Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Brooke
“Mama, I don’t care if we have pink rings.” Timothy holds up the gaudy thing and grins. “We earned these.”
“Yes, son, you did.”
“We did, as a team.”
I smile at him from the rearview mirror. It makes my mama heart happy that he’s having a good time with his teammates.
His bat and bag stick up beside him, partially blocking my view. Now I get why so many of my friends have SUVs and minivans. I assumed I wouldn’t ever need an upgrade with one child. That was before hauling tons of baseball supplies.
Today I even carried a small heater and fan since the weather changes several times during an all-day tournament.
I sigh. It was fun, but I’m glad today is over. We’re a few miles from our road, and all I can think about is a hot shower and my favorite pajama pants.
The sign for the orchard comes into view, and I turn down the gravel road. It crunches under my tires, making me relax. I’ve long associated that sound with the promise of home.
I park in the garage off the carriage house and cut the engine. “Get your bag, and we’ll worry about everything in the trunk later.”
“Okay.” Timothy hops out and beats me to the front door.
I unlock it and all but fall inside. “Do you mind if I take a shower first?”
“No, ma’am.” Timothy drops his bag by the door and goes outside.
How he still has energy is beyond me. I take a quick shower and change into my pajamas, even though it’s still daylight. Then I dry my hair and grab a book I read when I actually get a lunch break at the hospital.
I’m halfway to my favorite chair when I hear voices outside. One is Timothy’s and the other is an adult. My overprotectiveness kicks into gear, and I burst onto the porch.
“Oh hi, Nate.”
He smiles. “Hey.”
“Are you two going to work on something?” Seems odd since the kids just played five games, but I’ve never understood baseball.
“No, I’m here to get you.”
I open my mouth, then pause and stare at my fuzzy pink pants. “For what?”
He steps toward me and cocks his jaw into a half smile that makes my stomach swirl.
“I talked to your mom earlier, and she agreed Timothy could come to her house for a while.”
“For?”
“Our date?”
“Date?” My eyes widen. So many questions I don’t have time to process.
“You agreed to go out with me sometime, remember?”
“I—”
He lifts his hands. “Don’t worry, I asked Timothy’s permission before I talked to anyone else.”
I glance at Timothy. “So you knew about this?”
He nods and laughs.
“Then why did you let me put on pajamas?”
“So you’d be surprised.”
“Mission accomplished.” I scoff.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him company while you change.” Nate sits on the porch steps beside Timothy.
I frown, then look to Nate, then back at Timothy. Both stare blankly as if they’re waiting on me.
“Okay?”
I rush inside and throw on jeans and a cute shirt. Nobody said where we’re going or what we’re doing. I don’t have time to fix my hair, so I pull it back and slap on a little makeup. Then I slip on some cute, casual shoes and hurry outside.
“Beautiful.” Nate smiles.
“Well, I guess I’m off to Granny and Smith’s.” Timothy comes toward me and whispers, “It’s okay with me if he kisses you.”
“Timothy!” My face flushes. He’s never said anything like that to me. “I’m not sure I like you thinking about kissing.”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I’m not kissing people, but you’re plenty old enough to.”
I point toward my parents’ house. “Go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs and runs to their backyard.
“I wanted to take you to Tuscaloosa for dinner and coffee, but those games lasted longer than I expected,” Nate says.
“How long have you planned this?”
“Since Enchilada.”
My lips twitch. They want to smile, but my face is still in shock.
Nate’s always had a sweet, romantic streak. He would surprise me often. The last time we were together, he had surprised me with a visit.
I swallow.
“Since we’ve had a long day, I thought that tonight a picnic might be nice.”
“That does sound nice.” I blink, mentally cleansing the past from my view and focusing on the present.
Nate’s smile spreads across his face and he holds out a hand. I take it, almost in a trance. It’s an odd feeling when something you dreamed about happens.
Over the years, I’d sometimes dream of Nate and me together. What would we be like as adults? What kind of life would we have? It’s so similar to my imagination that I bite my tongue to make sure I’m awake.
