Long Shot (Hoops 1)

Caleb will be heading to the arena soon. I can’t decide if I like things better when he’s on the road or when he’s home. It’s just as lonely in this huge house when he’s here as it is when he’s gone. Surely this isn’t what he wants in a marriage? We’re just co-existing. There’s no real connection, no friendship. We at least used to have that. We started as friends, but even that’s hard to remember now.

“What’s this?”

I look up from washing Sarai’s bottles to see Caleb in the arched kitchen entrance holding a few sheets of paper.

“Where’d you get those?” I know exactly where he got them. I’m just delaying the questions those papers lead to.

“In my office,” he says abruptly. “On the printer. What’s this about, Iris?”

His office. Everything in this house belongs to him. His eyes roam over my breasts and hips and legs, reminding me that I belong to him, too. At least, he likes to think so. We sleep in the same bed, but I’ve managed to avoid having sex again. He hasn’t mentioned getting engaged again either. We’re both tiptoeing around issues that will lead us to crossroads. I’m not ready to go out on my own, not without a job, a home, resources. Something to ensure Sarai and I will be straight.

I know if I leave now, Caleb will provide for Sarai. Legally he has to, but I don’t want to get into all of that right now, not when Caleb is under so much pressure. So we’re in limbo, but I’m researching the next steps to secure our future, mine and my daughter’s. And that’s what he’s holding in his hand.

“It’s just some information about an online certification program for sports industry essentials.” I push a chunk of hair behind my ear before meeting Caleb’s icy blue eyes. “I’m thinking about enrolling.”

“No.” His harshly spoken word freezes me against the sink. “Not happening.”

“Sarai is getting older,” I say carefully, not wanting to fight before Caleb’s game. “I have to think about what I’ll do with the rest of my life.”

“What the hell does that mean?” In a few strides he’s beside me, towering over me. Glowering at me. “The rest of your life? You’ll marry me and raise my children, Iris. Nothing to think about.”

“Children?” Shock hushes my voice. “I’m not having more kids.”

The quiet following my words swells with the fury in his eyes.

“What did you say?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.

“I mean, not until I get my future on track. Caleb, you know I never planned to get pregnant at this stage of my life. I love Sarai, but I still have the same hopes and dreams I had before she came. I want to resume my life.”

His eyes soften, but it’s a false soft. A curtain he draws over his true feelings, but I see them clearly. I’m not sure why I haven’t recognized this trick before, but I do now.

“Baby, I think once we’re married,” he says, resting his hands on my hips, “we can revisit this, but for now, it’s not something we should do.”

“You’re right.” I keep my voice soft and even, but I slip through his fingers, stepping away. “You have a game tonight. Let’s discuss it later.”

His expression goes flat and hard like the face of a cliff. He grabs my hand and twists it, shoving my ring finger in my face.

“I don’t understand what you want,” he spits out. “I offer you a ten-carat diamond, and you’re still walking around wearing this cheap junk jewelry where my ring should be.”

“It’s not junk.” I jerk my hand away, rubbing at the pain in my wrist. “It’s from my great-grandmother.” I narrow my eyes at him and lay my words out with care. “For protection from anyone who wants to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” Frustration darkens his handsome face, and he grabs both my arms tightly. I’ve never felt the disparity between our heights and weight more than now. I’m not a tiny girl, but when held by a basketball player with more than a foot on me, whose body is honed to compete at the highest level, I’m practically defenseless.

“I love you, Iris, but if you don’t know the difference between love and pain,” he grits out. “maybe I should teach you.”

He shakes me, and my head snaps back on my neck with every jerk. My arms throb under the vise of his fingers.

“Let me go,” I gasp, pressing my hands to his chest. “Right now, Caleb.”

For a moment, refusal flares in his eyes. He tightens his painful hold a few seconds more, letting me know without words that he could keep doing it if he chose. Slowly, his fingers ease, but the intensity of his eyes doesn’t let go.

As soon as he releases me, I walk swiftly across the room, putting as much distance between us as this kitchen will allow. I almost limp with relief being away from him, and lean against the sink, forcing myself to look at him.

“Put your hands on me like that again,” I say, my voice leaden and sure, “and I will walk out that door with my daughter, and good luck finding us.”

The storm in his eyes settles into something that resembles fear and masquerades as remorse. Whatever it is in truth, I’ll never know because he quickly shutters that look.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “It won’t happen again. I’m just under so much pressure right now. We’re close to making the playoffs. Tonight’s game is huge for us. I’m feeling it, but that doesn’t excuse me taking it out on you.”