Page 11

10

CHOOSE YOU

Jamie

“Henderson! Get your head in the game!”

Signing up to be part of the first year of a baseball camp run by my coach has been one of the best and worst decisions I’ve ever made.

Best because it’s focused on honing our skills, and with Aaron helping out with coaching, I’m seeing all the little areas I still need to work on.

Worst because my coach knows me too well and doesn’t let me slack off in the slightest, even if my slacking is better than some guys’ A game.

I’m not slacking today, but I’m preoccupied. I’m officially the guy letting a girl distract me from my game, but it’s not because of a fight—at least I don’t think so. It’s because she hasn’t responded to a text from me in almost twenty-four hours. And while I’m not a needy SOB, that’s unlike her. I’m not stupid enough to think she’s ghosting me when her last text to me was the heart-eyes emoji and the words goodnight, baseball boy .

I’m more worried something’s wrong, and she wouldn’t tell me because she doesn’t want to bother me. I wish she’d realize she’s never bothering me. She’s not a problem. I don’t understand why no one else in her life has ever made her feel like she’s the best fucking thing in the world, but I’m going to keep telling her that and treating her that way.

She left for vacation with her family this morning, so she might be busy, but if anything, I would’ve expected her to text me on the car ride. Maybe I am a needy SOB.

“Sorry, Coach,” I say as I run off the field. One more hour and I can check my phone and try to figure out what’s going on.

“You stressed about draft stuff again?” Aaron asks, walking over to me.

I did as Amanda suggested that night on my back deck and started thinking about what I want. That’s not just a short-term question, but a long-term one as well. So, I talked about it with Aaron, who offered to reach out and try to get some advice from current major or minor league players.

“Not specifically,” I say casually. It’s always in the back of my mind, but definitely not the forefront right now. I’m hesitant to mention Amanda to him because I know how this friend group can be. Meddling and pushy. Trevor can at least keep his mouth shut. I want to have a chance to let things with Amanda grow before adding in all that chaos.

“You’re being cagey.”

“Just worried about a friend.”

He squints at me for a long moment. All my friends are his friends, so he must know I’m talking out of my ass. That’s confirmed when he arches a brow then breaks into a grin.

“Ah, this friend wouldn’t happen to have long strawberry blonde hair and a hurt-my-friends-and-die attitude, would she?”

My cheeks give me away. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to all because of them and my stupid pasty white skin.

“Maybe.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Eh, we text a lot. She hasn’t responded in the last day or so and we left things on a good note, so I’m worried. She tends not to let people in. But she’s on vacation, so I might be overthinking it.”

He frowns. “She didn’t go.”

My stomach drops. “What? Why not?”

He gives a little shake of his head and pulls out his phone. “She’s sick, I guess. I don’t know exactly. The girls mentioned it in our group chat this morning.”

Of course not the group chat I’m in.

“Here.” He holds up his phone, and I read through a few of the messages.

Rae: Sarah, how’s Mands?

Sarah: I don’t know. She wouldn’t open her bedroom door because she didn’t want to give me her germs. There was plenty of easy to eat food in the fridge, and I left a bunch of Gatorade and crackers there. She said it’s a nasty stomach bug. I’m guessing so since it’s been almost two full days of her not being able to eat much.

Mackie: That sucks. Do you think she needs anything else?

Sarah: IDK. Her parents are out of town, but she said Pete is checking in on her before and after work.

Mackie: We should make a schedule to check in with her.

Rae: I’ll figure something out in a bit.

“Tell them no one needs to stop by tonight. ”

Aaron gives me his biggest know-it-all smile. “Will do.”

Two full days? And she didn’t even mention it to me yesterday?

She has to learn she is not a burden, and she deserves to be taken care of.

Now I just need to get through an hour of training camp so I can show her.

Amanda’s house is dark when I get there around five. It’s not that late, but it feels like it is when I walk inside.

“Amanda?” I call as I walk through the kitchen. Nothing.

I stop to grab some Gatorade, water, and crackers, then head upstairs. But when I get to her room, it’s empty. There’s a bucket by the side of her bed and half-empty bottles on her nightstand.

