Chapter 36 Emmett
Emmett
When we’re playing a home series, Reese and I know we’ll end up together at the end of the night, usually at her place, sometimes at mine. But it’s much harder to draw a line when we’re traveling and don’t have the luxury of spending our nights together.
When we’re on the road, we’ll go to dinner together because that’s easily played off as a work meeting. We’ll extend our pregame lineup chats to steal more time. But we don’t risk either of us sneaking into the other’s hotel room unless we have a connecting door.
Seems a bit extreme after how many times we’ve fucked around at the stadium back home, but when we’re not blinded by need for one another, we both have smarter decision-making skills.
I won’t lie, though. I like being stupid with that girl.
That’s what sucks about this road trip. Reese’s hotel room is on the opposite end of the hall from mine, so our time together has been limited over the past few days.
But on the flip side of that, the thing that’s so great about this road trip is that we’re in Colorado. Back in the city I once played for. Back in the place I raised Miller until she was eighteen.
I knock on Reese’s room, leaning a shoulder against the wall as I wait for her to answer.
Blonde hair half clipped up. Under-eye patches on and a coffee in hand. Wearing both a matching silk sleep set and a bright smile as she opens the door.
“Well, good morning to me.”
I chuckle, keeping my hands in my pockets so I don’t tempt myself to touch her until we’re alone. “Missed you last night. Any chance you’re free this morning?”
“I can be. What’s up?”
“I want to take you somewhere.”
Her eyes sparkle at the idea. “Just you and me?”
“Just you and me.”
“Yes. Yeah, I’m down for that. I need to change quickly. Meet you downstairs in five?”
“Perfect.” I lean in to kiss her before stopping myself, arched halfway over in her doorway.
Things have progressed so naturally between us the past few weeks. Easy kisses and simple touches are second nature at this point, that it takes a conscious effort to remind myself of our positions while we’re at work.
Which is what I have to do now.
I stand straighter, backing away from her door and pointing in the direction of the elevator. “I’m just gonna . . .”
She laughs at me. “See you soon.”
I rented a truck for this specific outing, so I drive it up to the front entrance of the hotel and wait for her there.
A few minutes later, Reese walks out wearing a sweet floral sundress in a light pink shade.
Similar to the color of her nails. It’s feminine and easygoing, so different from how she dresses at work.
She’s beautiful both ways, but I don’t miss that she dresses softer when we’re outside of work. More colorful too.
It’s nice to see her allow herself time away from being the boss.
“You rented a car for this?” she asks as I open the passenger door for her. “We couldn’t have taken a rideshare?”
“Nope. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.” As soon as she’s sitting, I pull her seat belt across her body, clicking it into place.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it.
I suppose partly because I just need her safe.
And partly because I rarely get to dote on her unless we’re hidden in one of our apartments.
Arm still reached across her body and hand still covering the buckle, I glance up at her. “Sorry.”
She lifts her hand, running it against my beard. “Don’t be. It’s nice.”
Don’t kiss her. Not here.
Clearing my throat, I push off, closing her door before rounding to the driver’s side.
As soon as I’m in my seat, she finds the only thing in this car, which is a half-eaten bag of candy that I left sitting in the center console.
“What’s this?” There’s a playful edge to her question as she holds the bag up.
“Candy.”
“Since when are you into Reese’s Pieces?”
A shy smile pulls on my lips. “What can I say? They’re a new favorite.”
She chuckles to herself, pouring out a small handful and popping them into her mouth before she returns them to where she found them.
As soon as we pull out of the parking lot, I shift to drive with my left hand on top of the wheel, sliding my right across the center console and over her thigh. Without missing a beat, Reese slips her palm into mine, lacing our fingers together.
Easy. Natural. Connected as we always are when we’re alone.
And we stay that way for the hour-long drive.
Once the streets turn into single-lane roads and trees begin to canopy the path, Reese finally asks, “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
I squeeze her hand in mine. “Soon. We’re almost there.”
She doesn’t push for more answers. She just relaxes back into the seat as I continue to drive the ingrained route, trusting I’ll explain when the timing is right.
