49. Dakota
49
DAKOTA
Ouch.
Every square inch of my body is screaming in glorious agony.
I can’t help but smile, reliving the best night of my life.
I can still feel the imprints of Callaway’s hands pressing into my skin, calluses chiseling into my dips and curves.
God, that was incredible. He was incredible.
I’ve never felt so worshiped in my life—like he had nowhere else to be but where my pleasure was. Feeling such a deep layer of confidence with someone, especially someone you love, is liberating. My heart takes flight at the thought… Cal loves me. I’ve always felt it from him. He's never been one to shy away from his feelings, but he has somewhat remained guarded amid his pursuit, likely to protect his heart from my indecisiveness.
Although nothing about my feelings for him has ever been a matter of do I want to be with him, but more so can I allow myself to be with him. It seems silly and juvenile to think about now.
I never stood a chance against my own heart .
He’s too easy to love.
I look at the giant beautiful man taking up the entire length of my bed, and my heart feels so full. Even in his sleep, he looks majestic.
How can men wake up looking like a fallen God is beyond me. I won’t complain about the view, though. His muscles and tattoos are on full display for me to shamelessly admire, the corded veins in his neck bulging even in his relaxed state. I think I’m a freaky little ho for some thick veins.
Who would've ever thought?
Callaway has now cleared out my cobwebs, leaving my lady bits alive and well, ready for the Greek god sleeping next to me to show them some attention.
That thought might have to take the backseat because even laying here feels like a boulder block is weighing on my vagina. Have mercy. It looks like I’m out of commission because I’m not sure I can move without crying out in pain.
He should be proud of a job well done.
Deciding to let Cal sleep, I lift my sore body off the bed, my sights set on a hot shower to hopefully cure this soreness.
Big dick trauma .
I have to bite back my whimper as jolts like lightning strike my insides. If I can hop or crawl, I can make it to the bathroom.
“Need me to carry you, angel?” His groggy sleep voice filters the room.
Lovely, I woke him up. Giggling lightly, attempting to remain calm and mask my pain, I choke out, “Nope, I’ve got this. Get your beauty sleep, big guy.” I force myself to move quickly into the bathroom after seeing him roll over, shutting the door quietly behind me.
With one glance in the mirror, I see the souvenir Callaway left me from our night in the sheets front and center on my face. I’m covered in his dried cum, what’s left of it, at least.
I remember feeling him clean me off, but we both must have been so delirious we didn’t notice the poor job.
Cute, Dakota, cute.
I’m smirking before I realize it, loving that he marked me enough to leave a visual for me to wake up to. He did promise to make a mess of me, and it’s evident he’s true to his word.
Mission accomplished, Mr. Hayes.
After washing myself clean, I wrap myself in a towel, apply my morning skincare, and brush my teeth, looking forward to what today holds.
The carwash fundraiser starts in a couple of hours supporting Jack and Taylor. Navy busted her ass to make this happen and quickly, giving Jack no room to fight us on it.
He thinks the guys are meeting at Smoothie King to get together outside the field for once. Little does he know, everyone who loves him will be there, ready to flaunt their bodies for a cause. I’ll take the opportunity to support my boss and friend, while teasing Callaway in public, a victory I’ll gladly claim.
Let’s hope I can walk without looking like a newborn calf.
Opening the bathroom door, my attempt at holding in the groans fighting to escape my mouth stops short at the sight of Callaway sitting at the end of my bed with a photo in his hands—a familiar photo of my parents, to be specific.
I’m not sure I can process what’s happening before he speaks up, my presence announced in the room, instantly bringing tears to my eyes. “She looks like you.”
My heart is in my stomach; I do look like her. Our eyes and hair are almost identical, both with hazel eyes, although Mom’s hair is slightly darker than mine. I don’t know how else to respond.
“Yeah, she did.”
I wouldn’t say I’m upset he went through my things. It’s my fault, I guess, for leaving the box out in the open. That part of my life has always felt solely mine, and I’ve never had anyone care enough to go there, in the emotional sense. It’s always been me and the memories of them that hold me together on the most challenging days.
Having someone from the outside who never knew them and wants to know about them throws me a little off-center.
I love him for noticing our resemblance. It was one of my favorite compliments to receive from strangers. Better yet, I would hope my heart displayed the likeness of hers. My mom loved boldly, and I felt it every day around her.
Lifting my head slightly, my eyes home in on the wilted frame from afar, gold pieces flaking from its age, leaving black knicks in their place. It feels freeing to look at it without feeling mind-numbing agony.
