Page 36 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)
THIRTY-SIX
ROB
My headlights shone as I pulled into my driveway, spotting a figure on the front porch. My breath caught in my throat as I eased my car down the driveway, hope growing in my gut but readying myself for disappointment.
Astrid.
With shaky hands, I turned off the ignition and exited the car. She tilted her head toward me as I approached, face impassive but a trail of tears coating her cheeks. My stomach clenched as she patted the deck.
I sat down beside her. As much as I wanted to, I left enough room so we wouldn’t touch. A single porch light poorly illuminated her. I couldn’t read anything on her face besides she wasn’t ready to speak. I sucked in a breath and waited.
“What is wrong with you?” Exhaustion coated her voice. Her body listed against me, head hitting my shoulder with a comforting blow.
“Where should I start?”
She sighed. “Maybe start with the fact that you’ve been visiting my aunt every week for the last month and a half.”
“She’s a nice lady.”
She sat up. I winced, missing the softness of her body on mine.
“Really, Rob.” She pulled her knee onto the porch, separating us. “You haven’t even called me, but you visited her twice this week. Why?”
A confession bubbled up that I couldn’t quite force to the surface. “Do you remember the first time we talked about her? What you said?”
Her lips pursed as her eyes darted to the sky. “I told you she had Alzheimer’s which makes it difficult to visit her in the evenings. She’s usually confused and a little confrontational. And once school started, I’d only get to see her on the weekends.”
“You were worried she’d be lonely.” I sucked in a lungful of air. “And with Mila in school, I don’t have anything to do on my days off. The least I could do was visit your aunt, so she wasn’t lonely.”
She sighed, dropping her head onto the pillar beside her. “You could have told me.”
“I’m not great at talking. Obviously, that’s something I need to work on.” I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “That I am working on.”
I fumbled around in my pocket, pulling out the sheet of bright pink paper folded and refolded so many times that the creases tore and the words faded. I’d written and rewritten the list a dozen times until it was barely legible underneath all the crossed-out lines and revisions.
I unfolded it and tipped it toward the porch light. “I should also tell you I donated the coffee to your school. And that I don’t have a bunch of leftover home improvement shit lying around my house.”
She closed her eyes and huffed out a laugh. “You lied about the drywall? And the flooring?”
“Yeah.” I admitted. “Not the paint brushes or the wall mud, though. I actually had those.”
“When you showed up with the right sized door for the kitchen, I sort of assumed, but thank you for being honest.” She glanced across at me, cheeks turning pink before her gaze fluttered down to the paper. “What’s that?”
“A list of ways I’m not going to fuck this up again,” I said. The corner of her lip turned up with her eyebrow. “It’s a working title. I started it after I apologized to Ethan. Or at least, I tried to. It was a real shit show.”
“How did your apology turn into a shit show?” Her upturned lips let out a fleeting smile.
“I tried to apologize without changing my behavior. I wanted to be sorry and move on. He, rightly, pointed out that’s not how apologies work. Not good apologies, anyway. That if I was actually, truly sorry, I needed to make changes so it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Is that why Ethan said you’re mentoring him?”
“Yeah. It’s a bitch. He sucks. But I actually think it’s good for the team as a whole,” I admitted. “The mentorship should have been my idea. And I don’t like repeating mistakes.”
She nodded down to the sheet of paper. “So, that’s why you haven’t called me?”
I gripped the paper in one hand, reaching the other into the space between us. “I couldn’t risk losing you again. I had to make sure that I gave you an apology worth taking.”
She eyed my outstretched hand and nodded. “Okay. Apologize.”
I cleared my throat, tamping down the surge of anxiety that warned me my apology wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. And then I soothed it with a long exhale.
“One, I’m going to stop lying to you about how much I like you and how desperate I am to be around you and make your life easier. I hate home repairs, I don’t own a single room full of drywall, let alone four roomfuls—” I cut myself off. “I sort of already went over this.”
She shrugged. “I like hearing it. Keep going.”
I sucked in a breath. “I donated the coffee and will continue to do so even if you don’t accept my apology or accept me when I ask you to go out with me on a date.”
“You’re going to ask me out on a date?” she interrupted, biting back a smile.
“It’s coming. Be patient.” I dared to grin, rustling the paper before I continued.
“I have been visiting your aunt at least once a week, sometimes twice. Because even if I didn’t have the guts to tell you about it, you love her, and however much happiness I brought to Aunt Mercy meant you’d be happier and that’s enough for me. ”
Her lips twisted as she fought back tears. “That is incredibly sweet.”
“I’m not done,” I warned her. “I want to apologize for all of it. I think you’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met in real life.
I want to be with you in all senses of the word, and I came up with a bunch of reasons to not let that happen because I was scared.
I was scared to tell you about my past or about my future. ”
I cleared my throat, releasing a shaky breath.
“Mila’s mom, Jackie, left me shortly after Mila was born.
We didn’t really know each other when she got pregnant, and we didn’t particularly like each other during the pregnancy.
Postpartum was…not great. Especially for Jackie, but also for us as new parents.
She needed some outside help and after a lot of therapy, we decided the best thing for both of us was for Mila to live with me full-time.
Jackie still visits. It’s not a traditional mother-daughter relationship, but it works for them. For all of us.”
“For a long time, I focused on Mila and my career. I decided I wouldn’t date or be with anyone.
I poured all my attention into being a father and my performance on the field.
It wasn’t a great plan, but it worked.” I sighed.
“Until you came along, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
But I also didn’t know how to let you in.
So, I kept pulling away from you, and I pretended I was doing you a favor. ”
“You weren’t.” She worked her lips, eyes glistening.
“I know. And I’m sorry for that, too.” I pursed my lips and turned back to the list. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll play football.
Who knows if I’ll get injured next game or play another five years?
And I don’t know what happens after that.
All I really know is that I want you with me.
I want to tackle another home improvement project with you.
I want to show you how to properly pull a mug handle, because I’m also sorry for not telling you, but yours are awful, and I’ve been fixing them when you weren’t paying attention. ”
She closed her eyes, chuckling even as a tear slid down her face. “I knew those handles didn’t look the same.”
“I’m so sorry and I promise, from now on, when I just can’t stand the look of them all wonky on the drying rack, I’ll tell you before I fix them. But most of all, I want to take you out for dinner. I want to walk you to your door and kiss you goodnight. I want to make up for the last two months.”
I folded the paper back into a square and set it on the porch between us, nodding down at it. “That’s mostly what it says. Bullet points, anyway.”
Astrid wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “That…was a really good apology.”
“Was it?”
She bit her bottom lip as her fingers inched toward the paper, picking it up and opening it again.
Her mossy green eyes scanned over my chicken scratch handwriting before she pressed the tattered paper to her chest and locked eyes with me.
“It’s incredibly specific, well thought out.
I mean, solid ten out of ten on the apology scale. ”
“So, what do you think?” I asked, clenching my hand into a clammy fist as I waited for her answer.
“I think I’d like to keep this.” She refolded the paper and slipped it into her purse. “And I’d like to take you up on that date.”
“Really?”
She set her hand on the space between us, turning her palm up. I took it, sliding closer to her as she gave me a gentle squeeze. “You’re not trying to take it back already, are you?”
I shook my head. “Not even a little.”