Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (16 page)

Adam

I get off the bus at the hotel in Kansas City like a rocket.

A couple of the guys shake their heads at me as I rush past them to get to the lobby faster. One pats me on the back and says, “Go get your girl, rookie.”

The automatic doors
whoosh
open the moment before I crash through them in my rush to get inside, and a huge smile spreads across my face when I see Courtney, sitting on a couch with a matching smile on her face.

I cross the lobby to her and when I get my arms around her, I stand there and just hold her.

“Can’t. Breathe,” she says after a few long moments.

That’s when I realize I’m not holding her, I’m crushing her against my chest. I loosen my grasp and say, “Sorry. Guess I’m excited to see you.”

“I’d rather you be excited than not,” she says, humor filling her eyes before she lifts onto her toes and kisses me, letting her lips linger on mine a little longer than she normally does in public.

“I’ve missed that, “I say.

“Me, too.”

I look at her and can see the changes in her body since she’s started working out more and eating healthier. Her face is a bit slimmer and her arms look more toned.

“You look great,” I say, and her face lights up at the compliment as I lean in to kiss her again.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Deeks says from behind me. “Enjoying your reunion?”

“Much,” Courtney says before adding, “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Future Mrs. Kistler.”

Her cheeks redden a little at hearing that, but it makes my heartbeat quicken. I love hearing her with my last name.

“Rookie, we should go get our room keys,” he says. “Then you two can get to properly saying hello to each other.”

With that, he winks at Courtney, who is blushing deeply now, and I mouth “sorry” to her as I follow Deeks to get the keys from the assistant.

“Is Hilary coming to the game this weekend?” I ask Deeks.

“Nah,” he says. “We’re not at the traveling-to-away-games stage yet.”

“I didn’t realize that was a stage.”

“That’s because you fell in love with Courtney when you were both in diapers.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “We were definitely wearing clothes. And talking.”

Deeks laughs and says, “Your balls probably hadn’t even dropped yet when you knew she was the one.”

I laugh, shaking my head, and try to think of the moment I knew I was in love with Courtney.

It could have been when we were eight and she threw a better spiral than I could. I remember thinking, “Wow, she is the coolest.” Which, at eight, is pretty much a declaration of love.

Or maybe when we were in high school, and even though our teams were rivals—and I had a girlfriend plus Courtney and I weren’t really talking then—I would look at her school’s student section, searching for her face in the crowd after I made a touchdown.

Perhaps it was that day I ran into her on campus, when I was so overjoyed to see her that I wrapped her in a hug similar to the one I just gave her and told her she was coming to a party with me that night.

But I think the truth of it is that even though I dated other girls, I never took anyone seriously, because none of them were Courtney. Even though she and I drifted apart in high school, she was always the woman I measured others up to. And no one was ever going to measure up.

“Maybe not,” I say to Deeks, who rolls his eyes in response.

I look across the lobby to where she’s sitting and using her phone, wondering if she’s felt the same way about me her entire life as I have about her. If she always measured other guys up to me, and that’s why she never really dated anyone.

Not going to lie, I love the knowledge that I’m going to be her first and last. That she is mine entirely and I don’t have to share any part of her with another guy.

I’ve been moving forward in line behind the other guys to pick up my key and don’t even realize I’m at the front until the woman says, “Your key, Mr. Kistler. Enjoy your night.”

I take it and Deeks, standing off to the side, says, “I suppose that if the girl next door when I was growing up looked like that and loved football as much as Courtney does, I would have been head over heels my entire life, too.”

“You absolutely would have.”

“I’m guessing you guys are going to be ordering room service instead of going out tonight?”

“Probably,” I say, taking a few steps away from him and back toward Courtney. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, man.”

I wave at Deeks and look toward Courtney. “You ready to head to the room?” I ask her.

After hesitating a minute she says, “Yeah. Let’s go to the hotel room.”

When we get in the room, she puts her small overnight bag on the dresser next to the TV and then sits on the bed.

“How was the trip?” she asks.

But I can’t even begin to answer because she is sitting on the bed and she is here and I’ve missed her so much that the only thing I can think about doing is rumpling the perfectly made bed.

I sit next to her, cupping her face in my hands and lowering my mouth to hers. She tastes like vanilla, and the familiar scent of the clean, soft floral combination of her shampoo and lotion draws me in to her. I deepen the kiss and she opens her mouth to mine, a small sound escaping when I lean into her and she begins to lower herself onto the bed.

