14. Remington

FOURTEEN

REMINGTON

I don't respond. I don't move. I don't even breathe. I lay here waiting, listening, fortifying my mind and locking all reaction away in preparation for whatever pieces she's about to share with me.

"Remi?"

"I'm here," I whisper, afraid of tipping the precipice she's standing on.

"I don't really talk about this."

"Tell me as much or as little as you want. There's no expectations here."

Briefly tightening the arm around me in a hug, she speaks just as softly.

"I know, but you need to know. I want you to know—not just about what happened but that I trust you. I trust you and I want to be with you, it's just… I don't know if I can give you everything you need and what's expected in a relationship.

"I mean I want to—oh my God do I want to. I dream about it, crave it, wish to have that with you. But… I haven't really tried. Haven't even wanted to try. Not since him. And after what you said in the kitchen and just a while ago, I think you should know everything so you can change your mind now because for as alive as you make me feel and for how much I want to throw caution to the wind and dive head first into you, I don't know if I can. Not just because of what happened, but because of the fallout that followed."

Untucking the arm behind my head, I wrap it around her and swear into the crown of her head, hoping my words will sink in and take root. "I'm not changing my mind about you, Scar. Nothing you've done or experienced will make me look at you differently. The only way I leave is if you ask me to. Otherwise, I'm here and I'm in this. I will fight for you, with you, and choose you. Any fallout that comes from us being together, I will face head on, at your side."

Rolling onto her stomach, she stacks her arms on me and rests her chin on top, blue eyes assessing me. I know she finds whatever it is she's looking for when she tucks her head in and kisses the base of my sternum. Her lips are featherlight as she presses one, then another, her true, honest affection beginning to trickle free.

"You make me want to try, Remi."

"That's all I'll ever ask of you, baby. Never stop trying because you deserve the entire world, and I don't just want to give it to you, I want to help you seize it."

Looking back up, she sucks in so much air, I'm afraid she'll choke before expelling it all in one long, drawn out exhale.

"When I started at U.T., it was with enough credits that I was already halfway through my sophomore year. Roman used to joke that I would probably graduate before him. Which I technically did but only because he signed at 21 as an undrafted player. Like you, he didn't finish his degree first. And like your mom, our dad was livid. He was always driving the point home that a professional career could end in an instant and that Roman needed to have a plan in place in case it did."

Quietly humming as she pauses, she watches me without really seeing me, her head tilting from side to side as she thinks. Then with a sharp, decisive nod, she continues.

"Dad had already purchased a house for Roman where he and several other players on the university's team lived. Since Tennessee was my plan even before Roman came to us, he kept the master open for me, him, Reeves, O'Malley, and…" Trailing off, she swallows, and where she had been indifferent in her explanation before, goosebumps erupt along her skin as she chokes out, "and Castor North taking the other four rooms and sharing the two separate bathrooms.

"Like a lot of people who had a bad high school experience, I swore college would be different. I would put myself out there, be social, make friends, and not continue to cling to my big brother. I was going to face the cattiness and bullies head on instead of letting Roman punch people, make them cry, and otherwise terrorize those who were mean to me. I wanted to date, maybe find a boyfriend. Hell, I would've been happy just to be kissed by someone for a reason beyond wanting to unhinge my brother.

"I was so determined. I signed myself up for a dorm room the moment my acceptance came in. I was not going to be Roman's untouchable little sister or Colt's precious princess, and I knew living with my brother and half the starting lineup of the school's team would relegate me right back into that position. No one, least of all my overprotective brother, could tell me otherwise, and even though our dad had the same reservations, he supported me. Said I had a good head on my shoulders and should get to be free, that Roman was right there and only a phone call away if I needed him.

"Anyway, I'm drifting and you?—"

"Want to know whatever you wish to tell me."

Humming and sighing with a range of expressions dancing across her face, she mumbles to herself, starting and stopping several times before deciding on what to say next.

"Well, you know Roman. He can be a real asshat sometimes, and if there's a way to get what he wants, he'll find it."

Snorting, I don't disagree with her, her eyes brightening as she starts to laugh.

