Deciding Tomorrow (13 page)

“I really missed you,” I whisper over the sound of the falling water.

“I missed you, too,” he says, focused on the task of washing my hips. “Turn around.”

Without any hesitation, I reverse my stance and face the tiled wall as Brent proceeds to run his hands and bubbled sponge over my backside, back, and shoulders. When he’s finished, he kisses down the curve of my neck and over to the length of my shoulder.

Turning to face him, I return the favor of washing his body, sponging his shoulders, arms, and covering his pecs, abs, length, and well-muscled legs with soapy bubbles. He turns around without me even requesting, like he knows what I need and want, and I wash his backside and back. When I’m finished, I hang the loofah and circle my arms around Brent, resting my head on his spine.

“Thank you,” he says, turning within my embrace.

“For what?”

“For coming back to me.” He rests his forehead on mine. “For giving us a chance and letting me find you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” I graze his hand. “It’s what I want.”

Brent leans in, his warm breath tickling my ear in the moist air.

“I need to tell you something,” he softly says. “It’s something you need to hear, and I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was waiting for this moment.”

“What is it?”

“I love you.” He searches my face, letting the words linger in the air. “I never stopped, and I have a feeling I’m going to love you forever, and…I want you to know it. I want you to hear me say it because I don’t want you to ever question or doubt it. Some things just are true, and the way I feel about you is one of those. It’s never going away—ever. Even though I thought it once did, it didn’t. I actually hoped it had, but I was fooling myself. I love you, Ruby.”

The sincerity plastered across his face is undeniable. His palpable love grows, expanding in the air of the small tiled room.

“I love you, too,” I say, the words crossing my lips without any thought at all. It’s not needed.

Brent is right. Some things are true, no matter what, and the way I feel about him is one of those. My love for him never went away. It was resting, waiting.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

“I love you, too, Brent. Really, I do.”

Cupping my face in his hands, Brent presses his lips to mine, sealing our words in this moment. Entwining my fingers into his hair, I press myself into him.

Love is radiating from us both.

Love is a rare thing, and true deep-seated love is the rarest of them all. Ours is even more rare than that. It was tormented, smothered, and left for dead, but it still survived despite a cold winter, blooming and growing under the right conditions. They might not be ideal, but I think we’re both ready to make it work. We know what we are without each other, and it seems that we’re willing to fight for us after learning from the mistakes and missteps of our past.

Brent releases my mouth, resting his head to mine. “I love hearing you say it.”

“Me, too.”

He continues to kiss me under the falling water. The warmth of it combined with us creates an infernal heat. The caress of our lips is slow and caring as we savor the remnants of our proclamation to one another.

I gasp as our tongues massage together, deeply. Our mouths move faster, and the passion surges. Palming his backside, I draw him closer, his hard-on pressing on my abdomen. Brent advances toward me until I’m flush with the cool tiles covered in droplets of water. His hands find mine and lift them above my head, threading our fingers together, as he continues to assail my mouth with his. Instinctually, my hips tilt upward—seeking him, wanting him, ready for him—while our slippery bodies slide in unison.

Releasing one hand, Brent trails his digits down the front of my body. He plunges his fingers between my legs and into me. His thumb skillfully circles one of the most sensitive parts of my body, causing my breath to catch. Endless slow moans erupt from the center of my voice over and over while the water showers us in a steady lullaby.

“You like that?” Brent purrs against my mouth. “When I touch you like this?” He circles his thumb faster to accentuate his point.

“Yes,” I stutter as he continues to torment me with his touch. “I love it.”

“Tell me again,” he demands.

“I fucking love it.”

He kisses me harder, more forceful, in a similar rhythm to his hand. Letting go of our joined grip above my head, he kneads my breast, consuming more of me. I hang on to his shoulders for dear life as the euphoric sensation builds with every movement across the raw nerves on my body. Brent pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I clamp down hard and let go, releasing guttural moans across his lips. Pulsing around his fingers, I lose my ability to hold my own weight.

