“I’m on my way.”
“Thanks.” Brayden said goodbye and hung up. He turned his upper body so he was facing out the window and Blake wouldn’t see the moisture he had to blink away. There was no acceptable reason to cry in front of your buddies. Well, if you won the World Series, then you could shed a few tears and the guys would pound you on the back.
There’d be no World Series for him, so he sucked it up. Once Dad got here, things would get better. They had to.
Chapter Eight
Tilly
Tilly cried through her massage with Elise. Elise assured her that it was normal. Muscles held memories, and her muscles had a bad memory that needed to be wiped away. She was referring to the accident, but Tilly was thinking about Brayden’s outburst. About the way he’d looked at her like she was to blame. He’d never yelled at her before. Sure, they’d disagreed about things in the past and sworn never to talk politics again. But even then, she’d looked into his eyes and found love.
If he still loved her, it was buried under a mountain of rage.
She’d driven home and left him alone as he’d requested, vowing not to call him until he apologized. But this morning, that darn nurse’s car was in his driveway. The team had a late game, and she didn’t have a school tour this morning. Therefore, she had the whole day to sit there and stew about what was going on across the street.
Brayden wasn’t the type of man to cheat. She’d bet her house the woman had just shown up out of the blue. But if that was the case, why was she still there? Well, she wasn’t about to let another woman get comfortable in Brayden’s house. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it with things the way they were between her and Brayden.
Finally, she decided to just walk across the street and talk to him. But not before she put on Brayden’s favorite sundress, the one he said made her legs irresistible. She did a quick check of her makeup and hair and crossed the street with a confidence in her gait that she didn’t feel.
She hesitated at the door, wondering if she should knock, and then decided against it. If he was going to have a strange woman over in the middle of the day, then he’d better plan on Tilly stopping by. She threw the door open and marched in, a smile spread across her face.
Brayden wasn’t in the front room, and her heart sank. He had an open-floor plan, which meant she could see the common living space from her spot in the front entry. Which also meant that Brayden was in a back bedroom with her. She put her hand on the doorknob. Did she really want to know if something was going on between them? She took a shaky breath and pressed her hand to her stomach, which threatened to empty out right there.
“Baby girl.” Maverik Birks, Brayden’s father, came down the hall, carrying a load of wet towels. Right behind him was the nurse who would not go away. Her smile dimmed when she saw Tilly. Good.
Maverik handed the towels off to the nurse like she was the hired help and wrapped Tilly in his big arms. Tilly leaned into him. “Mav. I’m glad you’re here.” Her eyes prickled at the fatherly comfort of his embrace. She suddenly missed her parents, missed coming home to a hug.
“Me too, baby girl.”
She smiled for real. He’d called her “baby girl” the first day they’d met and kept right on doing it. She loved it. Brayden didn’t have sisters, and Maverik treated her like gold.
“This is Natalie,” Maverik stated by way of introduction. “She picked up a few medical things to help Brayden.” He leaned closer, his eyes darting down the hallway toward the bedroom. “The shower chair was our saving grace today.” He winked.
“I’ll bet. It’s nice to see you again, Natalie,” Tilly bit out through clenched teeth. She kept one arm around Maverik, needing his strength and wanting to show that her place was with the Birks men.
“I’m sure,” Natalie replied. “I’m going to put these towels in the washer.”
“What are all the towels for?” Tilly asked Maverik.
“Sponge bath,” answered Natalie, with a smug wiggle of her head.
Tilly blanched at the thought of this woman’s hands all over Brayden. “That’s not necessary. He has a hand sprayer in the guest bath.” And he’d used it quite well yesterday.
Natalie cocked her hip to the side and gave Tilly a doubtful look. “And limited mobility. He said it felt wonderful to get all of him clean.” She flounced off to the laundry room, which was off the kitchen.
Tilly chewed her lip. She wished she had a comeback, but honestly, she just wanted to trip Natalie. She wouldn’t, though, not with Maverik watching. Natalie had no idea how lucky she was that Brayden’s dad was in town.
Maverik rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head. “She’s been a big help. She’s a nurse, so I didn’t think …”
She hadn’t done that great of a job hiding her dislike for Natalie. Maverik was more astute in reading women than Brayden was. She’d have to remember that. She forced herself to brighten. “It’s fine, Mav.” She kissed him on the cheek. “If you needed help, why didn’t you call me?”
“Brayden said not to. He said you’d been running yourself ragged taking care of him and you deserved a day off.” His eyes softened. “How are you? When I heard about the accident, I was scared—for both of you.”
She hugged him again, soaking up his care. Why were dad hugs so soothing? “I’m good. So much better.”
“Promise?” He searched her face, his eyes outlining the yellowing around her eye. Doc Burningham said two more days and it would be completely gone. She was counting on that.
“Promise.” She pulled away. “I’m going to see Brayden.”
“He told me what happened yesterday.”
She paused, her foot landing funny. The brace did its job, and she straightened. “He did?”
Maverik nodded sagely. “He’s grieving baseball, and he’s angry right now. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and he knows it.”