“Ouch,” I whisper.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I mumble with a throbbing tongue.
He leads me to his truck and opens my door. I hide a laugh at the memory of his old truck. Sometimes the passenger door wouldn’t even open from the outside. But he’d always open it for me from the inside, then hop out and help me in.
Some women find it belittling for a guy to help them in a truck. But I have a soft spot for Southern gentleman. Plus, I’m short.
I settle into the same scent from earlier today, along with something cheesy. I sniff the air. “Is that lasagna?”
“Yeah.” Nate grins as he turns toward me to back out of the drive. “I had Mom cook.”
My mouth waters with anticipation. “I haven’t had her lasagna in years. She usually brings a dessert to church dinners.”
“She has this thing about food having to be hot, and according to her, Crockpots aren’t real cooking.”
I laugh. That sounds like Anne.
We slow down near his house, so I assume we’re going there. Instead, he stops at the pasture and opens the gate. I wait as he climbs back in, drives inside, and closes it back up.
“I’ve thought about bonfires ever since the day I saw you again.” He smiles at me.
Images of high school come to mind. We used to gather on tailgates with friends and light a fire at the edge of the field.
He drives to that very spot and parks. Definitely nostalgic. I haven’t gone this far in the pasture since high school. Mainly because of the bull, but also because I didn’t have Nate there.
“Too bad I couldn’t get Colt to serenade us. He’s in Montana.”
“Really?” I hadn’t kept up with our classmate and one of Nate’s closest baseball buddies, but I’d heard he was still playing music.
“On tour with a country band as their lead guitarist.”
“Nice.”
We get out, and Nate pulls down the tailgate.
“Yeah, I guess I’m back to being the disappointment of our class.”
I laugh. “Hardly.”
“As long as you don’t think so.” He smirks, and I tense.
I haven’t been on a date ever in my adult life. Probably because when guys have tried to flirt with me, I would send off a vibe that I wasn’t interested. Aniston jokes that I’m covered in anti-interest repellent.
If that’s the case, Nate is immune to it.
The real reason is I’ve never considered having a real relationship with anyone but him. I poured my life into Timothy, my community, and my job. I assumed one day when Timothy was older, I might consider dating.
I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to actually have a second chance with the guy I’ve always loved.
“I would never think you were a disappointment,” I tell Nate.
“Good.” He opens the back door and retrieves the food. “I always worried I wasn’t good enough for you, and thought maybe that’s why—”
I step toward him and grab his forearm. “Never. I was going through some things and didn’t want to drag you down.”
Nate sets the food on the toolbox and stares into my eyes. He swallows, and I glance at his throat. His neck is red and so is his face. I feel a pulse in his arm before he slides it toward me and holds my waist with both hands. My heart speeds as he pulls me closer.
“I’d gladly let you drag me anywhere.”
He leans down, and my breath catches. Before I can exhale, his lips are on mine. My mouth tingles like it’s in shock. I haven’t kissed anyone since . . . well, him.
Am I doing this right? Do I still have ballpark nachos breath? Why didn’t I brush my teeth before I showered?
Then like all the memories that come back so easily, the memory of kissing Nate meshes with the present. Commercial cheese breath and rusty kissing skills aside, I no longer care.
His hands are in my hair, and I’m snuggled close to him. Like a drunk chugging a fifth of whiskey after almost a decade of sobriety, I’m too far gone.
No matter what happens when this kiss ends, I’ll forever be changed.
* * *
Nate
Kissing Brooke is like living out my wildest dream. It’s all I’ve thought about since seeing her by the fence.
I run my fingers through her hair and pull her even closer. It still doesn’t seem real. Maybe because I committed her kisses to memory so well that I could play them out in my mind.
Pathetic? Probably so. But she was my good luck charm many times, even when she was no longer in my life.
Years flash across my mind, leading to this very moment. All the kisses we shared on her front porch and standing in the bleachers, up to the very last kiss in her dorm room. The one I replayed more times than I could count like a favorite song on a burned CD.
