“Yeah, a while ago.”
“Oh no.” I rub my forehead and dial Nat’s number. “I need to talk to Nat before the game.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. Max has the guys ‘getting into the zone’ with these breathing exercises. They won’t be allowed to have their phones until they get there.”
As Delia predicted, the line goes to voicemail.
My chest feels like it’s going to explode from my new revelation, and I wonder if I could possibly flag down the bus on the highway.
“Riley, you look like you need to sit down. Come with me.” Delia steers me to a truck that probably belongs to Renthrow since I’ve never seen her ride anything but her Harley.
Gordie is strapped in a booster seat in the back. She’s reading an actual, physical book and she waves enthusiastically when she sees me.
“Hi, Miss Riley.” Gordie grins in such an adorable fashion that I can’t help but smile.
“Hi, Gordie. What are you reading?”
“A book about stars. Did you know we’re all made of exploded stars? Isn’t that cool?”
“That’s really cool.”
Cordelia pipes up. “We came back to the stadium because Gordie forgot her jacket while we were sending the team off. I’m actually glad I ran into you. Nat gave me something to pass on to you, but I wanted to take Gordie straight home. She’s not feeling well.”
“I have diarrhea,” Gordie lets me know matter-of-factly. And I’m reminded that she might be a smart cookie but she still is, for all intents and purposes, a seven-year-old girl.
“I hope you feel better soon, Gordie.”
“Thank you,” she says sweetly.
Delia reaches into her glove compartment and pops it open. “He said this was something very important to the both of you. He made me swear that I would deliver this straight to you and no one else.”
Cordelia hands me a brown package the size of a book.
“Delia,” Gordie chimes from the backseat, “my belly is doing that grumbly thing again.”
“Uh-oh. Let’s get you home, pumpkin.”
I wish Gordie a speedy recovery, slip out of the van and cross the lot to my truck. Rather than wait to get home to open the package, I tear into it right away and gasp in shock when I unveil the gift Nat left for me.
It’s my old poem book.
Why did he bring this back to me? Is he trying to tell me I shouldn’t be embarrassed?
I flip the pages and a loose sheet slips out. Nat must have tucked something into the pages of the journal.
His handwriting is on the slip of paper.
Curious, I read what he wrote and then I start laughing so hard that tears fill my eyes. Nat created his own version of bad poetry for me.
After reading all the poems, I return to my favorite one and slide my finger over the last stanza.
Neither of us are poets and that much is true
But the one thing that won’t change with time is…
Riley, I love you.
Chapter Sixty-One