Callaway has yet to shift his eyes elsewhere, making my heart leap at the depth of his care for the two most influential people in my life.
I walk carefully in his direction, joining him at the side of the bed. The silence between us is deafening, but respect lingers.
Reaching my hand out to where the frame rests between his hands, I run my finger across Mom’s face as a tear escapes, blurring my vision. Elation over my emotional growth hits me, bringing tears of love and gratitude rather than sadness. I smile tenderly to myself.
“I haven’t been able to look at this photo since their death.” It’s a statement that has so much weight but now gives me the freedom to reminisce on the happier times with them.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I wish I could have met them.”
I wish that too.
I know my dad would have loved Cal. His love for baseball is the thing I know would’ve had them hitting it off from the start.
If I allow myself, I can dream of my dad and Callaway lounging on the couch watching the game while mom and I cooked, topping off their beers, and sipping our wine in the kitchen. She always served dad well, while he served her in other ways. It was always a give and take relationship with equal devotion to each other.
“They would have loved you.”
His soft smile brings a warmth to me I can’t explain. Callaway has become such a shelter of refuge for me. He’s been consistent in his care while I weathered and fought emotions that consumed me. I recognize I wouldn’t have made it to the healthy place I am now without him.
I need to let him know that.
My hand falls from the frame, grabbing his intimately, hoping my words of gratitude register with him. “I never thanked you,” his eyes shoot up in question, waiting for me to continue, “for seeing something in me no one else saw. I refused to be a burden to someone I care about with the weight of their deaths swallowing me whole. But you saw past that. You saw past my damage and gave me room to breathe and heal. I’m so thankful you cared enough to hold out for me. You never once doubted we would work out or pressured me to face it sooner than I was ready for. I’m madly in love with you for that. ”
I’ll never stop thanking him for pulling me out of the darkness—no task too big for my guy.
His features brighten with relief before he grabs the sides of my face and pulls me in for a deep kiss. The kiss is grounding. It’s our way of soaking in the connection we’ve developed and acknowledging what we mean to each other.
I’m glad I can finally explain the deepest parts of my heart to him.
Slowly pulling our lips apart, Callaway’s forehead finds mine, the stillness balancing us to each other. He feels like the other piece of me, like my piece won't operate properly without his half.
I’m positive that’s how it’s supposed to feel when you meet your match, and your endgame becomes your forever.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dakota.” He would never, and I know that.
“I know.”
“Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about, boys! Thirty grand in Leggins’s pockets. Talk about a solid win.”
Mack is doing his best to pump up the team for their efforts today.
The car wash was a success.
The staff and team raised thirty thousand dollars in four hours. That’s unheard of and is primarily a result of the players washing cars shirtless, and more than likely from King working the street corner attempting to sway customers to drive in.
Before we knew it, cars lined the hardware store parking lot past the Smoothie King entrance .
This will help Jack and Taylor immensely. Being a part of something at this level of importance is incredibly rewarding.
Callaway showed zero care for our obvious affection toward one another. It was almost like a switch flipped after last night, leaving him helpless against his need to touch me, be near me, and hold me. I loved every second of it. So much that I found myself searching for idle moments to steal him away and seal my lips over his.
After Callaway left this morning, he called within ten minutes, asking me to meet him for breakfast before the carwash. It was a very late breakfast, but who am I to say no to him?
Pancakes sounded like heaven after the night we had.
It feels so nice to go out in public together like an actual couple. Although we didn’t have much time until we needed to be back here to set up, something as simple as holding hands while walking into the restaurant felt like such a monumental thing for us. We’ve already made plans to spend the day at the beach on the team’s next off weekend.
I realize we will have plenty of chances to see each other, given we work together, but planning little things like beach walks and breakfast dates will give us something outside of the field to look forward to.
I’m excited for all the plans to come.
Spotting Navy cleaning up event materials under the shaded tent, I make my way over to congratulate my best friend on another successful turnout.
“What up, lady? You did incredible today, but no surprise there.”
Her talent continues to impress me. She laughs playfully, organizing the leftover tickets. “So did you, my friend. I can’t wait to see the photos you took. ”
I won’t lie; this was such an entertaining event to photograph.
The guys put on quite the show without one complaint. Gus was in charge of the playlist and almost every other song he played was either by Missy Eliot or Gretchen Wilson, two very opposite choices but true female icons.
The customers received their money's worth, and there was no woman objecting to a half-naked Striker rubbing his chest on her windshield. It’s hilarious how Callaway was convinced the women would bring in the attention.
