Page 14

14

RILEY

B esides the sound of the Italian sausage sizzling in the pan, it’s too quiet in here. Normally it’s the girls getting into something and me having to clean it up later. But now that Sarah is here, my suspicions are leveled up to a thousand.

Was it a jerk move to cancel her hotel room without any warning? Yes.

Was it a jerk move to want her in my space without consulting her? Also, yes.

In the short time, everything has been better with Sarah around. The voices that have been demanding more from me have quieted. To be better. To push myself. To not let down my loved ones. They all quiet when she’s around. I can breathe a little better knowing she has my back and it shocks me because I didn’t expect to get so comfortable so fast with her.

I sense her before I see her. It’s weird. But what I don’t expect is her to come up behind me and wrap her arms around me. Uh…what happened in the time she chewed my he ad off to when she changed her clothes? An epiphany doesn’t happen that fast, does it?

“Not that I dislike you wrapped around me like a fanny pack, but why are you wrapped around me?”

“I figure we should get used to touching each other in non-bedroom ways since we’ll be around other people this weekend. And you just flinched.” Sarah tells me and points out my body’s reaction to her touch, but I don’t buy the reason.

“Well your hands are colder than the ice baths I take,” I use as an excuse. Which that’s what it is.

“You should feel my feet,” she teases.

“I’ll pass,” I tell her and my body finally unclenches with her wrapped around me. “So how does us in public work? And what’s our story?”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asks and I feel the loss of her body heat as she comes to stand next to me.

I look over at her and my eyes zero in on what she’s wearing: short shorts that show off her toned legs and a Cincinnati football sweatshirt with scrunched gray socks on her feet. My eyes travel up her body and I meet a smirking Sarah who raises her eyebrow at me. If that’s what she wants to play, then let the games begin.

“I know you’ve seen The Proposal . They needed a story to convince people that they all of a sudden started dating and fell in love. But without the engagement for us. Unless you want to wear a mini ice rink on your finger.” I say teasingly and wink at her.

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “No. I’m not wearing a ring until it matters.”

Huh. She’s hiding something. And maybe right now, it’s not my place to ask. But hopefully one day she’ll let me in.

“So what’s our story then? Because we can’t use the club as our meet cute.” I turn my attention back to the boiling pasta water and check the Italian sausage to ensure it’s cooking through.

“First, I’m shocked you’ve seen The Proposal . And second, that you know what a meet cute is.” I hear the amusement in her voice but I don’t take the bait.

I pull the strainer out and place it in the sink. “My Momma is a rom-com and romance book fan. And despite Pops and I’s protest, we endured monthly marathons when I was growing up and we always let her choose.”

With the pasta al dente, I save some water and pour the rest in the strainer. I do all of this while Sarah watches. And if it’s one thing I know I’m exceptionally good at, it’s cooking. Yes, I get meals delivered once the season really amps up because I’m short on time after practices and games, but it’s nice to cook. And I have this big kitchen that should get used more regularly. Showing my skills off to her is another way I hope to win her over. Yeah, I’m so screwed.

“You sound close to your parents,” Sarah observes from her spot at the counter.

I move back to the stove and work on assembling the pasta. I take a deep breath and let it out, preparing myself because she’ll find out regardless. I might as well tell her my whole story now. “They are some of the most selfless people in my life. I don’t know where I would be if they hadn’t adopted me.”

“You were adopted?” Sarah asks hesitantly after a beat of silence.

I plate our finished dinner and walk our food to the dining table. Sarah follows and takes the spot on the right and I grab us silverware before taking the seat next to her.