Tilly nodded, cupping her elbows with her hands. She’d bet Maverik had told Brayden what’s what.
He stepped into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some tacos for lunch. Plan on it.”
“Sounds great.” She was already halfway down the hall, ready to make amends with Brayden. So he’d yelled. He was upset. It was possible that she’d misread him and the accusation in his eyes had been aimed at himself.
She found him propped up in bed, looking clean and fresh. Crap. He looked so fine, she wanted to jump in with him, cuddle up, and forget all that had happened in the last three weeks. “You look hot.” She smiled as she moved to sit on the side of the bed and take his hand. His skin was warm and he smelled faintly of soap.
“It feels nice to be clean.” One side of his mouth lifted. “Weird to shower in my sliders, but I’ll take what I can get.”
She brought the back of his hand to her cheek, needing to be closer to him. She wasn’t used to insecurities in their relationship. They’d been solid since the first date, when he’d whispered that she was as beautiful as the stars in the heavens. A lovely shiver had run over her skin, and she’d melted into his kiss.
He watched her for a moment, his eyes full of so many emotions she couldn’t pin one down. Slowly, he pulled his hand away and his emotions cleared, leaving a mixture of desperation and resolution.
Her pulse picked up speed in response. She opened her mouth, intent on cutting off his train of thought. “Do you want to go out tonight? Your dad likes that chicken place.”
“I’m good here.”
“I could pick up some takeout.”
“No. Listen—”
“I’m not sure I want to.” Whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to be pleasant. Breathing was harder than it should be, the air sucking out of the room.
He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “We all have to do things we don’t want to do.”
She bristled at his patronizing tone. “You mean like tell a certain nurse it’s time to go home?”
His head jerked back, and he winced. “She
’s just a friend, and I don’t feel bad asking her to do things because she’s healthy and willing.”
“She’s something, all right,” Tilly muttered. She brushed her hand across the bedspread. “Her motives aren’t pure, Brayden.” She copied his patronizing tone.
“And yours are?”
“Excuse me?”
His eyes turned dark, like demons swirled in his head, planting dark thoughts and smothering the love that usually filled his soul. “You’re only here because you feel guilty.”
“You can’t believe that,” she scoffed.
“Tell me you don’t feel any guilt for this.” He jerked his finger towards his neck.
“I … Of course I feel guilty. I was there. I was the experienced climber. I should have kept you safe.”
He wagged his finger. “I lost my focus,” he rasped.
Her mouth opened and closed several times. “How?” She didn’t understand how that was possible. When she climbed, her whole mind and body were focused on the task. Her life depended on it. That was part of the draw of climbing.
He looked away. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Um … it does to me.”
“I’m telling you it doesn’t. I release you of all responsibility for the accident, Tilly. It wasn’t your fault. Please let it go.”
She blinked against the moisture gathering on her lashes.
He reached up and swiped a tear from her cheek. “My dad’s going to stay for a while. He’ll be able to drive me to work and help out here.”
“O-kay.” She leaned into his touch. His hand was gone all too soon.
“So you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“Brayden, I’ll always worry about you, because I love you. That’s what couples do.” She smiled up at him. There was a big relief that came from saying those words. She hadn’t realized they were missing from her vocabulary until just now. The fall must have knocked them right out of her or something.
He hesitated, then seemed to square his shoulders. She’d seen him do that many times on the mound, and her heart sank. He was gathering his resolve. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t think we should be a couple anymore.”
“You … what?” Her eyebrows came together. Her brain slowly chewed on his words as her blood turned cold. “You’re breaking up with me?”
He swallowed heavily and nodded.
She pulled her hands into her chest. “But you just said you don’t blame me for the accident.”
“I don’t. But you deserve more than a crippled boyfriend, Tilly. I promised you the stars, and I can’t deliver. I’m at a loss as to how to move forward with you, and I can’t ask you to stand here while I pull my crap together.”
“You don’t have to ask, Brayden. Not when someone loves you. Love doesn’t have to ask.”
He remained silent, the doors clicking shut in his heart even as she sat there and watched it happen. He’d locked her out.
She shivered and hunched forward. Breaking up? That was … inconceivable. She and Brayden went together like a pair of shoes. Without each other, there was no point to the one.
She reached for him, and he pulled away—like her touch would scald him.
The rejection was too much to bear. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she rose to her feet so she could look down on him. He was so tall that the advantage wasn’t much, but she’d take it. Her eyes swept over his broad shoulders, hugged nicely by the Redrocks workout shirt; his strong jaw; the scar at the base of his neck from the surgery; and finally landed on his beautiful brown eyes. Every inch of him belonged with her. She knew it as surely as she knew her heart was breaking.
She couldn’t stay there and listen to him give her flimsy excuses or made-up reasons. She couldn’t stand there at all—to be near him and not touch him was wrong. It was just wrong. She pressed her hand over her mouth to hold back her cry and sprinted for the front door.
Maverik looked up from where he was folding clothes on the couch with Natalie. “Baby girl?”