The only eyes on me were from my caveman of a boyfriend .
Just the way I like it.
Every dance and desperate attempt at a donation was documented. I plan to assemble a scrapbook for Jack when we present him with the check.
“Got any plans after this? I could use a girl's night if you’re up for it. I have so much to tell you.” It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed my best friend. Navy never turns down a girl's night.
“Sorry, I can’t.” Until now. That’s strange.
“Oh, that’s okay. Everything alright?”
I’m worried about her, and I have been for some time now. I’m waiting for her to catch me up to speed. “Everything’s fine.”
She's distracting herself with mindless tasks, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m in the process of moving, that’s all.” What? Since when? I dart my hand out to grab the tickets, her fidgeting is making my eyes twitch.
“Navy, what are you talking about? Since when?”
Forwardness doesn’t work for everyone, but for Navy, it’s the only way she will talk. She can kiss my big ole ass if she thinks I’m letting this one slide without an explanation .
Stopping her motions altogether, her sorrowful eyes find mine, almost pleading with me not to take this too far. “I’m embarrassed, Kodi. That’s why. I told Luke I couldn't handle him trying to control every second of my life any longer, and he kicked me out. As in, I came home from work yesterday to my shit outside the apartment door.”
That asshole.
I never did like him. I hate that she didn’t call me. “Navy, I’m so sorry. But why didn’t you call me? I hate that I wasn't able to be there for you.”
A long exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks, “Kodi, you’ve been busy; that’s okay, my girl. I’m so happy for you and my brother. You’re living for once, and I refuse to throw my problems at you. I had help, I promise.”
I’m at least glad she wasn’t alone, but that doesn’t soften the blow of her feeling like I’m too busy for her.
Never.
I walk around to her side of the table and pull her into a side hug, one I know she will never tell me she needs.
I feel her body relax into our hug as I do my best to make sure she knows her place. “You, Navy Willow Hayes, are the number one in my life. Callaway comes second to you, and he knows it. Next time you need someone, you call me first, no questions asked, and I’ll be there. Promise me that?” Her eyes are clouded with tears.
I know how hard her ending things with Luke had to have been but seeing her finally value the incredible things she has to offer in a relationship makes me so proud of her. Luke has been an infectious disease, festering his bitterness in her life.
I grab a water bottle from the cooler and take a large gulp.
The heat does nothing but enhance my thirst, and reminds me that coffee is, in fact, not a proper form of hydration. I rebuke that .
My curiosity is piqued at the newly discovered fact of Navy having help. But by who whom?
Callaway has been with me; the only other person would be the not-to-be-named guy she dumped. That possibility is not likely.
“Who ended up helping you? The weight of your shoe collection alone would make a grown man's knees ache.”
Her love for fashion knows no end. I laugh to myself, waiting for her response. “Bodhi didn’t seem to have any issues carrying them.”
I’m sorry, what?
It looks like my water wanted to escape, at the rate it sprayed from my mouth, covering the table with my surprise. Good thing there’s nothing else to clean, or Navy would have my head, just like I’m about to have hers.
“Bodhi? Bodhi St. James? As in the catcher for the Strikers? Quiet, keeps to himself, Cal’s best friend, stays cooped up in the house alone, Bodhi?”
It’s like her admission has no faze on her. Well, it sure as hell fazes me. “The one and only. He’s been helping me a lot.”
That's news to me.
“Okay…that’s good, I guess. I’m glad he’s being a friend to you.”
That seems to appease her enough as she confirms all the donation money is secure, then zips up her backpack, leaving nothing but the two of us.
“He’s been a great friend. He’s letting me crash at the house until I find something more permanent.”
I can’t argue with him keeping her safe. I don’t know Bodhi well, and I feel I’m not the only one who feels that way, but he’s Callaway’s best friend, and I know there must be some good in him for that to be true. I’m going to trust he will take care of her. “I’m glad you found somewhere to stay, Navs. Just know you are always welcome at my place at any point if you change your mind. The doors always open.”
Her laughter throws me off. It’s the best sound coming from her, and like always, her predictability rears its head to bite me in the ass. “Oh, for the love of God, please don’t leave the door open for me. I’d never expose myself to that kind of trauma. Sorry, not sorry. Call me when your honeymoon phase is over, and the rabbit fucking is in the past.”
She’s so sweet to me.
It seems like we’re always in different seasons, but the intention we both put into our friendship makes it go the distance.
I can only hope Bodhi can live up to her challenge.
“You got it.”