Page 28

Harper

“Maybe I should drive,” I told Jamil as I slipped an arm around his waist to keep him upright. After we’d come in from the patio, Tommy and Maggie had ordered a round of tequila shots that seemed never-ending.

After the first two shots and the rate at which Jamil was tossing them back, I’d asked for a glass of water knowing that one of us would need to drive home.

Jamil staggered slightly, his chest pressing into my shoulder with most of his body weight. If I hadn’t had a good grip on his waist both of us would have been sprawled out on the red carpet.

“Alright then, let’s get you in the car.” Jamil waved to Maggie and Tommy who had slipped into a town car with their own driver.

Maggie blew me five kisses more than necessary as Tommy pulled her into the car by her waist and she disappeared. The valet opened the door for me as I tried to fold Jamil’s body into the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” I told him, earning a tip of his hat in return.

“Do you think you’ll be able to remind me how to get to your house?” I asked Jamil once we were safely buckled into his car.

Jamil laughed again and reached over to pull on a stray piece of curled hair that had slipped out from behind my ear. “I’m not that drunk, Moon.”

“You need to be more creative, Jamil. Calling me ‘Moon’ because I have a tattoo of a moon on me,” I said, as I eased the car out of the parking lot and turned toward Jamil’s house.

“No, Moon. I don’t call you that just because of your tattoo.

I call you that because you lit up what felt like the darkest of nights for me when I met you in Florida.

” Jamil was staring out the window and luckily didn’t witness my heart nearly stopping.

Completely oblivious that I was slowly slipping into a state of shock, Jamil continued.

“Of course, I was attracted to you when I first saw you. Anyone who isn’t doesn’t have a pair of eyes.

But what I couldn’t get over was how calm you made me feel.

You’re the one person in my life right now that I can go to escape it all. ”

I could barely feel my arms reaching out toward the steering wheel as I pulled into Jamil’s driveway and hit the button to open his garage. Tremors racked my hands as I threw the car into park and tried to unlatch the buckle of my seatbelt.

“Are you okay?” Jamil asked me, suddenly sounding much more sober than before. “Here, let me help you.”

His hands reached down to cover mine and undid my buckle with ease before moving to undo his own.

Tell him you want him.

Tell him you want him.

Tell him you want him.

Say it.

My hair fell over my face like a curtain, keeping me from having to look him in the eye while I tried to collect myself. “We should get you inside and to bed. You’re probably going to feel this in the morning.”

If life were simpler, I’d give in right now and tell him that I wanted to date him.

I wanted to see where this went. That I felt the same way he did.

But life wasn’t simple. If I didn’t keep my distance, I could lose sight of the goal I’d had for four years.

I could risk everything for someone I’d just met.

I loved myself too much to do that, so instead I threw Jamil’s arm over my shoulder as I helped him inside his home.

The house was quiet as I guided Jamil toward his bedroom.

Pictures of him and his family lined the walls.

Pieces of him were scattered everywhere.

The familiarity of it all did nothing to stop the ache in my chest. Jamil thought of me as his peace, his escape from the world and all the noise.

While I was over here with a blank document waiting for me to write something about him for the world to read, to disrupt his peace.

The guilt that swelled within me was nearly unbearable as I deposited Jamil onto his bed.

He flopped down unmoving, his body bouncing on the bed.

I worked to get both of his shoes off and then his socks.

His jacket was still on my shoulders, and I laid it gently on his dresser before trying to undo the bowtie around his neck.

Jamil’s hands came up to encircle mine. “Will you stay tonight?” His eyes were closed but the grip around my hands was strong. “If you don’t want to, you can take my car home. I can come pick it up tomorrow. I’ll have Tommy drop me off .?.?.”

His words fell off as he started to drift into sleep, his hands slipping from my wrists. With some effort, I managed to get his legs underneath the covers.

My hand lingered on the light switch as I debated on taking up his offer of driving his car back home.

Part of me knew that I should leave. Especially after he’d laid out his feelings for me tonight, there was still so much that hadn’t been said yet.

