Page 16 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

SKYE

T he sun beat down on the bleachers at the edge of the community ballpark, a mix of kids’ laughter, crackling popcorn, and the sharp *thwack* of aluminum bats cutting the air.

Jackson was up next, six years old, scrawny in his oversized jersey, but determined.

His little cleats kicked up dust as he jogged to the plate, eyes laser-focused on the pitcher like he was facing down the World Series.

“Let’s go, Jack!” I called, cupping my hands to amplify my voice. He waved with the bat before setting his stance.

Beside me, Tyler cheered too, clapping with a boyish grin that didn’t match his usual starched-collar office look. His tie was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched on his nose. He looked... normal. Relaxed. Kind of like a dad.

Not that he was Jackson’s dad.

He wasn’t.

Just the man who’d been bringing me coffee every morning for six months straight.

Who always made sure I left work at a reasonable time.

Who’d noticed when I was tired and asked how Jackson was doing with Little League.

Who’d been asking me to dinner subtly—then not-so-subtly—for the last few weeks.

When he offered to take us both to this game, I made one thing clear. “This isn’t a date.”

“Of course not,” he said easily. “Just baseball. I like baseball.”

Now, watching him high-five Jackson after he scored a run and shout encouragement from the stands... it didn’t feel like *just* baseball.

It felt like something else.

Something soft.

Something steady.

After the game, the three of us got ice cream.

Jackson got a chocolate cone and wore half of it on his face.

Tyler handed him a napkin like it was second nature.

When we sat under the big oak tree by the field, the breeze carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and sunscreen, I slipped on my sunglasses not because of the sun—but because of the lump in my throat.

This wasn’t JD.

Wasn’t the desert.

Wasn’t the wild kind of love that left scorch marks.

It was easy.

Safe.

Jackson leaned against my side, his sticky hand in mine, Tyler tossing little pebbles near the fence and talking softly to him about the game.

I looked over, tears stinging my eyes beneath the dark lenses, and wondered—had I been so wrapped up in surviving, in staying hidden, in guarding my heart—that I’d forgotten what living actually felt like ?

What *loving* could look like?

Not fire. Not danger.

But maybe... joy.

I cleared my throat. “Tyler?”

He turned to me, smile easy. “Yeah?”

“If you asked me to dinner again,” I said slowly, “just us this time... I might say yes.”

His brows lifted just slightly before his smile widened, slow and genuine. “Then I won’t waste my chance.”

And just like that, something shifted.

Maybe it wasn’t the life I thought I’d have. But it was *a* life.

Ours.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time I gave it a chance. Six years was long enough to get over my first love, right? Six years since I felt the unbridled passion on a lover.

I shivered remembering how it felt.

Needed it again.

A man’s strong hands… breathless sighs in the dark… creaking mattresses and fireflies at night.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over JD but maybe locking up us somewhere deep in the cavern of my heart was best.

Someday, when Jackson is a man I’d tell him the truth. JD would hate me but he would have a full life and family of his own to take away the sting of missing out on a son he never knew existed. And Jackson can judge me for the decisions I made. But hopefully will love me enough to forgive them.

“This is nice. ”

Lines formed at the corner of Tyler’s eyes as he smiled at me. Our first date was at a tapas roof top bar in Raleigh. The scenes was young and fresh as the summer night.

I felt years away from the young cashier girl living on love and fumes.

I was a mother.

I had earned a two year business degree from the local community college.

I made something of myself while making a life.

The handsome blond man sitting across from me loved spending time with my son.

I’d be a fool not to try to make this work. He reached across the table, gently covered my hand with his. “Thank you for letting me in Skye. I don’t know anything about your past. But you are a wonderful mother with an amazing kid and the best damn office manager I’ve ever had.”

There as no spark but a warm glow. He was safe. Handsome but not the kind that left you breathless with a bag of heartache he.

A good man.

A stable man.

One I could be proud of and who would be a great step-father. I push down the guilt. I could’ve asked Malik to look up at JD. He would’ve kept discreet tabs-no questions asked.

But I didn’t trust myself not to reach out.

Didn’t trust my heart not to break again—especially if a procured file included engagement photos or wedding ones.

The sun had dipped low behind the pines, casting golden streaks across the porch boards. The air was warm but not stifling, thick with the scent of pine needles, honeysuckle, and the last of my chamomile tea cooling on the railing.

Tyler stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his jeans, watching with that same soft gaze he always had. The one that made me feel like she wasn’t just seen—but noticed. Memorized.

We’d been dancing around this for weeks. Coffee runs. Quiet dinners. Slow walks down to the lake with Jackson chattering between us. And now here we were—alone, the sun setting, the porch quiet.

“You know,” Tyler said, voice low and warm, “I haven’t kissed you yet.”

My stomach tightened.

“I know.”

“I’ve wanted to.”

I looked up, meeting his eyes. “So why haven’t you?”

“Because I was waiting on you,” he said simply. “Waiting for you to want it too.”

My heart beat fast and slow at the same time. He stepped closer. The porch creaked under his boots, and my breath hitched. He smelled like cedar and clean soap and something that made me want to lean in without thinking twice.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, voice barely audible.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said. “I promise.”

Then he leaned in.

His lips brushed mine like a question—soft, slow, testing. And when I didn’t pull away, he kissed me deeper, firmer this time. His mouth was warm and sure, and the scent of him wrapped around me like smoke from a fire.

Small pricks of fire danced across my skin with each kiss, his hands still at his sides like he didn’t dare touch too much too soon .

I melted into him, lost in the rhythm, in the unfamiliar sensation of being wanted—not because she was beautiful or broken or needed saving—but just because I felt like a woman again.

When we finally pulled apart, I didn’t move back. Didn’t speak. Just looked at him, lips tingling, heart thudding.

“Worth the wait,” Tyler murmured.