“Sawyer’s been acting strangely today,” Murphy says. “Is he okay?”
“Wow, you must think he’s really screwed up to be asking about him over me.”
She touches my hand. “I know today must have been horrible for you. I also think that one of these days, you’ll tell me exactly why. But I’ve never seen Sawyer act that way. He just seems … lost.”
I shrug. “Maybe he’s not the perfect pretty boy everyone assumes he is.”
“He is kind of pretty,” Murphy teases.
I roll my eyes. “It’s always the fucking short stops. They are the pretty boys.”
“Yeah, but the pitchers and catchers – they have all the muscles.” She gives me a wink.
“Are you hitting on me, Murphy?”
She laughs. “You wish.” Then her face turns serious. “Hey, speaking of hitting on people, are you still seeing Rylee?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. The two of you seemed pretty into each other. I was just wondering if that’s a good idea.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t it be a good idea?”
“I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all.”
“No chance, Murphy. Did you forget who you are talking to here? Why the concern? And why the change of heart after you practically threw us together at the restaurant?”
She shrugs. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
I eye her skeptically. It’s never nothing with the future Mrs. Kessler. She’s deliberate in everything she does.
Caden leans over his fiancée. “Did I tell you they moved up the shithead’s trial?”
“Finally,” I say. “When is it?”
Caden smiles and raises a drink. “It wrapped up yesterday.”
“What? Really?” I look to Murphy. “You didn’t say anything when you came to Tampa a few weeks ago.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know until after I left. Until the prosecutor’s office called me last week to bring me in as a witness.”
“Well? What happened?”
Murphy smiles. “Guilty on all counts. It only took the jury an hour to deliberate.”
“How long did he get?”
“Sentencing is next week,” Caden says. “But the prosecutor is going to recommend the maximum, so he’ll be going away for at least three or four years. Stupid fucker should have pled no contest. At least they might have gone easier on him. But he denied everything and even tried to blame it all on Murphy’s old roommates. They all eventually turned against him and testified for the prosecution. It was a beautiful sight to see, man.”
I raise my glass. “To justice for our girl.”
The three of us toast and then Murphy tells me that women showed up in court wearing Murphy Strong t-shirts. Even after all these months.
It makes me think of Rylee and the wristband she wore that weekend.
Then I think of Rylee and the Ferris wheel. And what happened after the Ferris wheel, and then the zoo, and the fishing on the pier, and the paddle boarding in the bay, and the dinners we’ve shared, and all the fun we’ve had in the past few weeks since she said yes.
I look down into my drink realizing what this means.
It means I miss her.
Fuck.
~ ~ ~
“I have to talk to you,” Nat says, pulling me into her dorm room at Schramm Hall.
“Well, hello to you too,” I say, leaning down to kiss her on top of her head.
She walks over to her bed and sits down. She wrings her hands together and looks at the floor.
I sit next to her and grab one of her hands. I’ve never seen her like this. “What is it, Natalie?” I suspect it may have something to do with her father. He never wanted her to follow me to the University of Nebraska. It’s a long way from SoCal. And even if he does make good on his promise to open an office here, that will take some time – time where he can’t check up on his oldest daughter whenever he wants.
She looks up at me and a large tear catches on her eyelash before dripping down onto her cheek. I wipe it with my finger. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Are you failing one of your classes?”
She belts out an agonizing laugh before turning away. “I wish.”
I get on my knees in front of her and force her to look at me. I cup her face in my hands. “Nat, you’re scaring me.”
She reaches behind her and picks up something off her desk. She hands me a small white stick. “I – I don’t know how this happened. I’m s-so sorry, b-babe.”
I take the pregnancy test into my hand. The one that clearly reads ‘pregnant.’ It’s not one of those tests with a line that has you guessing if it’s dark enough to be positive. This one shouts the result out to you loud and clear.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Sometimes these things can be wrong. Maybe it’s defective. We’re always so careful.”
She reaches behind her again and gets a small brown bag. She turns it upside down and we watch as six other pregnancy tests tumble onto her comforter.
“I took seven of them. I had to drink a ton of water. They say to do it in the morning because your pee is more concentrated. But even after three bottles of water, they’re all still positive. I’m not just a little pregnant, Brady – I’m super pregnant.”
“How could we not have known? I mean, yeah, you’ve always been irregular, but don’t things happen like your boobs get bigger and stuff?”
She shrugs. “I guess, but maybe not.”
“Maybe they are all wrong,” I say. “Maybe you ate something yesterday that affected the tests. You know, like poppy seeds or something.”
“I made an appointment at the campus medical center. Will you go with me?”
“Of course I will, Nat. We’re in this together.”
More tears fall down her cheeks. “What if … What will we do?”
“We’ll get married. We’ll walk right down to city hall and tie the knot. We’re over eighteen. Nobody has to know until after. Your dad can’t stop you.” I touch her flat stomach. “Then we’ll have a baby and he’ll look so fucking cute in tiny baseball caps.”
