Page 83 of Wild Pitch
My eyes go as wide as saucers. “Darlin’?”
Even worse, a massive sob escapes from her mouth, echoing around us. I sit frozen as she stomps around the kitchen island—toward me. What the hell?
And then her arms are around me, burying my face against the crook of her neck. She lands between my thighs. The spoon slides from my hand, clinks loudly against the porcelain bowl, and falls on the marble.
“What’s happening?” I ask, stunned, my lips moving against her skin.
Her chest racks with another sob. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. And here I’ve been treating you like garbage all these years, thinking that you were just another self entitled prick of a man baby.”
I bark a laugh. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m serious, Starr.” She sniffs and that’s when I realize that her face is buried in my hair. “I feel really bad right now.” She squeezes me even harder.
I’m not nice enough to put the distance she deserves. Instead, I fully go for it. Wrapping my arms around her, I bring her as close as can. I breathe deep to get as much of her scent as I can, and I command every molecule of my body to memorize the feeling of her in my arms. This is way better than any dream.
“It’s okay, Garcia. I’m okay.” My left hand travels up her spine, farther until I find the skin at the back of her neck.
She sighs against my hair and I’m undone. In a way I’ve never been.
But then she’s pulling away and I have no choice but to let her. I tighten my jaw so I don’t ask her not to leave. Her hands push slightly at my shoulders and I dare to lift my face.
She’s biting her lower lip and a new tear rolls down her cheek. Her eyes are red and puffy, and so is the rest of her face. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life.
Swallowing hard, I run my thumb gently across her cheek to dry her tears. A visceral need grows in my belly, much deeper than the desire I already felt for her. And it’s the need to ask her if I can be hers. If she can claim me. If she can be the one I need to never be alone again.
But I can’t do that. She’s been looking for someone who can offer her everything she wants, and here I am, just wanting to take more from her—when she’s already offered her time and her presence when I’m sick. Especially not when she already explained that it would be too risky for her to date someone from work. It makes me angry at myself for wanting her.
“The… the soup is growing cold,” I mumble.
With a little gasp, she retreats from the warm circle of my limbs. “Right! You need to eat and I, uh, I need to get going. It’s super late.”
I watch her scramble around the kitchen, dumping used things in the dishwasher, throwing out garbage—not looking at me at all, clearly uncomfortable. I force myself to keep eating the soup she made.
“There’s plenty left over. Just put it in air tight containers and you can freeze it. I’m going to leave now but if you need anything else text me. Or call me. Not Rivera, though, he’s also sick. See you later, Starr—No, I kinda hate your last name now. Cade? But that’s also not really yours. Cowboy? Should I call you Cowboy forever?” Her eyes widen, as if she’s only realized now that she just crammed a million words into five seconds.
I take my sweet ass time chewing some bits of chicken and veggies, swallowing, and finally speaking. “Trust me, Cade’s been mine for twenty seven years.”
“Cade?” She breathes out.
“Yes, Hope?”
Her jaw drops. “So, uh. First name base?” I don’t know if she means it as a pun or just misspoke, but I like it.
I snort through my nose softly. “You just made me soup and hugged me. That’s definitely first name base.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounds weird even as she nods firmly. “Good night, Cade.”
Even though she’s firmly out of bounds, I can’t help feeling buoyant at this moment. Smiling, I rasp out, “Good night, Hope.”
I watch her leave my house, cross my yard, and disappear behind the entrance. And even well after she’s gone, my heart keeps racing like a horse.
CHAPTER 27
HOPE
The moment I realized it’s taken me twice as usual to get ready in the morning, I deduce something’s wrong. The confirmation comes as I’m about to open the front door to head to my car, and stop for the most aggressive sneeze of my life. I’m pretty sure it’s strong enough to wake my roommates up, even though it’s an hour before their alarms go off.
Wincing, I do a U-turn and tiptoe back to my room, closing the door softly behind me. Looks like I didn’t escape the great common cold wave that has crashed on the Orlando Wild. I doubt that hanging out with, um, Cade, in his house yesterday was enough. I’m sure I had it in my system already.
