Page 38

Wild

Evie: Are you busy?

Every eye, from Coach Billy's unhappy ones to my teammates, swings to me. Lila, who seems like she's cosplaying a goblin with her greenish new hairstyle, gives me a stern side-eye. I don't know what she's doing lounging in Coach's office, and I won't ask. It's none of my business.

What is my business is Evie texting me.

I put my phone on silent.

Evie: Looks like you're busy. Can you get back to me in, like, half a second? Just kidding!

But she's not kidding. Evie isn't the type to send me messages in quick succession, especially when she knows my schedule almost as well as my virtual assistant.

It's my fault. I've been busy. We're in the thick of the season when the games come fast and hard; playoff seedings are a priority, and meetings like these are more frequent. I've pushed back our sixth date three times—with Evie's blessing.

I admit to being antsy over this being our sixth date, but I want to believe in Evie's shyness around me, the cackling tension between us, and her random, 'keep in touch' texts.

I've gotten these texts many times over the past week.

Evie: Mr. and Mrs. Izaacs are out on a date. Isn't that amazing and eewish?

Wild: Eewish?

Evie: Ninety percent adorable and ten percent eewish because I'm thinking of the details. Mr. Izaacs has dentures!

That got me almost tripping off the treadmill.

Then, four hours later, after I returned from a bone-crushing scrimmage...

Evie: I'm crying.

Wild: Where are you?

Evie: No, no, no. Not like that. I'm crying because he got her flowers and Mrs. Izaacs has lipstick on her cheek. And Mr. Izaacs's shirt is buttoned all wrong, but they are so cute. They look so happy, Wild. Imagine having that one person and sharing the years with that one person? I'm crying.

Evie: It's beautiful. They are beautiful.

As I make my way to morning practice...

Evie: I'm in the hospital with Kristyn. She called, crying. She thinks she broke her 'sweet, innocent' baby.

Wild: Is she alright? And the baby?

I'm about ordering my driver to turn around when I get another text.

Evie: It's nothing. My godchild was just very excited for some reason.

Some of her texts make me laugh out loud, and some make me smile.

Evie: Carla wants to know when we're bringing our 'ahem' fake dating circus to Charity.

I grin at the 'ahem' and type: I will talk to her.

Evie: No, no, no. I don't mean it that way. Just saying if you need ideas for our seventh date, not that I don't trust you to take care of business, but that's an idea right there.

Meaning she wants to visit Charity and Mom soon. How soon?

"You're scaring me," Isaiah mutters. "If this is being in love, I think I'm good."

Now, Isaiah knocks my shoulder hard. I retaliate with a light, backhanded tap. But then I look up and find every eye on me. Again. They are not amused.

Especially Coach Billy. "I'm sorry, Sir," I say.

Still, I brace myself for a strong reaction and stiff punishment. But to my surprise, Coach waves me off. "We have had a brutal road trip and another one coming up, so just...go and flirt with the love of your life."

At that, all my teammates tear into me as one.

"After the trouble you've put us through, better wife her."

"If you don't marry her, you're out."

"Am I getting a wedding invite?"

"Don't fumble it, Carrington."

Laughing, I give as good as I'm getting. "Not fumbling it,"I shout back. "Tell your wives and girlfriends to prepare her welcome mat."

At that, a collective roar erupts from everyone. It takes Coach Billy calling for quiet and Lila's no-nonsense force field to bring us to order.

“ You ’ re playing your best basketball,” Coach says, looking us in the eye, “ but so are eight other teams. Go home, rest up, aaaannnnnd…”

“ Stay ready!” We shout.

◆◆◆

Driving into Evie's neighborhood feels like coming home. Maybe it's the playing children and families hanging around their front yard that gives it that welcoming feel.

Her front door is open, but the house is empty. I'm debating calling her and ruining the surprise or going to Mrs. Izaacs when I hear something from the backyard.

The garden. I slap my forehead with my palm. How could I have forgotten?

The closer I get to the back door, the louder the noise. Jackie starts barking, drowning out the sounds. I open the door to find Evie hopping on one foot as she moans in pain. My backpack hits the ground, and I'm scooping her into my arms in seconds. She stiffens, then relaxes without turning to see who's carrying her, like she can sense it's me.

