Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

14. Knox

Knox

The tip of the sun hovers over the mountains warming up the pitch, and my throat clogs with a hefty dose of nostalgia as I stand out here in the place where all my dreams were first formed. I laid in my bed last night, unable to sleep, and for the first time, it wasn’t thoughts of rugby, my shoulder, or my future that kept me up.

It was Taylor.

I stared at my ceiling for hours, thinking about her smile, her raspy laugh, and the way she makes the most mundane things feel exciting. My thoughts took a turn somewhere along the way, and when I closed my eyes, I could feel the gentle weight of her body pressed against mine. I could feel her pouty lips beneath the touch of my thumb, and when my mind finally landed on the memory of her body humming as I closed the distance between us in my truck, that’s when my hand slid into my briefs and I fucked my palm.

As I cleaned myself up, I stood at my bathroom sink, catching the reflection of someone whose focus wasn’t entirely on recovering or rugby for the first time in a long time. I woke up this morning accepting the fact that Taylor’s not only a distraction that I welcome, but one that I’m begging for. I got dressed and drove out to my old school, home of the Sundevils, to tell Coach that I appreciated the offer, but I already have one thing demanding my attention right now, and I can’t afford another.

Deep red, orange, and yellow leaves line the thick layer of trees on the far side of the field. I close my eyes, drop my head back, and inhale the clean, crisp fall air.

“It might not be a lot, but it is home.”

I smile, opening my eyes to find Coach Campell standing next to me. He’s bundled in his black Sun Devils jumper, looking straight ahead to the same fall foliage that had me transfixed.

“I’ve played on numerous pitches over the years, Coach. This one is up there with the best of them.”

He huffs a laugh. “Maybe if you take me up on my offer, you could convince some of these lads of that yourself.”

“Or I could very well let even more people down.” I tuck my hand into my pocket, looking down at my shoes.

“I don’t think you’ve let anyone down.” I scoff, looking anywhere but his eyes. “I’m serious, Knox.”

“When I first got signed and I left, I came home four months later and you all had a town parade.”

“That doesn’t sound like disappointment to me,” he interrupts.

“I’ve been gone for years, and now I’m back with nothing to show for it. The words don’t need to be said, but I know I’ve let people down. They’re disappointed,” I pause, my eyes still trained on the ground. “Or they pity me, which is worse.”

“Or they don’t think twice about ya.” I look at him then. “ Maybe they’re just happy you’re back. Circumstances be damned.”

I’m not arrogant enough to think that everyone is hung up on me, but I am aware enough to know that I should still be embarrassed. I’m the guy who left the town and the people that I love for bigger places and bigger dreams, and no matter how successful of a career I’ve had, I’m back now with nothing to show for it but a highlight reel. You could Google me and find a list of my accolades, every record I hold, and a full list of my stats, and that would sum up everything there is to know about me.

“Hey, Coach.” Three boys walk past us, their duffle bags slung over their shoulders, one spinning a ball between his hands. I watch as they pass, making their way over to the benches and I see a clear vision of the past. I see Dax, Liam, and myself walking in line, ready to play the game we love.

“So when do you get that thing off?” he asks, pointing to my arm.

“First thing in the morning.”

Slowly, more boys show up, bundled in their jumpers and trackies. They begin warming up with some stretches, bear crawls, and staggered catches, and my itch for the game sparks like an inferno inside of me.

Is this what it will be like back in London? Only worse because it’s my peers?

“Sorry, Coach.” Another kid yells out as he runs past us, dropping his bag at my feet. Campbell offers him nothing more than a grunt, studying his clipboard.

“What? No punishment burpees?” I ask.

“I think you and Liam did enough burpees for another five years of kids.” I laugh, dropping my head. My knuckles run along my chin at the memories of all the shit we used to get into that would make us late for practice. It was usually girls we were busy making out with. I was willing to be late and Liam was willing to skip it all together. “Well, what’d you come down here for, KB?”

