“How cold is it out there?” I ask the driver breathlessly.
He glances at me briefly in the mirror. “Probably about ten degrees.”
“Ten?!”
He doesn’t repeat himself, but that’s fine. I heard him. I feel it. Ten degrees does not sound like a real, sustainable temperature, but the thing is I believe him. I have the frostbite to back up his story.
“Hyatt Regency, downtown, please,” Sloane tells him as she snaps the door shut.
The driver looks at her in the mirror the way he did me, but he quickly gives her a glance over his shoulder to double check.
Yeah, I think to myself. She’s that hot, dude. It’s messed up.
“Hyatt Regency, as the lady says,” he replies cordially.
Sloane gives him a patient smile, one I imagine she reserves for guys who shit all over themselves when she walks into a room.
It’s a short ride to the hotel, only twenty minutes, but in that time I go from shivering to sweating. From driven and confident to afraid. Nervous. If Sloane sees it she doesn’t say anything. She taps away at her phone, takes a quick call from Trey that ends in a beautifully heartfelt ‘I love you, baby’, and looks out the window. She’s not much of a talker, not idle chit chat anyway, and I realize it’s something I really like about her.
Once we’re inside the hotel she points me toward the elevator and herself toward the bar.
“You’re not going up with me?” I ask in amazement.
“Trey is waiting for me at the bar. I’ll have a drink or two with him before heading up to see Colt. He says Colt’s mom is out getting him waffles ‘cause he’s a big baby, but she’ll be gone for at least an hour in this weather. You’ve got that long to get things back on track.” She smiles at me, surprising me with a quick hug that’s both bracing and gentle. “Good luck, Hendricks.”
“Wait. What room number?”
“Three-fourteen,” she calls over her shoulder, already rolling her black bag away from me.
The elevator ride is excruciatingly slow. The carpet a painful purple. I’m chewing the inside of my cheek, on the brink of drawing blood, when a harsh ding announces that I’ve arrived. Outside the shining brass doors the hallway is littered with dirty white plates and silver trays. There are at least two outside almost every door. This must be where most of the team is, all of them planted in the same area. All of them ordering room service after a long, hard day.
I’ve seen Colt after a loss, but I can’t imagine what he must be like after a loss and an injury, especially one he took in the first minute of the game.
My palms start to sweat at the thought. I feel like bolting, but I hold my ground because I want to be better than this, for me and for him. For this thing between us that’s so sweet and so bitter at the same time. This thing stands on the edge of perfection but shrinks away with every barb, every sharp edge wrapped around my hesitant heart.
Now is the time to be brave again. Now is the time to be fearless. Now is—
The door to room three-fourteen swings open in front of me. A surprised Tyus Anthony stands on the other side, silent and appraising. He looks me over, noting my bag without remark before stepping aside to let me in. I pass over the threshold, turning to thank him but he’s out the door and gone before I can say a word. I stare after him, watching the door shut firmly on its own behind him.
“He’s in a shit mood,” Colt tells me quietly from across the room. “He’s not the best company right now.”
He’s propped up on pillows on top of the comforter. He’s in black, satiny running shorts, his knee wrapped and propped up on a big, white pillow. His chest is bare and beautiful. His skin a warm tan tone that contrasts harshly with the cold blustering cold and white outside the window. I can hear the wind howling. I can hear us both breathing. I could probably hear a pin drop if I had one.
“Hi,” I manage softly.
He smiles and I nearly collapse with relief. “Hey, beautiful. How did you get here?”
“Airplane.”
“No shit?”
I smile faintly. “Sloane brought me with her. She’s in the bar with Trey.”
“Typical. Gotta check in with her piece before her client.”
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“I’m stunned, but I’m also drugged. If Jesus Christ himself walked through that door he’d get the same reaction. It’s all I’ve got.”
I take a tentative step toward him. “How are you feeling?”
“Emotionally or physically?”
“Either.”
“Like shit.”
“I’m so sorry.”