I push the gratifying thought aside and focus on her. "Where does it hurt?"

"Banged my knee with the rake,"she spits out.

That rake.

Exhaling some of my anxiety, I wait with my hands over her knee. "Can I?"

She nods. And I slowly lift her sundress to bare her knee. With her brown skin, I can't make out anything. But with her face wreathed in pain, I have to do something. So, I trail my fingers over the spot, checking for swelling, but a shiver goes through her.

The air between us goes taut.

I straighten, and she pulls away, murmuring about ice and the injury not being serious. "I will get ice,"I say.

Later, we hang out on the porch stairs, and Evie tells me about her neighbors pitching in to 'resurrect'the garden.

"It's not like it died,"I mutter.

She hits my shoulder. "But you were making slow progress. And you've been busy,"she adds.

Those are real life daffodils I just saw in that garden. And pansies, tulips, and sweet peas. She purchased them already in flower, but I can see how much work must have gone into that slice of paradise. And she has plans—very concrete plans—to add more flowers and some herbs during the summer.

I don't know whether to feel shame for 'abandoning'a project I started or be proud of what she has achieved. Finally, I choose to be proud. "Well done."I hold her gaze to show her I mean it, and she gives me this shy smile that sends a twinge through my chest.

She's going to be the death of me. Or the life of me since I want us to be like Mr. and Mrs. Izaacs in the future.

I wave at the families lounging on porches and swings and neighbors calling out to each other. "I love this."

"You do?"Evie jerks upright like she's been prod with lightning. "Seriously?"

I furrow my brows at her overreaction. Now, I feel like I'm under interrogation. "Yeah?"

An imaginary thread on her sundress becomes super interesting. "I sent you a text."

"You wanted to talk,"I say tightly.

Does she want to break up? I do a not-so-discreet check and confirm she still has my ring on her finger. She didn't even take it off to wear her gardening gloves. Good.

"I want a family,"she says quickly.

And I go lightheaded with relief. I want to say I know that, but I decide to make a better, riskier pass. "I want three children. All girls."

Her eyes go wide. I can't believe how beautiful she is.

"Three girls!"

I nod. "I want girls that look just like you."

It's that suspended moment in sports where a pass is made, the ball hangs in the air, and everyone waits and hopes it gets to its destination. Or not, depending on whose side you're on.

I hold my breath, waiting and praying Evie accepts and catches my pass. It's a fumbling, risky pass, and I hope she gets it.

Her eyes go dinner plate wide, and she sucks in a breath.

She clenches her fists on her knees and looks down. "Your mother had four boys. It's more likely you get three boys, not girls."

I go lightheaded again. If I didn't know how much this conversation meant to us both, I would drag Evie into my arms and kiss her until we ran out of breath. "Mom—Carla, had two girls--Ro and Sisi, so I still have a chance of having three girls."

She gnaws on her lower lip.

I hold my breath.

Those imaginary threads on her sundress become important again. Then she breathes out. "We might need to agree on that."

Unable to hold it any longer, I pull her into my arms and across my lap. "Yes!"

My shout lands too close to her ear, drawing a pained wince and laugh from her. "Sorry. But yeahhhhhhh."

Her eyes meet mine, and there's so much laughter, happiness, and love. Yeah. She hasn't said the words yet, but it's all there. Love for me.

I cup her face with both hands and kiss her forehead. "Yeah,"I mutter against her skin.

"Yeah," she echoes.

◆◆◆

On the basketball court, I'm a six-five guard with a lengthy wingspan struggling to make the right plays against equally tall guards. With Evie, I'm over seven feet tall. It's how she looks at me and what she does for me, like now.

For our sixth date, there are no surprises. Evie wants to fulfill my fantasy of reading my favorite fantasy novel to her in her garden. A gardening project I began and abandoned, but she took it up to give me my fantasy. A date under the stars, reading my favorite book to her.

How do I tell her to stop because I'm already hopelessly in love with her?

