“Thanks, babe,” I tell her and return her affection with several playful, sweaty kisses all over her face. I don’t stop until she’s giggling me away.
A couple of the guys coming out of the locker room catch sight of our display and start mocking me with smacking kissing noises and wrapping their arms around themselves.
Idiots.
“Coming to pizza, Winslow?” a linebacker named Chris pipes up.
“Or are you too busy playing house with the wife and kids?” another guy named Nate adds with a nod toward Maria and our little sisters.
Maria shifts away self-consciously, and Winnie and Isabella stop laughing. My hackles have risen, and I’m just about to tell Nate to go fuck himself when Coach Rydell approaches and claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Probably a good idea for the team to go out together, boys. Just because you got a win tonight doesn’t mean you can quit putting in the work. Go eat pizza and talk about the shit you need to fix for next game.”
My jaw hardens as Maria backs away completely, a hollow version of her earlier excitement as she wraps her arms around Winnie’s and Isabella’s shoulders and smiles down at them. “No worries, guys,” she tells our sisters. “The three of us will go eat and meet Remy after.”
Her eyes are understanding and compassionate and completely fucking sad.
And I’ll be fucked if I’m going to leave her like that to go to dinner with douchebags like Chris and Nate. Truthfully, it doesn’t even matter that a lot of the guys on my team are good buddies. I have somewhere else more important to be.
“Sorry, Coach, but I already have plans tonight that I can’t break. Next time,” I state definitively, not leaving any room for argument before walking away.
Chris and Nate guffaw and cut up under their breath, and I’m sure Coach is wearing none other than his steeliest of jaws. But I don’t give a shit.
And when I catch up with Maria and Winnie and Isabella and see the resulting smiles on their faces, I don’t regret my decision.
Football is just a game. Nothing less or more than that.
But Maria and our sisters? They’re my priority here. Period.
Still Wednesday, October 9th
Remy
“Maria, if it weren’t for work, I wouldn’t be leaving right now.”
Younger me knew better. Younger me left no fucking doubt. Well, at least the younger you that understood what he had when Maria was on his arm. The moron who let her go right before leaving for college—and then dropped out after a year to day trade anyway—clearly had a serious lapse in judgment.
She stops just outside the living room and turns to face me with the kind of neutrality on her face I know has to be forced because the dimple in her cheek shows her truth. “Remy, you don’t have to feel bad about leaving. Of course you have a job. A life. More important things to do.”
More important things to do? It doesn’t fucking feel like it.
Even with her feeling so unsure about how I’m feeling, I’m sure enough for the both of us, and I don’t hesitate to show her.
I charge, right into her space.
Sinking my hands into her hair, I lift her chin up to mine, and without wavering, sweep my tongue over the line of her lips to get access before diving inside.
I swallow her gasp of surprise and kiss her like I’ve never kissed anyone before. This is a declaration—this is a point being made. This is a promise.
Our tongues dance, hers giving way to mine as I take complete control of the kiss and her mouth.
Her taste is so familiar, so beautifully and hauntingly her, that my mind almost spirals into despair at the thought of not tasting everything—every single part of her.
“God,” I groan, pulling away just enough to lick across the line of her lips again. She whimpers, and all the planning, all the moments that have led to this one come into focus. No questions. No small talk. Everything that needs to be said is said with this kiss.
Leave no fucking doubt, Remy.
This isn’t the end. And if it’s the last thing I do on this earth, I will make sure we pick up where we left off.
When I finally pull away, Maria is breathing heavily, and her eyes are soft. “Wow.”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
“I guess I’ll see you again sometime, then, huh?”
“Just try to keep me away, and see what happens.”
She quirks one amused eyebrow at me. “Is that a threat?”
I shake my head. “It’s a promise. And you know how I am about keeping promises.”
She laughs then. “Adult Remington Winslow is all about the promises.”
“Damn straight, babe.”
With one last peck to her lips, I grab the remainder of my stuff from the kitchen counter and head for the front door. She follows easily, holding it open for me while I walk through it.