CHAPTER 38
Palmer
“Good girl! Come here, Squeaks!” I pat my knees, and Mouse plods across the living room floor, begging me to throw her rope again. “Such a good girl, Squeaky Pete!”
The nicknames people come up with for their dogs are so weird.
At this point, I rarely call Mouse by her name, and she’s smart enough to learn that whatever words I throw her way in a high-pitched voice are likely what I’m calling her in that moment.
So far, she regularly answers to Mouse, Pipsqueak, Squeaks, Squeaky Pete, and Peter, and that’s nothing to say about all the other weird things I call her.
I wonder what Bailey will call her when he comes back.
The thought steals in despite my best efforts to keep any of the kind at bay. A deep sigh escapes my chest, and I absentmindedly scratch Mouse’s ears. She presses into my hand, groaning contentedly at the pressure.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and all I can think about is Bailey and the fact that he loves me.
Me.
The one who, a couple of months ago, was crying over a man and questioning if I was even deserving of love.
The one who was so convinced that a ho phase was all I wanted and needed.
The one who was delusional enough to believe that subpar sex was good enough.
The one who never could have dreamed that a man like Bailey would or could love her, because what is there to love?
Me.
He loves me.
Even if I’m not ready to tell him yet. Even if I’m scared. Even if I don’t know when I’ll ever be ready to say it.
Even with all my baggage and knowing all of that, Bailey still loves me, and that’s all I’ll ever need. For the first time in years, instead of the panic that normally consumes my entire being, all I feel is peace.
My phone dings with an incoming email. At first, I move to swipe it away, but the subject line catches my eye: Grant Information. I tap on the banner, and the email fills the screen.
To: palmer.j@
From: disabilitygrantsusa@
Dear Palmer Jade,
Thank you for your application for our grants at Disability Funding USA.
We are pleased to inform you that you qualify for several of our grants.
As these are payable directly to the organization requiring payment, we did reach out directly to the uniform company using the information provided to us.
They explained that your balance has already been paid in full and does not require further payment. Due to your organization no longer demonstrating a financial need, we will offer the funds to the next applicant.
Thank you for using Disability Funding USA and best of luck to the Hijinks at your competition!
Best,
Laura Moss
Baffled, I read through the email a couple of times. Paid in full? That doesn’t make any sense. How can the balance be paid in full? I haven’t paid for anything yet.
I dial the number that I have saved for our uniform representative, Maurice. We’ve worked together for years, and he’s always found ways to cut us a deal. I did tell him what was going on. I’m sure it was him; he always takes care of me and our team.
Maurice picks up after a couple of rings, his voice as friendly as ever. “Hey there, Coach Jade! How’s my all-star customer?”
“Good, thank you for asking. Hey, I was just calling bout our uniform order.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s actually about to be shipped your way. Should be there in a couple of days. Are you needing something changed before it goes out?” he asks.
“No,” I respond. “I just wanted to call and thank you for whatever you did with paying for the uniforms.”
The other end of the line is quiet for a beat. “What do you mean?”
I laugh. “Did you pay for them? Or did you figure out some sort of way to layer a million discounts, so the order was free?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Coach.” Maurice’s voice is serious, and the man is always bubbly, which means he’s not lying to me.
My stomach plummets. Had the grant people gotten the wrong order? “Okay, wait. Is my order still needing to be paid for?”
“No, ma’am. It’s been paid for since the end of last week. That’s why we’re able to ship them out.”
“But you didn’t pay for them?”
“Nope.”
Puzzled, I ask, “Then who did?”
I hear rustling on the other end of the phone.
“One second, let me look,” Maurice mumbles more to himself than me. “Jade. J, J, J, and Hijinks… there it is. This receipt has the information for a debit card with the name of Bailey Diaz on it.”
The news stuns me into complete silence, even though it shouldn’t. Bailey’s been nothing but supporting of me and our team. The better question is why wouldn’t he pay for the uniforms? “Okay, thank you, Maurice.”
“You betcha! Anything else I can help you with?”
“No, sir.”
“Roger, Dodger. Have a bee-autiful day!”
The line goes dead, and I’m frozen in my spot. Bailey really did this. I open my messages and read back through Bailey’s last text to me yesterday before his phone turned off.
Bailey: I love you, Palmer Jade. I know I told you in person, but just in case you forget before I get back, I wanted to make sure you have it in writing to remind yourself.
His words warm me from the inside out, and I already know what the first words out of my mouth are going to be the moment I see him again:
I love you, too.
I begin to type.
Palmer: Hey, handsome. I know you’re not going to see th—
Pausing, I swipe out of my messages and turn on my front-facing camera instead then hit record.
“Hey, handsome! I was typing a message, but I thought you might enjoy getting a few videos every now and then. Plus let’s be honest, I don’t know if I could type everything I want to tell you before my fingers fell off. Anyway—” I continue, telling Bailey all about my day.
“Also, I know you paid for the uniforms. I don’t know how to thank you enough.
Thank you seems insufficient, but from the bottom of my heart, truly, thank you, Bailey.
” I shake my head, smiling to myself. “Is there anything you can’t do?
” Pulling Mouse into the frame, we sign off.
“Until next time. Mouse and Palmer, out.”
I grab Mouse’s paw and pull it to her face in a fake salute, giggling at how ridiculous the whole thing is as I reach to hit the button to stop recording.
For a moment, I consider watching it back to see if I should record it again but decide against it. Bailey fell in love with me just being me, so why would I start curating myself now?
I attach the video to a text message and hit send, then wait until I get the confirmation of delivery. Satisfied, I slide my phone into my pocket, knowing that no matter how much I try to convince myself that I feel it vibrating, it’s all in my head.
But that doesn’t stop me from hoping.
One day down, who knows how many left to go.