Chapter 22
22
[Bolan]
F rom the moment I saw Ruthie in that ballroom, I sensed something familiar about her. Even flippantly asked if we’d been together because my memory is shit.
Last night, I didn’t know if that sense of recognition was heightened because I knew I’d only kiss her.
Or if it had been the kiss itself.
Or this strange sense that I’d kissed her before. Before the hallway, and the balcony, and the ballroom.
A dusty memory came to me while we were kissing. College and that damn kiss experiment. The professor blackmailing me, telling me if I didn’t participate, she’d flunk me in psychology, a required credit for graduation. Poor grades were also not acceptable to the team and could lead to a probationary period, or worse, removal.
And if I didn’t have baseball, I didn’t have anything .
The idea of Ruthie being that girl was silly. Surely, she’d remember me, right? Then again, that moment probably hadn’t made an impression on that girl.
She probably isn’t that girl .
I could shake the thought, but not the strange vibe humming through my body, and the constant desire to kiss Ruthie again.
Ruby’s interruption had been a bit of a buzz kill, but I could have picked us back up. Could have pressed my wife to the wall and ground into her some more. Could have taken her to the couch, or better yet, that damn king-sized bed.
But I didn’t want alcohol to be involved again in a moment with Ruthie.
Not that we were drunk the first time, or even last night. We were riding a high of good company, clean fun, and dancing, and I didn’t want anything that would spoil that buzz.
Still. Is she that girl? The one from the experiment? The girl I wasn’t allowed to contact again and eventually pushed out of my thoughts.
For weeks, she’d haunted my dreams, and I looked for her on campus, hoping to randomly run into her. Maybe the cafeteria. Hell, I’d even gone to the library a few times. Hoping. Wishing.
But when my mysterious kiss girl seemed to disappear, I moved on.
Just like I do when the game begins.
And when the Anchors have a two-game winning streak, I’m definitely thinking kisses from my wife are the lucky charm.
Of course, I don’t share that with the team. A player does not give away his superpower.
“Did you have fun last night?” Typically, I don’t think I’d worry, but Ruthie isn’t some random woman I don’t plan to see again. She’s my wife, and I want her to like me. Like my teammates. “Liked the guys? Enjoyed meeting Lacey?”
We’re sitting at our small dining table after the Anchors’ second win in a row, lingering despite dinner being finished. Ruthie picked up take out on her way home, and we ended up arriving at the apartment at roughly the same time.
She scoops a section of her blonde hair behind an ear. Her face turns a soft shade of pink, and I wonder if she’s remembering our kiss like I do. That hot moment in the hallway. Even holding her on the dance floor had been a grand slam.
“Yeah. Lacey was a bit . . . intense.” She lifts her head. “Did Cyrus cheat on her?”
My brows lift. I’m kicked back in the dining chair, legs spread wider than the seat and outstretched, heels digging into the floor. I’ve overexaggerated the sprawling position so my leg brushes Ruthie’s beneath the table. “Not that I know of. He’s always saying he wouldn’t be anywhere without her. They have three little boys.”
“Huh.” That’s the only response I get, and as much as I’d like to know more, I’m more concerned about my wife.
“I spoke to Jared earlier today.”
“Jesus.” I scrub down my face. “He’s worse than my dad was.”
“Really? What was your dad like?”
“Overbearing.”
“And now?”
I shrug. “We don’t talk as much. When I went to Japan, he told me a different country only meant different issues. When he heard about Tulane, he was less than pleased.”
When I’d called my dad to tell him he was a grandfather, I thought he might finally be happy for me. Even proud of me for manning up after I hadn’t known about Tulane. Thought he would be like my granddad, but my dad was not thrilled.
“ You’ve just ended your career. Kids ruin everything , he’d told me.” I mock his tone.
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a bitter man because of my mom.”
“I still can’t believe Joanna did that to you. Nylah never mentioned it. Hardly mentioned you, actually.” Ruthie’s brows pinch, possibly disappointed in her mother-in-law, definitely a little confused by the omission.
