The Baller (28 page)

“I think you have too much time on your hands.”

“I’ve had two hours a day to fill since you haven’t been around to hang out with the last few days.” She reached into her box again and pulled out another creation. “This is Brody.” The carefully created clip art looked just like the one of me, only a full head taller.

“We look like we could be related.” I arched an eyebrow.

She ignored me and took another creation out of the box. This one was easy to identify: it was a snake sculpted out of paperclips. The body coiled around, and again, a staple remover was attached as the head. At least the fangs and open mouth seemed a little more realistic on a snake. She placed it on my desk with the other two.

“Why do you have three staple removers?”

“I don’t. I came into your office while you were in Mr. CUM’s meeting and stole the one out of your top right drawer. I saw Fred Nagel was in the meeting, too, so I stopped by his office on my way back and swiped one from him. By the way, why does his office smell like ass?”

I laughed for the first time in days. “I didn’t know it smelled.”

“You mean you haven’t sniffed the entire floor yet?”

“Shut up.”

Indie rearranged her figure art on my desk, moving the snake between Brody and me. “The snake’s name is Willow.”

“Why am I not surprised?” After the service yesterday, Indie had talked my ear off. While I was focused on Brody, Indie had been watching Willow. She was certain from the way that Willow gazed at Brody that the woman was using Brody’s sympathy to get close to him again. I didn’t know what her intentions were, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how Brody felt about her. Seeing them standing together at the church had made everything I knew about their history so much more real.

Does he still love her?

What if he wanted to give things a second chance, now that she was clean?

“You need to get in there and put an end to the walk down memory lane.”

“They just lost someone they love. They have a lot of history. If I can’t trust him to mourn with her, then I can’t trust him at all, and it’s not meant to be.”

Indie threw her hands up in the air. “That’s crap. We don’t leave everything up to fate, we fight for the shit we want.”

“What if he still loves her?”

“Then you’ll get hurt. I’ll buy you ice cream, and we’ll both gain five pounds sitting on your couch watching Nicholas Sparks movies for a month.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Will it be Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia?”

“With chocolate sauce on top.”

I took a deep breath. “He asked me to meet them for dinner tonight. They’re having dinner with some people who worked at the nursing home where Marlene lived.”

“And you said no?”

“I told him I had a lot to do before I left in the morning.”

“Like what?”

“Research.”

“On?”

“The team.”

“You know every statistic for every team in the damn NFL. Whatever you think you need to learn, you don’t.”

She was probably right. I glanced at the time on my phone. “Dinner is probably half over already.”

“Go bring him dessert.”

Willow

Laughing over dinner with a man more than twice his age was the first time I saw the old Brody I knew. The sixteen-year-old boy who was filled with cocky arrogance, yet unlike most boys his age, had everything to back up that arrogance. Even more so today.

I watched as Brody swallowed a bit of his meal, mesmerized by the squareness of his jawline. The angles had become even more prominent over the years, turning a boy with some softness in his features to a man with hard, chiseled lines. The start of a five o’clock shadow ran along his tanned jaw, bringing a darker shade to his skin that made his pale green eyes appear even more startling.

He caught me staring and furrowed his brows, then gave me a hint of a smile that made me feel like we were the only two in on a secret before he went back to talking to Grouper.

I was quiet while we finished our meal. As the seconds ticked by, I became acutely aware that we had only hours left. After tonight, there was really no reason for us to see each other. Marlene had been the only thing that bound us together at this point. And she was gone. The thought created a physical ache in my chest.

“You okay?” After we had said goodbye to Grouper and Shannon, Brody and I walked to the elevator bank together.

I nodded.

He pushed the seven button for me and thirty-three for him. When we reached my floor, I stepped out, and Brody held one arm up against the top of the sliding doors, stopping them from closing. “I have practice at nine. Coach has been good about my missing and being late the last week. But if I’m not back on time tomorrow, he’s gonna have my ass. I’ll meet you for breakfast at seven and drop you on my way?”

Uptown wasn’t on his way at all, but I agreed anyway. I’d take whatever I could get.

My hotel room was quiet. I’d always hated the quiet—it left nothing to drown out my thoughts. More so now that I was sober. That was the most difficult part of sobriety—the inability to escape my own thoughts.

Over the last few years, I’d thought of Brody almost daily. But over the last few weeks, I’d found myself constantly wondering what things would’ve been like for us if I had never disappeared that last time. If my life hadn’t spiraled out of control. Would we still be together? Be married? My thoughts were always filled with
what if.

I showered and flicked on the TV for company, burying myself under the covers in an attempt to get lost in a show. The first channel I landed on, a couple was in the throes of a passionate kiss. Brody was an amazing kisser. So dominant and controlling, he didn’t kiss gently. There was always a rawness to the way his mouth consumed mine. I reached up and ran my fingers over my lips, letting my eyes flutter closed in memory.

What if . . . 

I flipped the channel. FX was replaying a series that had wrapped up last year,
Sons of Anarchy,
an inside look at motorcycle gangs. It was filled with guns and violence.
Perfect.

I watched for a few minutes. Then suddenly the scene of a group of leather-vest-wearing bikers in a clubhouse was over, and I was staring at the tattooed back of a naked blond man. The camera panned down to the man’s taut ass as he furiously pumped inside of a woman. She moaned.
Brody was so good with that incredible body.
God, it had been a long time since a man had made me moan.

