NEVER BE THE SAME
CHAPTER SEVEN
Despite Kate's assurances at dinner, when almost a week goes by and he's barely talked to her, he wonders if the encounter with Tammy Royce had affected her more than she'd let on.
Finally, he sends her a text inviting her for dinner the next day, just the two of them, and although she responds quickly, the brief sure leaves a lot to be desired.
The knock sounds on his door promptly at six on Friday night, a week after the ill-fated dinner, and Rick turns down the burner, wipes his hands on his jeans before he opens the door. His grin fades when he sees the downturn of her mouth.
Something's wrong.
"Hey, Rick," she says, her greeting barely more than a whisper as she steps inside.
"Hi." He leans down to kiss her, and although he's not entirely surprised when she turns her head so his lips brush against her cheek, it does sting a little. He bites back a comment and takes her coat. "Wine?"
"Please."
Rick wants nothing more than to sit her down on the couch and make her talk, trap her until she tells him what's going on in her head. But she's done this before, kept her thoughts to herself until she's ready to share them. Pushing her to talk would only shut her down more and push her away, of that he's sure. So he pours her a glass, then pretends to check on the food to distract himself.
Kate takes a long sip of her wine and sets it on the counter. "It smells delicious," she says, sliding onto a stool. "Can I help?"
"Nope." His cheeks warm when the word comes out sharper than intended, and he straightens up, shuts the oven door. "It's almost done," he clarifies.
Kate's eyebrows lift, but she just offers him a small smile and curls her fingers around her glass. "Okay. How was your week?"
The snort escapes before he can stop it, and he regrets it as soon as he sees her visibly tense.
Well, he's cracked the door open. May as well push it the rest of the way.
"You tell me, Kate," he says. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. "I've heard barely a word from you all week."
Kate rolls her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize being in a relationship with you meant being at your beck and call. I've been busy. I have a life, you know."
"I know you do. But any time I've tried to make conversation, I've been met with one or two-word answers."
"Better than having my head bitten off when I do try and talk," she argues. She shakes her head and grabs her coat. "I'm not in the mood. See you later, Rick."
He mutters a curse and lunges towards her, catches her arm as she reaches for the door. She whirls around to face him, fire burning in her eyes.
"If you want to date someone whose life revolves around you, you're barking up the wrong tree," she snaps, tugging her arm from his grasp.
Rick's cheeks get hot, and he holds his hand out in invitation. "I'm sorry. I overreacted. Can we try again?"
Kate glances at his outstretched hand, then lifts her gaze to his, a sharp brow raised. After what seems like an eternity, she takes his hand and lets him lead her back into the kitchen. "I'm sorry too," she says with a sigh. "The last guy I dated would flip if I went more than a few hours without contact. He didn't last long."
"Shit. And here, I did the same thing." Rick reaches across the kitchen island and squeezes her hand in reassurance. "Sorry."
She gives him a small smile and flips her hand under his so their palms touch. "Thanks. So, tell me about your week."
He chuckles. "It was fine. I have a deadline coming up, so I spent most of it at my computer."
"And how much writing did you actually do?" she teases.
He winces; today had definitely contained more procrastinating than writing, so he'll need to put in some time this weekend to meet the next deadline. He's almost done with the draft, just needs to work through the major twist and wrap it up.
"Anyway," he drawls, wanting to change the subject, "how about you?"
Kate slides her hand out from under his and curls her fingers around her wine glass. "Um…" She hesitates, and Rick moves around the counter, sits on the stool next to her.
"I got an interesting phone call this week," she starts after taking a long drink. "From the national team. They want me to be a coach."
"What? Kate, that's awesome!" He finds her hand and squeezes.
She lifts her head and meets his gaze, but despite the smile on her lips, there's doubt in her eyes. And he doesn't miss how her fingers grip his, so tight it's almost painful.
He brushes his thumb across her knuckles. "Is it awesome?"
Kate looks down at her wine glass as she traces the base with her finger. "It's a great opportunity."
"Why do I sense a but?"
She sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated. I can't really explain why, but I have doubts. I should be jumping at it, but…"
Rick nods. "Something's making you hesitate. Listen to it." He looks down at their intertwined hands, her fingers fitting so well between his, almost like they were made for each other. He's never been happier than he is with her, but their relationship is so fresh, so new, and they're still finding their footing.
