CHAPTER 4 DANNY
The parade starts at noon. It’s about three miles, and around a million people are expected to show up. The Strip is closed down to traffic for two hours, so this is a pretty big fucking deal.
And I’m sitting at my place staring at my bottle of weed gummies as I debate whether to take one or two.
The ache was back in full force after a fitful night’s sleep. Usually smoking before bed puts me right to sleep and allows me to wake up without a hangover.
That is not the case this morning.
I shouldn’t get high before the parade.
But I also shouldn’t have lit up on the bus when we had our welcome to town parade at the start of the season, either. See? I’m being responsible by doing this in my own home rather than on the bus. Look at me all grown up and shit.
I chew one and swallow it down, and since it’ll take at least thirty minutes before I feel it, I take a hit from my dab pen.
It eases the ache that’s been pressing on me since my sister called me with the news.
This is far from the first time I’ve gotten high. It’s not even the first time I’ve used weed as a painkiller. But it’s definitely my first time doing it because my heart feels heavy.
This is stupid. I should’ve seen it coming.
We aren’t even a thing.
So why does it hurt?
Because I thought we had the potential to become a thing, I guess. Or maybe we are a thing, and that’s why it hurts. I’ve been waiting for her for nearly six months.
I’ve never waited for anybody for six months. Hell, six days is a long wait for me between women.
What the fuck has she done to me?
And now she’s engaged to somebody else. Does it ruin our chances? I think so, but maybe it doesn’t. She says it’s not real…but if it’s not real, why didn’t she say no?
I don’t have answers, and I’m not really sure I still want them.
Of course I still want them. That’s the hurt talking. It’s just a difficult thing to admit.
I suppose I could call her and find out, but life’s been a little crazy since we won.
The banging on my door flusters me into action. I pick up the bottle of gummies and the pen and shove both in a drawer in the kitchen before I head toward the door, my movements already slowing with the effects of the pen.
I open the door to Rush, who told me he was coming over this morning so we could head to the parade together, but I forgot what time he said about three seconds after he said it.
“Dude, are you high already?” he demands as he looks at me.
I close the door behind him. “I might be.”
He stares at me for a long beat as if he’s disappointed in me, and then he says, “You couldn’t even wait for your best friend?”
“You think you’re my best friend?” I ask.
He laughs. “Don’t say Cooper is. Don’t you dare say Cooper is.”
I shrug. “Okay. It’s not Cooper. But it’s definitely Cooper.”
“God dammit.” He holds out a hand, and I roll my eyes before he follows me into the kitchen for the gummies I just stashed.
I pass one over to him, and he pops it in his mouth.
“Any word on your sister?” he asks while he chews, bringing her up again, and now I wonder if he’s going to bring her up every time we see each other. I’m not really in the mood for that.
“You think she’d be interested in a deadbeat like you?”
“I’d hardly call myself a deadbeat, my friend.” He brushes his knuckles on his shoulder. “I did, after all, close game six to a victory.”
“Yeah, I’m not referring to your career, however modest you might be about it. I’m referring to the way you treat women.”
“And you’re any different?”
I lift a shoulder. “I didn’t used to be.”
He raises a brow as we both head toward my couch. “Who’s got you all fucked up, man? You ready to talk yet?”
I clear my throat and sit up a little. Maybe it’s the weed talking, or maybe I genuinely trust this guy who just called himself my best friend.
Is he trustworthy?
I think he might be.
Is he my best friend?
I haven’t seen much of Cooper lately. I haven’t seen much of anybody lately outside of the time we spend together at the ballpark.
I think he might be.
“Alexis Bodega,” I say, and her name feels like candy as it rolls off my tongue.
Her name stuns him into silence for a beat. “Wait…what?”
“You heard right.”
“Didn’t she just get enga—ohhhh.”
“We met on opening day. I saw her the next night opening for Vail. We kept in touch, and she left for her tour. It’s been six months of texts and phone calls.
I kissed her on Saturday after we won, just a total involuntary celebratory reaction when I saw her standing there on the field, and it hit the media.
Then she got engaged last night. It’s all so fucked, and I don’t even know who I am anymore.
” I shake my head with disgust at myself.
“You don’t know who you are? You’re Danny Fucking Brewer, man. You can have any woman you want, and you settled on one. That’s pretty fucking dope, don’t you think?” he asks.
“Who says dope anymore?”
“Stay with me, man.”
I hold up both hands. “Sorry.”
“So what is this, then? Love?”
“How can it be when she said yes to some other douchebag last night?”
“Who says douchebag anymore?” he mutters.
I shoot him a look, and he shakes his head as he leans back against the couch.
“All I know is you aren’t the same Danny Brewer I’ve been hanging with for the last year.
I’ve never played on the same team as you, so I wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to your season focus or something else, but something changed on opening day. Now I know the truth.”
I press my lips together. “Keep that truth to yourself, all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. So you can change, but you don’t think I can?” he asks.
I glance over at him. “What do you mean?”
“Last night you told me your sister is off limits.”
I nod.
“Can’t you at least…I don’t know. Find out if she’s interested? Because what if she is?”
I sigh. It might be the weed talking, but I agree. “Fine. I’ll call her tonight. But answer me one question.”
“What?”
“Have you slept with other women since you met her?”
His eyes dart to me, and his brows dip. He neither confirms nor denies, but his silence indicates my assumption is correct.
“Because if you have, then this isn’t the same.” I motion between the two of us.
His jaw drops. “You’ve been…you’ve been celibate since March thirty-first?”
“Just me and this guy.” I hold up my right hand and wiggle my fingers.
“That’s way too much detail, man. Way too much.”
I shrug, and we both laugh, and then we order up one car to take us to the stadium for today’s festivities even though I’m not really feeling all that festive.