“Amanda?” I call again, something sinking in my gut.

When I turn around, I see the bathroom light streaming from under the partially closed door.

I cross the hallway and shove it open, my heart leaping into my throat when I see her lying on the floor.

I drop to my knees next to her and sweep some hair off her face. She looks up at me, tired and confused.

“Baby, how long have you been here?”

She tries to shrug, but can’t. Her lips are chapped and peeling, she’s sweaty, and her forehead is hot.

“Okay, we’re going to the hospital.”

Her face crinkles up, and she shakes as she cries. Or tries to. No tears come out.

I sit down on the floor, then carefully pull her toward me, easing her upright and resting her against me.

“What are…” She coughs and clears her throat. I reach for the bottle of water on the floor and hand it to her. She only takes a few sips before setting it down again. “What are you doing here? ”

“You weren’t answering my texts, then I found out you were sick. I came over to check on you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “I didn’t want you to worry. Or feel responsible. You should go so you don’t get sick too. Then your siblings?—”

“Don’t worry about all that. My parents are no strangers to dealing with horrific viruses in our house. That said, this seems like norovirus, and we had that in the spring. Usually the immunity lasts for a bit, but even if it doesn’t… I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. There is nowhere else I’d be right now. You need someone to take care of you, and I want to be that person. I’ll always take care of you. Always show up when you need me.”

She sniffs again and leans against my chest.

“When was the last time Pete was here?”

“This morning. He’s working late tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll text him and tell him not to come. We’re going to the hospital, then we’re going to come back here and binge watch movies until you fall asleep.”

“I don’t know if I can move,” she whimpers.

“I’ve got you. Just hold on to this”—I hand her the water bottle—“and tell me where your purse is.”

“Coat rack. Back door.”

I shift her in my arms, then slowly, carefully, get to my feet.

“Jamie—”

“Shh. Let me take care of you.”

“But I’m too?—”

“If you say something about being too heavy to carry, I’m going to put you in time out.”

She’s quiet for a second, then she whispers, “Not spank me?”

A laugh slips out. “Good to know you’re still in there.”

She buries her head in my chest and groans. “Barely.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’ll be your sexy nurse and have you feeling better in no time.”

“Thank you. ”

“You don’t need to thank me. Just let me take care of you.”

She looks up at me with shimmering eyes, and it hits me how truly gone for her I am. I would drop everything to be here for her. Even baseball. That’s a sobering and surprisingly not terrifying thought. It feels right. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“Am I dead?” Amanda groans.

I rub my thumb over her cheek. “No. If anything, you’re finally getting some of your spark back.”

“I don’t feel very sparkly. More like glowy in the way someone describes a pregnant woman whose skin is shimmery with sweat from puking all morning.”

She grimaces at her own words.

“Hey, you haven’t had any, uh, explosive events since we got here.”

“Yeah. I finally don’t feel like I’m going to puke every thirty seconds. And everything hurts a little less.”

“Because you’re hopped up on painkillers. And lots of fluids.”

She winces as she looks at the needle in her arm. Apparently, my girl is not a fan of needles.

“I just want to go home. I feel gross and I’d at least rather be gross there.”

I flick the IV bag. “Almost empty.”

“That it is,” the doctor says, walking into the room. “You’re looking better. How do you feel?”

“Ugh. But not like I’m going to keel over and die.”

“I’ll take the improvement.”

“I’m still a little nauseous, though. I’m afraid I’m going to go home and end up back in the same place.”

“Well, lucky for you, the nurse is on her way in with a shot of an antiemetic. That should get you through. Try to get some food down when you get home and stay as hydrated as you can.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“All right. The nurse will be in with the shot and discharge paperwork. Take care.”

“Thank you,” Amanda musters weakly.

I run my fingers through her messy hair.

“I hate that you have to see me like this.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but the nurse walks in before she can.

“Okay, I hear someone is ready to be set free. You just need a little something special to get you through.”

Amanda whimpers at the needle the nurse holds up.

“The good news is you don’t have to look at it going in.”

“What do you mean?”

“This one goes in your butt cheek.”

