Page 193 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Your point?” I ask.

“It’s a good thing she does.” He reaches a hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “She’s a good person, Mad. She deserves to be treated right. Whatever happens, just remember that.”

And without another word, Callum walks out of the locker room to our transport waiting to take us home for the first time in what feels like forever.

But I sit in the empty locker room. There are a few guys still in the trainer’s room getting worked on and their laughter filters out to me, but other than that I’m alone.

So goddamn alone.

The worst part? The only time I haven’t felt lonely is when she’s around. Fucking Dekker.

Closing my eyes, I think about what Callum said. About Dekker and what she deserves and wonder what I’ve never allowed myself to wonder. About me and what I don’t deserve, but hell if the moments spent with her haven’t made me want. An us. About the opportunities I’ve passed up, the dreams, the happiness I told myself weren’t merited.

Christ.

So fucking alone.

But this time when I stand to head to the bus, I don’t delete the text like I normally do.

This time, I hit send. Finally.

Dekker

“It’s midnight. Why are you here?”

I laugh as Brexton props her shoulder against the doorway of my office and debate how much I should tell her. “I guess the same could be said for you,” I respond.

“I forgot a contract I need for the morning. Less traffic to get it now than to fight rush hour, and you know how I love my sleep.”

I smile softly and wonder why brusque Brexton is being so kind.

“Smart,” I say and look out the window to the city beyond. The Manhattan skyscrapers and their lights dot the distance. A city still alive, while I’m struggling with so much turmoil.

I walked away from Hunter, from my time with the Jacks, without saying a word. I walked away, knowing full well I left my heart behind. I came back home with the bitter taste of rejection on my tongue and knowing I was letting my dad—my sisters—down by not finishing what I set out to do. Letting Sanderson win.

“Wasn’t there a game tonight?”

I nod and exhale a sigh. “Yeah, but . . . I decided to skip it. I have a shit ton to do and being in the press box isn’t going to do anything toward getting Hunter to sign with us.”

“Huh.” She makes that stupid sound I hate that says I don’t buy a word you’re saying, and then twists her lips in thought as she studies me. “So you finally told him KSM wants him?”

“Something like that.” I look at the papers on my desk and relive everything—my confession and his nonchalance—and wish my mom were here right now, as I’ve wished many times over the last fifteen years, so I could get her advice. I think I just screwed everything up. “He didn’t react, so I’m not sure what to make of it.”

I’m not exactly lying—he didn’t react—so why do I avert my eyes and blink back the tears that threaten?

“Humph.” She moves to the window of my office and looks out. Her hands are on her hips as she scans the skyline. I study her. “It never went away, did it?” Her voice is soft, gentle almost, when she’s never gentle.

“What never went away?” My mind is thinking of clients and contracts I missed while I was on the road trip. What didn’t I—

“The way you feel about Hunter.”

I freeze and am grateful her back is to me so she doesn’t see. Like with everyone else, I want to deny. Deny their observation. Deny my feelings. Deny it all. Especially now. Why can’t I tell the truth?

“You’re delusional.”

Brexton takes her time moving to my desk before setting her hip on it. “I may be delusional, but I also know you have a habit of running the other way any time you get feelings for someone.”

“I do not.”