25. The Math Works
25
The Math Works
Anton
R ose hugs Poppy, Noli, Mack, and Collin goodbye before they leave the stadium.
“We’ll see you tomorrow for book club,” Noli calls over her shoulder. “Don’t miss it.”
“Seeing as how I’m running it, I think I’ll be there,” Rose says with an eye roll. “Sisters,” she mutters.
I fight back a smile, even as the pit of longing in my chest turns into a Grand Canyon-style gorge. I envy the easy way the Kasper siblings interact and the love they extend to their family’s newest members, Mack and Collin. There’s obvious affection there.
As two-thirds of the Kasper sisters and their partners are in their car heading home, I am three-thirds confident that I want to be the final third to their family pie chart.
Don’t question that. The math works.
“I hope they were alright.” Rose draws me from my thoughts with a smidge of trepidation lacing her tone. “They can be…a lot.”
“They’re great,” I assure her. “Did you get everything you needed from Duke?”
“Yep.” She smiles brightly as he approaches with his assistant, Charles.
And I’m officially jealous of my cousin. I want Rose’s smile pointed at me.
“I’ll be in touch if I have follow-up questions,” she adds with a glance in his direction as if to make sure that’s alright.
“Sounds good.” Duke looks at me. “We still on for tonight?”
I nod. “I’m going to finish up with Rose, but then I’m free. ”
“Good.” Duke stifles a yawn. “I’m going back to the hotel to take a nap. I’ll see you later.”
We say goodbye. Charles gives me a long look before he trails Duke out into the parking lot. I’ve got to remember to ask Duke what gives with that guy. I saw him peering at Rose with a hard expression earlier. Something about him feels off.
I don’t have much time to dwell on Charles. I promised Rose I’d answer some more of her questions in exchange for her letting me drive her back to Cashmere Cove. Not a bad tradeoff for some more time with her, if I do say so myself.
I lead Rose through the maze of hallways toward the players’ exit.
Before we walk out into the arctic air, Rose tugs the front of her jacket together to zip it up.
Wait a minute…
I zone in on the jersey she’s wearing underneath her coat. It’s one from my days on the Mobile Tigers, when I wore number 8. How did I not notice it until right now?
She catches me staring, and her cheeks go pink.
“You kept it.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, well.” She looks away. “It’s the only jersey I own,” she says after a while.
My heart thumps up into my throat. I remember gifting it to her. Must’ve been only a couple weeks before she broke up with me. She pulled it on over her tank top, and it draped down to her knees, covering the shorts she was wearing. There was something heady about seeing her in it. Like it was a physical representation of blanketing her with my love.
Honestly, there’s something heady about seeing her in it now…after all this time. “Means a lot to me that you still have it. That you wore it.”
She lifts a shoulder, like it’s no big deal. We walk out to my truck, and she explains, “Poppy needed something to wear, so I gave her my River Foxes one. I figured since I was wearing the coat over the top, it wouldn’t matter if my jersey was dated.”
She climbs into the passenger seat, and I close the door after her.
As I walk around the front of my truck, I replay what she just told me. I climb into my seat and face her. “You have a River Foxes jersey too?”
“What?” Rose’s eyes go wide, and she sucks in a quick breath, as if she can’t quite believe she let that fact slip out. “Oh…um…yeah.”
I turn on the truck and get the heat blasting.
“I thought the Mobile jersey was the only one you owned,” I say casually after a moment.
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together.
“Did the front office hook you up with my jersey after you started working on the feature piece, or what?”
“Not exactly,” she hedges. “I guess I should have clarified that yours are the only jerseys I own. But I have multiple.”
I run my gaze back and forth across her face. “When did you get the River Foxes jersey?”
She won’t meet my eyes. “When I moved up here.”
I do some quick mental math. “You’ve had my jersey for over a year?”
Rose squirms in her seat. “Yes.”
The seed of hope in my chest has grown into a full-blown tree. There are lush leaves and sturdy branches, and look, there’s a hammock where Rose and I can cuddle up together.
What I want out of my life hits me with the force of a linebacker barreling into me for a sack. I want Rose by my side. I want to make her smile. I want my last name to be hers. I want her wearing my jersey, or my shirt, or my sweatshirt, or whatever. I want her.
I’m about ready to tell her all that too. I’ve ticked off two of the suggestions the guys had for me: gift giving and quality time. The one that’s left is communicating my feelings—or, in Del’s words, “ Laying your heart on the line and being prepared to have it flame-fried again.”
Quite the visual.
But not right now. It’s been a long day, and I get the sense she’s embarrassed about me finding out about her secret jersey stash. There will be a moment for the deep heart-to-heart, but right now, I want to keep things light, so I let her off the hook.
“Tell me about book club.”