Page 2 of The Catch

Now I'm stuck breaking up with people I feel no sparks for, because without those there's no future. Just like no one seeks real love with a man they don't believe is truly relationship material.

It's fine. Fun flings are what I'm good for. I'm a great time. I let my dates charm me, and I show them interest. We flirt. We take that to bed, and have mind-blowing sex. Do the same once or twice more. Then I let them go, before they think they will be the ones to tame the receiver. After a week it will only hurt them a little. Much better than breaking it off after years in an empty, unhappy relationship that leads nowhere.

Pretending I can go long-term makes me a selfish asshole who doesn't care if things go wrong and people get harmed. I can't imagine anything worse than wounding someone because of it.

My watch reminds me it's time to get ready and go to the Thunderdome, the team's training facility. I sigh again and push myself off the door. Coach Clark won't tolerate any of us being late when the ultimate trophy is at stake.

Right as I take a single step, the doorbell rings.

Fuck. I thought Rebecca had left graciously. It's always awkward when I have to break up with them twice.

I don't have time for this. I flip through tactics to send her on her way gently— and fast. My mouth already sets in a half smile, ready to be conciliatory and ask Rebecca to go.

Except Ames stands across from me when I open the door.

My heart stops.

Ames, who taught me what a spark was. Who has a thing for artist types and is a serial monogamist. The one that inspired me, once upon a time, to test if I could ever offer a long-term relationship.

She's my friend Pablo's sister. She went to college at the same place he and I got a football scholarship. While Pablo and I hit it off from the start, two Latinos dreaming of rings and championships, I didn't meet Ames until the start of my third year. Pablo and I shared an apartment at the time, and she joined us for dinner one evening.

My sister is dropping by tonight,was his text to announce her first visit.Her name is Amelia, but call her 'Ames', said likeaims. Don't get it wrong, or she'll put you on her blacklist.

I didn't get it wrong. In exchange, she gave me a look that ambushed me. Her smile burrowed into my chest. Her vivid brown eyes lit a fire in my belly.

Shit. Today there's no smile. A suitcase waits behind her in the hallway. Her wavy hair is messy, wind-blown and down to her shoulders, and her eyes are rimmed in red. Ames' beauty shines through, but I don't let myself think about it. Her gaze is heavy on me.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Her lips press together, like she's holding back tears.

"Ames—" I take a step forward but she doesn't move.

It took me years to silence my heart when it asked me to follow that spark and see where it led us. I had to be cruel with myself at times, and pay close attention whenever she met someone else and fell for them.

The tallies were clear. She melted for the English majors. There was a philosopher once. Never an athlete, and never did I get her eyes on me. Eventually, I learned I'm simply not her type. Considering my reputation and what people made of it, and the fact she was in search of her forever, I couldn't say I blamed her. No way she would look at me and say,him. I want him. And if she couldn't, and if I tried anyway, all I would do is cause her pain. I never knew if I had what it takes to give her what she sought, anyway.

She firms up and swallows the tears that never make it down her face.

"I didn't know where else to go," she says.

Her words sucker punch me. I'm breathless. Those feelings I learned to suppress shake at the core of my foundations, because she's here. Whatever is going on, I'm the answer.

Belatedly I move away to let her in. All at once, I'm hyperaware that I'm only wearing my jewelry, my watch, and my boxers.

She moves slowly but comes in. "I'm sorry I showed up like this. You're probably busy—"

"Are you okay?" I take her suitcase and guide her to the guestroom. "What happened?"

Pablo didn't make it to the big leagues. He's off in Canada now, after playing in the CFL for a couple of years, and then transitioning to coaching special teams for his team. When he left, I promised I'd keep an eye on Ames. I have— sometimes more than I should have. Yet she shows up unannounced to my condo, and stands in front of me crying.

We face each other in the middle of the room. The walls are the most subtle vanilla cream color, to complement the off-white of the bedding, the warm wood tones of the furniture, and the rust-colored blanket and cushions on the king-sized bed. It has its own bathroom, too. It's well kept even if no one has ever used it before.

She stares at me and bites her lip, not telling me anything. My watch vibrates again. I should be out of the shower now.

"Fuck. Sorry." I silence my alarm. "I have training but— forget it. I'll pretend I got food poisoning."

Coach will kill me for it. I'll get an epic talk-to for the ages. A fine isn't out of the question, either, but I couldn't care less at the moment. I can't stand seeing Ames like this. I can't leave now.