Page 61 of Endurance
I could push him so hard right now. I could send him right over the edge and tell him everything he’s not saying. But what’s the point? None of this is real. And he’s not evolved enough to even admit the truth to himself, let alone to me. Deep Talk is a joke.
“Just go home, Tanner,” I add with a huff and turn to make my way up the steps.
“Belle,” he croaks and rushes up behind me, folding his arms around my waist.
I fight his hold for a while, trying to push him off of me. I pinch his arms like a child and he growls in pain but refuses to let go, only squeezing me tighter.
I stop for a moment, shivering against his warm breath on my shoulder. All I would have to do is turn my head into him and I know what would happen. He would kiss me. He would consume me. He’d make me forget. We’d trip over each other as we walk backwards into my flat, never releasing the others lips. We’d go to bed. We’d fuck or maybe even make love. He’d bring me so much pleasure that I’d forget everything that hurts me about him.
Instead, I drop my arms to my sides, willing them to stop fighting…Turning them into lifeless noodles, no longer resisting him but not embracing him either. I want to cry from the ache of no action. It feels so bloody wrong. Fighting Tanner is more my style, but everything is different now. Acknowledging that is what gives me the strength to say no when he asks the next question.
“Can I come up?”
My eyes sting as I reply, “No, Tanner. You can’t.”
With a huff, he releases me.
I don’t look back as I walk into my flat, close the door behind me, and lean my back against the wall to catch my breath. A masochist through and through, I pull out my mobile and read a text he sent me earlier.
Tanner: I miss you.
I’VE SPENT THE LAST WEEKacting like a girlie fucking basket case because of Belle Ryan and her painfully icy shoulder. I know I got weird after Manchester, but I needed some time to think. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with this woman and it’s making me completely bloody mental.
After she refused my invite to Welly’s, I texted her to see if we were still finishing out our arrangement or if she wanted out full stop. She responded that she would attend the events mapped out in the email and that she hoped I’d still honour my part by attending the hospital charity function coming up.
It felt like she nut-punched me.
How we went from fucking like animals, arguing like an old married couple, and laughing like mates to this clipped, formal, stranger-like texting is infuriating. It made me want to hole up in my flat and hide until this entire suspension was over.
But then I found a note from my mum in a keepsake box Vi gave me last year. When I read it, something clicked. The note made me realise that sitting still is getting me nowhere fast.
Belle goes to work and saves babies. She’s bigger than life. I play football, but I intend to be more than just football. I intend to find my own way to change lives, which starts with going to Welly’s tonight and rebuilding my team’s trust in me, owly mood or not.
“Hey, Tan, you ready?” Booker crows, letting himself into my flat and striding down the hallway toward where I’m sitting in my room. “We’re going to be late for Welly’s if we don’t leave now. I would have come here to fetch you earlier, but you told me you weren’t coming.”
I just finish pushing my foot into my boot when he comes to stand in my doorway. “I’m ready,” I reply and grab the finger of whiskey off my bedside table and polish it off like a shot.
He eyes the glass in my hand. “Couldn’t wait until the pub?”
I breathe against the burn in my throat. “Nope.”
His brows rise as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “What made you change your mind and decide to come?”
I glare at him. “It’s still my team, isn’t it?”
His eyes fly wide. “Christ, you’re a moody sod. Want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” I growl as I stand up, grabbing my jacket and putting it on. “It’s just…” I start but then stop. “Nope, I’m not doing it.”
I brush past Booker and make my way down the hallway toward the door, stopping in my tracks before walking out. The whiskey burning in my throat is doing nothing to damper the inferno boiling in my body. It’s just stoking it. Giving it life.
My grip on the doorknob turns lethal as I snap, “You know, I didn’t ask forher.” I glance over my shoulder at Booker. He’s watching me all meek and nervous from the hallway, like I’m some sort of wild animal and he’s not sure what I’ll do next. “I didn’t ask for Belle Ryan to pick me up that night. I sure as fuck didn’t want to have to fake date her. I did it to be a bloody gentleman. To try to help her find a way out of this mess so her family would get off her arse.”
Booker moves to open his mouth but I cut him off. “Her family is fucked, too,” I continue as I turn and prop myself against the door. “They are nothing like us, which makes her a God damned anomaly to figure out. One minute she’s funny and light and making my dick hard with all her sexy football talk. The next, she’s dark and broody and her temper…Christ, Belle’s temper is a hair-trigger. Set it off and she’s got a razor-sharp tongue that will send your testicles back inside your body.”
I open the door and storm over to the lift, pushing the button over and over and over. The damn thing never stays on the fourth level. I turn back to see Booker closing the door behind him, so I continue, “You know what she’s like, Book? She is like a drug. When I look at her from the outside, she seems crazy and out of control. I’m best to stay away. But when I’m inside her, with her, breathing her in, it’s like there is no other reality in the world that matters.” I slam my fist against the button and it feels good.
“Tanner, get a hold of yourself,” Booker deadpans. “I’m worried about you.”