As the weightless sound trails off, she rolls her eyes.

"So being the completely unhinged butthead that he is, he divided my schedule amongst his roommates and a few other members of the team and lucky me," she cheers with facetious excitement. "I was never alone. If I didn't have a stupid baseball player plonked right next to me in class, I had one walking me to class, to lunch, the library, my dorm. I literally couldn't breathe without inhaling grass, dirt, and leather.

"Those friends I wanted to make, yeah, they weren't so interested in me anymore once the hot guy parade started following me around. All they wanted was an in with an up-and-coming player, a rookie, or to my utter disgust since you and Chelsea were together at the time, you. I mean seriously, how classless do you have to be to look at a man who is clearly in love and say, ‘yeah I would wreck that home in a heartbeat if given half a chance.'"

Not particularly the time for correction but hearing her mention me, Chelsea, and love in the same sentence, I can't stop myself from rebutting, "I wasn't in love with her." Combing my fingers through her hair as she gives me a confused look, I apologize. "Sorry, that's really neither here nor there; please, continue."

"Okay…" she draws out, her attention still hung up on my interruption. Shaking it free, she asks, "What was I saying?"

"Budding homewreckers, overbearing big brother?—"

"Right, thank you. So they hung around for a bit. But once they realized how lowkey you ball boys are compared to football players—almost all of y'all perfectly content to chill at home on the couch, eating takeout, and drinking beer in your hobo attire while watching Sports Center instead of going to parties and being seen—they didn't really stick around.

"I was surprisingly okay with it though. I was learning that I didn't need to have an entourage of friends to be happy. That I actually liked staying in and reading, watching a movie with my brother and his friends on the team over going to a frat party or a bar that didn't check IDs. All the things I thought I wanted to experience were just empty memories and bad decisions waiting to happen. Plus, I was coming out of Roman's insanity with a friend. He was on the team, and they were their own friend group and living together but unlike the others, Castor didn't see and treat me as an extension of Roman."

Collecting her thoughts, Scarlet rolls onto her side, her face now up by mine, the both of us sharing one pillow. Mirroring her, I turn over, my fingers mapping the apple of her cheek while hers trace the path of stubble along my jaw. The open and stunning expression of her eyes returns as she stares into mine. I'm lost in her, falling under her surface, and despite the surprise of rough waters beneath such a beautifully undisturbed facade, I float. The current that swirls through her is a place I wish to learn and navigate alongside her.

Drawing the shape of my lips, her eyes drifting down and lingering with each pass, she breathes, "Remi?"

"Scar."

"I really like you," she innocently confesses, her cheeks heating beneath my fingers. "I just thought you should know that."

Closing the remaining space between us, I tuck my arm under her neck, my other over her hip. Her leg easily hooks over my thigh, further drawing herself into me.

I burrow my face into her hair, kissing my way across her crown until I settle in, returning, "I really like you too, Scarlet."

"Even though Ro will hate you when he finds out?"

"Mmm… he already knows, baby girl. So yeah, even with him wishing to put my ass in the ground, I still like you and want you. It would take a lot more than a pissed off big brother to tear me away from you. When I'm with you, things just feel…"

"Right."

"Yeah, exactly."

Kissing the hollow of my throat, she asks, "Promise me that if we do this, you'll show him the same grace and patience you give me. I can't be with you otherwise. What happened, it didn't just affect me. It destroyed Roman and completely wiped clean all the progress he made in overcoming his own trauma. I'm afraid that no matter how much time passes and how much I heal and move forward, he'll carry the guilt of that night with him until the day he dies. So please Remington, promise me."

I'm about to swear it to her when she untucks her head and presses a finger to my lips, silencing my words.

"Not yet, after."

"After."

Unhooking her leg, she wiggles about for a moment, gracelessly turning until her back is tucked against my front. "Mmm…" she hums, shimming a bit more until she's fully wrapped up in me. "Better than I imagined."

"Do you imagine me in bed with you a lot?" I tease.

Giving me the sauciest look over her shoulder, she coyly throws back, "More than you know, Remington."

