Frustration strangles me for a second, but I force myself to calm down. She’ll tell me eventually who I need to maim.
What happened to her?
I nod, twisting our fingers tighter, letting her know I’m not going anywhere.
“Oh.” She shakes her head, confusion back on her face. “Wait. So what happened with the Houston deal? Last I heard, it was all but done.”
Do I tell her the truth? If I tell her what I did, all that I gave up on the off chance she’d be with me, that’s a lot of pressure. On her. On me. On this relationship, once it becomes an actual relationship with dates and daily conversations like normal couples have, and sex . . .
Shit. I’m probably gonna break my dick jerking off so hard before I leave this building.
“August?” she asks again. “What happened with the Houston deal?”
Sneaking around trying to help her, not being completely upfront got us off to a rocky start. I won’t risk that again being anything less than honest.
“When Jared told me you were moving here, I passed on the deal.” My words fall into this chasm of stunned silence. She rears back as if I’ve struck her. Her fingers start loosening from mine, but I don’t let her go.
“No.” I squeeze her hand gently, lifting my other hand to cup her face. “Listen to me.”
“August, that contract was forty . . .” She draws a deep breath before charging on. “Like, forty million dollars.”
“Forty-five, but what’s a few million here and there?” I joke.
“But what about the team?” She asks, ignoring my attempt at humor. “Houston made the finals this year.”
“Yeah.” I stamp down the fear that I’ll never win a championship, never have a ring, the holy grail I’ve pursued most of my life.
“That team is primed for a championship,” she reminds me unnecessarily. “Maybe even next season.”
“Iris, I’m well aware.”
“But it makes no sense. I don’t understand.”
Here’s my chance to get it right. My chance to make sure she knows that, though I’ve been chasing a ball up a court all my life, with this I’m not playing games.
Take the shot.
“Your dreams and ambitions got swallowed up when you had to follow Caleb,” I say, holding her eyes with mine. “I want you to know there’s someone who will followyou.”
She blinks several times, and I can only hope my words are sinking in.
“But you can’t . . . I’m not . . .” She falters and tries again. “August, Houston is your best shot at winning a ring.”
“You’re right.” I loosen my fingers from hers so I can hold her face between both hands. “Going to Houston is my best shot at winning a ring.”
“Then why would you—”
“But staying here,” I cut in, caressing the fullness of her bottom lip with my thumb. “Staying is my best shot at winning you.”
Iris
“What the hellis wrong with you?”
It’s not the first time Lo has asked me this question, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“Don’t start, Lo,” I mumble, stretched out on my stomach on the living room floor, coloring with Sarai.
“Now tell me again what he said?” she asks, knowing good and damn well what August said. I’ve told her the last four times she’s asked.