We kiss for what seems like hours and when we pull apart, she says, “So the trip was long and lonely?”

I laugh and say, “Yes. The trip was long and lonely and I am obsessed with the fact that you’re here.”

“It’s only been a few weeks since we’ve seen each other.”

“A few weeks too long.”

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “For me, too.”

“Let’s not focus on that,” I say, wanting to be present in the time that I have with her. “Let’s just enjoy being together this weekend.”

“Deal,” she says. “What time do you have to be up tomorrow?”

“I need to meet the team in the lobby at eight.”

She groans and looks at the clock. “So in approximately twelve hours.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m guessing you’ll actually be up at six.”

“Most likely,” I say. “My body is used to the early wake-up call now.”

“So we basically have four hours to see each other until around eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

“Basically,” I say with a grimace.

“Okay,” she says, sitting up. “Let’s make the most of the time we have. Are we ordering room service or going out?”

“Room service.”

She grabs the menu from the nightstand and says, “I’m guessing you want to carb load?”

“Mhmm,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious about that since I know she is avoiding carbs.

“Burger and fries okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Great,” she says. “I’ll put the order in now.”

She calls and orders for the both of us—a medium rare burger and fries for me and a grilled chicken breast with roasted veggies for herself—and when she hangs up the phone says, “It should be up within a half hour. So, other than missing me, how are you?”

“I’m overwhelmed and overjoyed and overstimulated.”

“Right now? Or always?”

“Right now I’m definitely all three,” I say. “I’m always overwhelmed. I never expected to be starting this year.”

“How is Brooks doing?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. “He’s okay,” I say. “In a lot of pain. He’s still recovering from the breaks and can’t enter physical therapy quite yet. I feel like I should do something for him, you know?”

“The only thing you can really do is focus on the game and not let him or the team down.”

“True,” I say. “Except that I feel by playing well that means he’s going to hate me when he’s healed and rehabbed and wanting his first-string place back. Because you and I both know I’m not going to want to give that up.”

She nods and says, “Just wait and see what happens. All you know for certain is that for the next season you play for the New Orleans Saints. Who knows what’s going to happen next year, you know?”

“I do know,” I say with a sigh. “When did you get so good at this?”

“I’ve watched a lot of sports movies.”

I laugh and say, “Okay, your turn. Tell me how everyone is at Mizzou.”

Just then, there’s a knock on the door. I open it and the waiter carts in the food. Once I tip him and he’s gone, Courtney and I pick up the conversation while I scarf my food. Normally she eats at about the same pace as I do, but when I finish, I realize that she’s barely even started.

I think it’s because she’s been filling me in on her life as I’ve been cramming a burger down my throat.

“Courtney, eat. Tell me about everyone after you’re done.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, stabbing a piece of zucchini with her fork. She lifts it to her mouth and then proceeds to chew it quickly, but about a million times before finally swallowing. “I read recently about how if you eat slowly and consciously chew your food instead of chewing only a couple times before swallowing, you get fuller faster
and
burn calories as you eat. Crazy, right?”

“Kind of, yeah,” I say, knowing I’d never have the patience to “consciously chew” my food.

“So, how are your brothers?” she asks. “I mean, I know how they’re doing career-wise. But how are they?”

“You know, I have no idea,” I say. “We don’t really pick up the phone and call each other.”

“I guess the three of you have been a little busy lately.”

“Yeah. I know games are only once a week, but with practice and workouts and traveling, the schedule is grueling.”

“Well, I’m glad you pick up the phone for me,” Courtney says.

“I’ll always pick up the phone for you,” I say. “Always.”

She leans into me and meets my lips with hers, and our kisses, though slow and languid, are full and deep and emotionally charged.

Before I know it we’re horizontal and kissing each other fiercely. My hand is on its way up the back of Courtney’s shirt, feeling the softness of her skin. When I begin to tug the shirt higher, she breaks away from me just long enough to get her shirt off and I follow suit, gasping at the feel of our skin touching.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this.

And now that I am, I want to feel more. My hand travels down the side of her body, but I stop at the top of Courtney’s jeans, knowing that’s a boundary that I dare not cross. Not until she tells me it’s okay.

I thread my thumb through a belt loop and force my focus back to kissing, moving my mouth from her lips and traveling down her neck to her collarbone.

She hasn’t stopped me or tensed up or made a disapproving noise yet, so I test my luck by unclasping her bra. She lets the straps fall down her shoulders and meets my eyes with hers.