For the first time since I walked through the door, she smiles. “What if it’s a girl?”
I laugh. “Girls can wear baseball caps, too.”
“Do you really think we could do it?” she asks. “We’re only freshmen. Where would we live, what would we do?”
“I think the university has married housing. And what do you mean, what would we do? We’d have a family. I’m going to the big leagues, Nat, and you are going right along with me. We’ve always known we would get married. What’s the difference if we do it now or later?”
She stares at me with puffy red eyes. “You’re not mad at me?”
I sit on the bed and pick her up into my lap. “I could never be mad at you, Rylee. I love you.”
I jolt awake and reach over to get the stress ball on my nightstand. Then I throw it into the mirror on the wall, shattering the glass into a hundred pieces.
Chapter Nineteen
As the wheels of the plane touch down, I’m still staring at the small picture in my hand. The one that has a crease worn into it from being in my wallet all these years.
It was just a dream, I tell myself as my finger traces the outline of Natalie’s face.
Then why do I feel so damn guilty?
Maybe I should end things with Rylee. Nothing is worth a few good romps in the hay. Not even if Ry is different from the others. Not even if she’s the only woman who has ever come close to being in the same ballpark as Nat.
But therein lies the problem. These feelings I’m having, whatever they are – they can’t lead anywhere and I know it.
I put the picture away as we taxi up to the gate.
I have two more weeks down here. Two more weeks of spending my mornings with Rylee. Two weeks of looking forward to whatever time she’ll give me after work. Two weeks of touching her, smelling her, laughing with her.
Two weeks can
be a long fucking time. And right now, it seems like forever.
I need to end it with her.
I get off the plane and bypass the luggage carousel. I was only gone for two days so I just have my carry-on. As the escalator takes me down toward the exit, I notice a familiar face. I see Rylee standing there, wearing a black hat like one a limo driver wears. I wonder what she’s doing here wearing that silly hat and a huge smile. Then, just as I’m stepping off the escalator, she flashes a sign that reads ‘Scott Eastwood.’
I laugh. I laugh harder than I’ve laughed, well, since the last time I was with Rylee.
It’s only two more weeks, I think, justifying my sudden change of heart.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when we stop laughing and I can finally speak again.
“I drove you here Wednesday night, remember? You told me your itinerary.”
“Oh, well, you didn’t have to pick me up. I could have taken a cab. Or called Lenny.”
She shrugs. “It’s Friday. We always hang out on Friday. That is unless you don’t want to.”
“That depends. What did you have in mind?”
She takes something out of her back pocket and hands it to me. It’s two tickets to a concert.
I recognize the name of the band. I should, I’ve been backstage at a few of their concerts. “You like White Poison?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ve heard them on the radio. I guess they’re okay.”
“If you think they are just okay, why did you buy tickets?”
“I didn’t buy them. One of the guys gave them to me.”
I furrow my brow. “A player?”
She nods. “Lorenzo Santos.”
“Why didn’t he go himself?”
“Something about it being his sister’s birthday and she’s not a fan.”
“Oh, well we should go. They’re pretty good. I know Adam Stuart.”
“Who?”
“The lead singer for the band.”
We reach her car and she takes the hat off. “Of course you do,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I grab the hat and put it back on her head. “You should wear this later tonight. It looks sexy on you.”
She blushes. She’s so darn cute when her cheeks and neck pink up like this. I can’t help it when I lean down and pin her to the side of her car as I kiss her. I don’t know if it’s the crappy few days I’ve had with the funeral or what, but kissing Rylee just makes me feel … better somehow.
She doesn’t seem to mind that we’re in a public place. But the parking garage is somewhat dark and there aren’t many people around, so she deepens the kiss. She presses herself into me, teasing me with what we both know will happen later tonight. Later, when we’ll go back to my hotel room and devour each other like we have numerous times in the past few weeks.
“Well, hello to you too,” she jokes when we break apart.
I grab the keys from her and then walk around the car to let her in the passenger side.
“Do we have time to grab a bite first?” I ask.
“A quick one. Maybe a sandwich somewhere.”
“What is it with you and sandwiches?”
She shrugs. “They’re quick, easy, cheap, and the possibilities are endless.”
I laugh a little too boisterously.
“What?” she asks.
“I think you just described most of my sexual conquests.”
I see her look of annoyance out of the corner of my eye and I realize she might not find my joke funny.
“Not you, Ry. I said most.”
“Whatever. Listen, I’m a big girl, Brady. I know what this is.”
I reach over and put my hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You are nothing like them, least of all easy and cheap. But if that night in the bathroom is any indication, you’re sure as hell quick.”
We share another laugh and I realize just how good it feels to laugh with her. Sure, I laugh with the guys. I laugh with Murphy even. But I can’t remember ever laughing with any of the others. Not like this. Laughing with Rylee makes me feel … alive.