“I was ten years old when I was in a car accident with my Mom and Dad. I survived, but they didn’t. Momma and Pops were my godparents and my parents best friends. Unfortunately they could never have kids of their own so it was an adjustment when I started living with them. I was a sophomore in high school when they eventually broached the topic of legally making me theirs. I don’t know all of the legalities of what it took, but by the time school ended I was officially a Jones. At that point I had already considered Momma and Pops mine but this legal-ness of it made it more final. Neither of us had to worry about the what if. Like ‘what if’ my Mom or Dad had a relative they knew nothing about and they tried to take me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sarah says and places a hand on my arm. It’s a mix of pity and comfort and I’m not sure if I hate it or just want more of her comfort. “May I ask why you didn’t keep your last name?”

“I love my parents. Both sets. And I could have chosen to hyphenate. But I didn’t. My mom and dad will always be my parents. But Cassie and Dean raised me, saved me, and comforted me when I needed it the most. Taking their last name wasn’t about erasing my parents memory…what little I do remember about them. Maybe one day when I have a family I’ll name one of my kids with that last name.”

The side of my face burns with Sarah’s gaze but I avoid it and shovel pasta into my mouth.

“So that’s my big back story,” I say after I can’t take the terse silence. “What’s yours?” I take the focus off of myself, but I know one day we’ll have to dive deeper into it.

Sarah retreats and takes a bite of her food. I do the same and wait for her to gather her thoughts.

“My best friend's boyfriend died in a car accident. And when it happened I felt like a failure as he wanted me to help him look desirable for scouts. I was originally on the path to become a sports agent—which is why I stepped in so easily for you, but when no one knocked on the door, he spiraled and crashed his truck into the back of an eighteen-wheeler. And then my ex cheated on me when I got a job here and told me the girl he cheated on me with was pregnant. Oh, and that as soon as he landed back home he was proposing to her.”

“What the fuck,” I say, completely dumbfounded as my fork clatters inside the bowl and I quickly pick it back up.

“I know. My mom likes my ex like he’s her own and never fails to mention it to me when she sees him around town. She thinks I should give him another chance.”

My forks clanks on the bowl-plate again from complete horror and disgust. “I–I have half a mind to fly to…wait, where are you from?”

“Charleston,” she tells me.

“Right. I have half a mind to fly to Charleston and give your mom a piece of my mind.”

Sarah stabs her pasta and toppings, which I imagine is how she reacts when her mom calls. “She is a hard-headed woman. I haven’t talked with her since the day you came to my office.”

“What a damper to your good mood.” I deadpan.

She snorts into her glass of water. “You could say that.”

“So back to our story. What is the plan?”

We both finish our meals in companionable silence and then Sarah turns in her seat to give me her full attention. “Are you a farmer’s market kind of guy?”

“Can’t say that I even know where one is around here.”

“Okay, same. I was just trying to make it cute.” She tucks her leg under her and my eyes track the movement of her sweatshirt rising up on her legs. “What about making it fitness related? ”

“We can do that. I usually do Pilates a few times a week and throw in a run every now and then.”

“Pilates?”

“Yeah. Do you have any complaints?” I ask with a teasing tone in my voice.

“None. Okay, we’ll say we kept running the same trails and you decided to man up and ask me to run with you one day.”

“Man up?” I ask with a smile threatening to break through.

“That’s what I said,” Sarah teases and scoots around in her seat. “And then you were captivated by my charm and sweat and asked me out the next time we ran into each other.”

I snort and gently boop her on the nose before getting up to take our dishes to the dishwasher. I put the leftovers in a container and set the pot and pan in the sink to soak.

“Do you need any help?” Sarah asks as she stands up from the table.

“Nope. Go sit your cute butt on the couch.”

“Fine,” she says with a huff. “But just so you know, I hate being told what to do. I’m only doing it because I’ve been dying to plop on your couch.”

I shake my head with a smile and watch as her ass sways on the way to the couch. Thank goodness doing the dishes will allow time for Little Riley to calm down. I watch as Sasha makes her way to the redheaded beauty on my couch and drops in her lap. Traitor. At least Pixie is more wary of her so I don’t have to worry about her feline betrayal.