My breaths slow, and I open my eyes. I find his dilated, full of lust and hungry in so many ways.

“I want inside you,” he says in a measured tone, his control on edge.

I can’t form words.

I nod.

He shuts off the water and lifts me by my thighs. My legs hook around his waist. Dripping wet, Brent carries me out of the shower. The cool air of the rest of the apartment hits my back when he opens the door before taking us to the bed.

Pulling back the comforter, he lays me on the mattress and then shifts the covers back over my body. He walks his determined naked form into the closet and returns with a condom in hand. Quickly, he puts it on and slides under the sheet. He comes to hover over me where I am still in a relaxed and pleasurable state.

No words are said as Brent hastily thrusts himself deep inside me, filling me in a singular motion, as he rocks my body up the bed. My head meets the headboard as a result of the aggressive movement. Reaching upward, I push myself down and away from the wooden bedframe, forcing myself further over him. His length hits the right place inside me, an amazing spot, causing time to stand still. The lingering pleasure from our moment in the shower picks back up. His wet, lean body is all over and in me, pushing and touching me in ways I haven’t been in years. Brent hooks his arms under my knees, pulling them up near my chest. I hold my position with my hands above, steadying my body, as he powers into me deeply with an animalistic need. Our thundering moans rise in volume with every drive of him into me.

“You’re fucking amazing.” He kisses me. “I could never get enough of you.”

“Me”—I pant—“either.”

He thrusts harder.

Again.

Again.

“Oh God…”
More. I need more.
“Brent…” I moan.

He gives me more—harder.

“Like that.” I arch my back and completely let go, giving him everything I am.

I’m unable to hold anything back because every time he touches me, inside and out, he claims another piece of me, even pieces I never knew existed.

Maybe they only exist…because of him.

He slams into me over and over. “Oh fuck!” he growls next to my ear. He pushes into me a final time, breathing heavily and holding me tight.

Brent lifts his head and rests it on mine. Droplets of water drip from his beautiful ebony hair across my cheek. His arms release my legs and slide under my torso. I hug him close, waiting for him to move.

His lips come to mine, soft and caring. It’s sweet in comparison to the way he just took me with such feral ferocity. Brent sweeps a few strands of hair away from my forehead, and I cup his stubbled face in my hands.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hi.” He smiles, too.

“I love you, Brent.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses me again. “And I think I’m falling further in love with you.”

SIXTEEN

After we went out for dinner, deciding that eating out might be a little easier than having a meal in my small apartment with no chairs, we returned to my place for the rest of the evening.

Brent lies on the bed, playing with the ends of my hair, while I read through my textbook in preparation for an exam in the morning. It’s somewhat difficult to concentrate with him right next to me, and I find myself rereading the same sentence a few times before moving onto the next. He’s quiet and respectful, but I’m not used to having company like this.

There’s a comfort and familiarity of him being here, but there’s a newness as well. At times, I feel like we’re in high school again, discovering each other. Other moments, it feels like he’s been around for years. In a way, both are true.

Reaching the end of the chapter, I decide to take a break and shut my book. I roll on my side to face Brent, who has been patiently scrolling though his phone to occupy his time.

“What are you doing?” I set my book on the floor before laying a hand across his thigh.

“Looking up training facilities”—he puts his phone aside and rests his hand on mine—“to use while I’m here.”

“I thought it was the off-season?”

“It is, but I still need to keep up with a few things on a daily basis.” He smirks. “Don’t want to lose my edge. I found a place not too far from here that’s indoor, which should work given the weather. I’ll probably go down and check it out tomorrow while you’re at class.”

“It’s a lot of work, isn’t it?”

“Soccer?” His forefinger follows the path of the lifeline on my palm. “I guess so. I don’t know. I’ve been doing it for so long now. I don’t know any different. It’s just part of the job, I guess.”

“You love it though?” I question, scooting closer, laying my head on his chest.

He lightly combs his fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I love it. How many people can say they get paid to play a game that they love?”

“Not too many.”

