Page 13 of The Catch

Saint: It's been a bit over a week and yeah, she's staying with me at themoment

Logan: Interesting.

Bear: How is she doing?

Saint: Better than I thought tbh, but with ups and downs as far as I can see. Stays in her room a lot.

Damián: Is she eating enough?

Saint: I make sure she does. But we were gone for the weekend, so I want to check on her

Bear: Makes sense. If anyone asks at the club, we'll tell them you're alive and healthy, and no need to send the search and rescue team

Dom: Nobody has to panic that you're not there to take someone home. We promise he's alive and he'll come back as soon as he can

Logan: Brunch on Tuesday may be a good idea. It will be proof of life for those concerned

Saint: Now you're making jokes, funny guy?

Logan: Good night, everyone

Saint: Brunch on Tuesday it is.

When I make it home, Ames is nowhere to be seen, and her door is closed. I leave early on Monday for a long day at the TD, where we spend our time in recovery and reviewing tape.

Finally home again, I take a shower under cool water. After, in my loose pajama pants and a shirt, I make my way to the kitchen, then to Ames' door.

I usually only wear my boxers to sleep. Even if Ames has seen me in those now, some modesty is called for.

Light shines from under her door, and I knock. She calls me in.

I open the door and lean on the frame. "Want a drink?"

I'm carrying two glasses with vodka, soda, and lime.

She's on the bed, a book closed next to her. Her smile is subdued, and the curve of her shoulders tell me she's tired.

This isn't the same vibe I've come to know and… enjoy about her.

Pablo and Ames seemed to get really close after their parents divorced. When he and I lived together, Ames stayed in the dorms but visited us often. I got many chances to watch Ames do her thing through the years.

Ever since I met her, she's had this way to fill a room with her presence. She's quick to join a conversation with a tease or with an argument— whatever the situation calls. She has a deeply thoughtful side but, when she gets sarcastic? Damn, it makes me want to sit back, smile, and watch the show.

An immediate pull took over my chest whenever she was around— something I had never felt before. It was her beauty, too, of course. The gentle waves of her hair, those dark eyelashes, and those large, pretty brown eyes. The confident dips and curves of her generous body. Ah, to feel the weight of her on me as she rides m—

I shake one of the glasses in my hand, until the ice clinks in an inviting manner. Like jingling keys to distract a baby, only I'm trying to distract myself from the image of Ames naked on top of m—

Shit.

She nods and sits up. I gulp and give her one of the drinks. Sitting at one corner of the bed, I gaze at her.

Today she's still beautiful, of course, but her humor is muted.

"How are you doing?" I ask.

She gives me a despondent shrug. "It's like I can't make up my mind about what to feel."

"What if that's not something you decide? I think feeling is something you… do."