36
“How are you doing?”
Usually, it put Taran’s teeth on edge, but that question was why she was here. Bruce sat back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee, and waited. The man, with his buzzed hair, T-shirts, and tattoos, looked nothing like she’d picture a therapist would. But the former army officer Seabass had recommended was a godsend.
“I’m feeling less like I’m standing in quicksand.” Taran shook her head. “I put my notice in at Sports Illustrated. Wayne was actually disappointed I was leaving. Ironic, huh?”
“You’re good at your job. Sarcasm and snark don’t change that fact. And I know you realize how much the magazine will miss you.” Bruce’s eye bored into her. “And how do you feel about the new position?”
“The good kind of stress. I’m excited about working with Schools First. There are moments when I feel that tight ball of pain, but I’m trying to let it go. My life is different from how I’d planned it to be, but I realize that different can still be good. I can keep some of the things I wanted without letting it break me.”
Letting part of her old self back in meant allowing the hurt of all she lost back in as well. It was a struggle to let the ache in her chest stay. But like Bruce said, when she faced the deep cuts, she gave them the chance to start to heal. That’s what she wanted and what she was beginning to do.
“Now, the biggest gaping hole in my heart isn’t the loss of my old life. It’s the loss of my new one.”
Bruce cleared his throat.
“I know my life is more than Corey Matthews.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m working on being dramatic.”
He chuckled. “You still haven’t heard from him?”
“I didn’t write the article so he would call me. But I’d hoped he might. So it was disappointing.” Taran tucked her bangs behind her ear and switched from sitting crisscross on the sofa to tucking one leg under her. “The positive thing to come out of him not calling is that I got to feel disappointment.”
“And?”
“It sucked,” Taran said, receiving a full-out laugh in response. “I know that wasn’t what you meant. I worked through it. It hurts, but I hurt him, and I can’t expect him to forgive me just because I wrote a good story.”
“Have you thought more about reaching out to him?”
Taran warred with herself over that. She wanted to more than she wanted to do anything else. But it didn’t feel fair. He was in the home stretch of the season. The Metros were leading the league, and he was doing well. The drama would mess with that. She needed to put him first.
“If I don’t hear from him once the Metros are done for the year, I’ll reach out.”
She spent another twenty minutes chatting before she headed out. It was ridiculous to think back at all the effort she’d put into pretending to be fine and refusing to deal with her issues for the last two years, because Bruce was good. Therapy was good. The best part was that she felt better. Last weekend was her parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary, and when she teared up at the slideshow, her sister and mother practically tackle hugged her. In those ways, it was nice to feel normal again.
The worst part was how much she missed Corey. She continued to torture herself by watching his games and interviews. A silly part of her heart held on to the hope that he’d drop a chipmunk comment into them again, although he hadn’t since claiming they bite. It was hard to believe that she used to hate hearing that word out of his mouth.
The drive home was automatic, like she was on autopilot. She had one more article to do before she was officially finished with Sports Illustrated, and she was hoping to get the last name off Wayne’s big five list. Finishing his list of impossibles before she left would be the way to go out. The basketball star had been on a media hiatus, but she’d reached out to his agent, hoping that he’d change his mind before the start of the season.
She scooped up a manilla envelope from her front steps, but it wasn’t until she dropped it on her kitchen counter that she saw the name. Her heart lurched.
Chipmunk.
In the blink of an eye, she had it ripped open.
Trust is a two-way street, especially because I want more than just that.
The contract was so familiar because she’d seen tons of them from Sean. Corey must have rehired him. And although she knew what she was looking at, she couldn’t believe the words. She didn’t consciously decide to go to Corey’s, but she was pounding on his apartment door with the envelope in her hand fifteen minutes later.
When it opened and she was hit with the smell of Obsession for Men, her stomach bottomed out. It seemed impossible that it had been over a month since she’d seen Corey. Because standing there seeing him in his typical jeans and white T-shirt, it felt like no time had passed.
His eyes slowly roamed over her like a caress before landing back on hers. The air felt like it was sucked out of the hallway, and everything seemed to disappear as they stared at each other.
“Hey,” he said finally.
“Hey.” She swallowed.
Corey stepped back and let her in. The second she was inside, she was wrapped in the warm hominess that was his apartment. When she turned back to him, he hadn’t moved more than two steps from the door. His stance was wide, with arms crossed like he was bracing himself. When she didn’t say anything, he cracked his neck. Unsure of where to start, Taran lifted the contract toward him.