27. HOPE
CHAPTER 27
HOPE
T he 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.
I lean my back against the door. Boy am I glad he’s not the only one who’s sick, otherwise explaining this to my boss would be a lot more complicated. I take my phone from the pocket of my joggers and dial Steve.
“Good morning.” As I say this, I sniffle naturally because that’s what you do when you get a sudden tickle inside your nose.
“Oof, let me guess. You caught the bug too.”
“I think so.”
He sighs. “Well, get some rest and come back if you feel better in a couple of days.”
“Thanks and sorry.” We know the drill, the players’s safety is our top priority and any time anyone gets anything remotely contagious, we have to use our paid time off to stay home and protect them. It’s part of what makes my job completely unpredictable, aside from all the travel I have to do with the team.
We end the call and I change gears. I dump my duffel bag containing all the clothes, toiletries, equipment, and snacks I usually cart back and forth to work every day in a corner of my room. Turns out I won’t need it for a few days. Instead, I march to my closet to take out a different bag and dump some comfier clothes and a couple of books about kinesthesia that I’ll finally have the time to read.
In the kitchen, I leave a message on the magnetic whiteboard tacked on the fridge to let the girlies know what’s what, then I send a text to my dad.
Me
Heads up, I got sick and am OMW to spend it with you
Mi Papá
What kind of sick?
Me
The kind that can’t be propagated to players any further
Mi Papá
But it’s okay if I get it??
Me
Yes, sorry
Mi Papá
Está bien, quedará en tu conciencia
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. If Eduardo and I didn’t kill him when we were kids coming from school with anything between chickenpox and stomach bugs, a little common cold won’t defeat him either.
But then his three dots appear again right before a new text.
Mi Papá
BTW I’m out with my pickleball friends
I’ll bring you something greasy
Snorting, I shake my head. He’s the one I get my early bird ways from, but even I admit that if the day comes that I can retire like him, I don’t plan on waking up any time before seven in the morning. One extra hour of sleep is the least I’d deserve after a lifetime of working for someone else.
Me
Make it extremely cheesy xfa
He sends me a thumbs up emoji and we have a deal.
The drive to my childhood home goes by quickly because traffic isn’t brutal yet. His car is gone already, but I still park by the curb so he has the easier access to the front door. This one isn’t some fancy model like the ones at a certain pitcher’s house, and I unlock it with an old school key.
I drag my feet around the house the same way I used to when I returned home after school, exhausted and sleepy after studying all day and then doing my extracurriculars. I was in track and softball, because only one thing was never enough, and also because I figured learning to run would make me a better softball player. It worked, I guess, because I played in college. In fact, Dad still has a few of my medals hanging in the living room walls along with the family pictures.
I stop by one of Mom’s that Dad must’ve taken himself. Newborn me is in her arms, while a small and cute Eduardo Jr. clings to her skirt. Geez, what happened to him to become exactly the opposite? My eyes return to Mom’s face for a second, though, lingering on features that are now very clear on my face. The same defined eyebrows and dark eyes, the same kind of wide smile.
“Genes, man.” I sniff.
I tear myself from the spot and keep trudging to my old room. After dumping my travel bag at the foot of the bed, I let myself drop on my bed face down. I kind of smush my nose but I don’t care, I’m too tired to move now. I’m glad I was okay yesterday and could help Cade out a bit, though.
“Cade,” I whisper, savoring how his name rolls off my tongue easier than it should. I bury my face against my mattress, although there’s no one else here that I should hide my blush from.
Me muero.
I’ve been trying not to think about it since the moment I left his house, but I’m not that good at compartmentalizing. And let’s be honest, that was pretty memorable. One thing was the accidental cuddling he clearly has no recollection of, but another entirely was me purposely hugging him.
An unidentified sound comes out of my throat, the result of embarrassment mixing together with the feminine urge to squeal and curse at the same time.
Because what the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. I was overcome by so much emotion once Mrs. Gonzalez, the cleaning lady, put together the final piece of the Cade Starr puzzle. I apologized for having acted like a turd to him. And now I feel like I should apologize for being so much nicer after learning about this aspect of his life, when I’m sure all he wanted was to be treated as usual. And then I went and said I want to use his first name from now on?
“Ugh. Ugh! ”
Of course he wouldn’t say no. He was sick. His brain wasn’t working as usual, as exemplified by the sleepy cuddles. I bet he was weirded out that I freaking hugged him.
I turn my face so I can breathe again, and there’s a tickle in my nose that propels me—albeit slowly—to the bathroom to blow my nose. Afterward, I look at myself in the mirror and my whole face is a tomato.
“We can never face him again,” I say to my reflection and she shakes her head back at me. “What would Mom have done?” I ask mirror-me, but she doesn’t answer back.
Probably apologize , I think with a huff.
Slowly, I trudge back to my bed and this time I sit on it in a more civilized way. I stretch to remove my cell phone from the front pocket of my joggers, scroll and tap until I find his text message chat.
My thumb hovers without doing anything for a long moment.
“Mom, make me brave,” I whisper and maybe it’s placebo, maybe it isn’t, but I finally go for it.
Me
How are you feeling today?
And now I wait for him to give me an opening. It’s early and I’m sure he’s going to sleep in while he recovers. I leave my phone on the bedside table, right next to the smiley face alarm clock that I spent weeks saving for in middle school. Shuffling without leaving the bed, I open my bag and pluck one of the kinesthesia books to settle into bed with.
