Chapter 9 #2
“You probably twisted it and didn’t do enough damage to qualify as a sprain. It’ll possibly be a little bit tender for a day or two.” Layla looks down at her foot, then at the trail.
“Guess I better get to walking,” she whispers. “It’s going to take me a while to make it back to my car.”
“I’ll go with you,” I tell her. “In fact, let’s put your shoe and sock in my bag, and I’ll carry you. That way you don’t make your foot feel worse.”
Layla stares at me with panic in her eyes. “You’ll carry me? How?”
I chuckle. “First of all, you’re like one hundred pounds soaking wet. Secondly, I’m an athlete, babe. I can carry you for the full length of this trail if I want to. Bridal style or piggyback?”
Mouth agape, Layla stares at me incredulously. “I — I don’t know?”
Taking my backpack off, I shove her shoe and sock inside, then put it on backwards. Turning around, I bend into a squat. “Jump up. I think this will be easier on both of us since it’s a couple of miles back to the cars.”
I wait patiently, hearing Layla huff out a breath before I feel her hands tentatively grip my shoulders. She shifts, lifting her leg, and I grip it behind her knee. When she jumps, I grab her other leg, then shift to pop her further up my back. She squeals adorably, making me smile. “You good?”
“Um, yeah, I think so. Are you sure about this? I can probably walk really slowly,” she says hesitantly, her hands still gripping my shoulders in an odd position.
“Put your arms around me,” I command, then fight the groan in my throat when she immediately obeys. “Keep your arms around my neck, okay? That’s your safety net. Nothing will happen to you if you hold on tightly.”
“Okay,” she whispers. I look around the ground for any of Layla’s things, and when I find none, we start back toward the parking lot. Not exactly the hike I thought I’d get today, but I’m not complaining. I’ve got a very pretty girl wrapped around me.
“So you said you have a friend who introduced you to this trail?” I ask as we trudge along.
“Yeah. She knew I liked to go hiking.”
“Any other trails you recommend?”
“She gave me a list, but I haven’t tried them all yet. The weather wasn’t conducive to lots of hiking this winter, and I’m still not acclimated to winter weather,” Layla confesses.
“You only spent a year with Baltimore. Is that your only experience with snow?”
“Yeah. I was born and raised in South Carolina. It rarely snows there. Or, at least it didn’t snow where I grew up. If anything, they get ice. The concept of a foot of snow is mind-boggling to me. I still can’t wrap my head around it.”
“I’ve spent the majority of my life in California. I’ve had a hell of a time acclimating to the weather here. I can’t decide if I really like it or not,” I tell her. “The views make up for it, though.”
“Oh, I agree!” she gushes. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can live anywhere without a mountain view now. It’s just too pretty.”
“I’ve got a view of the mountains from my apartment. That was basically the only must-have I put on my list when I had a realtor find me a place.”
“I don’t have a view, but my apartment is pretty crappy. I grabbed the first place I found that I could afford. Hopefully I’ll be able to move in a year or two, and find something in a better area.”
I hate the gut reaction I have, like a lead weight being dropped in my stomach. “Where do you live?”
Layla rests her head against my shoulder, and I peek over to find her smiling at me. “Would you even know if I told you two cross streets?”
“No,” I confess, chuckling. “I basically know the downtown area and how to get to the airport. Let me rephrase and ask what part of town you live in.”
“North of town,” she replies. “Close to Commerce City.”
I wince. I’ve heard stories about Commerce City, and when I got to town, multiple teammates told me to avoid the area. “And you feel safe there? No complaints?”
Layla sighs. “I mean, I guess? I love this job. I’m really enjoying traveling with the team, and I truly like Denver. But the cost of living here is astronomical, and my pay isn’t the best. I went with what I could afford.”
“I can understand that,” I murmur. Wheels are turning in my head.
Am I allowed to ask her how much she makes?
Or is that anti-feminist of me? Seems kinda shitty, considering all that she does to keep the team healthy.
I know I’m paying four grand a month for my four-bedroom apartment, but I considered that to be mostly due to the location and square footage of the place.
“Do you mind if I ask how much you’re paying? ”
“Fifteen hundred,” she replies. “It’s not that much, I guess.
But I have student loans, a car payment, and I’m still paying off two credit cards from college because, honestly, I didn’t understand how credit cards work.
Why wasn’t that taught in high school? Could have been so much more helpful to me than taking pre-calculus. ”
My mind whirls as I think about ways I could help her without her knowing.
Get the team to make a random deposit into her bank account?
Nah, Layla is too good. She’d never take the money and run.
Make up some kind of “job” situation outside of her time with the team?
But at what cost? She’s already incredibly busy. I don’t want to push her into burnout.
I change the topic to something more fluffy by discussing the weather.
As I grew up in southern California, I have no concept of what it’s like in South Carolina, where Layla grew up.
I know I’ve always hated day games in Atlanta in July, and can’t imagine living like that day in and day out during the summer, but Layla speaks fondly of her childhood.
She tells a lovely story about a cicada brood emerging from the ground one summer, and I’m glad she isn’t able to see my expression, because what kind of fresh hell is that?
Massive bugs just crawl out of the ground and cover everything?
And then when they die, you’re left with a layer of rotting bug carcasses?
It’s times like this that I wonder about God’s sense of humor.
Once back in the parking lot, I gingerly bend down to allow Layla to slide off my back. Standing to my full height, I stretch my arms up, and my spine cracks in multiple places.
“Did I hurt you?” she screeches, horrified.
“No, just needed to stretch.”
“You’re lying,” she accuses, poking me in the chest.
I chuckle. “I swear, I’m not. I already told you, I’m not a good liar. You weigh next to nothing, Peaches. You didn’t hurt me in any way. How’s your foot feeling?”
Layla carefully puts weight on her bare foot. “It’s okay. Hurts a little, but I think all I need is some rest tonight, and it’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“You okay to drive?” I ask. “I can drive you, then we can come back to get your car another day.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, really. It’s not a bother. I know you’re going to say it’s so far out of the way, and I’ve got a game tomorrow —”
Layla interrupts me. “Actually, I’m going to say that while you do have a game tomorrow, I’m more worried about the fact that we leave on a road trip the following day, and I’d rather not leave my car in a random parking lot forty-five minutes away from home.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling oddly dejected. “That makes sense. I’d completely forgotten about the road trip.”
“That was sweet of you to offer, even if I can’t accept.”
I nod my head, suddenly feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
Layla unzips my backpack, still clinging to my front, and removes her hiking boot and sock.
Unlocking her doors, she throws her things in the backseat, then turns to me.
“I’m really glad I ran into you today, Max.
I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here. ”
“I’m sure some other guy would have come along and carried you back to your car,” I joke, but it falls flat.
“Guys did pass me, Max. One even shouted ‘good luck’ as he laughed. Not all men wear capes. I guess I assumed you didn’t wear one, but maybe you keep yours hidden a lot of the time,” she says sweetly. Then she leans in, slides her arms around me, and hugs me.
It’s possible this is the moment I knew I was going to fall in love with Layla Holmes.