Page 63 of Worth Every Game
I want to collapse to the floor right in front of her, but I don’t think she'll appreciate that, and I’m still confused as fuck, so I say, “Hungry? I made coq au vin.”
She frowns up at me, holding my gaze for a few seconds before the expression on her face crumples and, even before it happens, I know what’s coming.
She starts to cry, and the bottom falls out of my stomach.
Fuck.
She drops her head in her hands and her shoulders shudder, all that blonde hair spilling like gold across them.
Panic cascades through me at break-neck speed.Did I get her consent? Did she want this? Shit, shit, shit.
Talk about a rough comedown. I sink to my knees opposite her, my heart beating so fucking hard that when I reach out and touch her shoulder, my hand is shaking. I expect her to jerk awayfrom me, but when she doesn’t a little of the tension I’m carrying melts away.
“El, what’s going on?” I whisper.
She takes a couple of hitching breaths, struggling to breathe through the tears. “Tomato.”
What?
I lean a little closer, but she’s still got her head down, not looking at me. “What?”
Her head snaps up. “Tomato.”
Tomato?I seriously hope I’m about to wake up, because this is one bad fucking dream. “I’m sorry… what? I have no idea what’s going on, and it sounded like you said ‘tomato’.”
She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “That’s what’s on my shirt.”
I glance at the stain, but it doesn’t clarify anything. My mind is still recovering from that orgasm, and my thoughts are diving around like pinballs.
“They threw it at me. At the Marchmont.”
The pieces start to fall into place. “Oh, my…fuck. Who did?”
“Some drunk guys.” A sob, louder than the others, breaks out. I am not equipped for this. Women coming apart on my dick, I can handle. Women generally falling apart…fuck, no.
“I need to get dressed. Don’t move. Let me put my clothes on.” I jump up and dash to the utility room, where I pull on my boxers and trousers and then shove my arms through the sleeves of my shirt.
When I come out, fingers fumbling to do up my buttons, Elly’s still kneeling on the floor and something about the sight of her there breaks my heart a little.She didn’t move.
I help her up, ushering her over to the sofa. She sits down, and I take a seat next to her. Little by little, between pitiful sobs, I get the full story out of her.
“Those arseholes,” I say when she finishes.What kind of jackasses do that to a woman singing on stage? Especially one as beautiful and talented as Elly. “I’ll fucking—”
“I thought of you when they started throwing stuff at me.”
I pin my mouth shut, holding back the threats.That doesn’t sound good.This feels… precarious, as though anything I do or say might make her yell at me, or run away. But I have to ask. “Why?”
Elly screws her eyes shut like she’s staving off tears, then she takes a deep breath and opens them. “Because of everything you said at the flat when you were talking to Kate. You said that if I was any good, I would have made it by now.”
Her words crush my insides into a tiny, uncomfortable ball, regret flooding my veins like I’m hooked up to a drip of the stuff.I’m an arse. How could I have been so unthinkingly cruel?Am I any better than the dickheads who threw stuff at her?I rub a hand over my eyes. “God, I’m so sorry. That was ignorant. I made an assumption without hearing you. You know I think you’re great.”
“Do I?” she whispers.
“Don’t fish.”
She sniffles a giggle.Progress.
I want to reach out and hold her, but I feel like I can’t.Christ. Moments ago, she had my dick in her mouth, and now I don’t know if she’d accept a hug.