I’m tucked in and comfy, only as far as page two of the introduction, when my phone buzzes. I chuck the book at my mattress and grab my phone.
Annoying Cowboy
Still sluggish
Thanks for asking, darlin’
I suck air through my teeth. These days that darlin’ of his is hitting me differently, and I hate it because it’s all in my head.
Me
Hope
Remember?
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, smacking my forehead. I was supposed to be apologizing for that and not digging my heels further.
Me
Actually
Only if you want to
I don’t want you to feel like I coerced you into dropping the last names just because you were sick
He sends the emoji with flat lips and a raised eyebrow.
Annoying Cowboy
Please darlin’, I agreed of my own free will
I mean, Hope
It’ll take some used to, is all
Me
Sure, I’ll still call you Cowboy sometimes
Biting my lip, I tackle the other topic too now that the easiest one has been cleared.
Me
And um, also
I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday
Annoying Cowboy
For making me soup?!
Me
No, I mean for um…
I hugged you without your consent and I AM SO SORRY!!!! That should never have happened. I literally don’t know what came over me. I totally understand if you don’t want to work with me ever again, I’ll figure out a way to get you assigned to Otto or Steve every time. I’M REALLY SORRY and ohmygosh I’M SORRY FOR TREATING YOU DIFFERENTLY I’m sure you get so much crap from people for your origins and I just acted impulsively based on my own emotions without considering for a second how that might make you feel. I made you uncomfortable DIDN’T I?? Cade I’m sorry, you don’t need to forgive me just know that I really regret it
I hit send on what ends up being the single chunkiest paragraph I’ve ever written in my life. I press my curled fingers against my mouth, waiting for a response.
The word read appears under my text, and his three dots aren’t showing up.
I run my eyes through the text, cringing at the horrible punctuation and at how unhinged I sound, and try to put myself in his shoes. He must be calling up his lawyer to get a restraining order against me.
But then something terrible happens.
He calls me on FaceTime.
Yelping, I sit up so fast that the whole room spins. I check my reflection in the screen and the good news is that I’m not so red anymore, only my nose is. My hair’s a mess because I let it loose, and I quickly comb my fingers through it before accepting the call.
Oh my?—
A tiny squeak lodges in my throat at the sight that greets me. The cowboy is in bed, face down, his smushed cheek making his lips jut out. His hair’s a rat’s nest worse than mine and the scruff is scruffing way harder today. But the worst part is that I can see part of his shoulder and back and know he’s shirtless again.
And that transports me to seeing him on his bed in that exact same state, and how that awakened every hormone that has been dormant in my body for the past two years.
That has to be why I acted like a fool in his kitchen.
“What the hell are you talking about, Hope? ” The extra emphasis on my name with his extra raspy morning voice is weakening my legs. Good thing I’m sitting.
I sniffle and rub my nose with the heel of my free hand. “I thought I was very clear.”
He scrunches up his pretty face. “What part of me hugging you back made you think I wasn’t okay with that?”
“Well, you were sick and…” And I have proof that you weren’t all in your usual state. But fessing up to how he cuddled me pretty intimately would make this conversation so much worse, so I stay mum.
“And I was totally fine with a little comfort.” He moves the screen closer to his face and the closeup is about to give me a heart attack. “Hey, why is your nose doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“That.” He points his finger at the screen when I sniffle again. “Are you crying or are you sick?”
Sigh, I respond with, “The latter. I’ve also been put off duty.”
“That sucks.” After a moment, he adds, “I have some soup that someone made me. Want some?”
My lips twitch. “I’m sure that person would want you to eat all of it.”
“Yeah, she would. It seems to me like she worked very hard at it. One second.” He sets the phone on the bed, facing up to his ceiling. All I hear is some grunting until the image swirls and he’s back on the screen. This time he’s face up, using one arm to prop his head higher on the pillow, which makes his bicep bulge beautifully. He must be holding the phone up quite high considering how much bare chest he’s showing too. “So, what are your plans now that you’re down too? Napping?”
I force myself to look at his face, but it’s not like I’m immune to the scruff either. Clearing my throat, I utter a weak, “Maybe.”
“Do you sleep half naked too?”
It takes a moment for my brain to process his words, and right when I think I must’ve imagined them, his lips stretch into a cheeky grin that shows all pearly whites.
“Cade Starr!”
“Oh, so we went from last name base, to first name base, to full name base?”
I splutter. “I meant basis. Not base.”
“I kinda like base better.”
I almost fold my arms, except one is busy holding the phone up. “And anyway, what’s it to you?”
He shrugs. “Just wondering what to watch out for if I ever need to go rescue you in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t need rescuing. I’m a self sufficient woman.” I close my mouth for a second. “Except for that one time with the horrible date.”
“Of course.” He coughs and it seems part of an act, until the cough keeps going.
“I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Take a nap, Cade.”
His eyebrows twitch but then his expression softens. “You too, Hope. I hope this doesn’t hit you too hard. I also hope to see you at the ballpark soon.”
“Hardy har har.”
His smile now is dangerous, the kind that goes viral on social media. “Get some rest, darlin’.”
“You too, Cowboy,” I grouch because it’s either that or swoon on camera.
We end the call and I collapse on my back, arms spread eagle across the bed, blinking up at the ceiling and wondering how that innocent little phone call could make me feel even more screwed than before.