Sometimes the memory was a little scratchy, but there’s no skipped details now. It’s like her mouth was made for mine.
Like she was made for me.
I could kiss her all night. But I also want to talk to her. So much is the same between us, but so much has changed. I need to make sure this is more than reliving glory days to her.
Begrudgingly, I pull back. Her eyes blink open and I stare into them. Deep chocolate brown, sparkling in the setting sun.
Her lips are full and pink, and it takes all my restraint to not kiss them again. Instead, I lead her to the tailgate and sit down. “Hungry?”
She laughs. Yeah, that was dumb, but better than confessing I’ve been hung up on her forever. Baby steps, Nate. Don’t scare her off.
I climb into the bed and grab the lasagna, setting it behind her, then jump down. “Just a second.”
With all the kissing, I forgot everything else. I retrieve a bag of plates and forks, along with a cooler, from inside and shut my back door.
“Here we go.” I set everything out and open the lasagna. “You still like the edge pieces?”
“Yeah.” She smiles sweetly. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything.” I wink.
She dips her head. Whoops.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know, it’s okay.” She lifts her eyes shyly, then stares ahead at the field.
I clear my throat. Best change the subject to something less personal. “Did y’all ever come out here after I moved to Atlanta?”
She shrugs. “I think some of them did, but not me.”
“We both moved off pretty soon after that last night here.”
“Yeah.” She turns to me and smiles.
I scoop her some lasagna and slide the plate beside her. Then I fix my plate and sit just far enough to fit the food between us. We both reach for a bite at the same time, almost bumping hands.
“Sorry.” I pull my plate back a few inches. “I bet you don’t miss eating next to a clumsy lefty.”
“Timothy’s left-handed.”
“True.” I smile. “I’m glad. The world needs more left-handed players. I could teach him all kinds of pitching techniques to screw with batters.”
She chews slowly and swallows.
“He doesn’t have to be a pitcher. He’s great at first base.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that.” Her voice is shaky. “What happens when you go home?”
“I’ll probably watch some TV and make myself unpack more.” I fork a big bite of lasagna.
“I mean to Atlanta.”
“I know.” I stab my fork in a bite and turn to Brooke. “I’m thinking of not going back.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“Yeah.” I palm the back of my neck and sigh. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Where I go all depends.”
“On your shoulder and arm.”
I swallow some food and stretch out my pitching arm. “It did, but the team doctor should clear me any day now.”
“So you’re going to play?”
“Maybe.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” She tilts her head in confusion.
I drop my fork and touch her face. “There are more important things than playing ball.”
“I agree,” she whispers against my palm.
“I don’t want to pressure you, Brooke, but I could see a future here, living in Apple Cart with you.” I slide my hand away slowly.
“What about Timothy?” The shakiness is back in her voice.
I reach for her hand. “I do have six bedrooms.”
Her mouth kicks up in the corner, and she blushes.
“I’m not suggesting we marry right away, but I wouldn’t turn you down if you proposed.”
She laughs. “Be careful what you wish for, Nate.”
“If I could ever be so lucky.” I slink my arm behind her and curl my fingers at her waist.
She leans into me and sighs. We sit in silence, staring at the pasture. It’s peaceful and nostalgic, and for a split second I forget nine years have passed since we were last here.
“I don’t want you to quit playing because of me.” She turns to face me.
“It would be my choice.”
“Yeah, but you’d be doing it for me.”
I shrug. “I mean, you’d be a big factor.”
She groans.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t want to interfere with your career before, and I don’t want to now.”
I stand in front of her, bracing my hands on the tailgate so that she’s stuck between me. Her only chance of escape would be to scoot backward, and there’s a cooler and lawn chairs blocking her way.
“I’ve worked my butt off to get to where I am. You of all people should know I wouldn’t quit without a good reason.”
“I don’t want to be the reason.” She swallows hard. I watch the muscles in her jaw and zero in on her lips.
“You’ve always been my reason.” I dip my head closer to her and whisper, “For everything.”
I kiss her slowly. If she doesn’t believe my words, maybe she’ll believe my kiss.