I stifle a laugh as Amanda squeaks, “In my butt?”

“Come on, baby. You’ll be fine. Just flip over and stick your butt out.”

She hits me with that death glare, so I drop a kiss on her forehead.

“I hate you,” she grumbles.

“Nah. You could never hate me. Come on. Roll over. I’ll hold your hand.”

She slowly rolls onto her stomach, and the nurse pulls the tie on her gown.

Amanda buries her head in the pillow. “This is mortifying.”

“I don’t know. You’ve got a cute butt.”

The nurse snickers, and Amanda whips her head to look at me, but when she sees my eyes locked on her, she softens.

“Perfect,” the nurse says.

“Ow!” Amanda whines.

“It’ll burn for a second, but I promise it’ll help. You can roll back over now. I’m going to get this IV out, then you can get dressed.” The nurse looks at me. “If you want, you can go grab the car, then pull up to the entrance.”

I look at Amanda, uncertain. “Are you going to be okay getting dressed?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I lean down and kiss her forehead again. “I’ll see you soon.”

She grabs my hand as I pull away, the touch sending sparks through me. Her eyes glisten with tears, and it breaks me.

I wrap her in a hug. “It’ll only be a few minutes, then you’ve got me all night.”

She nods and wipes her eyes, and reluctantly, I walk out of her room.

The whole walk to the car, I’m twisted up. I don’t think I’m just trying to date her anymore. I think I’m falling for her. I have fallen. I told her I’m going to consider her mine, but even that isn’t strong enough to explain what she means to me. All too quickly, she’s become a massive part of my life, and that’s how I want it to be.

As grateful as I am that she’s letting me take care of her, I’m also pissed no one else is around. How long would she have laid on that bathroom floor before Pete found her? I know the girls were going to check in too, but it drives me insane that she’s so afraid of bothering someone to let anyone take care of her. And I’m a little pissed that her parents would go on vacation while she’s obviously really sick.

She said they had it planned for a long time, but that’s no excuse. I can’t imagine my parents doing that with any of us. My mom still brings me Gatorade in a kiddie straw cup when I’m sick and makes sure I have everything I need.

I wish Amanda wasn’t so used to being an afterthought. That’s something I need to change.

When I pull up to the entrance, they haven’t wheeled her out yet, so I grab my phone and type out a text .

Me: Hey, Coach. Sorry, but I won’t be at training camp tomorrow. I’ve been at the hospital with a friend tonight, and they still need someone with them while they recover. If everything goes okay, I’ll be back on Friday.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see them wheeling Amanda out the door. I shut my screen off without sending the message, then hop out of the car.

“Can you get up okay?” the guy pushing the wheelchair asks.

“I’ve got her.” I swing the door open, then wrap my arm around Amanda’s back and help her into the passenger seat.

Once I’m back in the driver’s seat again, I grab my phone and send the message.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. I was just letting my coach know I won’t be there tomorrow.”

“What—Jamie… you have to go.”

“No. I don’t. I told you I’m going to take care of you, and I meant it.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “You’re choosing me over baseball?”

The surprise in her eyes breaks me a little. “Yes.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Now, let’s get you home.”

The heat of her gaze stays on me as I pull out of the parking lot.

I will do everything in my power to prove to her that she deserves to be chosen, and even if no one else does, I’ll choose her every time.

Amanda

Jamie understood the assignment. Maybe better than I did. Because when I told him to prove how he felt—that he truly wanted me—I meant for him to show up. To make an effort to spend time with me, and he’s done that. I was expecting him to ask me out on that date again when he came to my house for the barbeque, but he’s taken it all slowly. He’s done exactly what I’ve asked. He’s shown up for me.

Now he’s doing something I never expected. He’s choosing me over baseball. And that warms something in the cold, dead romantic part of my heart.

I’m still not sure where the change came from, but it’s hard to care with his arm wrapped around me as he helps me up the stairs to my bedroom.

For once in my life, I don’t feel uncomfortable with someone other than my parents caring for me. The truth is, I really wanted my mom when I was lying on the bathroom floor.