We stop at a sub shop along the way.
“Alex saw a picture of us at the fair,” she says as we eat. “Someone took a photo of us sitting on the bench while we were eating.”
“Was he mad?”
She sighs. “He seemed jealous, that’s for sure. I think I’ve been in denial.”
“I told you that man wants you, Ry. But I have to ask, other than the no fraternization thing, why don’t you want to go out with the guy?”
“He sleeps with all the interns,” she says. “But you never heard that from me.”
“Really? Isn’t the guy like thirty-five?”
“Thirty-seven, actually. And the interns are usually in their early twenties.”
“He’s taking advantage, Ry. That’s not right. You should say something.”
“Maybe they have an arrangement,” she says, elbowing me. “And I’m not about to say anything and lose my job. They are consenting adults, Brady and it’s none of my business. But he creeps me out. And since you’ve been around, he’s been kind of territorial.”
“Territorial?” Alarm bells go off in my head. “What the fuck does that mean? Has he made a move on you?”
“Calm down, Brady. He just asks a lot of questions about me and my personal life. And about you.”
“And what do you tell him?”
“That you are my patient. Nothing more.”
“And the picture? How did you explain that?”
“I told him you were getting impatient and anxious about your recovery and that I needed to think outside the box. I said the fair games were therapy and it helped to do something different. It wasn’t a lie.”
I smirk and lean in close. “I suppose you left out the part where I gave my fingers a good workout later that night by pinching your nipples and stroking your clit.”
She flushes and squirms in her seat. “Uh, yeah, I left that part out.”
“I need another good workout,” I whisper in her ear.
“We might be able to arrange that, if you behave yourself tonight.”
“Behave myself? What, no touching at the concert? Come on, Ry. It’ll be dark.”
She laughs. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you knowing the lead singer. You are not allowed to use that fact or your celebrity status to get us anything. No backstage passes. No private parties. We’re just two normal people going to a concert, okay?”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.” I tug on my Nascar hat. “It’s a good thing I’m wearing this instead of a Hawks one, maybe it’ll provide camouflage.”
“That and your clean shave,” she says, reaching over to run a finger along my jaw.
“Oh, you like that? I thought I should shave for the funeral.”
“I do, but it’s a lot different than your usual scruff.”
“Scruff? I work hard to keep it that way I’ll have you know.”
“I’ll bet. And it works for you. Obviously,” she says rolling her eyes. “But it was nice to kiss you back at the parking garage. No scruff-burn.”
I look her up and down, my eyes falling to her lap. “No scruff-burn anywhere,” I say.
Her face pinks up again when my eyes meet hers. “Actually, that’s one place I don’t mind it. It kind of enhances the whole feeling.”
My pants get tight at the thought of going down on her. “Well, damn – I’m never shaving again.”
She giggles as she checks the time. “Come on, we’d better go.”
“In a minute,” I say. “You can’t tell me what you just told me and then expect me to walk out of here without a hard-on.”
~ ~ ~
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a concert. Especially a concert where I’m not in some VIP section with an all-access pass. It’s kind of refreshing to just be one of the crowd. For five years now, I haven’t been treated like a normal person. Not until Rylee forced me to
be. And being normal is so much better than I remember. It’s freeing. It’s cathartic.
We make our way to the seats printed on the tickets. They aren’t near the stage but are close enough to see without squinting. We’re in the first row in the stands behind all the floor seats. There is a railing in front of us and we’re a few feet above the people sitting on the floor. All in all, they are decent seats and provide an unobstructed view.
The opening band is a local band I remember seeing at a bar last spring. But the real fun starts when Adam and the rest of White Poison come on stage. The pyrotechnics are a sight.
If the crowd wasn’t excited before, it is now. The people on the floor are getting shoved around in what is becoming a mosh pit.
“I’m glad we aren’t down there,” Rylee says, pointing to the sea of people.
I see some guys putting arms around their dates, trying to protect them from the mayhem. And suddenly, I have the urge to pull Rylee against me. So I do.
“I don’t know,” I say, stepping behind her and caging her to the railing in front of us. I lean down and let my breath tickle her ear. “It looks kind of fun.”
She cranes her neck and looks back at me with raised eyebrows. I know what she’s wondering. Brady Taylor doesn’t do PDA. When I’m out with a girl, there’s no touching. There never has been. So why am I breaking my rules with her? The Ferris wheel. The parking garage. Here. I convince myself that none of those count because they were all in dark places.
I kiss her temple. “Turn around, you’re missing the show.”
I spend the next thirty minutes torturing myself by lightly grinding into her from behind. She doesn’t turn and look at me again, and we share no words the entire time, but she does push herself into me, making me crazier than I already am.
One of my hands is on her hip and the other wraps around and grips her stomach, firmly pressing her to me. She reaches up and threads her fingers with mine.
The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 41