I want to take her on another date. I want her to roll her eyes and make one of her off-hand remarks that are unwittingly hilarious.
I want to hold her hand. Kiss her. Take her for a drive to see more stars and airplanes.
I want to hear the latest about her shop and tell her the news I just heard from McLanely. Theilan—the guy from the original Lucky Strikers team—is playing against us this week.
Don’t come to me.
I’m doing the best I can. Our first game is in two days and now that I’m trying to wean off the pills, I’m more anxious than ever that the pain will strike in the middle of an important play.
Night falls as I drive on autopilot and I somehow take a wrong turn because when I stop, I realize that I’m in front of Riley’s apartment instead of in front of my house.
The light is on in her living room.
I imagine her, hair up in a ponytail, wearing a tank top and shorts, sitting cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by her auto mechanic books, a laptop open with waveforms that speak a language only she can interpret.
Wanting to be closer, even if it’s just by one step, I climb out of my car and stand by the hood, staring up at the building.
In the distance, I hear a motorcycle engine rumbling.
It gets louder and louder before it stops directly by me.
“Nathan Campbell?”
I’m stunned to find a petite woman on a bike the size of a dinosaur. The woman, clad in leather, removes her helmet and shakes her head so that her jet-black hair swishes around her cheeks.
“Cordelia?”
“Are you waiting for Riley?”
I straighten to my full height and slip my hands into my pockets. “I was just about to leave.”
Cordelia gives me a strange look. “I can call her down.”
“No.” I clear my throat. “She doesn’t want to see me.”
“Ah.” Cordelia nods as if that explains a mystery.
“Did Riley say something?”
“No, nothing like that. When we showed her the video you posted, she got kind of agitated and told us to take it off.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Cordelia waits a beat.
“Delia, can I… get a woman’s perspective on something?”
Cordelia arches a brow.
“Say, hypothetically, someone has two equally important things to protect. How do I explain to someone important that I can’t let go of either one?”
“I don’t follow?”
“You see how Renthrow has Gordie to protect? But he also loves you at the same time? If both of you were in trouble, he’d have to run and take care of Gordie first. You wouldn’t be offended, would you? You would see it as him protecting someone he loves just as much as he loves you. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re saying if I show my significant other that I love something or someone more than them, how do I get them to be okay with that?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Not exactly…”