I almost called and asked her to come home. I know she would have. But they planned that vacation over a year ago. Even if I couldn’t go, they deserved to. Sure, a part of me still hoped my mom would choose to stay with me, make sure I was okay, and go later. But I said over and over that I’d be fine, and I wasn’t going to take it back at the last minute.

So I suffered alone. Pete was helpful, but I could tell he was tired. He works for Rae’s dad doing something… techy. I don’t know. He’s passionate about it, though, and has been putting in extra hours lately.

I appreciated Sarah stopping by, but she works as a nursing assistant at an OBGYN. The last thing I wanted was for her to get sick.

And just maybe letting someone else take care of me is a form of being vulnerable that’s hard for me. But it came easier than expected with Jamie.

“Here we are.” He swings my bedroom door open, and I wrinkle my nose at the smell. I’m not sure if it’s me or the room or both, but everything smells gross. I feel gross.

“Ugh.”

“Are you okay? Need the bathroom?”

He’s so cute with his caretaking. I’m guessing at least some of it is learned from having young siblings, but I get the sense it’s also in his nature.

“No. Well, actually, yes. I want to take a shower.”

He pulls his arm from my back and takes me in. “Do you need any help?”

“No. I’ll be fine.” But as I say it, the world spins and I have to grip the doorway.

“Uh huh. I don’t think so. If you have to hold the door frame to stay upright, there’s no way I’m letting you anywhere slippery, unsupervised.”

“You just want to see me naked,” I tease.

“Obviously.” He steps in closer, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Let me help you.”

“Fine. I might need your help to change the sheets afterward too.”

“Whatever you need.” He wraps his arm around my waist again and guides me toward the bathroom.

When we get there, he leans me against the wall, then gets towels from the cabinet.

I make an attempt at getting undressed, but I almost lose my balance several times.

“Need some help?” Jamie asks with a roguish smile.

“Are you that desperate to see me naked? Or did you just want to cop a feel?”

“Why can’t it be both?” He moves closer, the warmth of his body surrounding me. “No. The truth is, I don’t want to risk you falling. You might break a leg. Or a hip. Then we’d have to go to the hospital again. There’d be more needles. And I wouldn’t even get to see you naked.”

“Good to know where your priorities are.”

“You’re my priority.” He says it so simply and smoothly, like it’s nothing. But those words are everything. They mirror the intimacy of this moment.

I bite my lip as I nod, and slowly, he reaches for my shirt.

His fingers trail my navel as he pushes my shirt up, then carefully pulls it over my head. He ends up with his face right in front of my naked boobs—because no one wants to wear a bra when they’re hurling their guts out. I’m sure they’re a sweaty mess of gross, but Jamie doesn’t seem to care. He chokes on a breath, then stands up straight.

“Okay there?” I ask.

“Fine. Just…” He clears his throat. “Don’t hold it against me if you see anything. I’m staring at the girl of my dreams, and she’s so damn stunning I can barely keep it together.”

My body flushes at the compliment.

I try not to spend too much time thinking about my body. I buy clothes I look good in and don’t pay attention to the size. But sometimes those societal standards of beauty creep in. The same ones I learned from diet commercials growing up. The things that told me I’m not good enough as I am. That there’s something wrong with my body.

I make it a point to call myself beautiful, and say nice things about myself in those moments.

I’ve never felt self-conscious hooking up with someone because they wouldn’t have wanted to hook up with me in the first place if they didn’t find me somewhat attractive. Plus, it’s low stakes.

But with Jamie? I’m weirdly glad him seeing me naked is happening like this. I didn’t have time to feel nervous about my body before he complimented it. And even though I shouldn’t need that affirmation, I want it. Everyone wants their partner to find them attractive—to enjoy their body. And even though he’s not technically my partner yet, he’s become my person. And that might mean more.

“Wait till you see the whole thing,” I tease in as sultry a voice as I can manage when I’m still way too close to falling over.

His fingers dance along the waistband of my sweats. “Just know, the next time you’re naked in front of me, I’m going to touch you everywhere and enjoy every moment of your beautiful body writhing under my touch. ”

I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls my pants down.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”

“Oh, I’ll keep every delicious word.” He sighs as he steps back and looks at me, eyes tracing the length of my body. “You are stunning. So utterly beautiful it’s hard to breathe.”

