Back to Me Page 10

  “He’ll hang out with you since you have the day off. If you have to leave, there’s a crate. I need to get it out of the car. He’s supposed to be fine in a crate, so he shouldn’t whine or bark. I’ve been walking him on the other side of the building. You’re okay with me having him, aren’t you?”

  I lift my gaze to her. “I don’t mind. This is your home, too. You know that, right?”

  “It’s just an adjustment.”

  That’s not an answer I like. “Whatever you need to do to make it feel like home, do it.”

  “I want to help pay the bills,” she quickly interrupts.

  “Fine. You get the light bill. Whatever you need, Mere, just do it,” I repeat. I want this to feel like home to her. I know it’ll take some time to adjust, but I don’t want it to take too long. She belongs here with me and I want her to feel the same way. She kisses me softly. I smile when I feel some stickiness from the syrup on her lips.

  “Thanks. I’ll have a surprise for you once my clothes come. Mom’s shipping them this morning and is overnighting them.”

  “A sexy surprise?”

  She laughs. “No, but you’ll appreciate it. What are you doing today?”

  “Hanging out with Leo, I guess. I’ll need to call the landlord. There’s a pet fee and it’ll be better that I call and tell him instead of one of the neighbors. And don’t worry; you can write me a check to pay me back for it,” I add before she can mention it, causing her to smile.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “Then help me eat the rest of the pancakes, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she agrees, taking a big bite.

  If we were the same two people from before Meredith left, or before she met Vance, then I would be certain nothing could tear us apart. I would be sure that we’d make it this time because nothing should break us. But we’re not the same people, and I know Meredith is harboring some part of her past, keeping it away from me and trying to keep it away from herself. We’ll make it if only from sheer determination alone. What worries me is the havoc we’ll have to deal with when she can’t hide from her past any longer.

  THE MOMENT I see Erica and her glare, I almost wish I had asked Noah how much she knows about us. She obviously learned of some of our past during the four months they were together. Vance never knew about Noah. He knew I had been in relationships before, but we never discussed specifics. I didn’t tell anyone about Noah. What does that say about me? What does it say about Noah that he told some girl he’s been dating for four months about me?

  There’s no time to think about it now. Part of me wants to say that I’m sorry, but what for? Noah said he was already planning to break up with her. If she blames me for him ending it, then that’s not my fault because I’m not the reason. Still, I paste a smile on my face.

  Erica tosses me a set of keys. “Get the courts set up,” she snaps. “I want ball machines on courts two and three. When the girls get done going through their drills, you can work with Kira. I can handle everyone else.”

  I nod, briefly wondering if she’s sticking me with Kira because she doesn’t think anything will come of it. “Anything else?”

  “Bring ice, drinks, and snacks for the game tomorrow. I’ll have the cooler.”

  “Okay.”

  Her glare hardens and she makes a sweeping gesture. “You can go now.”

  I turn and leave for the shed near the courts where the equipment is stored. I set everything up exactly how she asked. There are two baskets of balls at the first court, and the machines are set up at the second and third. Erica has her bitch face on when she walks outside.

  “Simple instructions. I gave you simple instructions. The machines should be on one and two, not two and three.” I could’ve sworn she said two and three. “How hard is it to listen and put things where they belong?” she continues. “I know you don’t have any coaching experience, but damn. And where is the box?”

  “What box?” I ask since she’s taking a breather.

  “I told you to get the box out of the shed. It has all the stuff for drills.”

  She didn’t mention a box, did she? She’s staring at me like I’m the dumbest person to walk the face of the earth and I’m starting to feel stupid. Maybe she did tell me. “Sorry,” I mumble, turning to get the box she asked for.

  When I return, the girls are starting to arrive. Erica huffs as she holds out a clipboard. “You forgot this.”

  Shit. I did forget it in her office. I start marking the girls present. Erica runs them through their stretches, sends them running, and gets them started on a few drills. Some of them are relatively easy, like bouncing the ball on your racket while walking around. It’s not easy to start with, but it helps ensure control of the ball. Tap it too hard or not in the right place on your racket and you’ll lose control, sending the ball flying and causing you to reach and scramble for it.

  Erica ends up having the girls take turns with the ball machine. I watch them for a few minutes before walking over to her.

  “Can I use the other machine with Kira?”

  “That’s why it’s there, Meredith.”

  “Oh, well, thanks. Kira,” I call. “Court two.” She walks over while I set up the machine to alternate where it shoots the ball, how frequently, and how fast. I start it and then walk to the side where Kira is.

  “Am I just hitting them?”

  “Yep. I’ll watch and give you some pointers. We’ll rally once you’ve warmed up.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Yep,” I grin. I want to test out my shoulder and this will be a great way to do just that while also helping Kira improve. She’s been doing a lot better now that she’s playing with the correct hand, but she still has a ways to go.

  “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Hurry and wait?’” I ask.

  “No,” she frowns.

  “It means once you know where the ball is headed, you hurry to get there, be in position, and then wait for it to come to you. You want to hurry and wait. You need to be quicker on your feet. Has she had you do any drills that focus on that?” Kira shakes her head. “Up to do a few? I’ll do them with you.”

