Page 45 of Chess Not Checkers
“Is it hard on your relationship with him?” I ask.
“Not really.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t see what I do. He thinks it’s funny when everyone calls me Junior and jokes around about me keeping up the win streak. It’s not that he’s a bad guy; he’s a great brother. I wouldn’t be where I am without him.”
“Have you thought about telling him how you feel?” I suggest gently. Our friendship is growing deeper by the day, but I don’t want to cross a line.
“I’ve considered it, but I can’t. I don’t want him to feel bad or to try and get me to stop pushing. I have to do this.”
“I can relate to that,” I murmur.
He doesn’t say anything, his blue eyes expectant. It feels like the perfect opportunity to share, but at the same time, pouring out my heart for the first time to someone other than my family feels like an in-person thing.
“I don’t want you to think I’m holding back,” I preface. “But my story is kind of…a lot. It feels strange to just blurt it out over a video chat.”
Shepherd nods, his brow furrowed like he’s thinking. Suddenly, his expression brightens. “Then let’s meet up in person.”
My brows raise at the implication. “That breaks the most major rule for traveling athletes, and I’m pretty sure Bash would kill you if he caught us.”
He winces at my mention of Bash. While Bash may not be family by blood, he’s super protective over those he loves. And I’m lucky enough to fall into that category. He was the one who funded my apartment for the year, though I tried to persuade him not to. Yet another person I have to make things up to.
“I didn’t mean in one of our rooms. There’s a business center downstairs. I saw it on the way in. We could hang out down there. If anyone saw us, we could say we decided to work on a school project.”
Technically, we weren’t supposed to leave our rooms after curfew, which has passed. But after a win, coaches were usually more lenient about that sort of thing. As long as the guys kept to their room and the girls to theirs. There wasn’t any rule about meeting in public locations. I bite my lip. Shepherd waits, expectation written all over his face.
“Okay, fine, I’ll meet you down there.”
A grin spreads across his face. “I’ll see you in five.”
We hang up, and I get out of bed as quickly as my sore body will allow. On top of the hit, I’ve been training extra intensely this past week, so every muscle aches. But excitement overrides the pain.
I slide on my moccasins before grabbing a pillow and the travel blanket I brought from home. Supplies in hand and my phone and room key in my sweats pocket, I slip out the door. I scan the hallway for any familiar faces and, when I find none, head to the elevator. The ride down is slow, giving time for my anxiety to rise.
What if we’re caught?
What if we aren’t?
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a too-loud creak.
I can’t believe I told him I’d share my story. What has gotten into me?
As I head toward the business center, I answer my last question. Vulnerability invites vulnerability. Dahlia taught me that when she first took me in after our parents died. So it makes sense that Shepherd sharing with me would make me want to share with him. It doesn’t make the task any less daunting, though. Especially when the threat of being caught is hanging over my head like one of those pianos from an old cartoon.
I find the business center without any trouble and use my room key to get inside. The door opens, and in the far corner ofthe room is Shepherd. He’s facing away, hands pushed into his hair. When he hears my entrance, he drops his arms and turns around. He smiles, but it’s more hesitant than when we were on the phone.
We lock eyes and an understanding passes between us. We’re taking a risk tonight. Not just by sneaking out, but by sharing with one another. Each of us has stepped out onto a tightrope with unsteady footing. The only thing that’s going to keep us from falling is by holding on to one another.
I step inside and let the door close behind me. Here’s hoping he doesn’t let go.
Chapter twenty-four
Almost
Shepherd Kingsley
I thought Jasmine was adorable over the phone, but she’s even cuter in person. I don’t know if she would appreciate that sentiment, but I can’t help thinking it. Her oversized sweats, messy bun, and the pillow cradled in her arms make me want to draw her to me and hug her. Or maybe I want to do that because of how she responded to my confession about Jason. She made me feel seen, and when it came time for her to share, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed the distance between us.
“If I get kicked off the team, I’m taking you down with me,” she says, breaking the ice and making me laugh.
“No one is getting kicked off the team.” I pause. “Hopefully.”
