Page 17 of Trust Me Always

A laugh flies from me and Brady’s smile widens. He kisses my temple and shuffles by, dropping onto the carpet, his back hitting the ground with a loud thump.

That’s when I actually get a look at him, realizing he’s still got eye black smeared all over his face and turf tape up to his elbow.

I look to the clock above the TV and back. “Rush out tonight or what? You told me you’d be here closer to nine thirty–ish.”

“That was before fuckface booked it from the locker room before I could even get my damn pads off.”

“Ah,” I chuckle. “Yeah, I figured he must have overheard something.”

“Yeah, and then I got stuck on my way out and it took me even longer.”

“Let me guess, Lancaster Ladies in waiting?”

“That’s good. You should lead the fan club, suggest an official name. Maybe suggest they take a couple days off a week.”

I scoff a laugh, but it’s light.

Brady’s smile slowly falls as he looks at me with a gentler expression. “You good, Cammie Baby?”

I manage a half grin, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a little squeeze. “I’m good, mountain man. Go shower and I’ll order us something to eat.”

He shakes his head as he kicks his shoes off and digs into his bag for a fresh outfit. “Delivery drivers won’t be able to get through the shit show of traffic for another hour. If we wanna eat, we’ll have to scrape something together here or walk somewhere before the party.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Hustle your ass.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Back in my room, I light the candles and jump up on my bed,spraying the misting spray I decided was free—seeing as it was on the counter of the hotel we stayed at in Denver when we went to Noah’s preseason game the week before school started—up into the low spinning fan.

It gets in my mouth and I cough, hopping back down and fixing the towels on my mattress again.

Less than five minutes pass and Brady slides in, in a pair of boxers, flopping right onto my makeshift massage table. “Ready, Glinda the Good Witch. Work your magic on me.”

I toss my phone onto the pillow and climb over him, sitting down on his thighs because I’m too lazy to stand.

I get straight to work, pouring some warm oil along his spine and slowly working it into his muscles. He’s tense, likely sore from playing a kick-ass game tonight, so I take it easy to start but press into him a little firmer as I go on.

I’m almost positive he’s fallen asleep after about ten minutes of nothing but his deep, even breaths, but then he lets out a satisfied moan.

“You should be paid for this,” he mumbles, his face half pressed into the towel beneath him. “I mean, not from me but…”

I chuckle and press the tips of my fingers along his spine, working up and down. “In another life, I would totally open a day spa.”

“Why not in this life?”

I shrug, trying not to think about what it could mean for me if I didn’t choose a career that allowed me time with little ones, and press my palms into the space below his shoulders, kneading out the knot there.

Brady groans long and loud, and I smile to myself. “You’re too sweet to be so mean with your hands twenty-four seven, aren’t you?”

“Ha!” I mock and Brady laughs, but it’s quickly cut off when I dig my knuckles along the tension line in his shoulder blade, hissharp hiss following. Biting back a laugh, I bend down, whispering in his ear. “You were saying?”

“I take it back. You’re not Glinda. You’re Maleficent. Evil, evil woman.”

I do laugh now, easing my touch and gliding my hands down, collecting a little more of the oil and sliding back up until my fingers are curling around the front of his shoulders. I skate them out and down his biceps, then back again.

“Jesus. No I take itall back.You’re not allowed to be a massage lady. Stick to the hot kindergarten-teacher thing. None of you girls are ever doing this professionally. This shit is bonerfide.”

“Bona what?”

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