“That’s probably just because all your blood is rushing south,” I say, eyes drifting to the obvious bulge in his gym shorts.

He cups my cheek and meets my eyes. “Take the compliment. Now, do you have a stool or something you can sit on in the shower?”

“Hall closet. There’s one from after my dad had his knee replaced.”

He nods, then goes to get it.

Once I’m set up, the shower is easy enough. I do all the washing and Jamie uses the detachable shower head to help me rinse off.

It might’ve felt more sensual if I wasn’t so exhausted. Between the ER visit and the shower, it’s almost ten at night. I’m surprisingly hungry and utterly exhausted.

Jamie pulls the stool from the shower as I wrap a towel around myself.

“Sit.”

Then he grabs another towel and carefully wraps it around my hair, gently drying the strands. When my hair is damp instead of dripping wet, he pulls the towel away, then grabs my hairbrush.

I almost protest, but he whispers, “Trust me.”

He slowly moves the brush through my hair, stopping and working out each knot before continuing on. This… this is the sensual moment. One I might beg him to repeat one day when we get to shower together.

With tenderness and care, he runs the brush through over and over until it glides smoothly, making sure not to pull on a single strand.

“There’s a leave-in on the sink that helps with frizziness. If you want to put some in. ”

“Sure. Just tell me how much.”

“Just a penny sized amount and rub it between your hands, then work it in.”

He looks up and his eyes meet mine in the mirror. He squints a little, then smiles and turns around. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Maybe.”

“Good.”

He works his hands through my hair methodically, getting every single strand, and when he’s finished, he runs the brush through a few more times.

I’m not sure I’ve ever let someone take care of me like this. Let my guard down so completely. I asked Jamie to prove it. But I gave myself an assignment too. To work on opening up to him and being vulnerable in a way I haven’t allowed myself to be with another person—not romantically, at least—in a long time.

I’ve never been more vulnerable than I have been over the last few hours, but this is different. I’m openly choosing that vulnerability, and to my surprise, it feels good. It feels right. And I’m really happy Jamie is the one I’m doing it with.

I’m a mess. Not a hot mess express.

Like a train wreck. Everything’s a mess and a couple of things are on fire.

I sniff back tears as I pull the blankets up farther. After my shower, I sat in my desk chair and got dressed while Jamie put fresh sheets on my bed. Then I ate a couple of bowls of mashed potatoes, some saltines, a bowl of vanilla coconut ice cream, and drank a bottle of Gatorade. My stomach feels better, but I’m still tired, achy, and emotional. I always feel this way when I’m sick.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jamie asks the second he walks back into the room .

I wave my hand in front of me. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I always get weepy when I’m sick.”

He sits down next to me, resting his hand on the back of my neck, then running it down my back.

“What’s making you cry right now?”

“You’re… here.”

He nods exaggeratedly. “I know. I’m pretty terrible company.”

At least that gets a laugh out of me. Then I clutch my stomach. The muscles are sore from all the puking.

“No. I mean… you’re here. You came to take care of me. You made me a priority.”

“And someday, you’re going to stop being surprised by that.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, savoring the comfort he gives as tears roll down my cheeks.

“Sometimes I wonder if I push people away too much and they assume I don’t want them around, so they don’t go out of their way for me. Other times, I think I’m too clingy. I didn’t want to get anyone else sick?—”

“But you deserve to be taken care of. Listen, as nice as your folks seem, it’s not okay that a vacation and their sick daughter were equal choices. You should’ve been the priority. I’m sorry you weren’t. For the record, the girls were going to make a schedule to come check on you. They knew exactly why you didn’t want them here, and they didn’t give a shit. I just told Aaron to tell them not to come because selfishly, I wanted to be the one to take care of you. And don’t you dare ask why.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from saying something I’ll regret. Something that I’m not even sure I fully feel yet, but keeps dancing in my brain regardless. Love . It’s just because I’m an emotional mess.