  “Okay.”

  I turn off the machine, grab an extra racket, and we go down to the last court away from everyone. I run through it once so she knows what we’re doing. We run up the inside line to the next, run backwards, across, up the other line, back, and then across the serve line and repeat. I send her first and join in once she’s going across the first line, so we’re spaced out and won’t run into each other. After ten of those, I set out rubber rings and a rope ladder. We go through them a few times before I decide to rally while we still have time.

  It’s not like we’re about to have a battle. However, this is a test for me. I need to see how it feels with just this little bit of play. My physical therapist, Tina, decided to tell me this morning that it’s highly unlikely I could ever play professionally again. According to her, she’s been in her field for a long time and based on how long I’ve been in PT and how my shoulder is now, she doesn’t see me returning. The hours are too long. The intensity is too much. What I would put my shoulder through would cause me pain and what strength I’ve built up is likely to diminish.

  I can’t accept that.

  Not yet.

  But by the third swing, I can feel it. There’s a tightness that didn’t used to be there. Five minutes is all it takes for a soreness and an ache to creep into the area. I ignore it. It’s a blessing and a curse that practice starts dwindling fifteen minutes later. My shoulder hurts.

  Fuck, this is bad.

  I take a deep breath before walking over to Kira. “You’re a fast learner, you know.”

  She gives me a half smile. “Thanks. It’s been really good to tell my mom that I’m getting lessons from the Meredith Quick.”

  I laugh. “Well, I’m just glad I can help someone as dedicated and hardworking as you are. C’mon. Let’s join the group.”

  Erica en
ds up leaving me to put everything back in the shed, but I don’t mind. I’d rather work alone than have her point out whatever I’ve done wrong again. Overall, today sucked and it gets worse when I get to my car and check my phone.

  There’s a message from my mom.

  Mom: Vance called again. Are you sure you want us to ignore him?

  Me: Yes.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that Vance needs to stay as far away from me as possible. There’s a small part of me that feels like I should talk to him, but then I remember our last day together. I remember the harshness in his tone, the words he said to me, and what he accused me of.

  Fuck Vance.

  He doesn’t deserve the opportunity to talk to me.

  Hearing this for the second time in such a short time period causes my hands to shake as I drive to Noah’s apartment. To home, I mean. Dinner is on the table and little Leo runs over to me. I immediately pick him up and cradle him to my chest. I’m so happy I was impulsive and got him; his little body and cute personality bring me so much comfort. Noah rounds the corner from the hallway. One look at me and he’s crossing the room. He hugs me to his chest without disturbing the puppy.

  He kisses my temple. He doesn’t say a word and I love him for it. When Leo starts getting restless, Noah steps away so I can place him on the floor.

  “Let’s eat,” he says.

  We wash our hands before sitting down at the table.

  “Your clothes came today. We can get you settled after dinner if you’re up for it.”

  I nod. “That sounds good.”

  “Work good?”

  “Yeah.” My voice lacks conviction. “How was it with Leo?”

  “Fine. We napped and went for a few walks.”

  We talk about nothing in particular as we eat and we don’t talk at all as I help him clean up. Noah, I’ve learned, is the kind of person who likes to clean up soon after he makes a mess. He doesn’t like leaving dishes in the sink. He doesn’t like leaving clothes on the floor for long. He’s neater than I ever realized, and I wonder when this happened. He definitely wasn’t like this in high school. His room was always a mess.

  I have a sudden urge to ask him to recount every moment of his life since I left him. He grew into a man, grew into an adult, and changed in ways I hadn’t considered. I want to know when it all happened and how it happened. I want to listen to his story of how he came to be who he is today.

  Instead, we’re unpacking my clothes. I can’t believe this is happening. Slowly but surely, my clothes are filling half of Noah’s closet and half of his dresser. Luckily, he has a rather large dresser and there’s more room in there than I thought. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough room.

  “Mere?”

  I lift my head from my current box to see him holding the three jerseys. There might as well be one big question mark for the expression on his face. I walk over to where I stored the package from last week and open the box. I pull out the fourth jersey of his current team. “I always bought one. It was the one thing I allowed myself from your life.”

  He drops his head to look at the jerseys in his hands. Then, he turns to plop down on the edge of the bed. I walk over and stand before him, worried by his silence. He lifts his gaze to mine. “I followed your career. I read every article about you. If I couldn’t watch your matches, I followed the results. I probably know your career as well as you do.” He holds up the jerseys. “This, it makes up for you not doing the same.”

  “Why?” I don’t understand how it could do so when it means I know nothing about his career, except the teams he played on.

  “Because you were still supporting me and cheering for me. You still cared. Did,” he hesitates as if he’s unsure of his question. “Did you ever wear them?” God, those brown eyes look so hopeful.

  “Only when my parents said they were going to one of your games and if I was alone. I’d wear it and then sleep in it that night.” It totally contradicts my reasoning for not wanting to follow his career because it hurt too much, but I couldn’t help it. My parents would mention him and it would hit me hard how much I missed him; I took comfort where I could get it.

