Page 115 of Famous Last Words
I don’t know if I’m in over my head; what I do know, however, is that he needs help, and right now, I’m all he has.
I step up to Robbie and slide his shirt off his broad shoulders, gently skating my fingers down his tattooed chest and stomach. I unbuckle his belt and release the button on his trousers, pausing to meet his eyes, silently asking if this is okay. Obviously, it’s far from sexual, but I don’t want to cross any lines. When he doesn’t stop me, I push his pants and boxers down, crouching with them to remove the dress shoes he’s wearing, the ones that definitely weren’t designed to walk half the length of the Manhattan shoreline.
When Robbie is naked, I stand, taking his hand and helping him over the edge of the tub and into the shower, beneath the steady stream of hot water. He places a hand on the tile, allowing his head to fall forward, chin to chest, and I find myself releasing a breath at the sight of his shoulders relaxing.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, collecting his clothes from the floor.
“Wait.”
I pause, turning to find him looking at me, hair wet and slick against his forehead, lashes thick and black, water droplets falling from them and onto his cheeks. He looks both beautiful and broken. Beautifully broken.
“I need you, Keller,” he rasps, his voice low and cracking with emotion.
And that’s all it takes. He needs me.
Dropping his clothes, I hastily shrug off my coat and undress. Robbie’s eyes remain fixed on mine as I carefully step over the tub and into the shower with him. It’s a tight fit, but wrapping our arms around one another and holding each other flush, we manage to make it work.
I rest the side of my face against the warmth of his chest, listening to the slightly accelerated yet steady thrum of his heart. It starts to slow the longer I hold him, and as I gently drag my nails over his smooth back, I feel him relax, sinking further into me.
Neither of us says a word. We don’t have to. Because in this moment, closer than we’ve ever been before, there’s an unspoken promise between us. And regardless of what has happened, and what is undoubtedly going to happen in the aftermath, all that matters is that he understands that I’ve got him, and I’m not going anywhere.
CHAPTER 45
ROBBIE
Fran walks to me, carrying two mugs of something hot. She pauses mid-step when she sets her eyes on me. At first, her expression is guarded, wary even, but then her lips twitch with the hint of a smile, and suddenly she’s giggling. Curled over, full belly-laugh, giggling. She’s forced to set the mugs down on the nightstand because she’s laughing so damn hard.
I guess I can’t blame her. I am wearing one of her sweatsuits, for Chrissake—a pale-yellow combo, the ankle cuffs stopping halfway up my calves, sleeves barely making it past my elbows. It’s stretched to capacity and at risk of bursting around my shoulders if I move too quickly, but it’s all she had, and if I’m honest, it feels kind of nice to be wrapped in something so soft and warm that smells like her.
“Keep laughing, Keller,” I deadpan. “Don’t forget I’m commando right now, and I will not hesitate to start lunging if I have to.”
She bites back her smile, arching one eyebrow. “I’ve had your balls in my mouth,Mason.” With a nonchalantshrug, she adds, “Lunge all you want.”
My lips lift into a smirk because, despite how shit my life is right now, this is what I love most about Fran Keller; without even trying, she makes everything feel a little less crappy.
The energy in the room shifts, and the lighthearted air makes way for the tension to return with a vengeance. Fran’s smile falls and she grabs the mugs, handing one to me as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to me.
I sniff the contents of the mug. Chocolate.
“It’s the protein hot chocolate you got me with those groceries.” Fran smiles into her cup. “I’m almost out.”
“I’ll get you some more.”
She places her hand on my thigh, squeezing gently, and when I meet her eyes, I see a knowing sadness in her gaze.
“Talk to me, Robbie,” she says softly. “What happened?”
Releasing a ragged breath, I place my hot chocolate back onto the nightstand, unable to stomach it. Hunching forward, I rest my elbows on my knees, head in my hands as I stare at the floor, trying to figure out where to begin as Fran rubs soothing yet tentative circles over my back.
“I don’t fucking know,” I huff, frustrated. Because I really don’t know.
“Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is,” she continues, “I’m on your side, remember?”
“What do you want me to say?” I scoff. “That I’m innocent? That I didn’t do it? That I don’t know where the drugs came from or how they got into my fucking system? Because I don’t… but it doesn’t seem to fucking matter. Because no one believes me.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I know exactly what that means. She can be on my side all she wants, but she doesn’t believe me either. And why should she? I had drugs in my pocket. And I tested fucking positive. I’m guilty regardless.
I sniff. “I’m off the team. Out of the league. Dallas and all the guys are pissed at me. I’ve ruined their season. Coach looked at me like I was a fucking crack addict. Even Andy… he—” I shake my head again at the memory of the look in Andy’s eyes when he walked into the police interview room, finding out that I tested positive to cocaine. Out of everyone in my life, I really thought Andy was a constant. But maybe I was wrong.
