Page 101 of Resilient Love

I swipe a finger over the seam of her thin athletic shorts, dragging it through the slickness that’s already waiting for me, and her eyes swirl with grey clouds like a brewing storm.

“Fuck me,” she says, her words a breathy whisper, “Coach.”

I swear to god, that word is like a trigger for my dick, so just like she demands, that’s exactly what I do.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

SATURDAY, JUNE 14

I suckRafael’s fingers clean, releasing them from my lips with apopbefore standing and pulling my shorts back up my thighs.

He takes a minute to gather the rest of his things, and I take the larger of the two boxes because there’s not a man on earth who’s going to make me feel like a dainty princess, not even this absolute monster of a man.

“You about ready?” he asks, taking one last look around the small, windowless office where all of this started. The question feels heavy, like it holds more meaning behind those three words, but no matter the meaning, my answer remains the same.

“I am if you are,” I tell him, and when he nods, I hold the door open for him. Except instead of walking through the door,he stops in his tracks, and his jaw sets in a hard line, the muscle twitching.

I peer past him, and who I see is the last thing I’d have expected, my stomach plummeting to my toes.

My nostrils burn as my throat tightens, a sudden wave of loathing hitting me with the strength of a monsoon.

“So much for never being satisfied with just one dick,” Noah says, slowly shaking his head in that condescending way of his. “Seems to me that you were just waiting for an off-limits prick. Isn’t that right, Elise?” He tilts his head in question as he leans against the wall, looking prim and proper in his dress slacks and loafers. Such a contrast to the slimy, uncouth individual under the clothing.

I steel my spine, grinding my teeth. “If you recall, I said I wouldn’t settle down until just one satisfied me. Turned out yours was never in the running, Noah.” My words ring true, and I know they have the desired effect when his eyes flash with rage. “Now get out of our way,” I say, brushing past him in the tight hallway. Rafael follows behind me, grumbling something I can’t quite make out.

“Just wait till I tell your father about this,” Noah deadpans.

I spin on my heel, outrage scorching through me at the thought that this insolent man-child would threaten me as if I were a teenager again.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an adult, Noah. You can’t blackmail me to get your way. What is it that you want anyway?”

“You,” Rafael says, answering for him. “He clearly wants what he can’t have, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get you. Well, whatever someone like him is able to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noah asks, his voice reaching a higher pitch, straining his thick Oxford accent as his cheeks grow pink and his expression more indignant thanbefore. He puffs his chest, shoving up against Rafael, who rolls his eyes, treating him as nothing more than an annoying gnat.

“It means you never had a chance. Elise doesn’t need any man, but what shewantsis arealman. And that’s something you sure as fuck are not.”

Without a second thought, Rafael drapes his heavy arm over my shoulder, steering me out of the locker room as Noah shouts behind us.

“Leave him, Elise! Leave him, or I’ll tell your father! I’m not fucking playing around, Elise!” he shouts, his shrill voice piercing my ears as dread seeps into my gut.

I hold it together as we make it out of the locker room, down the long hall, and into the parking lot. Rafael is quick to open his trunk, piling the small boxes into it as I do the same, biting painfully on my lower lip.

He opens my door for me, helping me into the car before running around to climb in on his side. He makes quick work of backing out of the parking spot, careful not to skid through the puddles left from the earlier rain shower, the dreary grey sky cloaking us reflecting my current mood.

My hands are shaking as I form the next words. “What are we going to do?” I ask Rafael, unsure of what he’s thinking.

He looks so calm as he drives us toward his apartment building.

“We tell him.” He shrugs.

He doesn’t elaborate further. Doesn’t try to qualify his statement. Just tells me the words I needed to hear to settle the demons swarming through me.

“What about your season? We agreed we’d wait until it was over before we told him.”

He pulls off, parking a couple of metres from the road. The sounds of car horns and heavy traffic pass along the highway beside us, his tyres crunching through dew-heavy grass beforehe puts the car in park, turning to me and taking my trembling hands in his. “Yeah, but plans change, and frankly,” he says, rubbing my wrists with his thumbs, “if your dad gives me any ultimatums,which he swears he’d never do, then we deal with it then. His reaction doesn’t change anything for us,mi vida. That’s not just a nickname, baby.” He’s always so quick to remind me of that, and it makes my heart pound even more intensely.

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I swallow around the thick lump forming in my throat. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again a million times more if that’s what it takes to get through to you. Youaremy life. I love rugby, but I love you more. End of story, so stop worrying about an outcome that hasn’t even happened yet, and call your dad to see if he’s available for dinner tonight.”

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