29. HOPE
CHAPTER 29
HOPE
A block from my childhood home, there’s a park where I used to come with my older brother to play ball together. In classic Florida fashion, it has a natural retention pond in the middle with occasional alligator sightings. Us Florida people don’t really care, though, and we’ll even put benches around the ponds like our main sport is waiting for a gator to show up to test our zigzag running skills.
Currently, I’m parked at one such benches, sitting cross legged and taking most of the span of it while I munch on some trail mix. Tomorrow will be my first day back at work and it’ll kick off with a flight, so I need to store as much energy as I can.
The problem is that it feels like that’s all I’ve done the past week, and I’m tired of looking at the same four walls all the time. So here I am, contemplating the immortality of a crab, as a weird saying in Spanish goes.
It’s going very well, if I can say so myself. The afternoon sun is warm but there’s a breeze, and a few birds nearby chirp in the cutest damn way. I almost feel like I’m in a Jane Austen movie.
Until someone abruptly shoves my leg and sits right next to me.
“What the—” The rest of the words die in my mouth—rather, it opens wide enough for a fly to come in. I freeze at the opposite end of the bench, shrank with my knees up and arms hugging my baggy of trail mix as if this was what the invader was here for.
Instead, none other than Cade stretches an arm over the backrest of the bench, manspreading obnoxiously as he watches me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I shriek, starting to recover from the initial shock.
Propping his opposite elbow on the armrest, he rests the side of his face on his fist—still looking at me. “I should ask you that. Why aren’t you at home if you’ve felt bad enough to go to urgent care? Moreover, why did I not know?”
I splutter for a moment, confusion reigning over my mind. “I—I was bored at—What urgent care?”
“Your roommate told me.”
I don’t even ask who, it doesn’t matter. Shaking my head, I explain, “I did have to go to urgent care but it’s because my dad hurt his ankle playing pickleball yesterday.”
Cade’s eyebrows take off like airplanes. “Oh. Is he okay?”
“Yeah, it just took forever to get checked and then fitted with a cast, and then the prescription for the pain.”
“I’m glad he’s okay.” Clearing his throat, he shifts to sit up straight, his knees now at a normal distance that allows me to unfurl myself from my tiny corner. His turquoise eyes scan me from the baseball cap on my head, my loose hair, my gigantic sweatshirt with the Orlando Wild logo, down to my leggings clad legs, and my comfy sneakers I’ve had forever.
I look shabby, I know that. If I had a heads up that he was coming by, I’d have ran home and made some effort. Maybe ditched the sweatshirt.
“And I’m glad you look okay,” he adds in a quiet voice. That’s when I realize he wasn’t checking me out, but making sure I’m no longer sick.
“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” I say in a teasing manner just to hide my embarrassment at myself. “And you look…”
My attempt at deflecting works like a freaking charm, because he looks like a whole mess. I blow a raspberry and barely manage to stop the ensuing laugh by pressing a hand to my mouth.
He’s wearing his cap backward, and has the dude version of my outfit except for the silliest socks I’ve ever laid my eyes on. They look like chicken legs.
A corner of his lips twitch. “Wait till you see the magic trick.” Then he toes his sneakers off and I really bark a laugh. They really are chicken legs complete with chicken feet.
“Let me guess… Rivera.”
“Who else.” He leans back, turning his face up to the sun. “Wow, this is nice.”
Sure is. I don’t mind that the bench is a bit too small for the two of us, like at all. My thigh brushes against his and his arm is behind me. I have front row view of his neck stretching in the most inviting way, but all I can do is run my tongue across my lips and look away. To my trail mix. I put some more in my mouth just to keep it busy.
“Cade?” I ask while chewing.
“Hmm?”
“You haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
His arm brushes with my hair as he lifts it to hold the back of his head with both hands. “I was in a meeting with Winters when she mentioned the urgent care thing and I panicked a little. In my defense, I didn’t hear back from you for a whole day.”
He was worried.
Warmth spreads all over my chest.
“But anyway, this was in Beau’s office and while she was giving me your dad’s address, Beau walked in and ruined my plans of ditching.”
“Ditching?” I gasp and smack his rock solid thigh with the back of my hand. “That can get you suspended, you clown.” I pause before asking, “Were you that worried?”
He turns his head slightly towards me, eyes shifting to mine and it feels like they’re pinning me against a wall. His lips part. I lean forward slightly, eager to hear the answer…
When someone else’s voice speaks instead. “Is that Cade Starr?”
We both turn. A little old lady walking a chihuahua stands just a few feet from us, waiting for her tiny dog to finish its business, but her attention trained very much on my companion. Er, friend. I guess. Coworker? Bench partner.
“Yes, hi, ma’am.” His southern manners kick in right away and he sits up straight, tipping his head at her.
“Oh, my goodness.” She looks around herself. “I don’t have any paper to get your autograph. Now my grandkids won’t believe I met you.”
“How about a selfie?” he suggests and it lights up her whole face so bright, she competes with the sun.
I’m not strong enough to not melt as he gets up from the bench in a hurry, eating up the distance in two easy strides. The elderly woman barely reaches his shoulders in height, and as she gives him her phone for the selfie, he crouches in his chicken socks to take the picture as close to her as possible.
Cade Starr isn’t just a nice guy. He’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met in my life, period. When I was alone, humiliated, and about to be scammed out of the most expensive dinner of my life, he swooped in without hesitation and without expecting anything in return. When, at my peak unhinged, I asked him to be my dating coach because I needed help, he agreed without much hassle. Now he makes small talk with a random stranger, even bending down to pet her dog because he can’t seem to fathom the concept of ignoring even canine fans—and it is a fan, all right, going by how it flips its belly up to Cade’s scratches.