“So you help him get the puck into the goal? ”

I pulled up an older hockey game to teach Sarah about the sport. She’s picked up on it fairly quickly and I like that she’s not blowing smoke up my ass by feigning interest.

“Mm-hmm,” I try to keep my focus on the game and off of her. But I like watching her face when something happens. The genuine excitement lifts her eyes and cheeks as she smiles bigger than I thought possible.

“I thought football was a violent sport,” she observes as a guy is slammed into the boards.

“Please. Like they could take a hit like we can.”

Both sports are equally as tough. But hockey is a lot more dangerous than football. All it would take is a skate going into something it shouldn’t and unfortunately it’s game over for us.

Sarah turns her attention to me. “Have you broken your nose?”

“Once in high school and then once my first game with Columbus.”

“Any other injuries I should know about?”

“You can do a thorough search of my body if you really want to find out.” The last word just leaves my mouth when a pillow crashes into my face. My laugh travels up my throat and out into the open. I pull the pillow from my face and come face-to-face with a scowling Sarah. Clearing my throat and tossing the pillow to the side, I lose the remnants of my laughter. “Any other injuries? Well, besides my broken leg when I was a kid and the broken nose, no other injuries that I know of.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at me and turns back to the old game. We sit in comfortable silence through the rest of the game. She asks me necessary questions about how my position works, subs, face offs, penalty boxes, and hat tricks. We watch one more game until I see her start to fade .

I turn off the TV and stand up, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s go sleepy-head.”

She looks at my hand like it’s covered in needles before placing hers in mine. I pull her up and send her off to my room. I finish up the closing down of my living room and kitchen, feeding the cats, and when I’ve done everything as thoroughly as I can, I realize I can no longer avoid my room. Shaking out my hands, I walk towards my bedroom. I’ve never had anyone stay the night who wasn’t one of my teammates when they decided to crash. But they slept on the couch and my worry was non-existent with them. So having Sarah in my room, sharing a bed with her, freaks me out.

I shut off the last light and stroll into my bedroom as carefree as possible. My steps falter when I see her tucked in on the free side of my bed. I tell myself to not think of it as her side of the bed. But it’s hard when I see Sasha once again cuddled in the crook of Sarah’s arm as the blue light from her phone illuminates her face.

“If I were a jealous man, I’d say something about my cat velcroing herself to you.” I tell her as I close the door to a crack.

Sarah shifts her eyes to me and smirks as she leans down to kiss Sasha on the head and pull her closer. “Good to know your masculinity is firmly intact.”

I pull my shirt off and exaggerate the stretch of my body. When it’s off my body I toss the fabric at her head and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and empty my bladder.

As I crawl into bed, I try to pay attention to if she’s nervous. Either Sarah has an incredible poker face or she’s completely unaffected.

“Riley, your tenseness is clashing with my aura. Relax,” she tells me as she continues to scroll but I stay plastered to the edge of the mattress. “Have you never shared a bed with a woman?”

I brush her off and scoff at her insinuation while I fluff my pillow.

She lets out a breath and I hear the tapping on her phone from her manicure. “Fine. Walk me through your game day routine.”

“What do you know about game day routines?” I ask and turn my head towards her although the pillows we’re both lying on blocks half of her beautiful face.

“Are you forgetting what I do for work?” She asks and I hear the quiet thump of her phone being set on the nightstand next to her.

I scoot more onto the bed and slide down into the covers more before placing my hands behind my head. “Silly me.”

“So, your routine. Spill it.”

I feel the bed shift as Sarah turns on her side towards me. Sasha stretches out and I give the cat a lethal scowl earning a snort from the beauty next to me.

“Let’s see…I usually do a light yoga sequence to stretch my body, drink a protein smoothie, play with my cats, and yeah that’s it.” I finish quickly.

“You’re lying,” Sarah calls me out. “What else?”

I cover my face with my hands and groan into them.

Sarah pulls my hands away from my face and I feel Sasha run across my legs and jump off the bed with a thud . “Tell me.”

