almost. Her hair is up in a messy bun that leans slightly to one side, and she has a pair of my athletic socks pulled up her calves for extra warmth. I know I say it all the time, but she’s more beautiful than ever right now.
She turns off the stove, plating the pancakes andsetting them on the island in the middle of the kitchen. I’ve already set out the maple syrup, butter, and my personal favorite pancake topping, whipped cream. I’ll have to bump up the intensity of this afternoon’s workout to burn off all this sugar, but it’ll be worth it. I reach over, grabbing Dia by the waist and plopping her down on the counter. She swings her feet against the cupboards below as she adds her toppings. When she’s finished, I add my butter and syrup. She’s too busy cutting her food on the plate that sits beside her to notice the shady look on my face as I spray a mountain of whipped cream onto my stack,accidentallyangling it just right so that a small amount sputters onto her exposed thigh. She slowly meets my eyes, giving me a suspicious look, but I do my best to look innocent.
“Oops,” I say. “Sorry, babe. Let me get that.” I give her a guilty smirk as she shakes her head. The corners of her lips are tipped up, and I can tell she’s equal parts annoyed and amused. I lean forward, pressing my tongue to her smooth skin, slowly licking at the drops of whipped cream, which have now started melting against her warmth. She tries to hold in her ragged breathing but fails miserably as I move upward. And when she tightens her fingers in my hair, I know I’ve won the battle.
Before I can fully ascend to the heaven between her legs, the doorbell rings, making us both jump. My building is pretty secure and there are only a handful of people on the list to get up here, none of which I’m expecting, so I assume maybe it’s maintenance or the concierge.
