Page 59 of Unbroken Promises

Il mio passerotto,

I know we still have a lot to figure out, and the timing sucks with me having to leave for a series of away games tomorrow, but it would mean a lot to me to see you in the crowd, cheering me on. Please come, I promise I will make it worth your while.

x. Your Hoodie Ghost

As I look up from the note, I see Darrion shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Here.” Quickly, he shoved something in my face, and I barely manage to catch the flash of blue and black as it begins to fall while Darrion backs away from me as if he could catch fire by standing too close.

“Boss man said to give you these.”

I glance down at my hands to see a beautiful bouquet full of blue and black roses. Glancing back up, I look over to Darrion and see his neck flushed with embarrassment.

“He asked you to give me flowers?” I raise an eyebrow in question.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Darrion shrugs his shoulders, head bowed as he responds. “Well, he told me I had to give them to you directly. Not to leave them on the counter or anything. That I had to hand them to you in person, and . . . aw geeze. . .” He pulls one hand out of his pocket and runs it over the top of his baldhead, swallowing nervously. “He said for me to tell you that, and these are his words not mine,” he clears his throat, “Danica, I’m still not a nice guy. I still fuck everything up. But this is me asking one more time for you to believe in me, to start over with me.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Theo made you say that?”

He nods. “He uh. He wanted to be here to tell you that himself, but you weren’t back by the time he had to leave for the arena, so he made me swear that I would give these to you and look you in the eye and say that, to make sure that you got his message. He didn’t want to leave it in just a text or note on the counter.”

Oh Theo.

Shaking my head, I shift the bouquet to one arm so I can reach into my pocket with my other hand and pull out my phone.

Me: I see the art of the written word is dead.

HG: So, you got my message, then?

Me: Yes, Muscles here delivered your words as awkwardly as one would expect coming from a messenger boy.

Me: You could have just left me a note instead of letting the poor man trip all over himself from the embarrassment of playing cupid for you.

HG: I could have. . .

Not going to say anything else about that then? Alrighty. . .

HG: And the roses?

Me: Yeah, about that, what’s with the black? Very funereal, don’t you think.

HG: Or. . .

HG: . . . Very romantic, depending on how you look at it.

Me: Hmm. If you say so. . .

HG: So will you come? To the game tonight, I mean.

Me:

HG: Please, la miadiavoletta. . .

I roll my eyes. He is playing hard ball here. The roses, the note, even the cheesy lines via his personal messenger. He is trying to show me that my Hoodie Guy is still in there, after all this time.

Me: *sigh* I suppose. . .

HG: *Shit-eating grin*

HG: I’m gonna win this one for you, my beautiful little devil

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