Chapter 18 Dom

Chapter 18

Dom

Everyone is heading to Draft to celebrate the Bandits beating the Rose City Roasters and the whole crew is waiting for me when I step out of the locker room. The girls have their heads together, leaning against the black brick wall and the guys are spread out on the couch, their focus on their significant others. At some point in the last two years almost all of my friends found love. Watching each of them turn into absolute simps for their women only makes me want the same thing more. Someday soon I’ll step out in this hallway and find my firecracker waiting for me.

“I’m worried about her,” Lilah whispers, her expression soft.

“She said she wanted to stay in.” Poppy sighs.

“I know. I just don’t like that she’s alone. Maybe we should let the guys go to Draft and head to her place. You know . . . just check in.”

Bracing my shoulder against the wall I casually scroll my phone far enough from the girls that no one suspects anything, but close enough to hear the conversation .

From what the guys have let slip over the last two days I know that Mia and Poppy got home late last night and spent most of the day with Indie. None of my friends were very pleased with me when they found out I knew about Indie’s crash and didn’t tell anyone.

With as much nonchalance as I could muster, I told them it wasn’t my place. Who Indie wanted to know was up to her.

“Lilah, I get it. It’s killing me to stay away too, but she’s stubborn. And right now, bombarding her is only going to make her more withdrawn. I think we need to let her be,” Mia says, siding with Poppy.

As Bri pointed out, I’m persistent as fuck and a little stupid for this girl. I know this plan could backfire but it’s not going to stop me from trying. The girls had one thing right, Indie shouldn’t be alone right now.

I slip out of the locker room before anyone can stop me, claiming I have a headache. I just have one quick stop to make on my way to her apartment. If I’m right, it’ll be what saves me from getting my ass chewed out when I show up at her door uninvited, again.

Thirty minutes later, with a shopping bag dangling from my fingertip, I’m practically whistling as I wait at Indie’s door. I’m about to knock again, but the telltale click clack of her approach finally comes.

“It’s you.” Her greeting is flat. Some people might be discouraged by the lackluster welcome, but not me. I’m hyper focused on the way my basketball shorts hang off her hips, leaving an expanse of skin exposed below the tattered hem of the thin tank top she’s wearing.

Picking my jaw up off the floor my gaze moves to her face. The vibrant spark of life that belongs in Indie’s eyes is missing. My firework is letting her fuse burn out and that bothers me—like really fucking gets under my skin. There’s more going on here than just being bummed over her injury and I’m going to coax it out of her sooner or later. My sister tells me my inability to quit is one of my most annoying qualities. But when someone I care about is hurting it feels more like a superpower.

“It’s me,” I say, remembering why I’m here in the first place. “And I brought you something. ”

Dark hair falls over her eyes as she cocks her head eying the plastic shopping bag. “I’m not really in the mood for games.”

“Well, shit.” That sucks because that’s exactly what I brought. “Are you sure? It’s your favorite.”

“Tell me about your mom.” My lips graze the smattering of stars and planets inked across her collarbone. I know asking is risky, but it’s been nagging at me since Indie told me she got the tattoo in memory of her. We’ve spent hours in bed exploring each other physically, but I want to know something deeper than how hard I can make her come on my tongue. Moving along her chest I kiss every dot of ink marking her skin until I reach her neck.

“My mom was everything, a personality as big as the galaxy and a heart that couldn’t be contained within this universe. She was the center of my world, the calm to my storm . . . just all of it.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Her puff of laughter ruffles my hair. “You don’t know me that well. And you didn’t know her.” There’s nothing but admiration in her voice as her eyes grow misty. “She was endlessly giving and kind. Even when she was exhausted from chemo, she was there with a warm smile, playing board games with Poppy and I. Losing her broke part of me and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.”

“What was your favorite game to play with her?”

She hits me with a painfully beautiful smile. “Sorry . We all loved it. She played until the very end, even when she could barely move the pieces. Her head would be on the floor next to the board and she’d keep going until she knew whatever nonsense Poppy was dealing with at home was evened out by love and attention from her.”

“And she passed that fierce loyalty on to both of you.” My hand cradles the side of her face, tracing my thumb along her jaw. “Did you, or did you not, threaten bodily harm to Hendrix if he hurt Poppy again?”

Sucking her cheek like it’s painful for her to admit that I might be right, she finally sighs and says, “Yeah, I did that.”

“And you did it in your own terrifying way, I’m sure.” I kiss the swell of her breast right over her heart. “You might not be a mirror image of your mom, but those qualities you love about her, they’re engraved on your heart.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Pulling away from my hand she rolls her head to the side looking out the window at the night sky.

My fingers trace the words inked into her stars. “That’s fine, because I am, and she was too. Neither of us will let you forget how to soar, Firecracker.” She stays silent, her throat bobbing as swallows roughly. Nothing good will come from pushing her, not yet. She might trust me with her body, but that bond doesn’t extend beyond the bubble of this bed, so I change topics. “Do you still play?”

“The board stayed at my dad’s. It didn’t feel right to take it out of our home. Poppy and I used to play when she visited, but that happens less than it used to. Dad doesn’t play and I can’t bring myself to buy a board of my own.”

She springs forward with cat-like reflexes that seem unnatural for a woman on crutches, and I hold the bag high, keeping it out of her grabby hands. My palm lands on her waist, steadying her, so she doesn’t lose her balance. With all her flailing, the crutches are nothing more than wobbly kickstands. “Invite me in and we can play.”