“Didn’t like to discuss her transgressions, I guess. Or the black sheep.” I pat my chest.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” she counters.
“You already know I’m trouble.”
“Maybe you were trouble. Before . But now you’re not.” Her gaze roams over my face.
“Are you calling me your good boy?” I tease.
“Do you want to be my good boy?” She arches a brow, and I dig my teeth into my lower lip. She can call me anything she’d like but her tone turns a little more serious when she continues. “I mean, look at you. Family man, having dinner at home. Hanging with your wife and child. So domestic.”
She pauses a second. “You must be so bored.”
I shift in my seat, pushing it back and twisting so I’m facing her better. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my thighs. My fingertips trace a circle on her kneecap. “I’m not bored. Not one bit.”
Surprisingly, I’m enjoying domestic life more than I thought I would. When Tulane came along, her presence was such a life adjustment, but I fell in love with my child. I want to be around her, making up for the time I missed.
And now, I’m falling in lo— I like my wife a lot.
When she softly smiles at me, I realize I’ll never be bored with her looking at me like she is. Like she’s a little thirsty for more kisses. Maybe even desperate for them, especially when I consider how she clings to me, like I’m not close enough. She wants me closer.
“How about your parents? You don’t ever mention them.” I sit back but keep my body sideways in the uncomfortable chair. I wish we were hanging on the couch, but I don’t want to burst this little bubble of conversation.
I don’t want to stop tracing over her skin.
“Oh, my parents weren’t the type who wanted to be parents. I was an oops.”
I smile until I realize Ruthie isn’t teasing. “They didn’t really tell you that you were a mistake, right?”
She ducks her head, shoving hair behind her ears again. “Not in so many words. But I spent a lot of time with babysitters and nannies and tutors.”
“Tutors?”
“Traveled a lot.” She doesn’t explain but continues, “When I was in high school, I was often left alone which suited me. I was quiet and shy, but then I met Clifton.”
My fucking cheating-ass cousin.
Ruthie smiles weakly. “Your typical mouse-girl and big cheese jock story.”
“Don’t call yourself a mouse.” I reach for her hand and link our fingers together in a playful handhold, realizing too late that I once compared her to a mouse, scurrying off to the larger bedroom each night when we first moved in. My wife is nothing like what I thought of her then.
“Anyway, I got swept up in his attention. His life, actually. And I fell in love with his parents.” She sighs, looking down at our joined hands. “I didn’t want to lose them.”
I squeeze her fingers. “I get that. Wanting to find a substitute family. Wanting any kind of parent. But did you stay with him because of them?”
Ruthie glances at her plate, covered in scraps and a paper napkin. “In some ways, maybe, yes. I was alone once again when Cliff played football. He was always busy. Then he joined the Army.”
I swallow, knowing our life is about to get even busier. I’ll be gone. She’ll be alone but I don’t want her feeling lonely. I’ll still be present for her, dedicated to her, wanting her.
“I was immersed in every part of their lives, right down to the family business.” Ruthie snorts. “But I am no fucking agent.”
“Whoa.” I sit up straight, squeezing her fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. You got a dirty mouth, flower?” I wiggle my brows because I definitely want to hear her talk naughty to me.
“No.” She giggles. “But I’m just saying . . . I’m not an agent and I told Jared that again. I feel silly being called your agent as I’m not doing anything but writing up a few reports.”
Wiggling my brows again, I tease. “Am I getting all As? Extra points for good behavior.”
“You’re a solid B-plus for Bolan. And no extra points needed for good behavior. You’re amazing.”
I sit taller, prouder, wanting her to always think so. I won’t even argue that I want an A for Adler. I’ll take any grade she gives me as long as I’m not failing her.
“Jared did seem concerned about injury.”
“Worse thing that could happen, especially at my age.”
“That’s exactly what he said.” She taps her chin teasingly. “I think he used the term geriatric.”
