“No, but Sterling made a call to his brother, Hudson.” My skin prickled at the thought of the playboy of the Carolina Hurricanes spending his days around Savannah. I walked into her apartment and instantly noted the lack of furniture, pictures, or anything that might identify it as hers. Well, those boxes had her name on them, but that was about it.
“Right. I forgot Maddox’s brother played for the Reapers.” She shut the door and leaned back against it. “Why didn’t you just make an appointment? Or call me?”
“Takes the surprise out of everything if you see my name on your schedule, doesn’t it?” I winced. “And it felt like what needed to be said was an in-person thing. But then you weren’t there, and it wasn’t like I could look up your address in the personnel files, so it took a little time to track you down.” Great, now I was babbling.
“How did you find out where I live?” She tilted her head. “Not that I’m arguing or don’t want you here.” She glanced away.
Holy shit, could this get any more awkward?
“I asked Sterling to call London, and he wouldn’t, but he called Caz Foster, who then called his sister, who called me.” Right there, even more awkward. “I swear everyone knows everyone around here.”
“That’s a lot of calling…” She swallowed. “Um. I can only really offer you a drink. I’ve only unpacked the glasses.” Her fingers toyed with the chain around her neck.
The chain I’d given back to her a few days ago.
“A drink sounds great.”
She led me through the open living room and dining room and into a sparse, but modern kitchen. I leaned on the kitchen island and peered across the hallway into what I assumed was her bedroom and saw an air mattress.
“You don’t have a bed?” I blurted. Damn it, she was sleeping on the floor?
She laughed and pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “Now who’s making assumptions?”
Ouch. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” She spun suddenly and narrowed her eyes.
My mouth opened and shut. “I was an ass at the boathouse.”
“Yes, you were!” Hurt flashed in her eyes, and my stomach sank. “But, I also know I deserved it.” Her shoulders fell.
I couldn’t stand the pain etched across her face, and I moved, heading around the island so I could hold her.
“Oh no, you don’t!” She waved her finger at me and backed up, keeping the island between us. “Every time we’re close enough to touch, that’s all we do.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “True.” I braced my hands on the counter and stared at her across the expanse of granite. She was so beautiful. Yoga pants or mini skirt, hair down and flowing, or up in that messy bun, it didn’t matter. She was all fire and snark in public, then gentle and soft-spoken when it was just the two of us. She was everything I wanted.
“I moved here for you,” she said, breaking the silence.
“I know,” I replied softly, but the sound carried like an echo around the empty apartment.
“I gave up the Raptors, told off my father, humbled myself to Weston—who let me tell you, was not my biggest fan at that moment—packed only what fit in the U-Haul behind my car, and moved to an entirely different city for you.”
“I know,” I repeated, gripping the edge of the granite. She was right. The second we got within arm’s reach, there would be no more speaking. Our chemistry worked both for and against us that way. “I didn’t know it at the boathouse, but I do now.”
“I broke up with you so you wouldn’t lose your contract—”
“I don’t give a shit about my contract!”
“Your sister—”
“I have enough set aside in trust funds. When you grow up poor, you learn to save for a rainy day. Trust me, I’ve been responsible with my money. Do I love my career? Yes. Do I love the game? Yes. But I love you more!” My jaw ticked as I struggled to reign in my emotions. “I love you more, Savannah, and you didn’t even let me fight for you. You and your dad locked me out of his office and discussed our relationship without me. Then you came out and…” My words failed at the memory of the way she’d crushed my soul between her fingers like I was nothing more than a gnat.
“I know,” she whispered as if the memory haunted her, too. “I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me? I knew the risks of being with you. I knew the consequences, and I wanted you anyway. I didn’t need your protection, Savannah, I needed you.” My throat tightened.
She sucked in a breath. “Needed…as in past tense?” Her voice trembled on those last two words.
“Savannah, I—”
“No, no, no.” She came around the island, and I didn’t have the willpower to move, especially when she ducked under my arm so she stood between them against the island. Her hands cradled my face, and it wasn’t pain, I saw in her eyes—it was fear. “I love you, Hendrix. You didn’t believe me in the boathouse, and I know why. I get it, but I need you to know that now. I love you, and I know I didn’t say it when you needed to hear it, when you were brave enough to say it first, but I do. I love you. Please tell me I didn’t blow my chance—”