  Noah tosses the jerseys to the side, including the one I was holding. He grabs my hips and yanks me forward to straddle him. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he strips me of my clothes to kiss every inch of my skin before burying himself inside me. If he reacts like this from simply hearing I wore his jerseys, then I can’t wait for him to see me in his Rebels jersey.

  The week passes by without further incident. Well, mostly. Erica still hates me and makes me feel like I’ve made a fool of myself at least once a day. I’ve rallied a few times with the girls; my shoulder has been sore and full of pain after each time. Right now, none of that matters. I’m about to meet Noah’s entire team and their families. I feel like this is a test, one I don’t know how to pass. Noah captures my attention when he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles.

  “I can hear you worrying from over here. Stop it. You don’t have to impress anyone.”

  That doesn’t really make me feel better, but I give him a smile anyway. We get out of the car and walk inside the large house. There is a ridiculous number of people here. We’re greeted by a sweet woman who turns out to be the head coach’s wife. After that, we run into Marc. He’s standing with a few other players and presumably, their significant others.

  “This is the Meredith,” Marc announces.

  Their eyes widen. Had Noah not told anyone else he was with me again? Wait, do they all know about me?

  “Tattoo Meredith?” one of the women asks.

  “Yep,” Marc confirms.

  Noah laughs and leans in to whisper in my ear, “They all thought you were a figment of my imagination.”

  “We have so many questions.” The same woman who referred to me as Tattoo Meredith steps forward to take my hand and lead me away, the rest of the women following us. “I’m Sylvia. You are like an urban legend or something.” We’re basically huddled in the corner of the room. “Tell us everything,” she demands.

  “Um.” What does she mean everything?

  “Relax,” another woman says. “I’m Theresa. Sylvia is just excited about fresh blood. You don’t have to tell us anything.”

  “But we’re dying to know!” Sylvia adds.

  “Um, okay. We met in high school, but broke up before going our separate ways for our careers.”

  “But why?”

  “For our careers,” I repeat.

  “So, what do you do? How did you wind up with Noah again?”

  “I play tennis professionally, but currently, I’m an assistant coach at a local high school while I rehab my injury. I came here to be with him.” That will hopefully be enough because I don’t want to say more than that.

  Thankfully, Noah comes to rescue me as Sylvia is preparing to ask yet another invasive question. “Sorry, ladies. I need my woman for a second.”

  I give them a fake apologetic smile as he leads me away. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “You’re welcome. You’ll eventually learn how to hold your own with them. Sylvia, in particular, is extremely nosy. I’ll introduce you to more of the guys.”

  “Wait,” I grab his arm to stop him. “What do you mean I’ll learn how? How often will I be around them?”

  Noah shrugs. “Depends, I guess. We’re a team. We’re a family. That goes from the players to their individual families. If someone needs help, we all try to chip in. Some of the women like to get involved with the charities and community work the players do. When you go to games, you can sit in the box with the families. I’m with these guys from September to April at the very least. The women like to bond and now you’re a player’s girlfriend. It sort of comes with the territory.”

  I nod, Noah grins, and he finishes leading me to the kitchen. Of course most of the guys are in here, devouring the finger foods set out.

  “Meredith!” Marc shouts dramatically from across the room like I’m s
ome long-lost friend. He comes over, gives me a bear hug, and even twirls me around.

  I can’t help but laugh. “You just saw me a few minutes ago,” I remind him.

  He smacks a loud kiss on my cheek and grins. “I know, but I didn’t greet you properly.”

  “Keep your mouth off my girlfriend,” Noah growls, playfully shoving Marc away from me.

  “Give him a break, Rams. Marco probably hasn’t put that mouth on a woman in months,” one guy says, causing others to laugh.

  Only, I frown in confusion. “Marco?”

  Marc groans. “My last name’s Polinski, which is apparently close enough to Polo. Marco Polo. That was the nickname I was graced with.”

  I bust out laughing.

  “If you start calling me that, I’m cutting you off from my amazing personality,” he warns, causing me to giggle some more.

  “I swear I’ll only call you by your name,” I promise. I don’t know if I would say Marc has an amazing personality, but I like him. Aside from Noah, he’s the next person I feel most comfortable with here. He has this calming quality about him. Conversation goes on a tangent, and I just listen and laugh as the guys rib each other with their jokes.

  I observe as well. Gruff-voiced Brayden Hayes is mostly quiet, but the guys all listen when he speaks. Scott Boyd, Sylvia’s husband, obviously adores his wife, always giving her a quick kiss to her temple when she’s close enough. The guys call him Scotty. They have five-year-old twin girls; one is as shy as she can be, sticking by her father, while the other is outgoing, playing with the other children, like Ainsley, Liam Irving’s daughter. Those people stand out to me for some reason. Well, them and Marc, who tries his hardest to make the shy twin laugh.

  There’s definitely a sense of camaraderie, even though a few of them keep to themselves. Maybe being included into Noah’s second family of teammates will be better than I thought it would be.