He's not so arrogant to think that she's hesitating because of him. Her past with the US Team, though, that's a different story. Over fifteen years of hurt and resentment don't get erased with a job offer.
"When everything with Mike happened, I fell apart," Kate explains. "I thought I was friends with the others on the team, that the other coaches were supportive, but once I walked away from the sport, they walked away from me. It felt like I wasn't worth their time anymore, you know?"
Rick starts to protest, but the words die on his tongue when she brushes her lips across his.
"I don't think that anymore," she assures him. "It took a lot of work, but I know I'm worth it."
"Damn straight you are," he murmurs, stealing another kiss before she leans back.
"Anyway, the whole experience with Alexis - the tournament, Paris, all of it - went well. They seemed to welcome me back, and nobody said anything about Beijing, so it felt like we'd all moved past it." She shifts to face him, rests her elbow on the counter. "Alan - the head coach for the US team, he's retiring - said something that's not sitting right with me. They were impressed with the work I've done with Alexis, that I could go back to the national stage despite-"
Her voice cracks with emotion and she takes a sip of wine.
"Despite the, and I quote, 'difficulties I had in Beijing,'" she finishes with an emphatic sigh. "Like I choked under pressure or had the yips, not that my coach basically took advantage of me. Like I didn't report what happened, or that Alan himself said they couldn't believe that Mike, the esteemed coach that he was, the dedicated husband, would be unfaithful to his wife with his student."
With every word, Rick's blood boils. She's told him this, of Beijing and the subsequent inaction by the association, but hearing it again, the blatant disregard for her experience, makes him want to fly to the headquarters and go on a rampage.
Her soft hand on his cheek brings him back to the present, and he covers her hand with his, focuses on her face in front of him. The small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, the warm green and gold of her eyes, the way she seems to be gazing into his soul.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, knowing full well that he has nothing personally to apologize for, but still feeling obligated to. "What you've been through, how you were just dismissed. It isn't right."
"No, it isn't," she agrees. Her thumb traces his bottom lip, and her eyes darken when his lips part under her touch. "But like I said before, it led me to you - well, you to me, technically - and for that alone, I wouldn't change a thing."
They lean forward at the same time, their mouths meeting in a fiery embrace. Her tongue slicks between his lips, and he groans, drops his hands to her waist. He stands, bringing her up with him, and he turns, pins her against the counter.
Dinner is forgotten as soon as she gasps his name, and he trails his lips down her neck, slips his hands under her shirt. She buries her fingers in his hair, brings his mouth back to hers, and hooks her leg around his thigh.
"Bedroom?" she husks, rolling her hips.
He groans at the friction, the torturous tease of what's to come.
"Wherever you want," he growls before crashing his mouth to hers.
He does remember to turn off the oven and stove burners, but it's a long time before they surface for food.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Rick shifts the bouquet from his right hand to his left, suddenly nervous about seeing his girlfriend. She's been gone for two weeks, coaching at tournaments in Denver and San Antonio, and she arrived home late last night.
He'd tried to convince her to come to the loft, not wanting to suffer through one more night without her. But she needed sleep, she'd insisted, and that wouldn't happen if she was even in the same building as him.
He'd pouted, but acquiesced.
Besides, it gave him the chance to talk himself into giving her a different, and hopefully better, gift than he'd originally planned.
When the elevator opens its doors on her floor, Rick quickly exits, reaches her door in half a dozen long strides, and knocks. It opens within a second, and before he can even react, he's pulled inside and shoved against the wall, a familiar mouth crashing against his.
He allows the heated swipe of her tongue, shivers at her cool fingers under his shirt, but when her hands begin to trail down his stomach and towards his pants, he steps away.
Kate drags her tongue across her bottom lip as she fixes her heated gaze on the front of his pants.
He ignores her look, instead stepping into the kitchen, where he knows she keeps a vase under the sink. He quickly adds water to the vase and sets the flowers inside before turning to face his girlfriend again.
"They're beautiful," she rasps, the first words she's spoken. She thumbs a rose petal, traces her fingers along the baby's breath tucked in amongst them. She lifts her gaze to his, her cheeks an adorable shade of pink.
He chuckles and slides an arm around her waist, pulling her into him, leaning down to brush his lips to hers. "I missed you," he husks, the desire and lust coursing through his blood.
