33. Chapter 33 #2
"Don't trap me like that," I eventually say. "If I feel something, she should be the first to know. Not you lot."
"So you feel something." Rafa stares at me with his dark, sage eyes. "But she doesn't know."
I gaze back at the big man. As a defensive tackle, he's muscled and padded, though less than Bear is. Still fuller than the rest of us and, with his grounded, private energy, he gives wise father vibes.
Not surprising, since he has a young child.
His quiet presence anchors me.
I shake my head. "I don't do relationships, remember?"
"Why the hell not?" Logan asks. "I have reason to believe you've felt things for Ames for a long time. Even before the whole Aidan debacle."
"Even if that's the case." I smirk, trying to infuse some humor to it. Keeping it light, because I'm a pro at that. "Doesn't mean I should get a diamond ring and down on one knee."
"Never thought I'd hear Gael Santiago talking about marriage." Dom's voice is heavy with resignation.
"I am not ," I try.
"I'll be your best man," Logan says. "Unless you think it should be her brother. I won't be offended."
"You've been part of the team for eighteen months." I put on a defiant smile, responding to his humor. "You didn't make it into the group chat until a year ago. How dare you sass me like this?"
His mouth remains in an amused angle. He's enjoying this thing a little too much.
"I'm not sassing you," he says. "I'm trying to do for you what you all did for me. You told me to not let Evie go. I'm telling you the same. Don't let Ames go. "
I don't want to let her go. I haven't had enough time with her.
It's hard to believe it's been less than a month since I brought her to my lap and she let me hold her close.
The fabric of reality itself changed after that night, stretching and deepening and carrying knowledge I never held before.
Sex and life look different from this edge I'm so stubbornly clinging to.
One where I'm teetering at the face of jumping into the unknown.
I shake my head. "You don't understand."
"Then explain," he insists.
I cross my arms, my chin on my chest as I think. None of my friends speak. Their eyes are fixed on me, tracking me as they wait for my response.
"I am not relationship material." The words rasp out of my mouth. "I'm a good time. I have fun. Always short term, never making any promises. They love it for a little while, then I let them go. Everyone knows that."
Logan frowns. "Bullshit."
I raise an eyebrow at him, like I take offense at his language.
"What our beloved quarterback means," Rafa says with full aplomb, "is that while that's true, it doesn't mean you can't have long-term romance, too."
"I've never sought long-term." I stare at him and rub my lips together. "Except once. A long time ago, I wanted to know if I could make one work regardless. Suffice to say, it didn't end well, and I learned my lesson."
"Of course it didn't end well." Bear is the one to frown this time. "I've never heard of a break up that went truly well. Even people who say they're going to be friends after— it never happens."
I shake my head. "It wasn't about that. I didn't go into it wanting to stay friends afterwards. It's more that… well. She knew me enough to know I can't make relationships last."
"What did she say?" Rafael asks.
I close my eyes. The look on her face is clear in my mind, like it happened yesterday .
Kylie was a pretty girl of light skin and lustrous brown hair. We'd known each other since my first day on campus, and had a casual on-and-off thing going. She knew me well enough, I thought, and I liked her a lot. Who better to try to fall in love with? To go the distance with?
But when I tried to make it official, she laughed.
I had just shown up with homemade pie to one of her classes, to walk with her back to her dorm. As soon as we were inside and I left dessert on her desk, she gazed at me with playful eyes and a dismissive curl to her lips.
Why are you doing all of this? Do you even know what it takes to be with somebody for a long time?
You don't, the way you've always dated. Why would anyone risk their heart for someone like that?
You're not Mister Right. Long term is not what you do.
Why fake something else? It's only going to hurt people.
I stood there, frozen and eyes wide open. She was right. I had never sought love until then. I had never learned how to make it work. How to make sparks happen. Why would anyone choose someone like that for a real relationship?
Back then, she had placed a gentle hand on my face and smiled.
Don't hurt people, Saint. Not being an asshole is the best thing you have going for you. That and that sweet body, too, I guess.
