Long Shot (Hoops 1)

I release her and step back.

“I’m sorry, Iris. Did I …damn, did I hurt you?”

I feel like some Incredible Hulk motherfucker who doesn’t even know my own strength, grabbing her like that.

“No.” She studies the ground for a moment, shaking her head and rubbing her wrist. “I …no. You didn’t hurt me. I’m just tired, I guess, and on edge.”

“All the more reason to do something you were looking forward to, right?” I ask. “Don’t go. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

She looks up and scoffs, her laugh humorless. “August, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I take a cautious step closer.

“This.” Our eyes hold. Her voice comes husky and low. “I need to go.”

I’m close enough to catch her scent and her warmth. I could do this all day. Just smell her. Touch her. Though we’ve only seen each other a few times, I’ve missed her. There’s no one else I fall into so quickly, the conversation and banter and connection. The chemistry. I crave it again. Yes, I wanted to volunteer where I grew up, but right now, Iris is the reason I’m here.

“I bet you’ve been looking forward to volunteering, right?” I ask. “The last time we talked, you wanted some outlets.”

“The last time we talked, I was suffering from post-partum depression and had no idea.” She yields the smallest smile. “Until you suggested I talk to my doctor. Thank you, by the way.”

“So you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, much better, but you’re right. I was looking forward to volunteering.” She shakes her head, resolve in the set of her mouth and chin. “There’ll be other chances to help out, though.”

“But this one’s here now.” I shake her wrist and tease her with a grin. “I promise I don’t bite or have the cooties.”

She rolls her eyes, her laugh soft and barely there, but an encouraging sign. Her glance drops to my leg and she sobers. “Does it still hurt? Your leg?”

I look down, too. I wear an Aircast under my jeans. I can walk carefully but have only recently been cleared to put weight on it.

“It’s not bad.” I shrug. “All part of the game.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her lips tight. So tight I almost miss what she says next.

“He saw us, August.”

I don’t have to ask what she means. I know. I saw him seeing us at the game. And I saw the rage it caused before he made sure I felt it. “I know.”

She raises startled eyes that fill with tears. “This happened because of me.” She gestures toward my injured leg. “I’m so sorry. God, I feel so guilty.”

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t you. It was him.”

“Right, and I don’t want him hurting you again because of me.” She steadies trembling lips into a firm line. “I don’t want him hurting anyone because of me.”

“Why are you with him, Iris?” I ask, confusion propelling the question out of me.

That something—that unfamiliar thing lurking behind her eyes slips a shadowy veil over her expression, and the truth goes into hiding.

“Things aren’t always the way they seem. They aren’t simple.” She steps back until my hands fall away from her completely. “Nothing’s simple.”

“Then explain them to me. I can’t believe, knowing he’d do something like this,” I say, pointing to my leg, “that you would stay with him.”

“Iris!” Sylvia calls from the end of the hall, her eyes darting between Iris and me. “Um, is everything okay?”

She’s probably created all kinds of scenarios in her head by now about the relationship between Iris and me, especially since I asked her not to tell Iris I would be here. Seeing us together this way, she probably has more questions. I don’t care, but I know Iris will.

“Everything’s fine,” Iris answers quickly, taking another step back. “I thought the daycare was paging me about my daughter, so I came to check. She’s okay, though.”