[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Hannah
I could only try and slow my swing, but having the reflexes of a quarterback saved him. His hand shot out, grasping the thicker part of the bat, and probably saving any future children he wanted.
"You're very trigger-happy, aren't you?" He laughed breathlessly, and I think I heard a hint of fear in his voice. "I'm attacked every time I surprise you."
I gaped at him, eyes wide as my heart continued to thump against my ribs. What was he thinking coming here at this time of night without telling me? And through my fucking window!
Still gripping the bat, he climbed the rest of the way in, the curtain falling closed behind him with a gentle ripple from the breeze. Standing tall, he looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over every inch of my body before settling on my neck with a visible tightening of his jaw. The sight of him brought so many emotions I'd been ignoring in the chaos of everything that had happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I released my grip on the bat, rushing forward to collide against his chest. My cheek pressed against his heart as my arms wound around his waist, not caring about the ache in my neck.
I felt the hitch in his breath betraying his surprise before he gently propped the bat against the shelf next to my window. And then he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me completely as he squeezed me to him. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply — needing him like I needed my next breath.
In his arms, the tears flowed freely, soaking the front of his shirt as he simply held me in comfortable silence, rubbing my back and softly combing the tangles from my hair. I cried for everything that had happened, but mainly because I had missed him.
My hands fisted the material at his lower back as I pressed even closer, greedy for that abundant warmth he always radiated. It seeped into my bones, driving away the ache and cold, along with the tension coiled tightly down my back. In his arms, I melted, feeling my strength return.
"Babe, let me see you."
I softly shook my head against him, tightening my grip on his shirt. I wasn't ready to let go yet.
"Hannah, we need to talk. Well, I need to talk — I know you can't."
My brows furrowed at that. How could he know? In fact, how did he know where to find me? It clicked when I remembered Jace's odd behavior with my window latch. They must have spoken. Why hadn't Jace told me?
But now I wanted to know what Tristan had to say after going through all this effort. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip on his shirt and leaned back, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. The movement sent a jolt of pain through me, and Tristan must have noticed because he grabbed my wrist, gently holding it away from my face. His finger pressed under my chin, lifting my face to see my neck. It was bandaged, but there was a visible bruise peeking out from the top. It was dark and angry-looking — likely looking worse than it felt.