Just like all those years ago, she laughs again in my memory. Like it did then, the ghost of it shocks me.
I echo her last words. "'Don't ruin the fun we're having with promises you can't keep.' She thought I was being ridiculous."
With no sparks and no affection, it never would have worked. It would have ended in hurt. On the other hand, no one would choose to go for it just in case. With a guy who's never proven to have what it takes, when it counts.
If Kylie was right at all, I can't go around wielding my hope like a weapon, offering forever when all I have is a dream and no guarantees. When pain is the most likely result .
I sigh. "I can't tell Ames how I feel. I don't want to hurt her, knowing I'll eventually disappoint her. She deserves so much more than that. Someone who can recite poetry and give her a happily ever after guaranteed."
That's why even asking the question in my mind is throwing me into a minefield, and pulling Amelia to walk through it with me.
Damián and Bear study me closely. Dom frowns. Logan continues to smirk.
"I know someone who could give her that," Logan says. "He can tell her beautiful things and work on forever with her."
His words poke at a sleeping warrior inside.
He wakes up, instantly furious, filled with jealousy.
I can't believe my friend is implying there's someone better than me for her.
It may be true, but it's hurtful, and not the kind of thing I want to hear at the moment.
I may not be able to write poetry for her, but to tell her pretty things all I have to do is be honest about my feelings.
I may not be relationship material, but working on forever with her may be… may be exactly what I want…
Oh.
My heartbeat changes pace. It goes steady, deep, and strong. I gaze at Logan, then at my friends.
I want to be that person. I'm afraid I won't be, but I want to. Desperately.
"I mean you, in case it's not clear," Logan adds. "You can do those things."
I purse my lips. "What if I end up hurting her?"
"What if you're hurting her by not telling her?" Rafa asks. "What if you're missing out on something beautiful?"
"What if I'm being delusional?" I argue. "What if I lose her because she can't go back to being friends after knowing how I feel?"
"That's always the fear, isn't it?" Damián asks. "But you need to understand that not telling her is deceiving her, too."
Bear glances at Damián for a long time, but the kicker's gaze stays on me.
The narrative I held onto for so long dissolves into faraway memories. Whirlpools form in my veins, swirling into tiny currents in the middle of my chest. It's a dizzying sensation .
"Let her choose, too." Rafa gives me a small smile. "Tell her the truth of what you feel. What you want. See if she wants the same thing."
Dom's eyes are sad, revisiting things in his mind I'm not privy to. "It's the right thing to do."
The torrents around my heart turn into a riptide.
A new story unfolds. It takes shape right in front of my eyes, words re-arranging themselves into new prose.
"Fuck," I mutter.
The question I've avoided asking is not the right one. It's not a matter of whether I dare try for a relationship with her, despite the hurt it might bring her— us. It's whether I'll do the right thing and ask if she wants one, too.
It's not about pulling her into the minefield with me. It's simply asking if she wants to walk into it with me.
Not asking her means fulfilling a prophecy of my own making.
"Fuck," I repeat.
"The playboy catcher has been caught," Dom adds. "Stranger things have happened."
I smirk. He's using the wrong term on purpose to bug me. Whoever used it wrong the first time would have never guessed at her impact all these years later.
"Careful." I close my eyes, trying hard to pacify the swirling sensations behind my sternum. "You're a playboy catcher, too."
"Nah." He shrugs. "Lightning doesn't strike twice, and I'm fine with that."
In the haze of my discovery, I'm not sure what he means, but I know it's true for me. Ames is still the only one I've felt sparks for. In the past few weeks, they've turned into roaring flames.
I will not be a coward and let them die. At least not until I offer them to Ames in a jewel case made of crystal and welded with the gold of my hope.
If it gets smashed in the process, then I'll pick up the pieces from the floor.
And offer them to Ames once more .
They have called me a catch in the media. Some went as far as to call me a catcher— of women. If any of that is true, it's ironic I have to catch Ames now instead.