Once dinner was done, she plated me a huge helping, turned on some mindless reality TV show, and ate by my side. When we finished, she took my plate, refilled my glass, and brought along one of her own. We sat and drowned our sorrows in togetherness, booze, and boring TV.
Until I got the call from Tom, just shy of midnight.
Trina didn’t make it.
She died from complications. The virus had taken over. Trina’s lungs couldn’t withstand the fight.
Gone.
One minute she was on the phone with me, the next, not breathing.
Sadie held me through the news, brought me to bed, and wrapped me in her arms while I cried myself to sleep. The last time I did that I was fourteen years old. I’d just found out my mother had died.
The news made me raw. The loss and the reality of how close it was felt intense and devasting to us both. Sadie cried with me. Our tears mingled until they turned to kisses and light touches. Then she made love to me. Removed our clothes and set about making her man feel something that was beautiful.
The experience cemented this woman in my soul in a way I would never forget.
Fuck everything else. I live for her. To make Sadie happy. To make myself happy with Sadie. To build a life. A life worth living.
Now fully awake, I reach out a hand and trace her curved cheekbone and run my fingertips along her hairline until her lashes flutter like butterfly wings against her face and her eyes open.
“Mmm, hey handsome. How are you feeling this morning?”
I continue to trace her skin because I love it and I can. Touching her is a luxury I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. Nor would I want to.
“Better. Still hurt. Brokenhearted over Trina.”
She reaches out a hand and cups my scruffy jaw. “It’s normal to feel that way and you likely will for a long time. She was important to you.”
I nod and take a deep breath, trying to let the sadness go if even for a moment. Turning flat on my back I remember what she said. “Right before…” I rub my hand over my face not wanting to think about what happened. “Uh, during the call. She said she received a cheerleading application with Mindy’s name on it.”
“Huh. Interesting timing, but why is that a big deal?”
“Because it was sent and stamped approved by Coach Bates and not the cheerleading coach.”
She frowns. “So that means the coach did a dirty and slid the application through improper channels?”
“Yeah. But why? Unless it was payment for something?”
“Something like drugging a player and setting him up for a crash and burn of his career in order to get herself the job she wants as a cheerleader with the team?” She sits up and her bare breasts come into view.
I grin, reach out, and pinch a pretty, pink tip.
She smacks my hand away. “Don’t get frisky. We need to figure this out.”
I sigh. “What does it matter anymore? The world is ending and Trina is dead. I’ve got you. Fuck everything else.”
Sadie narrows her eyes into little slits. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been trying to figure this out for three weeks and you’re going to give up now? When you’re right on the edge of finding out the truth?”
“Like I said, who cares anymore?”
“You care. Trust me on that. It might not feel like it right now, but you do, Evan.” Sadie jumps out of bed beautifully naked. Gloria, who was resting on the foot of the bed, hops down with her ass in the air and prances towards the kitchen, likely thinking Sadie was going to feed her breakfast.
My girl grabs my T-shirt from yesterday and slips it on sans panties. Nice.
“I’m calling that lying little skank! Right now. I’m going to get the proof you need.”
Then something Trina said right before she collapsed blazes through my memory bank. “Baby.” I shuffle out of bed, grab my lounge pants, and tug them on. “Honey, Trina said she’d send me a copy of the application. That would be the proof we need.”
At least for that part. Doesn’t fix the planted steroids which is still a hard point with the legal team. As far as I knew, they were still undecided about the outcome of that particular issue.
I make my way into the living room and find Sadie on my laptop.
“Password,” she demands.
“Football2015. Capital F.”
She taps in my code rapidly.
“She said she’d send the e-mail?” she asks, bringing up my Gmail account.
“Yeah.”
She has her sexy glasses on, and her entire body screams that she’s serious and in investigative mode. Over the last couple days, I’ve watched my woman do her research and she’s a master.
I come around the loveseat and sit on the couch next to her. She’s nodding at something she’s reading before she points at the screen. “Right here. This section. Offer signed by Coach Bates. Application approved by Coach Bates. Is this enough to clear you with the team?”