Tilting her chin down, she looks at where my fingers press into her warm flesh, her tank having risen in the commotion. One dark eyebrow lifts in a silent question. Why are you still touching me?

“Because I want to,” is my silent reply.

Goosebumps scatter up her exposed arms when I lean in close. “Let me in and I’ll make it worth your while. I have some of that terrible Neapolitan ice cream that you love.”

“I’m inviting the ice cream in, not you.” Relenting, she steps back, breaking our connection to let me in.

“We both know that’s a lie,” I say, setting the bag down and pulling the ice cream out. Without waiting for permission, I grab two bowls and a spoon and dish out the ice cream, taking it and the bag to the living room .

The scrape of her crutches follow me. “Is it? The ice cream is definitely helping, at least until you show me what’s in the bag.”

She’d probably be more comfortable on the couch playing the game at the coffee table, but I set the board up on the floor just like she and Poppy used to do with her mom. One by one I lay out the pieces giving her time to figure out her next move.

Slowly she sinks to the floor using the coffee table to steady her. “You bought Sorry for me?” The question is almost a whisper.

“No, I bought Sorry for me, but it’s not as fun to play it alone.” Unless she asks me to leave it here, I had every intention of bringing it home with me, because I wasn’t entirely sure how she’d feel about having it here.

“Leave the yellow. It was her color.” Emotion shakes her voice and her hand covers mine, stopping me, I let the piece fall back into the box, giving her hand squeeze.

“And what was your color?” I ask, pulling out the remaining pawns.

“Red.”

“Then I’ll be blue.” Turning the board so we are lined up with our pieces, I set the ice cream in front of her, taking the bowl with the smaller scoop for me.

“Is this the most excitement you’ve had in the last two days?”

“You have no idea. I’m bored out of my mind. Poppy, Mia and Lilah have all stopped over. They mean well, but I can stand the hovering. It feels like they’re babysitting me.” Digging into her ice cream, she starts with the strawberry. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be out celebrating your win?.”

“You watched my game?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was bored? Plus those pants.”

“Checking out my ass again. I knew that Speedo would work.”

“How could I not? You can see the back of your red thong through them. Please tell me you’re wearing it now. I could use a laugh.”

“Sadly, I’m not. It needed a wash. But if you want to see me in a thong, go grab one—”

Cold, wet ice cream flies through the air and time seems to slow as I watch her mouth fall open in an O . It hits me in the cheek with surprising force. Across from me, Indie stares at her spoon, stunned, like she can’t believe she just did that.

“Now you’ve done it.” Catching the melting ice cream in my hand as it slides off my face, I pop it into my mouth and round the board game on my knees. Cautious of her ankle, I pin Indie to the ground with my body. “You make the mess, you clean it up.”

Her chest stills, and the sweet laughter she was just gracing me with stalls out. For a second, I think I’ve screwed everything up by pushing her too much.

Then her tongue darts out and wets her lips. Narrowing her dark eyes at me, she pushes up on her elbows. The sticky residue on my cheek is forgotten as silence stretches between us. I’m all too aware of where our bodies are joined at the hips, the air growing thicker with each second that passes, neither of us moving.

Just when I’m about to pull back, unable to stand the growing tension, she threads her fingers through my hair and roughly tugs me toward her. Our lips nearly touch. They are so close it’s killing me not to dip my head and take what I want. I’m about to break when she turns my head at the last second and runs her tongue up the side of my face, cleaning the ice cream from my cheek.

There’s nothing conventionally sexy about her tongue on my cheek or the way she howls with laughter at the absurdity of it all. Yet, no one has ever looked as irresistible as she does under me, joy in her eyes and her smile unapologetically wide. She’s completely pleased with herself and I’m here for it.

Before I can pull myself out of my stupor, she shoves me off her and peeks at her card, clapping her hands together, then she flashes me the eleven card and swaps places with me.

“This was a great idea. Nothing makes me happier than handing you your ass.”

Pink that wasn’t there when she opened the door tints her cheeks. She studies the card in her hand and hums, sounding lighter than I’ve seen her since she moved. She probably thinks I’m here hoping to get her back into bed, but Indie with her guard down and claws retracted, just being with me, is all I can ask for.

“You licked me. Does that mean you plan to keep me?”

“I don’t believe for one second that you want to be kept.” Her attention shifts to the game, her lips moving silently as she counts my spaces. “Besides, we’ve been over this. I don’t date guys like you.”

“You mean, handsome as fuck, but cheats at board games?”

“So you admit it.” The side of her mouth quirks up and those dark eyes study me too long to be considered a passing interest.

“That I’m handsome? Obviously.”

“That you’re a scoundrel who can’t be trusted?”

“Not going to dispute how good looking I am? I’ll count that as a win.” Using a gentle hand I brush my fingers over her bruise which has started to fade from an angry purple to green at the edges. “Scoundrel or not, you can trust me to come through when it counts. The offer still stands to use that key.”

“I’m not sure I ever told you how much I appreciate you coming to get me the other day. And for this, it was unexpected and exactly what I needed. So, thank you.”

“That’s what friends do.”

For once, she doesn’t fight me on the label. She just hands me my card and rolls her eyes, letting me count out my spaces on my own. Just because her lips don’t move doesn’t mean she’s not watching. Testing my theory, I take one extra space. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

“No clue what you mean.”

“I’ve never really been a fan of rules where you’re concerned.” Especially the one that’s keeping us apart. Slowly but surely I’m going to prove to her that she’s wrong about us, that one night wasn’t enough.

Driving home an hour later, one Sorry game lighter, I know, without a doubt, that this was where I needed to be tonight.