Fuck… she doesn't often get the last word on me, but this time I'm rendered speechless. I don't know if tomorrow her filterless comments towards me and what she wants from me will recede, but for the time being, I'm going to enjoy the moments of unencumbered levity she bats my way, collecting each one and coveting it as closely as I am her vulnerability.

Sighing, she looks back out toward the mountains, the moment fading.

"So I mention Roman in all of this because if you can believe it, he actually liked the idea of Castor and me. Even encouraged me to consider something more than friendship with him."

No, it's not even something I can picture, let alone believe. Not with how quickly he flipped the script and his perception of me the moment I didn't deny my attraction to Scarlet. It does, however, provide me a missing piece to a puzzle I didn't know I was putting together. And with what she said about Roman carrying guilt over what happened, it slots into place with ease.

From the very first moment you step onto the field together, the team is your family. Like a family, you may not always get along but at the end of the day, you always have each other's backs. And as with any group dynamic, there are those you will bond with more than others. The ones that provide a niche of acceptance beyond being a part of the collective. You don't fuck with anyone in the family, but especially not the ones of your inner circle. And from the moment Colt brought Roman into their lives, it was clear as day that the fastest way to fuck with him was through Scar.

So while I can't imagine a world where Roman attempted to play matchmaker between his sister and teammate, I can see where the past made him as he is now. He trusted Castor North with his sister, approved of him, supported the idea of them, and the fucker took that and slithered into her life only to gut them both.

"Things were easy with him. Like me, he was a sophomore. We had the same major, shared a lecture and lab block, and had a class we took on opposite days with the same professor. So even without baseball, we spent a lot of time together. We partnered up for lab, studied together, and would go out to lunch together during our breaks. So when Ro mentioned Castor having a thing for me and having asked if it would be cool to see if it was returned, I was excited. He was sweet and smart; I enjoyed being around him, and my brother liked him, which was all a plus for me, so I agreed."

Tapping my arm to let her go, Scarlet sits up, keeping her back to me. The comfortable ease of earlier is gone as she sits cross legged, her posture a little too straight, her shoulders a bit too squared. I follow suit and sit up with her but stay where I am, my gaze falling to where her fingers begin worrying the sheets.

I think this may be the hardest part of listening to her story. Her walls going up, she's pushing me out, detaching herself from the memories of the events. I want nothing more than to pull her back into my arms, leech the growing tension from her body, reach inside her and simply remove the dark days of her past so they no longer affect her. I want to fix things for her, but I can't. I'm helpless to change her past. The only thing I can offer now is to respect her boundaries, listen to her words, and wait for her to tell me what she needs.

Sensing the change in the room, Winnie begins to stir. Still half asleep and tangled in the throw blanket, she rolls and lumbers her way over to Scarlet, dropping her heavy head into her human's lap.

My girl, so small now as she closes in on herself, exchanges the sheet for Winnie's velvet ears, a strangled sob leaving her.

Sucking in a heaving breath, her hand unsteady as she continues to soothe herself by petting her docile protector, she sniffles. "Our first date wasn't bad. It wasn't good either. It was awkward—I was awkward. I think I should have paid better attention to how he acted. Maybe… maybe then it wouldn't have happened."

Holding her hand up to stop the words I'm already biting back she corrects, "I know what happened isn't my fault. I know that. And I've accepted that it happened, analyzed it, coped with it, even healed from it. That said, I still get stuck and am unable to act when it comes to dating and wanting to be intimate with someone, but I have made progress. I can experience arousal without feeling sick to my stomach. My own touch no longer makes my skin crawl. I enjoy masturbation and have a healthy sexual appetite now. I just haven't wanted to risk experiencing that with someone else… not until you. You make me feel safe enough to be okay with the fact that I'm always so incredibly horny when I'm around you," she laughs, the sound watery but not in any way self-deprecating or disgusted.

"But I worry. I worry about giving you a complex if I have an episode while you touch me. I worry that you'll think I'm too fragile to be yourself with me. I worry that I may never actually progress past touching myself. I worry that this may be too much for you to deal with and you'll leave and I will never feel this way about another man again. It's a constant cycle in my head each time I try to push for more and I end up getting more and more stuck because how do I tell you I both need control and need for you to take control? I mean what kind of fucked up, mixed signal is that?"

