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thirty

. . .

[India]

After I rush toward the hallway containing the bathrooms, I make a sharp right, changing course and heading out the front door of the stifling restaurant.

“Indie.” At the soft plea in Declan’s voice behind me, I halt in my tracks and turn sharply.

“No.” I point at his face, angered that he’d do what he’s doing. My heart is a rollercoaster full of emotion. Up the hill with hope, elation that he’d even consider following me. Down the slippery slope, angered and upset that he’d give up everything for me.

Because Declan is looking to leave his team. For me .

“No.” I bark again, poking his firm chest while he stands there and takes my wrath. I will not let him give up a good thing. For me.

“No.” I counter one more time but lose steam as tears fill my eyes and blur my vision of him .

My auburn-haired baseball god who is staring at me with wide blue eyes brimming with concern.

And when he tugs me to him, I lose my fight completely and fall against his chest as he wraps his arms around me. Inhaling his cinnamon gum and sunflower seed scent, I close my eyes and melt into the strength of his hold, giving myself a minute to absorb all I’ve heard.

Isaiah is part of an investment group intent on purchasing the Vegas Victors. He wants to use Declan to sweeten the deal. Then, the fact Declan is even an option, expressing interest in moving teams. But only teams that are in the East.

Where I want to eventually end up.

This isn’t me chasing him to Seattle. Or wanting to visit him in Chicago. This is Declan making a firm decision to follow me wherever I go.

But like he said: this is calling homerun before declaring foul ball.

I’m not leaving The Den yet. The new league hasn’t begun, and they haven’t hired anyone.

Decisions have been hush-hush although I’ve been vocal in all the places I can think of that I’m interested in a future with the developing league.

After allowing myself only a minute of his warmth and comfort, I pull back and glare at the handsome face of the most thoughtful man I’ve ever known.

“You can’t do this.”

“I am doing it.”

“Not for me.”

“Why not you?”

The tears fall harder. I don’t know . But I feel selfish wanting this. Him. The league. A future. I won’t let him disrupt what he has with his daughter. I won’t rob another little girl of her relationship with her father.

“You just can’t,” I counter, knowing how weak the argument sounds .

“India.” Declan pulls me back to him, cupping the back of my head, and resting his on top of mine.

A throat clears behind Declan, and he turns, keeping me pinned to his chest. “Our drinks have arrived.”

I haven’t ordered one yet, and neither has Declan. Penn’s concerned eyes focus on us before I finally nod and pull myself out of Declan’s embrace.

I need space to think.

Which feels almost impossible when later that night, I’m hanging out with Penn in the lobby of our hotel.

Declan and Isaiah are feet away from us, lost in some argument about who was a better closer: Carter Callahan from the Terrors or Everett Gallagher from the Victors.

Declan is fiercely claiming Carter is the best closing pitcher.

“What are you feeling?” Penn eventually asks.

While I spent the day with my brother and sister-in-law, our conversation revolved around their kids, their future, and the game itself.

“You know I’m just trying to live my life.” I don’t let my childhood battle define me. Or perhaps it did. I want the best for me, and I forgot what that was for a little while.

“But are you loving your life?” my sweet friend asks. “Is there love in your life?” Her gaze shifts to Declan who has his head bowed like he’s listening to our conversation more than Isaiah’s argument.

“You’ve been given a second chance,” she states, and my head whips back in her direction.

“My whole life is a second chance,” I counter, when I rarely use the defense as a crutch.

“Then don’t balk at another one.” She tips her head toward Declan.

I chuckle. “You’re saying that because you’re all gaga with renewed love for Isaiah.”

“Yes. Renewed. Which also means refreshing, invigorating, stimulating.” She wiggles her thin brows .

“Gross. I do not want to know about my brother’s sex life.”

“Then how is yours?” she counters, smiling sweetly while a little mischief resides inside her.

I risk another quick glance at Declan before holding my gaze on Penn. “It wasn’t about sex.”

“Oh.” Her mouth forms a perfect circle of false surprise. She knows me too well.

“Stop it,” I tease, swiping my hand in the air between us.

“You stop it,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Stop fighting what’s right in front of you. A man willing to change everything for you. Not someone trying to change you to fit some ultimate plan.”

I hear what Penn is saying. The tough love mingles with what Montgomery once asked her dad.

Is a job more important than love?

I’d put my job above Malakai, probably because I felt safer at work, better while working. Declan is different. He makes me feel safe, safe to be who I want to be. He steps back so I can step forward.

Risking another glance at him, I catch him watching me and not pulling away his gaze.

He’s standing his ground, openly admiring me, making changes for me.

And maybe it’s time I stand my ground as well.

For me.

For him.

For us.

It’s late when a soft knock comes to my hotel room door.

Isaiah and Penn offered to get a suite, and we’d share the space, but Isaiah also wanted the kids to see our dad, and I didn’t want to force my negative relationship on the rest of the family.

I had breakfast with my mother in a local diner earlier in the day.

The tap on my door is a surprise until I peek through the security hole and open it on a rush.

“Declan?” He shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t be stepping back to let him in. I also shouldn’t be hurt when he doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t kiss me.

In fact, when I open my mouth to speak, he covers it with two fingers, and I recall the last time his two fingers were near my lips like this. How I sucked the essence of myself off him. After he’d had those same fingers inside me.

I’ve missed him more than I’ve been willing to admit.

“I’m not here to talk,” he states, shrugging off his jacket.

“O-kay?” My brows hitch upward as I close the door.

“I just want to hold you.”

I chew my lower lip before accepting his proposal and stepping toward the bed. I’d already pulled back the sheets. I’d been ready to slip between them and hope for sleep.

Declan follows behind me after removing his dress shirt, shoes and socks but not his pants. With his arms wrapped around my middle, pulling my back to his chest, he nuzzles his nose in my hair.

“I heard you talking to Penn.”

I knew it . “Stalker much?”

“Not as much as I’d like to be.” His smile warms the back of my neck. “But every time someone mentions your feelings, I worry.”

I tickle my fingertips over his forearm. “Don’t worry,” I whisper, while it’s nice to think he’s concerned about me. He cares about me, which is on another level than loving me.

“That’s the problem, wildfire. I can’t seem to turn off the flame.”

I nestle deeper into his embrace, melting at the heat of his chest against my back.

Then don’t turn it off . Not yet .

“Being in Vegas cannot be easy for you,” he mumbles to my hair.

He has no idea, and yet he has every fact. My father. Malakai. Declan Wylde knows me better than anyone. And I trust him more than anyone. He’d never hurt me. He might even love me. I deserve that love as much as he deserves love from me.

I’ve had a lot to reconsider today, and I have one final thing to say before I want us both to be quiet and soak in this moment.

“Dare,” I whisper, offering him what he once offered me. “Wait until the end of the season?”

“Truth,” he grunts against the back of my head. “I’d wait forever for you.”