“Hey now.”
“But seriously, I’ve been feeling guilty about that big bed.” Her cheeks twinge sweet pink. “It seems silly to sleep in it alone when there is plenty of space for two.”
Holy fast balls, yes . But that would not be a good idea. I can’t sleep next to her. I’d want to cuddle her, which would lead to wanting to touch her, which would lead to wanting to please her.
I mean, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and all, one of Tulane’s favorite books. I want the cookie and all that comes with it.
“We both know if I get in that bed with you, I’m gonna want to do things. Things I’m not certain you’re ready to do again.”
Ruthie chews at her lower lip, her eyes light with possible desire but definite hesitation.
“I promised patience, flower. And I’m willing to wait for you to get there with me.”
Her head tilts. “Get where?” She could be flirting but I’m serious.
“You just asked me about Cyrus cheating on Lacey, and I know how Clifton treated you. Sounds like you had shitty parents, like me, so I want you to see I’m not like any of them. I’m committed.” I focus on her eyes. “I’m the color white.”
She smiles softly. I like this color game we’ve started, but I’m not playing with her feelings. I’m committed to Tulane and baseball, and now Ruthie. I’m not going to fuck this up.
Which means I’m definitely not mentioning that kiss experiment and the girl.
Ruthie drops a bomb next. “I need to go back to California before heading to Chicago.”
“What? Why?”
“I have a house there. I need to figure out what to do with it.”
I’d love to tell her to sell it, especially if she once shared it with Clifton, but I don’t feel it’s my place to say such a thing.
“Plus, Nylah and Jared want to see me. Proof of life,” she jokes, but she video calls them at least once a week. They’ve seen her. She looks good. She’s fucking beautiful.
“It will only be for a few days.”
“The turnaround between our leaving Arizona and heading out for our first away series is quick,” I remind her. The season starts in St. Louis for the Anchors before opening day at the iconic Anchor Field in Chicago.
“I know.” She hangs her head.
“What about Tulane?”
Her head lifts again and her eyes soften. Her voice is hesitant when she suggests, “I could take her with me.”
I trust Ruthie. Trust her with Tulane. But there is something I don’t like about her taking Tulane to California with her.
I’m afraid Ruthie won’t return for me . She’ll go back to California and realize she’s made a big mistake. She’ll beg Jared to get her out of our contract, and Tulane and me will be a party of two again, when I’m enjoying our family of three.
“No,” I say softly. “I’ll figure something out.” I don’t know what or how, and I realize I’ve become too reliant on Ruthie. I’m a project for her, when she’s becoming so much more to me. And to Tulane. I have no doubt Ruthie loves my kid and maybe likes me a lot, but I have my doubts about her falling in love with me and wanting to keep our commitment for more than a year.
Maybe I’m just a dumb jock thinking of us in terms of forever.
“I don’t want to put you in a bind. You’ll be gone for those first few days anyway, and Tulane won’t be any trouble.”
“No, I got it. She’s my kid.” I stand abruptly, hearing a sharp gasp from Ruthie, but not acknowledging it. I’m frustrated. I don’t want her going back to California, and I wish I could go with her if she must, but I can’t.
With my back to her, I set my plate in the sink and rest my hands on the edge of the countertop. I need to remind myself it’s always going to be Tulane and me against the world, and I should be working on finding a nanny in Chicago. I’ve been spoiled with Ruthie pitching in and so easily taking care of my little one.
Her hand comes to my lower back, and I stiffen. “Bolan? ”
“It’s nothing.” I twist my head to look over my shoulder, hating how her face looks stricken and confused. “We’ll miss you,” I say, only half-heartedly, when my whole heart feels a little raw. I turn to face her and pull her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, loving how she falls against me. Her arms circle my waist.
“I’ll be back,” she says, her voice quiet, almost like she isn’t certain.
It’s only for a few days . I can do this. I lived without her before, but the issue is I’m becoming used to living with her.