Page 24 of Baller's Surprise Baby

“Coach told me you would lose your job if I didn’t drop you.” I stare sadly at her with my truth revealed. We’re at a red light so she stares back at me, brows furrowed when she answers.

“You knew I could get fired?”

“I found out. After the restaurant. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and I didn’t want to lose you when I’d just got you back, so I didn’t say anything. I thought if we could just get through the documentary, then you’d move on to the next job and we could see each other after that without any risk.” She frowns at the road in front of us and stays silent for a few minutes as the light turns green and we pull forward.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” But I dip my head and give her a look when I answer her almost cajolingly.

“Come on, Curves. You know I’d barely won you over. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to give me a chance after I took off in Phoenix.” I look her in the eye, willing her to understand.

“If I’d told you then, you would have played it safe and left me hanging.” She frowns at the road again, but a second later she gives a shrug.

“Yeah, that’s probably true…but still...Not telling me to my face was a dick move.”

“Well, I tried after they let you go, but…I guess I got a taste of my own medicine. You weren’t returning my calls.” She pulls into the drive where my boys are already unloading the moving truck in front of a quaint-looking mobile home. The house is painted blue with white trim and a flashing around the bottom of the building like a skirt. Flowers and small bushes dot the grass under the windows, and I smile. This may be a step down from a brick-and-mortar home, but it’s pretty, and it suits Everly and Aunt Sharon.

I step out of the car and head to the driver’s side to open the door, but Everly is already out when I get there. Her attention is clearly on the activity in the yard, so I sidestep in front of her and place my left hand on the hood to block her.

“Everly.” She stops, surprised, and cranes her neck up at me as I try to find a way to express everything I feel. “I want a second chance.” She snorts and drops her gaze to the ground shaking her head. “I know, I know, I already had a second chance. I want a second, second chance.“ I glance behind me, and everyone is busy either in the truck or in the ‘new’ home, so I continue on.

“We hooked up and it was fantastic. Then I blew it. I freaked, and we both paid for my mistake. Then, just when we were going to try for something real, actually start something that was bigger than a one-night stand, we got hit with the risk to your job, and despite the fact that I honestly thought I could protect you from that, I ended up hurting you again. Then those fuckers decided to carry out the letter of the law and everything I was trying to avoid happened.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve known each other most of our lives. We have a connection that was dormant for so many years, but today it’s undeniable. I think that we could have something great together, Everly. I think about you day and night, and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never pay for my mistakes or letter-of-the-law fuckers’ opinions ever again.”

Everly raises wide eyes to me, and I wait on bated breath, silently begging her to meet me in the middle here, to give me one more shot. I study her, and there’s a quiver in her lip when she answers softly.

“Ryder, I’m really glad you told me this. It was really confusing when you turned my lunch proposal down, and I honestly lost faith in you a little bit. So, this helps.” She nods her head as she speaks. “But I think that right now Aunt Sharon and I have a lot going on, and that it would be best for us to just be friends.”

I purse my lips and do my best to keep a stoic face. There’s no hiding the fact that her words are a disappointment to me. She looks me in the eye, and I see that soft quiver in her lip as she takes in a breath to steel herself and then slowly turns to walk away. I twist around, watching her go, but something inside isn’t done here yet. It’s goodbye, but it’s not over, and I know because of that little lip quiver.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve been down thirty points or more in a game and we’ve made a comeback. So, I give myself a good shake and then stride after her. If friends is what she wants right now then friends it is, but I’m going to make sure that someday she wants more.

18

Everly

“How was the art fair photoshoot today at Books Elementary?” Aunt Sharon passes me the salad bowl and I take a generous helping of leafy greens, pumpkin seeds and dried cranberries as I answer her.

“It was adorable. There’s something so amazing about how kids see and portray the world.” I grab a buttered roll and add it to my plate next to green beans and pot roast. “And the differences in interest are so obvious from one grade to the next. I can’t tell you how many paintings I saw of unicorns and mermaids from the kindergarteners. First grade was a mesh, and then second and third grade were all Mario Brothers and action heroes.”

Aunt Sharon chuckles and takes a sip of her tea before saying, “I still have some of your elementary school artwork around here somewhere.” I smile and stare at my plate as I cut a piece of roast.

“Ryder showed up,” I add casually. “The kids went bonkers when they saw him.” I watch her brows raise as she looks at me speculatively, and I try to keep my face composed.

“Hmmm. So that’s the fifth time in two weeks that he’s found a way to come out, then?”

“Mmm hmm.” I take another bite. Two weeks, two jobs, and seven interviews – it’s been busy since we moved, and somehow around games and training and end-of-season events like Rivalry Week he’s still found ways to come and visit.

“He’s a good friend,” I say as I break open my bread roll.

“Yes…a very good friend, I’d say.” Aunt Sharon winks at me, and chuckles but she doesn’t press for details.

After dinner I grab my laptop and head out to a nearby Starbucks to do some editing on the pics I took today. I’m just settling in when I get a text from Ryder asking if he can drop something off. I text back the address, and thirty minutes later I see him stride in wearing hoodie, shades, and sweatpants. The only giveaways that he’s a star are his height and the custom shoes. I shake my head. These ballers have a thing for their shoes.

He settles into one of the armchairs next to me, and I set the laptop aside.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Not bad, and you?”

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