Page 25 of Sideline Sweetheart
Jamie sits back in her chair “Ahh, makes sense.”
Again, I toss my hands in the air. “How in the hell does it make sense? Please, tell me!”
Jamie sits forward. “I think it was Bryce’s second year with the team. At the end of the previous season, he started dating one of the cheerleaders. When the next season started, he caught her flirting with one of the defensive linemen outside the locker room. She dumped Bryce and they flaunted their relationship in front of him the entire season. After the season, the lineman was traded, and she followed him.”
I release a huge sigh and drop my head. “At least the flirting accusation makes sense. Thanks for telling me, Jamie.”
She stands from her seat and makes her way to the door. “You’re welcome. The two of you are good together, Mac; giving him another chance is up to you. But don’t be afraid to make him grovel a bit.” Jamie winks and grins as she opens the door and then steps out into the hall before closing the door behind her.
I flop back in my chair and stretch my arms over my head gripping the top of my chair. While Jamie gave me something to think about, it still doesn’t give Bryce the right to accuse me when I have given no reason to do so. Jamie is right about one thing; I plan on making him grovel.
Chapter Fifteen
Bryce
What the hellwere you thinking?The question rolls through my mind on repeat as I stand in the shower letting the hot water run over my aching muscles. In less than six hours I have gone from having this incredible woman in my bed to alienating her with one accusation.
As soon as Coach releases us, I head to the locker room, strip out of my uniform, throw on my clothes and jump in my car. There was no way I could stay in the practice facility with Mackenzie down the hall and not check on her. Work, however, was no place for us to have the conversation we needed to have. Of course, coming home may not have been the best option either now; each room holds its own memory of our time together. I jump in the shower and let the hot water try to melt away some of the tension. Frustrated with myself, I slam my hand down on the lever turning off the water and step out of the shower. I grab a towel, dry off, and run a comb through my hair before heading into the bedroom to get dressed. I walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, going straight to the refrigerator to graba bottle of water. I twist off the top and down half the bottle. I lower the bottle to take a breath, as a plan begins to form in my mind. I finish my water, toss the bottle in the recycle bin, grab my keys and wallet and head out the door.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of Mackenzie’s apartment complex, the passenger side of my car is loaded down with what can only be considered grovel gifts. I shift into park and switch off the engine before exiting the car and moving to the passenger side to retrieve the packages. With my arms loaded, I head into her building and make my way to her floor. When I reach her door, I shift the packages, knock and wait for her to answer.
Footsteps grow closer on the other side of the door before I hear her ask, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Bryce.”
I hear her sigh and my heart drops thinking she won’t open the door, but the click of the lock gives me hope. I breathe a sigh of relief when she cracks open the door, only to have my heart clench once again when I see the sadness in her blue eyes. “What do you need, Bryce?”
“I’d like to properly apologize, if you’d allow me to.”
Mackenzie studies me for a moment before stepping back and opening the door wider. I retrieve the bags from beside the door and step inside. Her eyes widen, as she closes the door. “What’s all this?”
I shrug causing the bags to rise. “My idea of a proper apology.” I set the bags down once again and pull the bouquet of bearded irises from one of them presenting them to her. “Mackenzie Flynn, please accept my apology for jumping to conclusions and throwing accusations where they were unwarranted. My actions were solely based on my insecurities from past experiences, and I should not have assumed youwould intentionally do anything to hurt me or lead me to believe there was mistrust between us.”
Mackenzie takes a step forward and reaches out as one finger delicately traces along the edge of an iris petal. Her blue eyes bounce up to mine, before settling back on the bouquet. “You may not be entirely to blame. I may have let my temper get the best of me too.”
I bend my knees to catch her gaze, while offering the bouquet to her, which she accepts. “Does this mean you accept my apology?”
“Maybe. Is this how you apologize to all the ladies?”
I tip her chin up so she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I’ve never felt the need to apologize to any of them before.”
Mackenzie draws in a shaky breath before her gaze moves to the bags still sitting by the door. “What else do you have in those bags?”
I don’t even try to fight the smile tugging the corners of my mouth up. I reach into one of the smaller bags. “I have a box of the same chocolates I gave you on our first date.”
Mackenzie reaches her hand out accepting the box of chocolates. “I did love those.”
“I remembered. I also remember you didn’t share any with me,” I reply gaining myself a small smile. I reach for the two bags remaining, lifting first the larger one and then the smaller. “I also have dinner from the finest Italian restaurant in town as well as a bottle of wine and tiramisu for dessert.”
Mackenzie’s stomach rumbles and this time I fight the grin trying to appear. “It does smell delicious, and it would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
I shift the smaller bag into my other hand and cup her cheek with my now free hand. “Does this mean you’re accepting my apology and allowing me to stay for dinner?”
Mackenzie sighs as she leans into my touch. “Yes, to both,” she replies softly. “As long as you accept mine for allowing my temper to flare.”
“Accepted,” I reply before dropping a quick kiss on her lips and carrying the bags into her kitchen.
Mackenzie turns on the oven and retrieves two wine glasses from the cabinet while I remove the pan of lasagna from the bag and place it in the oven. I open the bottle of wine and pour each of us a glass while she puts the dessert in the refrigerator. A smile eases onto my face as the domesticity of our actions has a warmth settling in my chest.
