Last Fall

by Alexis Anne

  I held up a matching forkful. “Cheers.” Then proceeded to devour half the cake, because dang, it was so, so good.

  Erik slowly enjoyed his cake as well, savoring each bite. But I noticed his eyes looked a little unfocused like he was thinking about something, and being the curious writer, I decided to ask him what he was thinking. “What’s on your mind?”

  His eyes snapped to mine. “I was thinking about the commercial I have to shoot next week and how I’d rather be just about anywhere else.”

  “If you hate it so much why do you do it?” This felt like prime getting-to-know-you information. Was he a perfectionist who didn’t like his acting skills? Or maybe he simply got bored on set.

  He sat back, folding his hands over his flat stomach as he finished swallowing. His brows drew down. “Why do you go to signings and interviews?”

  Well, that was an easy one to answer. “It’s part of the job. I could hide behind my computer,” I shrugged because that was what I would prefer to do, “but getting out there, doing the interviews, participating in the industry, all of that is what has helped me build a career.”

  “Exactly. I’m an average second baseman but I made myself part of the community. That’s the real reason I have a career at this level. Don’t get me wrong, it matters to me that I don’t waste my opportunity, that I give back to the city that’s given me so much, but it also helps secure my position on the team because people know me, they fill seats and cheer for the team because they eat cereal with me every morning.”

  I noticed that he focused on the endorsements, not his charity. That was the real reason everyone loved Erik Cassidy so much.

  I also noticed how he called himself average.

  If Erik and I kept up this new friendship I was going to have to work on his fun side. “Well when you put it like that, I guess I can relate.”

  It was strange how I felt both awkward and comfortable with Erik. Part of me was wondering if I was chewing too loud, if not saying anything was weird, but mostly it just felt normal. I didn’t know why, but I was fairly certain that Erik was as happy with the stretches of silence as I was.

  “Congrats, Zo,” he said quietly between bites, eyes back on the remainder of his cake.

  For a moment it was like I was weightless.

  Then he looked up and our gazes caught. Weightlessness turned into free-fall. So much concern and emotion swam in his brown eyes.

  That doubt, that loud, incessant doubt that I kept pushed back screamed at me. I’d done such a good job of locking it up after I moved to Tampa. Doubt got in the way. It almost ruined my life. There was no place for doubt in my life. But ever since this book and movie deal had come into my life, it had started pushing back into the edges of my life.

  I noticed it most in these heavy, quiet moments of congratulations. I seemed to stop, unable to move forward or absorb what was happening, and instead I gave the answers I was expected to give and moved the way I was supposed to move, not really living the moment. Maybe that was why I avoided celebrating. Maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t want to enjoy life’s victories. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to give doubt any access to my life.

  “It doesn’t feel real,” I whispered.

  June and Carrie were so hell-bent on me owning my success that I stopped bothering with confiding in them. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened out of self-preservation.

  “It’s a big change. Going from what you thought was it to suddenly having everything you secretly dreamed about?”

  We have a lot in common. His words from earlier came back to me, only this time they made a lot of sense. Ballplayers and writers lived lives that had absolutely nothing in common—except that we spent our entire lives dreaming of being the exception. The one or two lucky people who made it. Neither of us was an overnight success. I never, ever thought, no matter how hard I worked, I’d ever see this level of success.

  “Does it ever feel normal?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I spend half my life feeling like I just robbed a bank and any minute the cops will show up with my arrest warrant.”

  “Yes!” I said way louder than I meant to. “That’s exactly how I feel!” A strange, wonderful awareness settled between us and I think he was just as relieved as I was to have someone in the same boat with him for a change. “Sometimes I feel lonely, even when I’m at a party like this.”

  “Because even though they all love you they can’t understand why you’re overwhelmed and happy and scared and floating on a high and terrified of it ending, all at the same time.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand. Even on a team full of guys doing the same thing, most of them believe they deserve everything. Some of them do. Some of them are selfish entitled assholes who need to be taken down a peg or two.” He smiled. “It was nice when my brother landed his coaching gig with the Pythons. At least I had him to talk to. Do you have anyone to talk to, Zoe?”

  “I have my writing group. They get it.”

  I swear he looked a tiny, itty-bitty, little bit disappointed. “That’s good. I’m glad you have them.” The cake was gone now. “If you ever need someone else to talk to . . . I’m available.”

  And I knew he meant that in more ways than one. So of course I panicked. “Erik. I . . . I haven’t dated anyone in three years. I’m not . . . I can’t.” Aw fuck. I couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence.

  Thankfully he put his hand up. “Calm down, Zo. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a high-pressure, fast-moving kind of guy.” Then he leaned forward in his seat and brushed his fingertips over the back of my hand, sending the best—seriously, the best—tingles over my skin. “I like talking to you. A lot. I’d like to keep talking.”

  And kissing.

  Or maybe that was just me.

  I willed his fingers to keep moving. Touching. Sending those tingles everywhere. “Talk?”

  “Yeah.” He took my lack of protesting as a green light and wrapped his hand around mine. Lightly. “Talking is good. It means I get to spend time with you and,” he half-smiled and I fell a little harder for the lopsided dimple-grin, “and I get know a little more about you every time.”