I force out a breath and snuggle into his side. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good. Now, you’re going to relax and watch One Tree Hill while I run my fingers through your hair until you fall asleep. And when you wake up in the morning, I promise you’re going to feel a lot better.”

He kisses my head, and any arguments die. I’m exhausted, and for once, it feels nice to let someone take care of me because they want to, not because they have to. Not because I’m a burden. Jamie wants me. He wants to care for me. And that thought alone is enough to soothe my frayed edges, allowing me to relax a little more until I drift off to sleep.

Jamie was right. I’m feeling a lot better today. Still tired and sore, but I’ve been able to eat and drink okay. Mostly easy to eat foods, but it’s better than before. We even went for a walk around the block.

Now we’re relaxing in my bed. I’m not really ready to sleep yet, but I’m too tired to do anything else. And like last night, my emotions are haywire, but this time, I don’t think it’s from sickness. I like Jamie being here, and I’m worried I’ve gotten too used to it. He has to go back to training camp tomorrow—I want him to—but now that I’ve slept in his arms, it’s going to be hard not to have that all the time.

Jamie runs his fingers through my hair. I’m lying down, facing away from him, even though the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice is playing in the background.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

I sniff and quickly wipe my eyes, but I’m sure I’m not hiding anything.

He rubs one hand down my back, then goes back to playing with my hair.

“Are you feeling sick again?”

I shake my head, then notice the slight tug on my hair when I do. It takes me a second to realize he’s braiding my hair.

“It’s sweet that you learned to braid hair for your sisters. ”

“I actually like it. After a while, it becomes mindless. Almost like a fidget toy. But with your soft hair, I never want to stop touching it. I could play with it all day.”

Ah, stupid tears.

I sniff again, and he lightly tugs on my hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“This. I’m… getting too used to it.”

“Good,” he whispers.

I roll over to face him. “What changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you couldn’t give me anything because of your commitment to baseball. Now you’re choosing me over baseball. What changed?”

“I understood what I had to lose.” He brushes his thumb slowly across my cheek. “I thought baseball had to come first because outside of my family and friends, no one had ever compared to baseball. But all it took was one day of not talking to you to realize how deeply I feel for you. It took longer to deal with that fact and convince myself I could have both things. Once I did, there wasn’t a choice. Wanting you isn’t a choice. Caring for you isn’t a choice. You’re everything, and you deserve the world, so I’m going to give it to you. If that means baseball has to be an occasional sacrifice, then it will be. I hear that’s what good relationships are. Compromise and sacrifice when needed. You’ve had too many people not choose you, but I have, and I’ll continue to do that as long as you let me.”

Fuck.

I’m so screwed.

I’m falling for him, and that terrifies me because it won’t be easy. Distance will be a big part of our future, and as a clingy, sometimes emotionally needy person, that’s going to be hard for me. But like he just said, it’s not a choice. I want him the way he wants me. Nothing has ever been more terrifying, but it’s never been more exciting either.

“Yes,” I say suddenly .

“What?”

“Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”

His smile lights up the room. “It’s cute that you think we haven’t been dating for the last few weeks. But I do have a special date I want to take you on. Once you’re better, I’ll officially ask you the way you deserve to be asked.”

“Jamie,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. Then I press my fingers into his skin and pull him to my lips.

His breath hitches, then he wraps his arm around me, fingers curling into my hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue twists with mine and every thought drifts away. Every fear. There’s nothing but the two of us. And unlike the last time, there’s no hesitancy, no holding back. Every swipe of his tongue is more powerful than the last. I claw my fingers through his hair, pressing against him.

He breaks the kiss long enough to look at me, then dives forward, claiming me all over again. It’s so easy to get lost in the connection between us, the tension swirling around us, the heat growing more intense with every second.

We untangle slowly, and as he pulls away, he brushes his nose against mine, then he shifts so he’s lying next to me and wraps his arms around me.

There’s a comfortable silence as we hold each other. And then, letting myself be vulnerable one more time, I say, “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“After training camp tomorrow, would you come over? Stay the night again?”

He buries his face in my neck. “I’d love to.”

With those words, another cracked piece of my heart heals a little.