She loops her arms around his neck and meets his mouth again, palming the back of his head, holding him to her even as he walks them toward her bedroom.
"Aren't flowers horrendously overpriced on Valentine's Day?" she asks later, draped across him, her legs tangled with his, her finger tracing figure eights on his chest.
He grabs her finger and lifts it to his mouth, presses a soft kiss to the pad. "Yes," he admits, remembering all too clearly the near-heart attack he'd had when told the price. He'd gladly paid it, though; she's worth the cost of Valentine's Day flowers, and so much more.
She smacks his chest when he tells her that, and she shakes her head, rests her chin on his sternum, and looks at him. "I forgot it was the holiday. I got all screwed up on the days. I didn't even buy you anything."
He catches a lock of her hair and curls it around his finger. "That's okay, you didn't have to. You haven't had much time to shop," he teases.
She chuckles and leans into his touch. After turning down the national team's offer to coach six months before, Kate had poured herself into her coaching business, with more students than ever. A couple months later, she'd received a phone call from another coach on the national team, stating there was going to be another opening. After a lot of thought and conversation, she'd decided to accept.
One of Kate's brows lifts at his words, but he ignores the way it triggers a new stirring in his groin in favor of trying to figure out how he can keep her from finding the gift that's currently burning a hole in his jacket pocket.
He forgot how well she can read him, though, because she pokes his chest and sits up. "I didn't say you don't have a present, just that I didn't buy one."
He slides his hand down and gives her ass a squeeze. "Does that mean it's extra sexy?" he rumbles. "Do I need to grab some ice cubes?"
She giggles and presses her mouth to his cheek before sliding out of bed. Much to his disappointment, she grabs his shirt, but as soon as she slips it on, he sits up.
"Ooh, are we going to have sex again with you wearing that? Because as much as I love you naked…"
She throws his boxers at him, and they smack him in the chest. "No," she teases. "Put these on."
He doesn't miss how she lowers her gaze when he stands, or the desire in her eyes even after he slips the boxers on. She gestures for him to join her at the dresser, and opens one of the drawers.
"Oh, is my present in here?" he jokes, bouncing on his toes with excitement. He'd never expected her to get him something, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the thought. His words die on his tongue when he looks down, though, and notices that half of the drawer is empty.
"Where-" It takes him a moment, but his heart swells in his chest when he spots the small, shallow box. He looks at Kate as he picks it up, recognizing the nervous look in her eyes.
It's the same look she had when she first told him she loved him.
He lifts the lid, and his breath catches in his throat when he reveals a key. "Kate," he breathes.
"It's not much-"
"It is," he interrupts before she can start to apologize for no reason.
He knows how big of a step this is, giving him a key. Her longest relationship had been a year, she'd explained one night, but even then, they never discussed the long-term future, cohabitation, or even trading keys.
She never wanted to feel heartbreak like she did after Mike, so she always kept one foot out the door, didn't allow herself to fully let her commit to anyone.
"Until you," she'd whispered, pulling him close, running her hands through his hair.
"I love you, Rick," she says now, tracing his jaw with her thumb, "and I trust you, implicitly. I want you to be able to come and go as you please. And that's your drawer. Your space."
Rick sets the key back in the drawer and cups her face with his hands, leans down to brush his lips across hers. "I love you so much," he whispers, feeling her smile against his mouth. He kisses her again, then rests his forehead against hers. "Thank you for trusting me enough to let me in."
She lets out a low, throaty chuckle and loops her arms around his neck. "Don't make me regret it."
He laughs and steps away, finds his jacket in the corner, and retrieves her gift from the pocket.
Kate lifts her brow when he holds it out to her, and she takes it without a word, and tears the paper off. She shakes her head as she takes out the copy of his apartment key.
"Really?" she teases, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
He grins. "Great minds." He turns serious, then, and takes her free hand in his. "You're in my heart, Kate, and I want you to know you're welcome in my home, too. Any time."
She sets the key on top of the dresser and curls her fingers around his biceps, lifts herself to crush her mouth to his. She slides her hands up his arms and into his hair, holding him to her as her tongue meets his, although she doesn't have to.
He's not going anywhere.
And, as they tumble back into her bed, hands searching and tongues tasting, he has a hunch that she isn't, either.
-FIN-