Noble was like lightning. Beautiful. Wild. So fucking dangerous. He had always been drawn to her. He could have never stopped himself from having that first touch, then the first kiss, then the first taste. The years had not driven the memory of any of those things from his mind, but Ryder had learned to keep the want buried deep. He’d let it slumber—a sleeping giant he’d convinced himself would never wake.
Then, Reese had stepped onto the field, ready to show Ricks what she could do with a ball.
The giant stirred as she impressed the coaching staff and owners. The giant grumbled, frustrated in his sleep as she signed her contract and began practice with the team. And after that night in South Carolina, after her performing like a champion, bringing to life every dream, every effort she’d worked for in her life, the giant jolted awake, ready to take and taste and feel her all over again.
But it wasn’t his place to touch her. It wasn’t his right to take what hadn’t been his in a very long time. She was free. She was vital, and with those pictures—her looking so fucking beautiful while Murry kissed her—Ryder knew that everyone had seen just what had once been only for him.
He hated her for it, despite how much he wanted her.
Their life wasn’t theirs. They belonged to the world. To the league. To the fans. No amount of progressive thinking would take away old prejudices. The hateful words and behavior stood firm and toppled that giant with gossip and lies and assumptions that weren’t true.
Didn’t mean the giant wasn’t still awake and eager, despite Ryder’s anger. Didn’t mean he’d let the creature loose.
The only conversations they’d had in months were about games or practices and the briefest discussions at the kids’ camp. Nothing deeper than that. Not much at all, really until Pukui’s Christmas party, though Ryder hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her, much less apologize to her for the elevator incident. Pukui’s kid monopolized Reese’s attention and Greer wouldn’t let Ryder have two minutes to himself. But he broke away when his girlfriend left for the ladies’ room, and Reese slipped into the kitchen to fix herself a drink.
She looked up when he walked into the room digging his red glass into a bucket of ice as Reese went back to mixing her drink.
“Baileys?” she asked him, unscrewing the beige bottle.
“Yeah,” he answered, handing her his glass when she reached for it. It felt awkward standing next to her, smelling her thick, rich scent, wanting to lean down and inhale her hair like some wacked out freak, but Ryder managed to control himself.
“So,” he tried, nodding at her when she offered him his glass back. “Pukui’s kid likes you.”
She smiled, looking through the opening between the kitchen and living room to the young girl who sat on her father’s lap as he helped her open what had to be the fifth present he’d given her in the four hours since the party started.
“Keola. Yes, she’s sweet,” Reese told him, sipping slowly from her drink.
They watched their teammate with the girl, not speaking as the man said something to Keeana, Keola’s mother, and all three laughed.
“Weird,” Ryder said, nodding at them.
“What is?” Reese sipped from her glass, but Ryder could feel her stare.
“They have a kid together. They were high school sweethearts, from what Pukui says, and then she breaks up with him so he can go off and play ball.”
“He told me,” Reese confirmed, watching as Keola began to demonstrate what she’d learned at her hula lessons.
“He’s three months into his pro career when she tells him she’s pregnant. He supports her.”
“That’s weird to you?”
“No, not that,” he said, liking the taste of his drink, how sweet it was, how nice the warmth of it felt. “What’s weird is how cool they are. They broke up and they still act like nothing’s changed. They do vacations together, I think he even told me he’s putting her through grad school.”
Reese paused, holding her glass near her mouth before she took a sip. “They have a kid together and from what Pukui said, they were close for a long time.” When Ryder shrugged, not quite understanding her, Reese turned, gaze on his face until he looked down at her. “People don’t stop being important to you when they’re not around anymore. If they matter, you find ways to keep them important.”