What if . . . 

I flipped the channel again.

ESPN was showing highlights from last weekend’s football games. The Philadelphia quarterback sailed the ball into the end zone and into the hands of a wide receiver. He pumped his fist and celebrated the game win.
Brody and I used to celebrate game wins in his bedroom.
I literally shook the thought from my head and clicked the remote.

What if . . . 

I needed to clear my head of Brody. Flipping back to the hotel’s information channel, I gave up on television and clicked on music. The screen displayed choices like Top 40, Classic Rock, Hip Hop, and Country. I picked Classic Rock. Bad Company’s “Feel Like Making Love”
streamed through the television.

God, I really did . . . 

I listened to Paul Rodgers sing about golden dreams of yesterday for as long as I could. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I flipped to Country Music. Alan Jackson’s “Remember When” blared about remembering your first time.

Brody was my first.

The universe was completely out to get me.

Or . . . 

Maybe it was a sign.

What if . . . 

There were dozens of songs on my playlist that reminded me of Brody. I always skipped over them but never deleted any.

What if . . . 

After tomorrow, there would be nothing keeping us connected.

I didn’t want to spend a lifetime hitting skip.

Always wondering . . . 

What if . . . 

It was time I deleted them all and moved on, or let the songs play.

My life was filled with so many regrets. In that moment, I knew if I didn’t at least try, it would be the decision I regretted the most. I ripped the covers back, got out of bed and dressed, my mind jumping all over the place. The chances of Brody still having any feelings other than disdain and hatred for me were practically nonexistent. But . . . 

What if . . . 

I had forgotten to give Brody his elevator key card back the other day. He wouldn’t even know I was coming up to his suite until he opened the door. Not giving myself enough time to think about all the reasons I shouldn’t, I took the elevator to the penthouse. I had no idea what I was going to say or do. I only knew it was my last chance, and I didn’t want to live wondering
what if.

Brody answered on the first knock. He was still wearing the slacks from his suit, but his dress shirt and belt were unbuttoned.
God, he’s magnificent.

“Willow?” I still hadn’t said a word. “Everything okay?”

I shook my head, and we stared at each other for a long moment. “Can I come in?”

For a second, I thought he might turn me away. He closed his eyes, but when he reopened them, he stepped aside for me to enter.

Delilah

Indie would have laughed at me. I stood in line at the late-night grocery down the street from the Regency with an assortment of pastries from the bakery counter that was just about to close. When she’d told me to bring Brody dessert, cannolis had been the furthest thing from her mind.

I knew I was totally stalling. After Drew, I’d never thought I would feel like this about another man. When Brody’s name flashed on my screen, it made me smile. Seeing him in person made my heart beat faster. Sometimes I read a simple text from him a dozen times.

The thing was, with Drew, it was different. I could make a list of a million things I loved about him. I thought that was what true love was. Logical. Practical. Love was a list of tangible things that said he was the right guy.

But with Brody, I couldn’t find the words to describe what I felt about him. I could probably make a list of a million reasons I should have stayed away. Yet I knew in my heart he was the one. My soul had picked him, not my mind.

The checkout line was flanked by racks of seasonal impulse buy items. Pink school erasers with turkeys stamped on them, small painted pumpkins, packs of NFL trading cards. I brought the eraser to my nose, the smell reminding me of elementary school. I tossed a few in my basket, along with a handful of trading card packages. By the time the cashier got to me, my stall had cost me thirty-three dollars.

The empty elevator made up for lost time. It sped up to Brody’s floor so fast, my head felt a little lightheaded when I stepped off. A mixture of excitement and nervousness hit me as I raised my hand to the door.

My knock was light but echoed through the quiet hallway.

I waited. My heartbeat accelerated as the seconds passed.

Maybe he was sleeping already?

I knocked again. The second time louder.

Footsteps vibrated on the floor as they neared.

When the door swung open, I lifted the cannolis, dangling the bakery box by its red-and-white string. “Thought you might like some dessert?”

Brody was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to the service. Well, actually, it looked as if he had just been interrupted from undressing. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, the belt on his fitted slacks was hanging loose, and his feet were already bare. My first thought when I saw him was,
What a waste it was to buy cannolis when there are better things to eat.

I smiled. But something in his eyes made my heart sink before he uttered a word.

He turned, glancing back into his hotel suite. When he faced me, his expression said everything. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Should I leave?”

“No. It’s just . . . Willow came up a few minutes ago and—”

“Willow is in your hotel room with you?”

He dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like. I swear.”

“Then tell me. What is it?” I peered into Brody’s suite and saw Willow standing in the living room. Her feet were bare, and she was watching us from a distance.

“She needed a friend. It’s been a rough few days.”

“And you were going to console her while you were half-dressed. . . in your hotel room?”

“That’s not what I was going to do.”

“Tell me then.” I raised my voice. “What the fuck were you going to do?”

“Nothing. I just couldn’t . . . I couldn’t turn her away.”

“Why not?”

Brody held my stare. “Because I couldn’t.”

I dropped the cannoli box and turned back to the elevator. The damn car had already disappeared. I pushed the button twenty times, desperate to get the hell out of there.