I know she will hate listening to fantasy, and I want to spare her the disappointment of not enjoying it. That afternoon, I go through each of my favorite books and try to read them through the eyes of a newbie. Halfway down the first page, I give up. There are too many weird-sounding names, and the world-building feels too complex.

It is confirmed: Date number six will be too dull to be called a date. Might as well call it a meeting. Or a book club discussion.

I’m still worrying about it as I prepare for my date. The dress code is Henley shirt and jeans.

Evie is waiting for me out front, wearing shorts and my shirt number. I rest against the car to better absorb her beauty. She has a wiggling Jackie in her arms, and I don't bother telling her to let Jackie use her legs because all I see is her. Her hair is up in a twist, leaving tendrils floating around her face.

"You're here," she murmurs with a shy smile.

Then she closes the distance and stops, looking up at me.

My heart thuds beneath my ribs, and we haven't even started.

Jackie finally gets her wish, jumping to the ground and scampering in the opposite direction. It reminds me to wave at the Izaacs.

Mrs. Izaacs shoos us away to enjoy our date. When I turn around, Evie waits with her hand held out to me.

Hand in hand, we walk to the backyard. She asks about my day of meetings and training. I ask about hers, and she goes on and on about Lance growing in confidence in his job. Then she tells me about sleeping so much better in her new bed.

If I thought the backyard was a slice of paradise before, it's nothing compared to now. Evie has outdone herself. LED candle lights are strategically placed, adding a romantic, almost otherworldly feel to the evening. Sleeping bags, blankets, books, and snacks create a lazy, fun-filled evening.

"Evie Cassandra," I murmur. "This is... Honestly, I have no words." It is romantic and prepared just for me. "Thank you."

I take her hand and lead her to the sleeping bag. Cupping her chin with one hand, she looks up at me with so much trust it makes my heart thud. "We don't have to do epic fantasy—"

"I think it will be fun," she protests.

Running my thumb over the back of her hand, I get her to calm down. "I'm only going to read you my favorite scene of all time, then we can spend the evening star gazing."

"Okay." But she gives it more thought and frowns. "But you know I won't die from just one evening reading fantasy?"

"Definitely not," I agree, holding back a grin. She sounds so disgruntled. "But I don't want you doing what you don't want—"

"But you did for me."

"That's different. I wanted to."

Her lips disappear into her mouth. "But I want to do something for you."

Leaning back on my hands, I tip my head up and inhale the sweet smell of life, nature, and blooming flowers. "This is already perfect."

"Okay," she says quietly, eyes on my face.

So, we lie side by side on the sleeping bags. And with the perfume of the blooming flowers in the air, I read out my favorite scene. Evie asks lots of questions, making me backtrack to tell the background stories. Telling the background stories leads to more questions and more background stories, and before I know it, I have covered most of the book.

Then, right in the middle of a particularly interesting part, Evie clutches my hands and rolls over laughing. "Stop it."

"What?"

"You're counting on my arm."

I look down at my incriminating fingers and smile sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Are you nervous?"

Still sheepish, I nod. "I want you to enjoy it."

Evie shakes her head. "And that's the whole reason for that speech at the beginning." She sits up. "I will never rub my two degrees in your face again. You know I tried reading the first book on my own and got lost in the names?"

"I admit the names can be a lot."

"But you enjoy it, and that's all that matters. I don't want you to be nervous or ashamed about it." She winks. "Nerdy can be attractive."

And then we stargaze. With our heads side by side, it's fun making shapes out of the stars. I don't want the night to end. But too many road games catch up with me, and I nod off.

When I open my eyes, groggy and exhausted down to my bones, Evie is nowhere to be found. Then I hear the back door open, her small footfalls approach and all my senses return to a drowsy state.

Pillowing my head on my hand, I inhale the scent of flowers and watch her come. She holds my gaze and closes the distance, and she doesn't stop until she's at my side. She takes my hand, kisses my palm, and...just holds it.

Before I go under, I realize she came to me. Twice. First, when I arrived at the door earlier. And now, she's holding my hand as I drift off on her carefully planned date.

We may be as real to Evie as we are to me.