Climbing the steps to the private jet for yet another away game, the luxury of it all surprises me less and less. I was in awe the first time I saw this plane, but with this being my third time flying this month, I'm realizing how celebrities can become so accustomed to it all.

Plus, it doesn't help that I sprained my elbow from my fall at the coffee shop last week. I made it back to Connor's for breakfast, where we sat at his kitchen island and scarfed the food down after a ravenous night of sex. I held it together each time I brought a pastry to my mouth, the radiating pain in my elbow overpowering all my senses. At first, I figured it was bruised from the fall, but after five days, the pain seemed to get worse, and a trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in me being in a sling for the next two weeks.

Brian reassured me I could take some time away. He said he could get a replacement for me to sub in until I was feeling better. No way in hell will anyone take this job away from me. It's sprained, not broken. I can take my elbow out of the sling and deal with the pain for two hours to take photos. I'll be fine.

The players seem to keep to themselves as I walk down the aisle. I loathe the fact that I'm heading for the back strictly because I know who will be there. My heart seems to seek him out even when my brain screams for it not to, but after the fall last week, I'm mentally exhausted. The nightmares have been worse than ever, and all I can focus on is sleeping in his comfortable bed beside him, waking nightmare-free for the first time in months.

Connor glances up from the book he's reading, some sort of mystery before his eyes grow wide as saucers when they land on the sling. "What the hell happened?" He shoots up from his chair as if that will physically heal me, but what Connor doesn't understand is all my pain is mental. The dull throb in my elbow is nothing compared to the guilt festering in my heart.

I had to reschedule my dinner date with Esme because of it. How could I allow myself to go out with her and have fun after I let yet another young girl down? I haven't been able to forget Monique's disappointment since I left her in that bakery. We met briefly, but that disappointment on her face threatened to reopen a wound that hadn't started healing in the first place.

"I fell," I say, keeping it short.

"You fell," he repeats. "Wait, was this because I took you ice skating? You hurt your elbow when you fell?"

"What? No. It happened after that. It's not from the fall on the ice."

Connor stares at me as if he's waiting for me to give him more details. When he realizes I'm not, he gives a quick shake of his head, reaching over to strip the bags hanging off my good arm. "You shouldn't be carrying anything. Is it broken?"

"Sprained."

He moves aside in the aisle to allow me access to the window seat, and the slight pang I feel in my chest is horrifying. I don't like that he remembers I prefer the window seat. I don't like that he's getting to know me. He's becoming too close.

"I'll be right back," he says after gently placing my bags in the compartment above.

I plop down into the seat, watching as he walks toward the stewardess's quarters.

Connor is too sweet for his own good. He's too nice. The more he continues to get close to me, the more this is going to hurt him in the end. I'm a shitty person who only disappoints everyone I come into contact with, yet I can't bring myself to tell him that. His presence brings a comfort I can't explain.

Tears spring to my eyes when he returns. He's holding a pillow in one hand and an ice pack in the other, and his kindness is way too overwhelming. It brings me back to my childhood when I had the flu and my mom would make me soup or bring me ice cream at night to soothe my throat. It brings me back to before I made the dumbest decision of my life and ruined everything.

I don't deserve it.

I don't deserve it.

I don't deserve it.

Staring out the window, I refuse to let him see my tears. I don't want him to know how broken I am inside, but after meeting Monique last week and fainting, it's only become more apparent how broken I am. My OCD is at an all-time high, I can't even get a full night's sleep without waking in a sweat from a nightmare, and I can't ride on a fucking plane without blubbering like a damn child.

I suck in a sharp breath when Connor's hands reach beside my thighs, grabbing the two sections of the seatbelt. Obviously, I'm incapable of doing it with the sling, but the feel of his fingertips brushing my stomach, his forearms hitting the top of my thighs as he clasps the two pieces together, the breath is instantly jolted from me.

He remains silent as he tightens the belt in place, finally lifting his eyes to mine. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as the dam of my emotions bursts open, and all of the pent-up guilt and sadness that's been brewing for the past week gets projected onto him.

I fall forward into him, my forehead hitting his chest, and for the first time in seven days, I'm able to breathe. My sobs are silent so I don't disturb the rest of the plane, my shoulder racking and body shuddering. Connor holds me tightly against his chest and kisses the top of my head repeatedly. "It's alright, baby. I've got you."

It's the first time I haven't been irritated at the nickname.

Instead, my body yearns for it. The past five years I've grown accustomed to being by myself and closing off from everyone and everything, but just that one sentence spilling from his lips has me understanding just how much I've missed basic human interaction. I miss someone being there for me, and Connor is doing a damn good job at filling the role.

"Why'd you fall?" He speaks softly as if I'm a piece of glass that will shatter at any given moment.

"Please," I beg. "I don't want to talk about it, Connor." I refuse to speak about that night. I refuse to enter more of a downward spiral than I'm already in.

Maybe it's my emotions that lead me to spill my thoughts without thinking, or maybe it's the need for that basic human interaction, but it comes out before I can stop myself. "I just need you to hold me. Please. I-I need to sleep. I just need to sleep."

His breaths become quicker beneath the fabric of his sweatshirt, but he settles into the chair beside me without another word. When that big arm of his stretches out, encouraging me to snuggle deep into his sweatshirt, a ragged breath of relief escapes me. "Thank you," I whisper.

"You don't ever have to thank me," he replies, voice strained. "Seeing you like this..." With a shake of his head, a tremor courses through his jaw. "I want to understand what's going through your mind so I can try to fix it, Aria, but if you aren't ready to tell me, I'm going to respect that."

It's not his job to fix it. He's not my boyfriend. We're just...

Ugh. I don't know what we are, but even though we aren't dating, I remain silent, unable to tell him that as I let the selfish part of me allow him to dote because it feels too damn good.

"Do you have nightmares?" He asks. "The first time I saw you on the plane you said you had difficulty sleeping. Is it common?"

Connor is being so good to me, the least I can do is give him this. I don't have to tell him what the nightmares consist of, but I can give him this pinch of honesty.

"Yes," I admit. "I have nightmares. A lot of them."

"And does sleeping with someone make them cease? Is that why you fell asleep on me that day? Is it why you're asking me now?"

My eyes lift to his, and the expression in his eyes steals my breath away. There are tears of his own threatening to spill. The man has a heart of gold, his concern for me washing through me like a tidal wave, and damn it, I can't lie to him. I won't.

"Just you," I say thickly.

The confession has his eyes softening in a heartbeat, his thumb soothing the bags beneath my eyes. "I know we aren't dating, and I know this isn't official, but if you need to sleep with me at any point, and I mean just sleep, I won't think anything of it. To see you like this..." He clears his throat, and the sound has my heart shattering into two. "I'd do anything to take away the pain you're feeling, Aria."

I bury my face between his neck and shoulder, inhaling the whiff of mint that reminds me of him. I don't know how to respond to the surge of warmth flooding my chest. He's saying all the right things. A thank you would do nothing to express the amount of gratitude I have for him.

Before I can think of an appropriate response, he begins to run his fingers along my shoulder, soothing me into a deep and soundless sleep.

Author's Note:

Hi everyone!!!

I'm updating early tonight because I leave for Disney World tomorrow to celebrate my son's fourth birthday! I will be on vacation all of this week, so If I don't respond to comments, that's why!

See you guys next week!!!

Please comment and vote :)

Twitter: believeeexoxo

Instagram: deannafaison_

Tiktok: authordeannafaison