  “Uncle Erik!” Max screamed, coming around the corner. “There you are.” Her exasperation was kind of adorable.

  Erik didn’t let go of my hand as he glanced her way. “How can I help you, Max?”

  “I need your help. You’re the only one who is good at putting together toys.” Then she sighed dramatically.

  “Well then I guess I better get back.” He gave my hand another squeeze before standing up. “I have toys to assemble.”

  Max marched over, wasting no time dragging him back toward the party. And even though he shot me a sad smile over his shoulder, I could also see how incredibly happy he was to be needed.

  7

  ERIK

  Food is Love

  I was definitely an asshole for feeling jealous Zoe had a writing group to talk to. Of course she did. And who was I to be jealous of that? It was just that for a split second I felt like I had something to offer her. Something no one else could.

  I really, really, inappropriately liked that idea. But that was what a man was supposed to do, wasn’t it? Be more than anyone else for his woman?

  Fuck, I was back to thinking like a caveman. Zoe did this to me, over and over again, without even trying. All it took was five minutes alone with her and bam I was thinking about providing, protecting, and, to be perfectly honest, fucking her senseless.

  So yeah, for one second I was selfishly disappointed, but then I pulled my head out of my ass.

  “How much longer?” Max whined while bouncing off of every surface of the porch.

  “You really want this,” I glanced at the box to find the name of it again, “Power Desert Rider?”

  “I’ve only been waiting forever for one.”

  One day she’d really know what it felt like to wait forever for what she want
ed. I wouldn’t wish this fresh hell on anyone. When I thought about it, the fact that I’d been patiently waiting two years for this chance to date Zoe, it was a really long damn time.

  And I was still waiting.

  Making progress if our conversation, hand holding, and longing looks said anything, but still nowhere near where I wanted to be.

  The screwdriver slipped out of my hand.

  “Sheesh Uncle Erik. You feeling okay?”

  I picked up the screwdriver and finished reattaching the battery door. “Where’s your dad anyway?” I always found it comical that Jake and his friend John were the only two engineers from his company that could put together toys. The rest were always baffled by the small parts and instructions that made little to no sense. So it was usually the two of them putting together the big complicated toys and me assembling the rest.

  She pointed past me.

  Jake and John were putting together some sort of sprinkler system water slide contraption that ended in the pool. “That looks . . . complicated.”

  “It’s so cool. You run through an obstacle course and then slide down that ramp into the deep end of the pool. My friend Mara has the same one at her house.”

  I hit the “on” button and the toy car came to life.

  Max squealed. “Thank you Uncle Erik! You always know what to do!”

  Greg had done a fantastic job of mixing up all the parts and losing the instructions. I had no idea how that man built complicated systems for a living if he couldn’t put together a toy. Or maybe toys were the kind of thing you really needed years of on the job training to understand. I had plenty of that.

  Max slid into the seat and pulled up at Nerf gun as she eyed her many possible targets across the pool. “So you and Aunt Zoe were holding hands.” She took a test shot at a palm tree and grinned as the red bullet bounced against the trunk and fell to the ground.

  “You noticed that, huh?” It wasn’t like I tried to hide it.

  She shot another bullet at her mother who scowled good-naturedly at us. “You like my Aunt Zoe?”

  She turned and faced me, letting her gun fall into her lap. I was willing to bet if she didn’t like my answer she’d shoot me. “I like her very much.”

  Her little face twisted as she thought. What on earth a five-year-old could possibly have going through her head, I had zero clue. “She was smiling.”

  I nodded slowly as I thought back to the moment Max came around the corner. “Was she?”

  Max rolled her eyes. “Duh. I just said she was. It was nice. Aunt Zoe doesn’t usually smile around other grownups.”

  And then she hit the gas pedal and took off screaming like a banshee as she targeted her friends with her new toy, leaving me grinning like the fool I was.

  Because I did have something to offer Zoe that no one else—no other adult—could.

  I offered her an opportunity to smile again.

  I never turned down a dinner invitation from Eve. And it wasn’t for the food. The food was fine. Great, even. I came for the company. Their house was always full of happy people who cared about each other. In this, it was exactly like being home. Growing up with a house full of people, I got really fucking lonely during the season.

  And trust me, I’d tried to do what Jake and Eve did, but I seemed to lack that certain loving quality most people needed to be a good host. My dinner parties, Super Bowl parties, and game nights all failed miserably.

  So I gave up and enjoyed the fact that Jake and Eve were awesome hosts who saw fit to keep me around.

  Zoe managed to mostly avoid me for the rest of the birthday party last week, but I did wrangle a moment alone with her. No kissing or handholding. Just a genuine goodbye in which I told her how much I looked forward to our next conversation. And the next, because dammit, I wanted to make her smile if nothing else. Was I still working toward more? Hell yeah. But in the meantime, smiling was my number one priority.

  I was on the road with the team for the rest of the week but she was never that far from my mind. I kept trying to figure out how I could run into her this weekend when this dinner invite landed in my lap.