“I uh—” I look out over the pitch once more, and the autumn breeze picks up. My eyes flutter closed and for the briefest moment in time, I feel like myself again. I feel like the kid who learned who he was on this very pitch. The young boy who fell in love with this sport. With my feet planted firmly on the roots of where I’d grown, the memories and the feelings whirl past me in a blur. There is no way to explain it other than it just feels right. “I’m in.”

“Good lad.” He pats my shoulder.

I open my eyes just in time to see him walk past me.

“That’s it?” I yell after him. I’m over here fighting for my life over this decision and he gives me a pat on the back. A simple good lad, and he’s on his way.

“Come in early on Monday so you can fill out some paperwork!” he calls over his shoulder. A few heads turn in my direction, confusion etched on their faces.

What the fuck have I agreed to?

I’ve been staring at my ceiling for what feels like an eternity.

It’s ten p.m.

I hung around the main house most of the afternoon, hoping to run into Taylor, but to no avail. When she didn’t show up for dinner, I realized just how much I had been wanting to see her. I turn over onto my side—I can’t wait to be able to crush my right shoulder with my weight again.

The moonlight seeps through my open windows and I blame it for my inability to fall asleep, when really, it’s thoughts of Taylor that have me tossing and turning. She’s on vacation and probably just exploring. Of course, she’s back, nothing except The Saloon is open right now. Would she go back to The Saloon ? I told her I wanted to see her today. She said she just wanted to be friends. You shouldn’t be this concerned about her. If she wanted to hang out, she knows where I live.

I flop onto my back, looking at the clock again. 10:08.

Fuck.

I rip the blanket from my body, throw on a T-shirt and jeans, shove my feet into my boots, and jog up to the main house.

The Inn is silent. Only the soft glow of a lamp from the common room provides any light. I cringe with each creek up the stairs and hold my breath as I make my way down the hallway. I knock on the last door in the hallway, the one tucked in the corner at the end. I listen for any sign that she’s home but there is no movement, no sounds. I’m about to leave when the door is yanked open.

Taylor stands in another one of those cropped tank tops, this one black, and the same oversized sweatpants she wore the first night we hung out.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“You said that,” she teases, fighting a smile.

“Right.” I scratch the back of my head, suddenly unsure of what my plan was when I decided to come up here. She stays silent, doing me no favors. I run a hand over my mouth before I clear my throat. “I wanted to make sure you ate. ”

“I did.”

“You did?”

She dips her head, but not before I catch the smile on her face.

“I found a farmers market today. Cute little craft tables, and homemade soaps.” She leans against the door, one socked foot propped up on her ankle and her big green eyes twinkling up at me. “The best part was every other table had some kind of food. I probably ate enough for an entire rugby team.”

My dick should absolutely not be getting hard over the way she said ‘rugby’ but here I am subtly shifting in my pants.

Soft voices from inside her room catch my attention. I look over her shoulder, finding her TV on. I audibly swallow, knowing that she’s here and I got my answer—if she wanted to hang out with me, she would have come down.

“Okay, good.” I dip my chin and turn on my heel, feeling every bit as pathetic as I’m sure I look.

“Wait.” Her soft hand clasps around my bicep, before I can turn around. “Do you… do you want to come in?”

Relief floods my veins and I try not to show it on my face.

“If you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you could have just said something,” I tease, sliding past her and the doorframe.

She closes the door behind us and when I turn to look at her, the room feels much smaller than I remember. Taylor walks past me, right to the bed. I look between the dresser, littered with empty water bottles and coffee mugs, to the chair in the corner of the room that’s piled high with clothes.

“Your room is kind of a mess,” I say, moving an eye mask, a Kindle, and some kind of blow dryer from her bed .

“To you,” she smiles.

“No, love. It’s a mess.”

“Okay fine, but I know where everything is.” I raise my eyebrows in question. “It’s true. Look under the bed and you’ll find my pink claw clip and an earring. My blue-light glasses are under a brochure on the dresser, and my passport is in the bathroom, under the towel on the counter.”

How?

