Chapter 26
I don’t know how many times I’ve looked at the photo of the bald woman with the henna tattoo on her head on Tai’s social media page, but every time I do, a surge of strength pulses through me.
The caption under the photo says it all: Beautiful.
Brave. A warrior off to battle. Tai had given this woman armor as she’d marched off to fight cancer.
You can be just as brave. You can be just as beautiful, a small voice whispers to me whenever I look at her radiant, smiling face daring the world to contradict her.
I don’t believe the voice yet. There are still doubts. Weeds left too long that have grown roots too deep to dig out in a day.
But it’s a start, I think. A small hope that even though I’m stuck now, maybe I won’t be stuck forever. Maybe one day when I look at my reflection, I won’t see myself through Brett’s eyes.
Anticipation hums through my veins. I temper the feeling but don’t quash it completely like I would’ve even a day ago.
Tai will be here in a few minutes to take me to the baseball game, and I’ve accepted the truth that I’ve known all along but didn’t want to admit—he’s one-hundred-percent hero material.
Maybe slightly morally gray with the whole I’ll-help-you-but-only-if-you-go-out-with-me thing, and I’m sticking to my guns about him being a rake, although maybe a less philandering one since he swears he flirts only with me.
But that just means he’s layered. Three-dimensional and full-bodied. Like the best heroes are.
My character status, however . . .
Well, it’s still a little less certain. I’m still not a heroine. But that quiet voice inside my head whispers back, yet. I’m not a heroine yet. But the possibility is there when I’ve not seen it since losing my hair and Brett leaving me.
I’ve decided I’m going to approach today as a heroine practice day. Kind of like trying on a pair of shoes and seeing how they fit. What will allowing myself to step into center stage of my own life feel like? Tailor-made or forever the wrong size?
The doorbell rings just as I finish dabbing on a little lip gloss. Kitty Purry lifts her head from where she’s curled up on my pillow, blinks at me, then goes back to her nap.
I’ve forgone my usual pencil skirt in favor of a pair of skinny jeans but have donned my usual bookish tee. This one sports Louisa May Alcott’s famous quote, She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.
I grab my purse, which has a loaded Kindle in it because I don’t leave the house without reading material and I can’t see myself paying attention to the game for nine straight innings, then I open the door.
Tai stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug his hips and an Atlanta Braves jersey that makes him look like he should be the newest draft to the team.
A baseball cap with the franchise’s signature tomahawk is settled on his head.
He flicks the flat brim up and sweeps a glance down my body.
I flush, warmth filling every pore as he scans the length of me.
“This won’t do at all,” he says softly as he takes a step forward, invading my space.
It’s disconcerting how close our faces are, how our bodies line up perfectly. How each of my muscles immediately goes taut simply because of his proximity. Awareness tingles down my spine like old friends recently reunited.
I should take a step back. Or maybe not? Heroines stand their ground, don’t they?
Slowly and without breaking eye contact, Tai lifts his hand and removes his hat.
His inky hair shines in the morning sunlight.
Despite how much I hate reading the phrase in books, I really do want to run my fingers through his hair right now.
I’m not sure of his intent until I feel the band of his cap touch the top of my wig.
All thoughts of how his hair would feel between my fingers vanish.
Panic pulses in surging waves. My eyes widen.
My heart pounds. My breathing labors. Any second the hat or his hand is going to knock my wig askew or pull it off completely.
When that happens, it’ll be like I’m standing naked in front of him.
I can’t let him see me like that.
I can’t.
The palm of his other hand gently slides against the side of my neck and anchors me to the spot, cutting off my escape. His eyes still haven’t left mine. It’s as if they’re saying It’s okay. Trust me.
I don’t have time to make a decision because a second later the hat is settled on my head. My wig didn’t so much as shift. My secret is still safe. Tears of relief stab at the back of my eyes, but I blink them back.
Tai smiles softly, releasing his hold on me and taking a step back. “There. Have to show team spirit in the stands.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammer, still trying to get ahold of myself. This heroine practice day is off to a seriously rocky start.
“It looks good on you.”
I smile my thanks and follow him to his car, where he opens the door for me.
Once we turn out of my driveway, I think I’ve pulled myself together enough to talk without stuttering.
“Are you a big baseball fan?” There. That came out in a perfectly normal pitch.
“My childhood dream was to play professionally.”
I remember watching him at the game I’d attended to get intel on Dalton. He’d been the best player out on the field. “What happened?”
“An asthma attack between second and third base,” he says casually, the same way he’d state that he’d simply changed his mind.
For the next 110 miles we talk about baseball.
How he never fell out of love with the sport and how he’d felt the first time he’d picked up a bat as an adult and overcome a decade of being denied the opportunity to play.
I tell him the story of how my parents met at a professional game and were victims of the kiss cam.
I love the story, but I can’t help the sadness that creeps in.
I can’t help but wonder what my mom would say to me if she were here now.
“Are you okay?” Tai asks, observant to my change in mood.
“I just miss them. Which is silly because they died when I was so young that I don’t even have any memories of them. Just the stories my grandparents have told me.”
“That’s not silly.”
He doesn’t ask me how they died, but I find myself wanting to tell him anyway.
“My father always had an interest in aviation and was taking flying lessons at a small municipal airport so he could get his pilot’s license.
My mom went with him and his teacher on one of his training flights.
Something went wrong with the plane and, well, it crashed.
The three of them lost their lives that day. ”
Tai reaches over the center console and squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
After a moment, he returns his grip to the steering wheel, leaving me to wrestle with the unexpected disappointment that follows being bereft of his touch.