“My mom’s favorite singer was Faith Hill. So every game day, I pull up one of her albums and blast it through either the speakers here or if we’re traveling, my headphones. It’s silly and my parents have been gone for more than half my life. But it makes me feel closer to her somehow.” I avoid looking at Sarah as a light sheen of tears forms in my eyes. No one’s ever asked me why Faith Hill is who I listen to. I figured most don’t care for sob stories. But being able to tell Sarah is freeing.

“It’s not silly, Riley,” she starts, voice soft. “I think missing someone and loving them unconditionally isn’t something you can just stop. Time is a bitch at best but what keeps the people we love alive is the memories we have with them.”

I swallow hard and blink my eyes fast to push away the tears. I don’t know what to say to Sarah. Because her saying those things validated every feeling I’ve felt since my parents have been gone.

The bed shifts again as Sarah moves closer. “When my ex came to see me, I finally let go of the breath I had been holding onto since we went long-distance. I felt I was always floating outside of my body. And when he showed up to my house, it was like our time had finally come. This was the moment that I had been waiting for. But that relief was cut short when he dropped the bomb on me. And I decided then and there that I would never love someone so freely like that again. So you are lucky that the love you still feel for your parents is so strong. Because not every kid gets to have that with their parents without conditions.”

“What a pair we are. The boy who loves freely and the girl who guards it.”

“That’s not a bad thing. And I can love. I love my best friends. I love my job. I love Cincinnati…” Sarah lists and falls on her back to look up at the ceiling. “But something about loving someone in the eternal sense again scares the shit out of me.” The last few words come out as a whisper. “I realized that I needed to love myself in ways that neither my ex nor my parents ever could. What I was doing was always living up to their expectations, their set rules. Then when I was finally miles away from home I realized that love from th em was suffocating me. It’s when I was finally here that I concluded that I actually don’t know what love is and that I won’t love someone until I can finally love myself the way I deserve.”

I turn my head and see her blinking back her own tears. Holding my arm up, she takes the silent invitation and scoots closer, molding her body to my side. Her body tenses, movements choppy and body tense, until she lays her arm over my stomach and rests her head fully on my shoulder. Sarah’s leg soon follows as she throws it over my own. Another part of my pre-game routine I failed to tell her is that sex is off the table. The sexual frustration mixed with the adrenaline from the upcoming game fuels me to where after the game is when I need to blow off steam. So to have her curves molding to my angles is a battle I never thought I’d have to fight.

The tips of Sarah’s fingers trace over a spot on my chest and I sense her wanting to say something. “I was diagnosed as manic depressive last year. Bipolar as most people know it as. My therapist seems to think it’s PTSD brought on by my need to always be perfect and fear of failure.” I feel wetness on my chest from what I’m assuming are her tears and run my hand up and down her back. “Well, I did fail. And on top of that it brought out OCD tendencies. I’d wake up from nightmares screaming and in a cold sweat. My ex told me to get over it. Like it was so easy.”

“So you two never lived together?” I ask softly. Hearing that she’s been suffering and with no support makes me want to rip her ex to shreds.

“We had the occasional sleepover and that’s how he discovered my nightmares.”

What idiot makes someone feel bad for something they can’t control when unconscious? I know after my parents died, I couldn’t sleep for months. And as a child I chose not to be a burden to Momma and Pops for taking care of me. But Sarah, the man she was dating, made her out to be an inconvenience.

“If a nightmare happens and you’re with me, I promise to let you know you’re safe.” Her arm tightens around my waist. “You’re safe with me, Sarah.”

I continue to run my hand up and down her back and when her body loses the last of the tension she was carrying, I sense her deep breathing as she slowly falls asleep. Her warm vanilla scent surrounds us and I soak it in. I throw my other arm out and turn the side light off. Kissing Sarah on the top of her head I stare up at the ceiling until sleep takes me.