The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (103 page)

I wish I was brave enough to tell him what I really think, but I
’
m not. I don
’
t want to argue with him and I don
’
t want to make him feel bad for following through with what he told me would happen. I want to feel some sort of victory in this moment, because he called me when he was upset! To be honest about my disappointment in all that he
’
s
not
saying would steal away the pleasure I
’
ve managed to latch onto with the little that he
is
saying.

“
Beckham,
”
I begin again.
“
I
’
m rooting for you. I always will be. I know that your options are turning out to be smaller in number than you had hoped, but I believe in you and I know wherever you get in, you
’
ll do great.
”
My heart breaks a little as I say the words. My betrayal against myself hurts a lot right now.

“
Addie?
”

“
Yeah?
”

“
Thank you. Your support and encouragement means more than you will ever know.
”
I don
’
t know what to say and suddenly I feel like even if I did, I might start crying if I tried to speak, so I say nothing.
“
Anyway, I
’
m sure the girls are waiting for you so I
’
ll let you go.
”

“
Yeah. Okay.
”

“
I love
—
you.
”

As soon as he says it, I know it was on accident. I can tell by the way his voice hitched at the end of
you
. While I believe that he means it, knowing that it slipped because he simply wasn
’
t thinking, it
’
s like he
’
s just rammed a dagger through my heart. I don
’
t know what that means, which is totally my fault for ignoring the gigantic mess that is the pile of feelings I
’
ve yet to deal with, and it makes me want to cry even more.

Even still, I believe every
I love you
from my BMW should be reciprocated; so before I disconnect, I tell him I love him, too.

The high of our victory against the Nevada Wolf Pack fades into nothing when our plane home is delayed due to technical issues. By the time our team touches down in Colorado, our Sunday is completely shot. When Jack and I arrive back at our apartment, it
’
s after eleven. I know that Avery is probably sleeping and I
’
m so tired that I just want to go to bed, but I
’
m annoyed that I haven
’
t been able to see her since Thursday. That
’
s too many days. Even still, I know this week is going to be crazy with exams and I
’
m fairly certain she
’
s got a recital this week, so I
’
m not sure when we
’
ll have time to spend legitimate time together.

I miss summer.

Thankfully, the next couple weekends are home games, so at least I won
’
t be traveling. Then I remember that both games are also night games, which means no date night. I toss my things onto the foot of my bed and then throw myself down, too. I dig into my pocket for my phone and construct a text to my girl.

Me:
I
’
m home. I miss you. Are you up?

She doesn
’
t respond right away, which makes me think I was right about her being asleep. I let my thoughts wander, going over my schedule for the week. I
’
m dozing off when my phone alerts me to a text.

My Shorty:
I miss you more. I
’
m like 5% awake right now.

Me:
Yeah. Me too. Get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow.

My Shorty:
I want to SEE you tomorrow.

Me:
When are you free?

My Shorty:
Ugh. Not until after four. You?

Me:
I
’
m open for lunch
—
but it sounds like that
’
s out. And we
’
re watching game film tomorrow evening, but not until six. Early dinner?

My Shorty:
Yes, please!

My Shorty:
Okay. Must sleep. I love you.

Me:
I love you more.

My Shorty:
I
’
ll only let that slide because I don
’
t have enough energy to argue. Night, Hottie.

Me:
Night ;)

Avery had to cancel our dinner plans yesterday. Now it
’
s
Tuesday
and I haven
’
t seen her since
Thursday
and the absence of her is beginning to feel too
real
. I don
’
t know how people do long distance relationships. I would never be able to. I mean
—
if I was given a choice between staying with Avery, even though she lived across the country, or breaking up, I would choose option three
—
the one where I
’
d give up whatever it was that was keeping me from her so that I could be wherever she is. That might make me some sort of punk, but at least I
’
d be a happy punk. She lives
upstairs
and I feel like she
’
s not here. It fills me with an anxiety that I can
’
t quite explain, which is why I
’
ve decided we
’
re seeing each other today, if it
’
s the last thing I do.

I don
’
t get home until after dinner, but I shoot her a text to see what she
’
s up to. She
’
s still on campus, in the middle of orchestra practice, so I tell her to just stop by when she gets back in. To kill time, I study for a bit. When that gets old, I hop in the shower, which turns out to be a bad idea because it loosens me up and relaxes me to the point where I find myself stretching out across my bed to doze while I wait for her. I leave my bedside lamp on so that she won
’
t think I
’
ve crashed for the night. I
’
m not sure how late it is when she arrives, but I hear her come into my room and shut the door. I listen as she discards her jacket and her cello
—
which clues me into the fact that she hasn
’
t even made it upstairs yet
—
and I
’
m aroused when she crawls on top of me and begins showering my face with kisses.

“
Wake up, my love.
”

My heart rate picks up as I wrap my arms around her. I don
’
t know why, seeing as how we
’
ve exchanged words over the last handful of days, but it feels like she
’
s
back
—
like she went away but now she
’
s
back
. When her lips finally meet mine, I feel like my heart might beat right out of my chest. I
’
m overwhelmed with my
need
for her and I cling to her as I kiss her hungrily. Her hair spills all around us and the smell of her shampoo makes me want her even more.

I roll us over so that I
’
m hovering above her and I break our kiss so that I might explore more of her skin with my lips and my tongue. The sound of her rapid breathing assures me that she
’
s in this moment with me, for which I am grateful, because I can
’
t stop. When she reaches her hands up and buries her fingers in my hair, I groan, feeling myself falling farther and farther away from anything that doesn
’
t have to do with her soft skin and her delicate hands and the way she smells and tastes.

I love her so much and I
’
ve missed the sight of her and the
feel
of her and in this moment, I can
’
t get enough.

“
Sonny?
”
she murmurs.

The sound of my name on her lips sends a shiver up my spine.
“
Yes, sweetheart?
”
I mumble between kisses. I leave a trail all the way down her neck and onto the fabric of her shirt, showering her with affection until I
’
ve reached her hips.

“
I
’
ve missed you.
”

“
I
’
ve missed you, more,
”
I manage to say as I inch her shirt up and explore the warmth of her bare body with my mouth. She doesn
’
t prevent me as I push her garment up higher and higher and so I keep going
—
I can
’
t stop
. I
’
m usually so careful not to push the envelope with her, but today is different. Today, I
need
to keep going
—
I have to have her
—
I have to
show
her how much I love her. Time has intruded upon our relationship and I can
’
t let it pull us apart; I have to make up for our lost time; I have to remind her how much she means to me.