“Oh, and!” She jumps up, and rushes to the closet, pulling out a backpack. She sets it on the edge of the bed, digging through it.

“What’s with the trackies?” I ask, lifting my chin to her.

She pauses, staring at me in confusion.

“Your sweatpants,” I clarify, pointing at her lower half.

“You don't like them?” She frowns, looking down at her legs.

“I didn’t say that.” I like the way they sit dangerously low on her hips—hips that point to a place that I’ve thought obscenely inappropriate things about.

“They’re my favorite ones. I bought three others exactly like these, but for some reason, these ones just feel different.”

“They’re yours?”

“Ah!” She pulls a brown bag out of the backpack before dropping the bag ground and moving to sit next to me. “Who else’s would they be?”

“An old boyfriend, maybe?”

“Nope. No old boyfriends here.” She smiles, shaking the bag. “Plus, I’m not that sentimental.”

I don’t have time to dissect what she means because she opens the bag, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Candy?”

“Not just candy, an assortment. ” She pulls out a long, red, gummy-type candy while handing me a hard circular one that appears to be covered in salt. I look inside and find chocolates and an array of sweets, all different sizes, and all different flavors, mixed together.

“How do you know which is which?”

“You don’t, that’s the fun part. It’s like Russian roulette.” She wiggles her eyebrows, taking a bite from the gummy. “Mmm, watermelon. Try yours.”

I plop the round candy in my mouth and my cheeks suck in against my will at the impossibly sour flavor.

“I think I lost.” My eyes squeeze shut as I shake my head, and Taylor’s laughter rings out through the room.

“Oh, that must have been the sour fun blast.”

“There’s nothing fun about it, babe,” I mumble, and she falls over laughing, her delicate hand falling to my thigh. The touch takes away some of the pain in my mouth. I don’t bother trying to chew it. Instead, I swallow it like a pill and sit up to find Taylor rounding the bed, cracking open a water bottle. She hands it to me, sliding into the space between my legs. I take a long sip, watching her, watch me.

“Tell me, Browning, do you do this with all the guests?” she asks. I quirk a brow at her, setting the bottle down on the nightstand. “Hang out in their rooms, watch shows, and…”

She trails off as she looks down at where my hand now rests on her waist, my thumb gliding along her exposed skin.

“Just you, Nova.”

We sit side-by-side, propped against the headboard, the TV has been nothing more than background noise to accentuate our never-ending conversation. Taylor moves the discarded candy bag to the bedside table and settles back onto the bed, resting her arm between us. I reach over, finding any excuse to touch her, and twist the blue and gold bracelet on her wrist.

“I like this.”

“It’s called an Ojo bracelet. Camila got it for me for my thirteenth birthday.”

“What does it mean?” Her pulse flutters erratically under my fingers.

“It’s…” She pulls her gaze away from where I’m touching her and looks into my eyes. “It’s supposed to protect you from negative energy and bring good luck.”

“Maybe I need one of these, then.”

“Do you need a little help getting lucking, Browning?”

“Mm.” I trail my fingers up her arm to the crease opposite her elbow, and her skin pebbles beneath my touch. My index and middle fingers skate up to her shoulder slowly and she inhales sharply, but never pulls her gaze from mine. I slide the strap of her tank top over, splaying the entirety of my hand across her collarbone. I wait for any sign that she wants to back out but instead, she leans in closer.

I wet my bottom lip, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, and her lashes flutter closed when I dip my chin, closing the last bit of space between us. I tease us both, brushing my nose against hers, holding on to this moment just a second longer.

A startling vibration cuts through the room and her eyes blink open. She twists out of my hold, slamming her hand onto the nightstand to silence her phone.

“Umm.” She clears her throat, scooting up further on the bed.

“I should go.”

I stand and she crawls across the bed, sitting up on her knees. I all but bite my fist in protest at the way she looks right now .

“You don’t have to.” Her voice is nothing more than a throaty whisper.

“I have an early doctor’s appointment in the morning.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth with a nod and I gently wind my hand around the back of her head, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.