The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel - Vi Keeland Page 0,81

was a list of tangible things that said he was the right guy.

But with Brody, I couldn’t find the words to describe what I felt about him. I could probably make a list of a million reasons I should have stayed away. Yet I knew in my heart he was the one. My soul had picked him, not my mind.

The checkout line was flanked by racks of seasonal impulse buy items. Pink school erasers with turkeys stamped on them, small painted pumpkins, packs of NFL trading cards. I brought the eraser to my nose, the smell reminding me of elementary school. I tossed a few in my basket, along with a handful of trading card packages. By the time the cashier got to me, my stall had cost me thirty-three dollars.

The empty elevator made up for lost time. It sped up to Brody’s floor so fast, my head felt a little lightheaded when I stepped off. A mixture of excitement and nervousness hit me as I raised my hand to the door.

My knock was light but echoed through the quiet hallway.

I waited. My heartbeat accelerated as the seconds passed.

Maybe he was sleeping already?

I knocked again. The second time louder.

Footsteps vibrated on the floor as they neared.

When the door swung open, I lifted the cannolis, dangling the bakery box by its red-and-white string. “Thought you might like some dessert?”

Brody was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to the service. Well, actually, it looked as if he had just been interrupted from undressing. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, the belt on his fitted slacks was hanging loose, and his feet were already bare. My first thought when I saw him was, What a waste it was to buy cannolis when there are better things to eat.

I smiled. But something in his eyes made my heart sink before he uttered a word.

He turned, glancing back into his hotel suite. When he faced me, his expression said everything. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Should I leave?”

“No. It’s just . . . Willow came up a few minutes ago and—”

“Willow is in your hotel room with you?”

He dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like. I swear.”

“Then tell me. What is it?” I peered into Brody’s suite and saw Willow standing in the living room. Her feet were bare, and she was watching us from a distance.

“She needed a friend. It’s been a rough few days.”

“And you were going to console her while you were half-dressed. . . in your hotel room?”

“That’s not what I was going to do.”

“Tell me then.” I raised my voice. “What the fuck were you going to do?”

“Nothing. I just couldn’t . . . I couldn’t turn her away.”

“Why not?”

Brody held my stare. “Because I couldn’t.”

I dropped the cannoli box and turned back to the elevator. The damn car had already disappeared. I pushed the button twenty times, desperate to get the hell out of there.

The door to Brody’s suite slammed closed, and for a second, I thought he had gone back inside. But then he was behind me. He put his hand on my hip. “Don’t go. Please. Nothing happened. I swear.”

Thankfully, the elevator car came quickly. I stepped inside and turned to Brody. “I actually believe you. I don’t think anything physical happened between the two of you. That’s not why I need to go.”

“Then why?”

“You need to figure that out on your own.” We stared at each other as the doors slid closed.

I held the tears at bay until I hit the street. Then everything flooded all at once. The sadness. The disappointment. The heartbreak. I gasped for air, leaning against the outside of the hotel, bent over and holding my knees.

Brody must have taken the next elevator down because I saw him running out the door just as I climbed into a cab and sped away.

***

The cab pulled to the curb outside of my apartment building, and then I decided I didn’t want to go home.

“I changed my mind. Can you take me down to Chelsea—One Fifty-Five West Twenty-Second Street?”

“You’re paying the fare from where I picked you up.”

“Of course.” I could have cared less if the fare was five hundred bucks; I just knew I didn’t want to go home. It was almost ten, but Indie wouldn’t care. Staring out the window at the street as we headed back into traffic, I didn’t cry. It was as if my insides were hollowed out and even though I wanted to cry, wanted

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024