Soon enough, I slow my speed and turn onto a long gravel path that takes me to a cabin-style home. It blends subtly among the surrounding foliage. It’s quiet and understated. The lake behind it acts as a serene backdrop, and it’s exactly what I needed at the time I bought it.
After Miller and I talked that morning in my kitchen, I knew I wanted to bring Reese here. That conversation acted as all the permission I needed to involve Reese in every part of my life. Even the parts that came before her.
Regardless, I did call my daughter this morning to double-check she’d be okay with me bringing Reese here. She probably rolled her eyes at me on the other end of the line, but then answered my question with a swift, “Absolutely.”
Killing the engine, I hop out of the truck and open Reese’s door for her.
She slowly takes in her surroundings as she steps onto the gravel path that acts as the driveway.
“So, this is my house,” I tell her. “It’s used as a vacation rental these days, but I still own it.”
“Really?” Her eyes trail over the roofline. “Your house from when you played here?”
“Not exactly. When I was playing, I shared an apartment in Denver with some of my teammates. But I bought this place after I left the league.” I gesture to the house. “This is where I raised Miller.”
Realization dawns on her. “Emmett.”
She runs her palm down my arm before slipping her hand into mine. Reese focuses back on the house, her eyes trailing the cabin more carefully as she studies the details. She takes her time understanding the meaning and importance of this little place.
From behind, I wrap my arms around the front of her shoulders as we look at it together. “I wanted you to see it. I didn’t have someone to share that part of my life with, so I was hoping I could share it with you now.”
“I’d love to see it, Em. But is Miller okay with that?”
My chest tightens at her question.
I love how often she thinks of my daughter. Grown or not, Miller is still my kid. Every time Reese considers her, it reaffirms what I already know. That she’s what I was missing from my life. That she’s my person.
I drop my lips to her hair. “She is. Miller and I had a nice talk. She’s more than okay with . . . everything.”
I watch the smile spread on Reese’s mouth. “That’s good to hear.”
“Come on. Let me give you a tour.”
I don’t manage the property myself, but I have access to the rental schedule, so I knew the place would be empty today.
Using my key, I unlock the door, and let Reese enter first.
The furniture has all changed. The wall colors too. But the bones are still the same.
“When I adopted Miller,” I begin, closing the front door behind us, “I didn’t know much about what I was doing, but I knew Miller needed some stability. So, I bought this little house for us.”
I take her to the living room first.
“Here, I’d watch game film for the college team I was coaching.
The first few years we lived here, I was not only trying to figure out how to be a dad, but also how to be a coach.
At that point, I had only ever been a player, and I wasn’t much older than some of the guys playing for me.
We had a coffee table right here that Miller would sit at and color while I worked. ”
Reese smiles softly, listening to me speak, putting her hand in mine to follow me on this tour.
I bring her into the tiny kitchen and explain that though it’s not much, Miller learned to bake here. That she found her passion right here in this little cabin on the lake.
I show Reese where the dining table used to be. The same one I’d sit at and help my daughter with her homework. Same one where we’d eat dinner together that Miller most likely prepared because she was a far better cook than me.
Down the hall, I take her to the first of two bedrooms. I explain that Miller painted this room a dark green when she was a preteen, and that I built shelves for her and screwed them into the walls so she could display her softball trophies.
Then I take her to my old bedroom. The one where, when we first moved in, I’d lie awake at night, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. Though later, once I gained some confidence in the parental department, I’d lie awake trying to figure out how to be a better one.
I explain how the years spent in this house were the hardest of my life, but also some of my best. And that even though they weren’t easy, I wouldn’t change the thirteen years we spent here, just Miller and me, for anything.
“And right on the lake,” Reese says, pointing out the windows on the back door of my old bedroom. “It’s beautiful here, Emmett. You did a good job. For Miller, but for yourself too.”
I push her hair behind her ears, running my thumb over her earrings. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it.” She steps into me, head against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her to keep her close. “Miller is lucky to have you. And I am too. Thank you for bringing me here. This is really special to see.”
Much in the same way that she had never let anyone into her condo, I had never let anyone into this part of my life.
It does feel special. We feel special.
“It’s special to me too, Reese.”
“Will you show me around outside?”