It all clicks.

Something good really did come from the decisions of our past. After everything that happened between the hurt, the pain, the loss, and us, Brent realized his passion. He had to leave to become what he is today. Our lives would be so different if I hadn’t lost the baby and then insisted on him playing professionally when school wasn’t working, when we weren’t working.

It was so hard to say good-bye and let him go, but to see him doing so well assures me that it was the right thing. Maybe fate split us apart, so he could follow a path, and so could I, only to come back together when we were ready. Maybe we were too young for the kind of love we had. Maybe we needed more time to grow in order to hold it. Time has a funny way of creating clarity. In my present, nothing is clearer than Brent. I loved him before, but I needed time to know how much.

“I read about you,” I admit, my fingers drifting along the length of his arm.

His hand discontinues running through my hair. His heartbeat quickens, and his lungs stop moving. “Oh? You did?”

“Yeah, online. I did a little research.”

“And what did you find?” he asks.

“Lots of stuff about you and your career.” I glance up at him. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He blinks a few times. “Have I?”

“You didn’t tell me that you’re ranked so flipping high in the league and that you’re some kind of world-class player.”

“I didn’t?” Brent exhales a held breath. “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important? Are you kidding? It’s great.” I sit up, crossing my feet in front of me. “And…I’m kind of proud of you and all you’ve done. Who could have known, right?”

He takes in a deep breath. “Thank you.” He tugs me into his form, my back flush with his chest, and he wraps his arms around me. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“What for?”

“There’s too much to say.”

“I—”

My phone rings, cutting into our conversation and breaking the moment.

“Hang on.” I sit up.

I don’t get many calls. The daily caller I’ve had as of recently is sitting right next to me, and my handful of friends usually don’t call during the week. I reach over to my bedside table to see who it is. The screen flashes with the name Shauna.

“Hmph,” I mumble, biting my lip.

She’s probably calling in regard to Thanksgiving and the conversation Cody and I had earlier. A large part of me is inclined not to take the call, especially with Brent here, but there’s really no reason to avoid Shauna. Plus, I need to tell her myself that I can’t make it on Thursday. It’s the right thing to do.

“Is everything okay?” Brent asks as the ringtone continues to play.

“Yeah. It’s just…let me take this.” I answer the call, “Hi, Shauna. How are you?”

“Ruby,” she sighs. “What is going on?”

Brent swings his legs over the bed and paces toward the bathroom.

“Hang on a second, Shauna.” I cover the end of the phone. “Brent?”

He peeks his head around the threshold, palming the doorframe. “I was just going to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay.”

“And give you some privacy.”

“Thanks.”

Brent disappears into the bathroom and closes the door.

“Shauna?”

“Ruby?”

“I’m sorry. I should have called you, but after I talked with Cody, I just…well, forgot.”

“Ruby,” she says in a displeasing tone, “I don’t know exactly what is going on, but Cody stormed out of the shop this afternoon, and he didn’t come back at all after that. I finally got a hold of him, and he’s on his way home now.”

“He was just throwing a fit and needed to cool off,” I say, irked that he’s so volatile about my business.

“Likely, but you need to let me know what the hell is going on,” she says, upset, her voice harsh. “He said he spent the afternoon by Lake Michigan and that you wouldn’t be joining us for Thanksgiving. What’s that all about?”

“That’s all he told you?”

“Yeah,” she says, frustrated.

“And he spent the afternoon at the lake?”

Cody hardly ever goes to the lake. It’s not his place of refuge. It’s mine. It always has been. He knows that. He sat with me by our hometown lake when Brent left for Sweden, again when I returned from Florida, and then a third time when my dad went to prison. Cody always found me there. It’s where I go in times of deep contemplation. It’s a place of solace when all seems lost.

He went there because of me, searching for something.

“Yeah,” Shauna replies again. “He said he went there right after he spoke with you, and he’s on his way home now. I’ll talk to him when he gets here. I was hoping maybe you could shed a little light on why you won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving.”