Despite all of that, I turned around and walked over to his dresser as my hands worked to unzip my dress.

I slipped into one of Jamil’s old t-shirts and a pair of sweats that were far too big for me before padding out into the kitchen to pour Jamil a glass of water for the morning and attempt to find some pain relievers.

It took me two guesses to find where the glasses were and another three to find a cabinet full of medication.

As I poured the glass of water, my eyes caught on a photo of Jamil holding a baby, the biggest smile on his face as he stared down at the bundle in his arms like she was the light of his entire world.

It was the same little girl in a photo on his wall leading back to his bedroom that was in the arms of a woman who looked similar to Jamil, and I guessed that was the niece he had shown up to spring training early to see.

I took my time looking at each photo as I walked back toward the bedroom, studying the different images of Jamil’s family.

His two sisters were beautiful and looked so much like Jamil.

He was almost a perfect mixture of his parents.

He had his mother’s hazel eyes and sharp cheekbones, but his father’s complexion and curly hair.

He was much leaner and lankier than his father, towering over his family like a giant.

When I spotted another man that hadn’t been in any other photo so far, I paused.

I remembered Jamil mentioning an older brother that had moved to Chicago with him when he was first drafted, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen him at a single game this season or how Jamil had barely mentioned him to me—it was almost as if he didn’t even exist.

If an older brother moved halfway across the country with you, I would think you’d have more than a single picture to prove his existence.

After placing the glass of water and pain reliever pills on Jamil’s bedside table, I crawled into bed next to him thinking about the texts Jamil had received from someone named Jordan and the phone calls he’d gotten over the past month.

There was clearly something going on in Jamil’s life and the journalism instincts in me pointed toward his brother.

*

The following morning, I woke up to the sound of a blender running and I wondered how Jamil had bounced back so quickly after downing that much tequila. I groaned as I turned over in bed and attempted to give myself a pep talk to get up.

“I hope she’s making a strawberry banana smoothie,” I heard Jamil mumble next to me.

Wait.

I turned over to see Jamil still burrowed under the covers with a pillow over his head. If Jamil was still lying next to me, then who was in the kitchen?

“Jamil,” I hissed, trying to get his attention.

He let out a groan.

“ Jamil ,” I hissed a little louder.

Still nothing.

I reached over and yanked the pillow off his head. Jamil squinted at the few rays of sunlight sneaking in from between the slats of the blinds. “What?” he asked.

“There’s someone out in the kitchen,” I told him, trying to keep my voice low enough to not alert the intruder that we were awake.

“Yeah, that’s Harper.” Jamil’s voice sounded like sandpaper.

He reached out for the glass of water I’d placed next to him last night and downed half of it before popping the pills in his mouth and draining the rest of it.

I had no idea how he was going to play in tonight’s game, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time he played hungover.

“Jamil, I’m right next to you.”

The glass paused, tilted against Jamil’s mouth as he finally registered what was happening. His head slowly turned, as if he was afraid to see if I was telling the truth. Our eyes locked just as the blender stopped out in the kitchen.

“Who is here?” I asked.

His answer was exactly what I was afraid of. “I have no idea.”

We both stared at the door together. “Should we go find out?” I whispered.

“Probably,” Jamil whispered back. “I’m just letting my brain catch up before I walk out there.”

But before either of us could get out of bed, the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway grew louder.

“Do you have a baseball bat or something in here?” I asked quickly, my eyes darting around the room.

“Just because I’m a baseball player, Harper, doesn’t mean that I have a baseball bat with me wherever I go,” Jamil mumbled, keeping his voice low. He moved his body, so he was positioned in front of me as we waited for the intruder to make themselves known.

“Jamil, honey, you need a new blender. That thing barely can hold enough for one serving.” The door opened and an older woman walked into the room with two glasses full of a vibrant pink smoothie in her hands.

She looked strikingly like Jamil and horror washed over me as I realized what was happening.

“Mom!” Jamil shouted as he stumbled out of bed, trying to block his mother’s view of me.