“Bye, Mav.” Tilly choked and then ran from the house. She left the door hanging open, unable to take even the spare second to close it behind her, and ran across the street to her own home. Maverik called after her. She ignored him. Let Brayden tell his dad what he’d done. She closed the door and collapsed against it, sobbing her whole heart out. She slid down the wood, lading roughly on the cold tile floor.
She prayed for shock, for numbness so she didn’t have to feel the heavy loss that pulled her into the depths of misery. She’d thought that nothing could be worse than seeing Brayden unconscious at the bottom of a cliff.
She’d been wrong.
Chapter Nine
Tilly
Tilly waved her arm out to the side. “This is a statue of Jake Richmond, the man who dreamed of bringing an MLB team to St. George.”
Some of the third graders craned their necks to get a look at the bronze likeness. Most of them were bored. Tilly sighed. She just couldn’t muster up the energy to be enthusiastic for them. Kids caught on to a mood like they caught colds, and her chest was an empty shell. The heart that once beat so strongly inside had fallen quiet. Sure, it still pumped blood, but the life had gone out of it when Brayden broke up with her.
He was in the stadium today. So far she’d been able to avoid him, but her whole body was aware that he was around. Her skin prickled the minute he set foot in the building. How did she know that was the cause? The same way she knew Redrocks dogs tasted better with grilled onions—she just knew.
The last couple of days had passed in a blur of tissues and toenail polish, brownies and braids, as Clover tried to make her feel better. She’d even brought over her roommate, Maddie, and a chick flick that made Tilly cry because she’d had that kind of love with Brayden and lost it. Maddie and Clover sat with her on the couch, linking arms and telling her how much Brayden loved her. Which didn’t help. But they were convinced he was experiencing some sort of head trauma from the fall and once his brain healed, he’d come running back.
Tilly didn’t argue, but she’d seen the brain scans. He was fine. Which made what he did to her hurt all the more. None of the pains from smacking into a solid wall of rock compared to what she felt from the breakup.
The third-grade group became restless. One kid tried to climb on Jake Richmond’s shoes. She was losing them. What she wouldn’t give for a climbing harness and a rope right about now.
“Let’s take you out to the seats behind home plate. I think there might be a few players warming up for the game tonight.” There were. Houston was in town. The visiting team always got the early practice time on the field.
Once they reached the top of the steps, the kids ran ahead of her, the teachers calling after them to slow down. This wasn’t Tilly’s finest hour as a tour guide, but she was making it through.
Once they got to the bottom of the steps, the kids started calling to the players, asking for autographs. She swore under her breath and hurried down. “Hey. Hey now.” She put her finger over her lips. “I know it looks like these guys are playing a game, but they’re working. We can’t interrupt them while they work.”
A little blonde girl pouted out her bottom lip. “I wish this was my dad’s job.”
“You and me both,” called a mom from the back of the group, who had the same shade of blonde hair mixed with expert highlights. The other mothers twittered.
She held back her sarcastic remark about dating baseball players not being all it was cracked up to be, especially when they were stupid and selfish.
Tilly motioned for the kids to take seats and asked them trivia questions about baseball. Nothing hard. They were more like “How many strikes until you’re out?” and things like that. The kids bounced out of their seats to supply the answers.
After she’d exhausted her question bank, she told them it was time to head back to the bus to go to the park where they would eat lunch. They cheered and took off at a run.
“Sorry,” said the blonde mom. “They’re crazy full of energy today.”
Tilly nodded. “I wish I could bottle it and sell it.”
“Right! You could make a fortune.” She giggled and then trotted off to catch up to her daughter and her friends.
Tilly waved as the bus pulled away, five kids’ hands out the windows waving back. Once they were out of the parking lot, she slumped and headed inside, where the air conditioning slapped her in the face. She needed to check the bleachers for any left-behind gum wrappers or garbage. Anytime the kids stopped moving, there was a mess left behind, and she’d be in trouble if the primo seats weren’t ready for the game that night.
She decided to go down from the top of the stairs rather than go through the locker room and up from the field, because Brayden might be in the locker room, but he most definitely wouldn’t be in the seats or on the stairs.
The WHACK of a ball smacking leather had her heart hammering like a runner caught in a pickle. That sound was so firmly connected to Brayden that it took her several seconds to realize he wasn’t the one on the mound. It was the new guy, Gunner Pinch. The Houston players had cleared the field, and the Redrocks trickled in.
She watched Gunner throw another ball—hurtle was a better word. He lacked Brayden’s finesse. She scanned the field, making sure Brayden wasn’t in sight, before slowly making her way down the stairs. She could feel him near but didn’t have a compass to point him out. He’d be one of the few guys not in warm-up gear.
Her well-worn Converse didn’t make a sound on the steps. Which was just as well. What she’d told the kids was true: these guys were at work. She’d be happy to chat with Dustin or Juan. Juan’s perma-smile would be welcome. He’d give her a hard time about something silly or tell a story that took too much time, and she could forget for a minute that she wasn’t part of the inner circle without Brayden. But she couldn’t distract the guys from their pregame routine.
Intentional Walk: Dating Mr. Baseball Book 3 Page 7