Chapter 49
~Daley~
With the season kicking off, he’ll be away more than he’s home, adding another challenge to the other ones our new relationship faces.
Honestly, I’m not too worried about that part, though.
Months away from him over the summer did nothing to diminish my attraction to him, and based on his feelings about cheating, I know I don’t have to worry about him while he’s on the road.
I’ll miss him, absolutely, but life goes on in the meantime.
After dropping Deacon off at the airport, I drove back home to North Dakota and decided to stop to pick up some essentials at the store before heading home.
Normally, I make small talk with anyone else inside the store, both shoppers and employees, but nobody pays me too much attention.
Today, however, the moment I walk in, the air inside the large room shifts.
The weight of a dozen pairs of eyes falls on me and whispers sweep down the aisles like a winter breeze.
A couple of older women exchange knowing glances before tutting to each other.
A younger woman looks me up and down as if trying to figure out what a man like Deacon might see in me, and a group of three teenagers, one of whom I previously tutored, laugh behind their hands as one of them not-so-discreetly snaps a photo of me with his phone.
Great.
I do my best to ignore the stares, giving nods of greeting whenever I pass anyone, but my skin prickles every time I reach for something from the shelves to put in my basket, as if I’m being judged on every purchase.
It’s only temporary, I try to remind myself. Eventually, people will realize I’m the same Daley I’ve always been and lose interest. I can tough it out until then.
When I reach the check-out till, Aileen Kemp is having her groceries rung up just ahead of me.
I haven’t forgotten the way she slid a note into the back pocket of Deacon’s jeans at the showcase, or that the women I overheard in the restroom that day said Aileen threw herself at him when he arrived, but I give her a smile when she turns her head at my approach. “Hello, Aileen.”
I briefly tutored her about ten years ago, when she was in high school, which I suppose would make her around Deacon’s age. A cheerleader then, she’s kept her incredible figure, which is a testament to her determination considering she has four kids last I heard… or is it five?
“Mrs Adams,” she snips back, and I can tell by her sneer that it’s meant to be an insult, implying that even though we’re both adults, I belong to an older generation. Not to mention I’ve never gone by ‘Mrs’ Adams a day in my life.
Thankfully, the cashier does her best to ease the tension. The 60-year-old woman’s smile is the first one in the store that feels genuine. “We were all so proud of River the other night. That was quite a game on Friday.”
“It was,” I agree, unable to stop the pride from creeping into my voice. “I didn’t expect him to get a point in his first game. He’s adjusting really well.”
“He’s still single, isn’t he?” Aileen cuts in, her sharp tone jarring against the older woman’s easygoing one.
The cashier and I exchange slightly confused looks at the non-sequitur before I answer, “That’s right. River’s not seeing anyone.”
“A friend of mine thinks he’s pretty hot,” she confides, leaning in towards us as if it’s a secret. “Maybe you could give him her number.”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I have the distinct feeling that I’m walking into a trap. Still, I answer truthfully. “I don’t really get involved in his love life, but he comes back to town every now and then. I’m sure she could say hello next time he’s here.”
She carries on as if I didn’t say anything. “She’s almost thirty now, and I always told her she was too old for him, but I guess some people just find younger men attractive. You know how it is.”
There it is. It’s not even that good an insult, but I feel its sting anyway, knowing that all over the state, people are probably saying a lot worse. Nevertheless, I keep my expression neutral, refusing to let her think she got to me, as I weigh my response.
I could let it slide. I could pretend I don’t hear the implication. But why should I? Like Deacon said, it’s not a secret, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of either.
I lean in a little closer, mimicking her false friendliness.
“Well, she can always have a chat with him and see what happens, but I wouldn’t get my hopes too high. Sometimes, men just aren’t interested. You know how that is.”
Aileen’s eyes go wide in disbelief before her lip curls in anger. Behind the till, the cashier tries not to laugh as Aileen snatches up her grocery bags and storms off.
“I didn’t know you had that in you, Daley,” the older woman laughs once Aileen is out the door.
Honestly, neither did I. “Was it too harsh?”
She snorts. “She doesn’t have the self-awareness to actually reflect on it. And don’t pay any mind to her talk, anyway. She’s just jealous.”
That much, I can believe.
With my groceries paid for, I head home.
I hold my breath as I turn the corner, half-expecting to find paparazzi outside my house like the ones outside Deacon’s gate but the rural street is quiet.
Yellow leaves have fallen from the tree in front of my house, and I add raking to my to-do list for the week. Life goes on, just like I said.
Inside, the quiet feels even quieter than usual, but everything is as I expect to find it, except for the flashing red light on my landline phone.
That line is the one in the phone book, but most people use my cell phone.
Thinking it must be the parents of one of my students, I press the voicemail button.
“You have 127 new messages,” the automated voice announces.
“What?!”
I gape at the machine as it starts to play the first message, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that this number is even more public than I realized.
The first message is a man who simply wants to know if I’m the same Daley Adams who’s dating Deke Belin.
The second one is cruder, a man commenting on my appearance and how he’d be happy to show me a good time while Deacon is out of town.
When the third message starts, I hit stop and call Jane.
“I’ll come over and listen to them with you after dinner,” she suggests. “We’ll make a drinking game out of it.”
A few hours later, true to her word, she sits across from me at our usual spots at the kitchen table, wine glasses in front of us, and she hits play again.
“One sip if they say they’re Deke’s biggest fan,” she instructs. “And one if they ask you out.”
“We’re going to be drunk in no time,” I warn her.
The first ones aren’t all that bad, especially with Jane there to laugh over them with.
They’re mostly from men, often just asking if I can get them tickets to a game, but a few women join the mix.
One lectures me about embarrassing myself by chasing after a younger man while another offers to sell me skin moisturizer to make me look younger.
I’m not sure which I find more insulting.
The men are the more concerning ones, though. My stomach clenches as one caller goes into graphic detail about what he’d like to do to me. Jane, who was laughing a moment ago, sets her glass down and shifts in her seat.
“I’m not sure I want you sleeping here alone tonight,” she admits. “If they got your number, they could easily find your address. It’s a small town.”
Right on cue, my doorbell rings, and Jane and I stare at each other, eyes wide.
“I take it you’re not expecting anyone?” she whispers.
I shake my head and get unsteadily to my feet. We have taken a lot of sips. “I’ll go look through the peephole.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Together, we creep towards the front door, and when I put my eye up to the small hole in the centre of the door, I see a distinguished-looking grey-haired man. He doesn’t look like the type of person there to molest or rob me, but you never know.
Then he turns to the side, looking at something down the street, and a sharp stab of recognition hits me. He’s older, certainly, but unmistakably familiar.
My heart slamming against my ribs, I throw open the door and find myself face-to-face with River’s father for the first time in nineteen years.