Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

“Yeah, it wasn’t . . . something we broadcast.” Dark humor taunts the corner of my mouth. “Will would have hated that; to be a part of some media circus. He wasn’t . . . he was the last one to draw attention to himself.”

A door cracks open that I keep closed and locked; that I try to forget exists. The one with all my memories of Will. His smile, which had become so rare at the end. It was the first thing I liked about him; that his smile was kind and genuine. I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. Not with Decker watching my face for signs of distress. If he keeps looking, he’ll find it. It’s not as deeply buried as I manage to convince most people. Decker isn’t most people, and I instinctively know he won’t be fooled.

“It’s getting late.” My smile is a cold, waxy curve trying its best to look alive. “I think I’ll go.”

“Avery,” he says softly. Just that. Just my name, but there’s so much more there, and I can’t do this shit right now.

I ignore him and reach down to grab my purse, using those few seconds to compose myself and swipe at the corners of my eyes. When I stand, so does he. Our eyes clash for a moment, mine watery and his concerned. I step around him, snapping the thread strung taut between us, and address my coworkers.

“Okay, guys.” I spread a bright smile around to everyone. “I’m heading out. Have a good weekend.”

Blindly, I make my way to the door, longing for the fresh air, at least as fresh as New York City has to offer.

“Hey, Ave,” Sadie calls from behind me when I’m just a few feet away from the exit. “Wait up.”

I stop and turn, smoothing my expression into patient inquiry, hoping the churning waves in my gut aren’t washing up on my face.

“You okay?” Sadie sees more than most. She knows more than most, too, but even she doesn’t know everything.

“I’m fine.” I roll my eyes when she gives me the look that says it’s me you’re talking to. “Okay. I’m not exactly fine, but I will be.”

“Do you need—”

“I just need to go home, Sade.” There’s a pleading note in my voice that I can’t suppress much longer. “Please. Just let me get out of here.”

Sadie nods, hooks her arm around my neck and whispers into my ear.

“It’s gonna get better, babe.”

Some things don’t. Some things never get better because they can never be undone. I had to learn that for myself the hardest way. I won’t try to teach Sadie at the hostess stand of this nice restaurant.

“Night,” I settle for saying before walking swiftly to the door.

I draw in great lungfuls of the cold night air and start walking. With every step, my heart decelerates and my breath evens and my tears dry up. That’s all I needed. Some time to myself.

“Avery!” a deep voice calls from behind me.

So much for time to myself.

I turn to find Decker almost caught up to me, his long legs making quick work of the few feet separating us. I wanted to be alone, and he’s ruining that. Yet my heart lifts a little at the sight of him. I knew it! If my vagina and my heart ever get on the same page, they’ll be my downfall.

“Can you not take a hint?” My voice lacks the irritation it should hold.

“Only the ones I want to take,” he replies easily, hunching into his dark coat and squinting against the cold. “You walking?”

“Obviously since you’re walking to catch me.”

“Ahhh.” He grins, slanting me an amused look. “The smartass is back.”

My answering smile dims as I remember what chased me out of the restaurant in the first place.

“I meant are you walking all the way home?” he asks.

“It’s not far.” I glance up at him. “And I don’t need an escort.”

“Well you got one, lady.”

I roll my eyes, which only makes him laugh. We’re silent for the next few steps, and I focus on the bustling anonymity of the city. You can get lost in this hectic, harried press of humanity. I have over the last year. I’ve hidden myself in its crevices and I’ve hurt in my solitude. I thought it was what I deserved—to hurt alone. With Decker here, the sounds of the city swallowing up the yawning silence inside of me, I wonder if maybe I’ve been wrong. It feels good to have someone . . . here. Just here. Not demanding answers, or hovering for fear I’ll self-destruct. But someone who just wants my company and wants to offer theirs. It dents my loneliness.