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I meet his stare, not wanting to get too close for him to smell my breath. I shrug. “It hit me out of nowhere. I was feeling fine. Taking photos of you and Jethro, then suddenly felt like I was gonna puke. And sure enough, I did.”
“Tenley, about what you saw?—”
I place my hand on his thigh, careful not to get too close. “Hey, you don’t need to explain anything to me, okay?” I hope he can feel my sincerity. “We’re parenting together, not courted by law or anything. You’re free to see whoever you want. It just caught me off guard. But could you give me a small heads up if you ever bring someonehome, please? I’d like to make myself scarce.” I giggle, already beginning to feel better.
I’m not sure what August is feeling, but he doesn’t disagree, only nods. It’s not until Kingston’s song echoes through the hall that August speaks, knowing he’s on deck. “Wait for me?” he asks. “Let me make sure you get home okay.”
He waits for me to agree before running back to the field.
I stay planted on the cold floor, feeling much emptier without August beside me. I glance at the TV mounted in the lounge up ahead and watch as August takes the plate, hitting a fly ball to center field and making it safe to second.
My heart falters, watching closely as he brings three fingers to his lips and kisses them, raising his arm in the air.
I’ve never seen him do that before.
But it doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I can’t and shouldn’t worry about what August Graves does. He’s my friend and the father of my child.
For some reason, I keep forgetting that.
18
AUGUST
It’s good to be home.
After being on the road, a night in my own bed sounds like fucking paradise. My shoulders are killing me from all the fielding drills Coach had us doing between double headers.
Lucky for us, we won two out of the three games against the Tampa Bay Titans, securing the series win. But traveling by bus from Florida back to Atlanta when you’re already sore as hell is not what I would consider relaxing.
All I can think about is icing my joints and sleeping for days.
Well, more like two days since that’s all the time I have until we fly out for our next away game in Boston.
It still feels strange calling Tenley’s condo home. Although it may be temporary, I feel comfortable here. It didn’t take much time for me to adjust, and that should worry me, but it doesn’t. I like being in her space.
After dropping my luggage in my room, I head back to the kitchen to whip something up to eat after eating nothing but trail mix and beef jerky on the ride home.
I need protein. Carbs. Fat. All the things. Then a big fat nap—a solid twelve-hour one at that.
It’s now close to midnight, the house illuminated by the moon casting through the back porch. The light in Tenley’s room is off, telling me she’s asleep. I almost texted her to let her know my ETA, but didn’t want to chance waking her.
With a one-track mind, I head down the hallway that connects our two rooms and hear a slight muffling. I stop just outside her door and consider knocking for a second, but quickly remember the rule she made about privacy when a door is shut.
But she never said anything about listening from the other side.
Should have clarified the fine print, like I said, little venom.
I place my ear against the cold wood and feel my heart quicken at the sound of a steady vibration. A robotic vibration.
A sound I’d be a fool not to recognize.
Kinky girl is getting herself off. Or trying really hard to, that is.
“Ugh!” her raspy voice projects from the other side of the door, likely not caring how loud she is. As far as Tenley knows, I’m still out of town until morning.
Thank fuck we decided to skip dinner and head home tonight. I’d miss the live show, and have fucking mercy, that would be a shame.
I’m a sick bastard. My feet are firmly rooted in place with no plans to leave this spot until I hear her come. I’m close enough to hear her uneven breaths and restless shuffling.
