Page 81 of Force Play

When the girls clear out after the game, I could take Ronnie with me and go home—I probably should—but I don’t. Instead, the two of us head up to his bed and wait for him to call. With the dog settled on the floor at the end of the bed, I scroll my email while I wait.

When the phone rings, Dom’s face takes up ninety percent of the screen—the contact photo he assigned himself on display. He’s sweaty from his workout and his honey-colored hair is held back by . . . holy shit . . . how did I not notice that the bandana he’s been wearing all season matches the one he had made for Ronnie?

I study the picture more closely, trying to remember the first time I saw him wearing this pattern. I think back to the games I’ve watched. He’s had it since I moved, for sure. He was wearing one in Chicago as well, and I vaguely recall thinking he was ridiculous for wearing one with fireworks when it wasn’t a holiday. I’m such an idiot. The fireworks were never about Memorial Day or the Fourth of July. Snapping out of it, I quickly answer the call before it goes to voicemail.

“Oh fuck, Baby, you’re in my bed. You don’t know how much I like that.” He’s seated at the end of his bed, the unremarkable white sheets and beige hotel walls visible behind him.

“Ronnie wanted to stay here tonight,” I say, causing her to groan from where she lazily lays at the end of the bed.

“She did?”

“Uh huh,” I lie.

“Did Ronnie also dress you in my shirt for bed?” he asks, the corners of his lips turning up in a knowing smile.

“No, that was all me. I missed you and this smells like you.” Inhaling, I bring the shirt up to my nose. “Did she dress the two of you in your matching bandanas?”

It’s annoying how perfect he looks with that crooked smirk tilting his lips. So damn pleased with himself.

“Took you long enough to notice.”

“Is that a superstition you picked up from Memorial Day or the Fourth?”

“Nope.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “How long have you been wearing it?”

“Lark made it for me at the beginning of the season. I’ve been wearing it regularly since then, Firecracker.”

“Why?”

“You know why. I’ve never kept my feelings for you a secret.”

“That scares the shit out of me, Dom; how fearless you are in your belief that things will just work out.”

“I’m not fearless. Nothing scares me more than the thought of losing you.”

My chest splits open with his admission. He’s been my rock, making sure I’m okay day after day, but this is taking a toll on him as well. He just hides it better. I wish I could take that pain away from him the same way he does for me. I know from losing my mom that I can’t. He’s made his choice by being with me.

“If it bothers you, I won’t wear it.”

“No!” I practically scream. “Don’t do that. It doesn’t bother me. I’m envious of how hopeful you are. I wish I could be more like you. It’s one of my favorite things about you. It’s just one of the reasons this works.”

“You don’t need to be like me, Indie. Let me balance out your wildness. Lean on me for my faith. Talk sense into me when I’m not being serious enough. We’re a team. That’s how relationships are supposed to work,” he says, moving until he’s settled against the headboard, his bare shoulders tanned and still showing some scratches from the last time we were together before I left. God, that’s hot.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“With you, it is. That’s how I knew I wanted more when we first met.” He exhales, looking at me seriously. “I know things aren’t always going to be easy. I’m going to annoy you. You’re going to get snarky with me. It’s going to take everything we’ve got sometimes, but the decision to put in the effort is never going to be the hard part. Not for me. I know what I want and it’s you.”

“I want you too.” He’s right about that much, now that I’m being honest about wanting Dom, being with him is effortless. He’s quickly become my best friend.

“Since we are getting deep, how are you feeling?” he asks.

“Oh, um, fine. The cookie dough was delicious. Thankfully, my uterus is sparing me the dramatics of trying to murder me from the inside out.”

Warmth washes over me when he chuckles, even through the phone it affects me, coasting over my skin like a gentle touch and making me miss him more. “Glad to hear it. If that changes, my freezer is stocked as well. But that’s not what I meant.” The smile on his face fades, replaced by a look of concern. “Are you feeling okay about the blood work tomorrow?”

“Oh, that.” Like I could have forgotten. It’s been haunting me since I made the appointment. I’m still not sure if it’s the right decision, but I’m going through with it.

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