A freaking dorable.
I swoon. I legit sigh so strong that I feel like I’m melting down and have to use both hands to keep my head upright. One day, Cade is going to make a woman very, very happy.
Why can’t that be me?
The old lady gives him a hug that forces him to arch his body, and I hear her bless him like he’s her grandson instead. After waving goodbye, she keeps walking her doggo and the baseball player heads back to my bench to sit again.
“So, where were we?” he asks.
I swallow thick. There’s no way I’m going to remind him of the question I asked. He must have been that worried to make the trip here, yes. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he has feelings for me or anything. He’s just the kind of guy to drop everything for the people he cares about—or even his fans.
And I want… I want to be even more important. I want to be the person he worries about the most.
But I have no right. How incredibly awkward, even underhanded, would it be if I go from “hey, wanna be my dating coach?” to “hey, I’m firing you as dating coach because I want to date you instead.” I never intended this to happen but that’s how it would look.
Then, there’s the bigger issue. The one where Cade has literally one best friend in his entire life who buys him chicken socks, and no one else. It would be cruel of me to demand more than he’s willing or able to give, and then turn the whole work dynamic sour if things go wrong.
That’s when it hits me that it was the exact same reasoning Dawson gave to force me to not feel my feels. And now I’m doing the same thing to myself.
The trail mix churns unpleasantly in my stomach.
“Hope? Are you okay? You’re making a weird face.”
I’m lightheaded as I raise a hand to stop him. “Hold on, I’m processing something right now.”
“Can I have some of your trail mix while you do that?”
“Have at it.” I offer the bag and hold very still as he takes it, his hand brushing against mine.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to let my douche of an ex win. That’s the reason I even approached Cade in the first place. Yet I also know that the second I decide that yes, I do, in fact, have a huge crush on Cade Starr, I’m going to screw it all up. Between work being tricky and me morphing into an upturned turtle with no social skills in front of men I’m remotely interested in, it’s a recipe for disaster. And I really don’t want to mess things up with Cade.
So how do I navigate this?
“Oh. My. Gosh!”
Once more, we turn to the unknown voice.
This time it’s a girl about my age with the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen, in a sports bra and shorts most commonly found in summer than this time of year. In fact, looking at her makes me chillier.
She places a delicate hand on her chest. “Cade Starr? The Cade Starr?”
“Uh, hi,” he says, sounding dazed. And I don’t blame him, she’s very pretty. Button nose and thick lips type of pretty.
“I’m such a huge fan.” Her smile could power an entire country’s electrical grid. It only falters slightly as she spots his socks.
I bite my lips not to laugh. Also because she doesn’t seem to notice me and if she’s part of the fan demographic that is deeply interested in him, it might be best to not call attention to me.
“Thank you.” Cade lifts his cap to run a hand through his hair. “Would you like a selfie?”
My face twitches, this close to grimacing. Why does this smack so different to the old lady?
“Yes, I would love one!” She immediately whips out her phone from her arm holder and hands it over to him as he approaches. He does the exact same thing, crouching lower so he can appear in the frame, and she glues her side to his, boob squishing against him and all.
Yep, that’s why it smacks different.
Once the picture is taken, he straightens out again to return the phone, but she imprisons his hand in both of hers. “Just so you know, I’m a woman who keeps it real so if you’re interested maybe I can give you a call later?”
Cade gives an awkward laugh. “Thanks, I just really have to focus on the season or my agent will kill me.”
This is when she cuts a blatant look at me.
Fortunately, I have an alibi. I point at the logo of my sweatshirt. “I’m just his trainer.”
She lifts her nose a little and faces him again. “Or I could give you my phone for whenever you’re bored?”
Well, she’s definitely keeping it real, all right. As much as her interest makes my gut twist, I admire her cojones. I wish I could take pointers from her on how to be confident in front of men, but I suspect a lot of it comes from her genes granting her conventional attractiveness.
“Uh, sure.” He palms his pocket and I watch, frozen, as he keys in the digits she dictates along with her name. Kiera spelled with i-e.
I use every ounce of self restraint in my arsenal to sit very still, show absolutely no reaction, as she jogs off in a way that makes her hips swing masterfully, and as Cade returns to rejoin me at my park bench.
But then the little shit pulls up his phone, goes to his contact list, and deletes Kiera of the Great Genes off his contact list. Then he pockets his phone again and picks up the trail mix baggy once more.
The anger swirling in my gut ebbs away and my logical brain kicks in. He probably didn’t want to cause some drama rejecting a fan romantically, especially now that everybody’s a social media keyboard warrior. But also, it’s not like he has a girlfriend to claim a stake on him either, and he’s not a liar.
“You could’ve lied and said you’re taken,” I blurt out because maybe I’m not as good a person as he is.
“I could have.” He tilts his head back to pour some nuts into his open mouth.
“Why didn’t you?” I frown.
“Because I’m not actually taken yet. Can I finish this?”
“Go for it, you goof.” I marinate his words, especially the yet . Like he does want to er, eventually become taken.
Could I? Could I be the one to snatch him off the market?
Sliding his feet back into his sneakers, he stands up again and says, “‘Kay, I’ve seen that you’re alive and well, so I’m gonna go before Kiera comes back around to ask why I haven’t called her yet.”
I roll my eyes in an exaggerated way. “Go, you stud.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He smirks and reaches over to flick the bill of my cab.
“Hey!” My protests go ignored and he walks away with my trail mix, leaving me with a crush that threatens to burst at the seams.