The water slid down Trey’s throat in a cool torrent. Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the bleachers, waiting for their game of two-on-two to resume. On the other side of the court, Bryson paced back and forth, his cell phone conversation holding everyone up.
“I can’t believe you, Mother,” Bryson shouted.
A prickling of unease touched Trey and he turned his head, listening for Brittany’s name. Bryson glared across the gym, as if he could murder Trey without remorse. Once he discovered Trey’s plans, he might try to murder Trey. But he couldn’t hold out a minute longer. He had to see Brittany. Once he got back to the apartment, he was going to book a flight for this weekend. Maybe there was no salvaging their relationship. Maybe she hated him. He didn’t know. All he knew was he had to talk to her and apologize.
He could always do it over the telephone and save being thrown out of Brittany’s house. He needed her to see his sincerity, however, so only a face-to-face visit would do.
Over and over, he told himself ending their relationship had been the right thing to do. What could he offer her? Only himself, which was what she’d always wanted from him anyway. The only thing he could do was apologize and explain to her, in reasonable tones, how frightened he’d been. He’d tell her he hadn’t been able to imagine so many police cars in one location if something awful hadn’t happened.
Of course Mitchell being injured hadn’t helped. Officers took it quite personally when one of their own was injured. If a perp had no respect for an officer of the law, then they had even less respect for an ordinary citizen. But Brittany wasn’t an ordinary citizen. She was the sister of a police officer.
He’d tell her she was also the girlfriend of one. He never should’ve let her leave. When she’d asked Bryson for the plane ticket, Trey should’ve begged her to stay. He’d promised her they’d work through their issues together and he’d blown all their plans to hell. All his reassurances to her. When he’d moved to Houston the summer after her graduation, he’d missed Brittany. Then he’d discovered she would be attending a college in the city. Houston was a large, bustling metropolis. Depending on interests, hobbies and location, it might be years before paths crossed, if ever. He’d stayed as far away from the area Brittany attended school as possible. His feelings for her had always been too overwhelming and raw.
For all his running, their paths crossed anyway. And after that reprieve, Fate saw fit to put her under his roof. Had given her blind faith in him. For all her mental trauma and emotional scars, she’d trusted him with her body and her heart.
He’d rewarded her with rejection.
It was hard for him to face his own callousness. How could he expect her to do so?
He took another sip of water. He missed her smile, her taste, and her voice. Bryson once said Brittany was in love with Trey. Although a little over two months had passed since then, Trey wondered if he’d killed her feelings for him. If only she’d have him back. She had to give him another chance.
His mind searched for the arguments he’d put to Brittany, the reasons they should be together. She held the key to everything he refused other women—his loyalty and his future.
Scowling, he rubbed the back of his neck, admitting the truth he shied away from, had only admitted once. Brittany had his heart. Motherfucker. He was in love with her. So much so he was prepared to marry her to prove it.
Every time he made a date with Sylvia, he backed out. Yesterday, he’d called her and asked her out to lunch so he would take her out tomorrow and ask her for advice. What did he have to say to Brittany to convince her to take him back? Sylvia didn’t know why he’d made their date but he was desperate. He didn’t know whom else he could ask.
Spenser had given birth last week and Mitchell was wrapped up in his wife and children. Trey didn’t want to disturb them with problems he’d created. He eyed Karl where he leaned on the bleacher near him in a deep conversation with Cedric.
Trey refused to discuss Brittany with his cousin, still undecided about the man’s guilt or innocence. His gut had accepted the obvious but his heart hadn’t. Once he reconciled the two, he’d deal with Karl as he saw fit. Until then, he wouldn’t discuss Brittany with the good reverend, and Cedric took nothing serious, so asking for his advice would be futile.
Trey drank more water, sudden tension filling his body and tightening his muscles.
Cedric stood up and stretched. “Yo, Bryson, we don’t have all fuckin’ day,” he called.
“Don’t bother him right now, Ced,” Karl advised. “He looks as if he isn’t in the best of moods.”
No shit. Fury etched Bryson’s features, as if he were close to erupting. Finally, he disconnected from his phone call and barreled toward Trey, unholy fury lighting his militant, gray-black gaze.
Casually setting the bottle of water aside, Trey rose to his feet. He braced his legs apart, unsure if he needed to knock the shit out of Bryson.
“I should kick your ass right now,” Bryson growled.
“You can try,” he spat. “I believe we’ve been down that road before and you didn’t quite manage the feat.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Bryson got nose-to-nose with Trey. “You had enough condoms at the apartment to fill a drugstore, tucked in every fucking nook and cranny in the place. In between the cushions on the sofa. In the kitchen cabinet. Under the rug by the window.”
“So? What the fuck is your point?”
“Brittany! You stupid son-of-a-bitch. My sister’s pregnant and Momma kicked her out.”
Trey stared at Bryson as if the man had sucker punched him. Examining the flashpoint of emotion running through him, he realized he wasn’t surprised. Perhaps he’d known because of the insane pleasure he’d felt as he spilled himself inside Brittany. Or maybe it was his intense feelings for her. After the first time he made love to her, he’d had an inkling she was pregnant.
Somewhere inside, he’d wanted her to conceive. He’d made her his and now the world would know. Brittany was having his baby, proof she belonged to him, and just the leverage he needed to marry her.
He smiled, a well of tenderness opening inside him. His little Brittany was having his child. He was going to be a father and—“Ms. Donovan kicked her out?”
“My mother is all fucked up in the head, man,” Bryson said with a heavy sigh. He sat down on the bleacher and glared at Trey. “Brittany is at the airport but her plane won’t be in until late tonight.”
“You sure the baby is Trey’s?” Karl asked mildly. “I mean she’s been gone about two months and—”
“The baby is mine.” An intelligent man would’ve recognized Trey’s hostility.
“Before you go claiming flesh and blood, get a DNA test,” Karl advised with an understanding smile. “Brittany was always very popular. She liked to flaunt her charms in those tight little shorts. Think about it, man. She got home, all upset you kicked her to the curb. One of the old jocks she used to tease comes for a visit and next thing you know she’s giving him a lil’ bit and—”
Trey didn’t acknowledge Karl’s words with any of his own. He merely sent Karl flying across the court with a punch to the jaw and had the satisfaction of watching him crumple to the ground.
Without a word to Bryson or Cedric, Trey grabbed his bottle of water and strode out of the gym.