The drive should have felt long and tedious, but before I know it, Tai is pulling his car into a parking garage near Truist Park.
People are making their way to the entrance, and we join the melee.
The attendant scans the QR code on Tai’s phone for our tickets, and we push our way through the turnstile and into the stadium proper.
“Should we hit the concession stand now before the game starts or sometime between one of the innings?” Tai eyes a large box of Cracker Jack that one of the other spectators is holding.
Tai’s tough guy shell is hiding a five-year-old little boy at its center. It might as well be Christmas morning for the excitement buzzing off of him.
“I think the correct answer to that question is yes, both, and all of the above.”
He beams when he looks at me. “A woman after my own heart.”
He’s joking. I know he doesn’t mean anything by the words.
It’s just a saying. I shouldn’t let myself read into it, but I’m overly sensitive today.
Reflection and soul-searching will do that to a person.
And now that I’ve started, it doesn’t seem that I can stop.
Do I want to be a woman set after Tai Davis’s heart?
I blink and notice Tai is ten feet in front of me, beelining for a vendor. I hurry to catch up and arrive at his side at the same time he exchanges a crisp bill for two boxes of Cracker Jack.
Tai turns and holds out a box to me. “Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd,” he sings with a grin.
I roll my eyes as I grab the box, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he raises his brows expectantly.
“Isn’t this song saved for the seventh-inning stretch?” I do not want to sing. Granny says I sound like a frog that’s just been stepped on any time I try to carry a tune.
Tai shakes the box and grins wider. He still has that five-year-old little boy look about him, and I find that I can’t disappoint a younger Tai.
“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don’t care if I never get back.”
If I thought he’d been beaming at me before, then I don’t know what the look he’s directing at me now is. It radiates over me, casting me in a warm glow.
It’s joy, I finally settle on. And delight. Tai Davis delights in . . . me.
He tugs me along, and we find our seats behind home plate.
I try to get comfy in the pull-down plastic chair and count my blessings that at least they aren’t metal bleachers.
The players from each team come onto the field and line up in front of their dugouts, hats over their hearts as a local musician sings the national anthem.
“Play ball!” is shouted, and the crowd cheers.
I’ve never been much of a baseball fan, but I have to admit that seeing a game in person is a lot different than watching one on TV.
There’s an energy to the crowd that’s hard to ignore, and I find myself cupping my hand over my mouth and yelling in protest along with other fans when a runner is called out when he was clearly safe.
Well, it was clear to everyone who wanted him to get the run, anyway.
Tai grins at my enthusiasm. He pops a handful of caramel-coated popcorn and peanuts into his mouth. It’s the start of the fifth inning, and the Braves are jogging to take their places on the field.
“So, how’s the matchmaking been going? Anyone fall in love yet?” He smirks in my direction. Probably because he somehow knows no one has been cooperating with my plans.
I shake out some popcorn into a cupped hand. “Not yet, but I’m still working on it.”
“Not one to give up, huh?”
“No.”
“You and I have that in common then.” His attention is fixed on me, and I can’t pretend to not grasp his meaning—that he also is not going to give up on the idea of us together.
“I’m not heroine material,” I blurt out of seemingly nowhere. My hand shoots to my mouth, scattering popcorn everywhere, but the damage is done. I can’t unsay the words.
Tai’s taken aback but recovers quickly. “Pardon?”
I lower my hand and clear my throat. “In answer to your question of what life lesson I have learned the hard way. That’s the lesson I’ve learned. I’m not heroine material.”
He blinks and visibly collects himself. “I thought you’d either forgotten the questions or had decided to ignore them entirely.” He shifts his body in his seat and squares off with me, his hands rising to hold the sides of my face and force me to look him in the eyes.
“Now you listen to me and you listen to me well, Evangeline Victoria Kelly. Whoever told you you’re not a heroine is a liar.
A heroine is determined. Compassionate. She loves unconditionally, and she doesn’t need a man to rescue her.
She may be flawed, but she never stops learning and growing or making the world a better place for the people around her.
You are a heroine, Angel. Don’t let anyone tell you or make you feel differently, do you hear me? ”
My heart swells in my chest, and it’s hard to keep the tears at bay. The dry and parched places of my soul are soaking up the words and reflection of myself that Tai’s offering me.
“Dude, you guys are on the Jumbotron.”
The man sitting behind us reminds me that Tai and I are not alone. And, apparently, we now have an audience of thousands. I look to center field, and, sure enough, Tai and I are being displayed in high def, the words Kiss Cam written on a banner at the bottom of the screen.
Tai’s hands are still cupping my face, and now his thumb is caressing my cheek, pulling my attention back to him. When I meet his gaze, I realize he’d never even looked away. He’d kept his eyes on me the entire time.
There’s a question in them as they sweep over my face, settle for a moment on my lips, then rise again to my eyes.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” the crowd chants around us.
I search for the cautionary voice in my head.
The one that warns against giving in to the moment.
That reminds me that Tai doesn’t know the whole truth about me.
That he hasn’t seen me how I truly am, and that if I lean into him now, I could lose my balance and fall completely and irrevocably, with only pain to follow.
But that’s not the voice I hear. Instead, I hear Tai’s low timbre claiming I’m a true heroine, not just a side character in my own story. That I’m worthy of moments just like this one. Besides, hadn’t I already decided I was going to use the day to see if I fit, even a little bit, into that role?
I close my eyes and hear Tai say, “You’re so beautiful,” and whether it’s the Tai in my mind or the one right in front of me, I don’t know.
I just know I’ve needed to hear—and listen—to those words for way too long, and the sound of them in my ear pushes me forward until my lips are met with Tai’s welcoming kiss.