Page 119 of The Catch

The word isn't fully out of my mouth when the door opens.

"There you are." Dom gives me a quizzical look. "I thought you were getting a drink."

"I left it outside." I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I'm on the phone with Ames."

"Oh. Right." He arches an eyebrow. "Anyhoo. Coach wants to talk to us."

"Five minutes," I say.

"Say hi to Ames." Dom smirks. "Don't dilly dally."

"Dilly dally?" I laugh.

"Yeah. Chop chop." He chuckles. "You know what I mean. Pedal to the metal. We have a lot to do and we want it all, don't we?"

"You're obnoxious." I grab a decorative pillow from behind me and throw it his way.

He catches it no problem, throws it back to me, and leaves.

"He's gone," I say to Ames. "Finally."

She chuckles. "That was a close call. But you have to leave now?"

"Yeah, I should."

"So what happens next? The big game is in two weeks, right?"

"Yeah. This week will be heavy training and media. I don't know the exact dates yet, but we're flying to San José several days before the big game. More media. More training. We'll be busy."

"When do you hear about the MVP?"

"Usually the awards are announced on the Thursday before we play."

She sighs. "You're amazing. How do you handle the pressure?"

"I've been training for this my whole life." I smile. "I can't let the pressure distract me. All I can see is the prize."

And in my head, that includes a life with Ames.

"Okay, then," she says. "We'll come up with something, right? We'll prepare. You for the game, me for the show. And then, when you're back… we'll figure out the rest when we're both back."

"We'll know more. We'll talk."

"Let's try to make the most out of what's coming our way. Yeah?"

"Yeah. Good night, Ames."

We end the call with the words I can't say stuck in my tongue. I'm lost in lust, maybe lost in love, and lost on how to make this last with Ames… but I won't let that stop me, either. At all.

Chapter 35

Ames

Saint is being pulled in a hundred directions, as the team prepares for the big event. I've barely seen him. The little moments we have, he holds me close and kisses me. Sometimes that leads to sex— sweet and tender, or hurried and urgent. Sometimes, he lays his head on me. It can be my shoulder, or my tummy, or my thigh. Then he falls asleep with me as his pillow, long sighs escaping his lips.

Despite these short stolen hours, I miss him. It's terrifying to feel as much as I do for him. I'm barreling down to an epic love story that's doomed to end, and I'm helpless at stopping myself.

In fact, I'm eagerly doing more. Including little things I know will put a smile on his face, like brunch food in the middle of the day. He's leaving in a few hours. There's no reason why I can't make his favorite meal when it's too late for lunch but too early for dinner.