  Based on the number of cars outside I knew it would be a full house tonight so I didn’t bother knocking. Instead I followed the voices to the kitchen. The wine glasses were out and Jake’s best friend Greg was doing the pouring. His wife—and my agent—Marie stood beside him. June and Roman huddled in the corner having some sort of heated discussion, and out the back window I could see Max and Sam in the pool.

  Normally when I walked into this house I was greeted by the soft sounds of Zoe with the girls. Playing, watching a movie, sharing secrets—it was the sweetest thing to see them together.

  I let out the breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding when I saw her in a chair beside the pool, a spiral notebook in her lap, a pen in her mouth, and the most adorable scowl on her face. Like she was mad at the notebook.

  “Hey!” Jake called. “Glad you made it.” Then he poured me a glass of the red and pushed it across the counter. It must be Italian night.

  “Cheers.”

  Marie held up her glass, her eyes darting up and over my shoulder. A second later I knew why.

  “Good to see you, brother.” Wes slapped me on the back. Hard.

  I choked on my wine, then gave him the firmest handshake I had in my arsenal. “Good to see you too.”

  And yep, I got the big brother glare of death from Wes. I knew it all too well. I should. I’d given it more times than I could remember.

  “I’m sure dinner tonight will be entertaining,” he gritted out. He’d been giving me a hard time all week. Death glares, shoulder punches harder than usual, smartass quips.

  “Nope.” I shook my head, still not letting his hand go. “Nice and easy. It’s Italian night.”

  Wes wrenched his hand away. “Doesn’t that mean it will be rowdier than ever?”

  “I can’t control the crowd but I guarantee entertainment will be at a minimum.”

  He definitely caught my meaning and relaxed. “Eve, you look lovely as ever.” Wes moved to our hostess, kissing her cheek and flirting in his new “friendlier” way. Carrie cured him of most of it, but not all.

  I kept my distance as we moved from appetizers to dinner. With a crowd this large we ended up eating family style at their giant dinner table. Platters were passed around as conversation grew louder. It was not my doing, but somehow Zoe wound up seated beside me. I was grateful for the opportunity—even if someone was glaring daggers at me from across the table all night. Warning me off and challenging me all at the same time. He was a complicated fellow like that.

  “Can you please pass the garlic bread?” Zoe asked. Her voice was so soft and feminine. It made this dormant part of me wake up.

  I sat a little straighter. Why? I had no idea. But I reached for the basket determined to keep things light. “Here ya go.”

  “Thank you.” She took the basket and selected the biggest, butteriest slice before setting it in the open space above her plate.

  Since my mouth was watering looking at the bread I decided I deserved a second slice, too. “Temptress.”

  “Excuse me?” she laughed.

  “How can I resist white carbs when they’re right in front of me? You’re evil.”

  Fuck, her whole face lit up in the biggest smile. My damn heart stumbled over itself. How was I supposed to play it cool when she did stuff like that?

  “I would think you’d need the carbs. Don’t you have three games this weekend?”

  I grunted instead of using words because I was pretty sure she’d hear how turned on I was that she knew something as simple as my game schedule. Then I pulled myself together. “I’ll definitely burn it off.”

  Her eyes lingered on my forearms and I couldn’t help myself. I made a fist and flexed, eating up the way her eyes flared and her cheeks heated.

  Zoe thought my arms were hot.

  Hell yeah.

  “Can I have the carbs?�
�� Wes asked, a little too loudly.

  A few heads turned, including Marie’s. Her eyes narrowed, darting between me and Wes a few times before she very intentionally looked away.

  “You didn’t say the magic words.” Zoe grinned.

  Wes’s eyebrow shot up. “Give me the damn garlic bread, Pixie. Please.”

  She held them up and took a big whiff. “But they smell so good. Maybe I should keep them to myself. You’re not very nice.”

  Max giggled beside him. “I would get in trouble if I said what you said.”

  Wes glared at her and leaned closer. “That’s because you’re short.”

  “No,” she shot right back. “It’s because they’re teaching me manners.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Put down by a kid.”

  Wes shot me a glare out the corner of his eye. “Okay kid. Teach me. What should I say instead?”

  Max’s little ringlets bobbed as she moved. “Well for one I’d use a nice voice. You haven’t had a nice voice all night. Are you feeling well Uncle Wes?”

  Zoe snorted, covering her mouth to try and hide how bad she was losing it.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “If you say so,” Max shrugged. “Well, try to use a nice voice and then don’t demand. Ask politely like this. Aunt Zoe, may I please have the garlic bread?”

  Zoe stood a little to pass the basket across the table, giving me an excellent view of her ass . . . that I was absolutely not ogling in my peripheral vision.

  “Of course Max. Thank you for asking so nicely.” Then she stuck out her tongue at Wes. “You catch more flies with honey, jerk.”

  “That wasn’t nice either, Aunt Zoe.” Max bounced her eyebrows. She reminded me so much of my sister, Belle. They both looked so sweet and innocent on the outside, but they were pure mischief.

  “Wise life lessons with Max,” I said, shooting her a wink.

  “Well, I am five now.”

  They whole table devolved into laughter. It mercifully took the attention off the weird vibes and the ensuing conversations, effectively distracting Wes for the next few minutes.