Looking over her shoulder at me, her tears like falling crystals as they drop, she gives me a sad smile.

"I'm sorry I'm broken. The bruises and concussion healed years ago but the insides… he made them ugly. I just want to be perfect again."

Unable to stay in my space any longer, my very soul collapsing with how she sees herself, I tug her back to me, bringing her to sit in the center of my lap. Cupping her face, I swipe my thumbs over her cheeks, catching and clearing each tear as it falls, wiping their stains away.

Resting my forehead against hers, I turn my hold firm as I stress, "Who you are, right now, in this moment, is enough. You do not need to be anything more or less to be perfect. You already are perfect. You were perfect then and you're perfect now. And nothing about you could ever be considered anything less than heartstopping, breath stealing beautiful. You are everything, and I could never want anything more from you. What you give is enough. It will always be enough."

"You're gonna make me fall in love with you aren't you, Remington Tate?"

"That's my plan, baby girl. Love, marriage, babies—I want it all and see it when I look in your eyes."

I'm not ready for it when it happens. Can't believe it even as I feel it. Am completely still. Rendered unmovable as her lips crash onto mine.

She's kissing me.

Scarlet Jones is kissing me.

I'm getting kissed by Scarlet Amelia Jones, the woman I've slowly been losing myself to for nearly a year, and like a fucking tool, I'm just sitting here stunned, not kissing her back.

It's only when she begins to retreat that the synapses inside my brain come back to life and begin firing off. Not wanting to lose her or let this moment end without first becoming an active participant, I shove my fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head, and bringing her right back to me.

It's a gentle breeze and burning fire. Falling and flying. Hazy and crisp. A thousand possibilities and a single moment. An end and a beginning. Like her, this kiss is everything.

Her lips are plush, unpracticed but eager. Her body melts into mine, electrified as she squirms in my lap before rising to her knees. Low in her throat but as loud and actionable as a cannon ringing through my ears, she sighs and moans, her hands coming up to my shoulders as she rocks forward, sending me to my back.

Tentatively licking at the seal of her lips, I'm met with a groan as she opens and sinks back into me, her legs straddled over my hardening cock. Slipping into her mouth, she keeps still, the raking of her nails and desperate sound vibrating into me my only sign to keep going. She's eager and I'm ravenous, my hand pulling free to glide down her back as she begins to mimic the actions of my tongue.

Slowly, I reach the bunched up hem of the shirt she wears. Pushing it up, I retrace the path of my touch on her bare skin.

Another whimpering moan leaves her as she sits fully in my lap. I can't bite it back as she rocks over me, a grunt tearing free as I fist her hair. She does it again, the thin barriers of her panties and my shorts doing little to dull the sensation of rubbing herself along my dick. And again she moans, longer, louder. It's maddening having her like this, my sanity slipping away with each second that Scarlet uses me, explores me. By the time she's done, I'll be useless for anything not involving the devout worship of her, my soul leaving my body to be collected by her, one caress of her tongue and grind of her hips at a time.

With a faster, harder hump along my cock, she keens into my mouth, my own hips reacting without thought as I chase her lust. Two years of my dick only receiving attention from my hand begin to rear forward. My release is already pooling at the base of my spine. Any more of this and I'll be coming in my shorts, but fuck all if I care about embarrassing myself if she feels good.

Pulling her mouth from mine with repeated, lingering kisses breaking up her words, she pants, "I think we should stop," only to sink her tongue back into my mouth.

Reluctant as I am, I use the grip I have on her hair to pull her off of me, the sight of her starry, hooded eyes and swollen, bright pink lips a source of pride for me. I can't help it. Seeing her near glowing from kissing me, I crunch up and kiss her once more hard and fast. Then sitting up the rest of the way, I agree with her, chuckling as she pouts.

"Don't worry, baby girl," I rasp. "You can kiss me again whenever you want."

Turning sweet and timid, she asks, "And will you kiss me?"

Already hopelessly addicted, I lean in and steal another, whispering against her lips as I retreat, "Count on it."