Page 199 of Catch Me
Maybe there was no recovering the bridge that had been burned, but what was stopping us from building a new one? If we did it together, every step of the way, I wanted to believe that there was nothing that could stop us this time.
*****
Committed to the idea of being smart about this, I dropped Roman off at his hotel. I stayed in my Jeep, not wanting to give myself a chance to do something stupid. I’d been sitting out front for close to twenty minutes, though, and each time I shifted into drive, I dropped it back into park.
God, I was weak for this man.
Jumping out of the car, I marched to the elevator without slowing. Just the wait for the doors to open was absolute torture. When I’d finally made it to his floor, I knocked on his door, then walked to the wall across from it and back. Grabbing onto either side of the frame, I waited.
When he opened the door, his eyes widened. “Hey.”
With that one word, all reason abandoned me. Taking both sides of his neck, I walked him backward and kissed him with three hundred and fourteen days of anguish. No matter how deep I’d buried it, the moment our lips met, it didn’t stand a fucking chance.
I pushed him up against the wall and he groaned. His hands went underneath my shirt, starting a fire on my skin. My fingers brushed through his hair as I tugged on his lower lip.
“Hey back.”
He drew in a shuddering breath before he captured my lips again. I pinned him more firmly against the wall, just going with it at this point.
“One more,” I murmured.
“What?”
“I don’t know if I trust you all the way, but I wasn’t sure ten months ago either. We barely knew each other, yet I wanted you. God, I wanted you, Roman, and I still do. One more chance.”
He nodded, clutching me to him. “I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.”
Pulling back, I studied his face. “You’ll come see me.”
“And you’ll come see me.”
“I need to learn everything we didn’t have time for and everything that’s new about you, starting with these migraines. If you have some fucking brain tumor and this becomes a tragic love story...”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, just stress and stuff. Apparently, I put a lot of pressure on myself.”
“Are you eating?”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
That was debatable, but we’d deal with it later.
He broke away from me, and I let him. When he sat on the bed, I stared at him. This time, it didn’t feel like I had to look away. It was freeing, and I was able to draw in a long breath.
“The guys are making bets about why I didn’t go to dinner.”
He leaned back on his hands and smirked. “You’re ashamed for them to know, huh?”
I whacked his elbow, making it bend so he fell onto the mattress. “I’m not ashamed of any decisions I make. Being unapologetic is kind of my whole thing.”
Noticing the papers on the bed, I picked them up. He tried to stop me, but after a second, he gave up.
“What...” I stared at the drawings, feeling confused. Most were of me pitching.
“One from each game,” he explained. “Your final pitch in the ones you played. Some are happy, some aren’t. Wins and losses.”
“Is this why you left the game so quickly?”
He nodded. “I wanted to upload them to my tablet before the last one tomorrow.”
