He wasn’t even sure what that meant. But he did know that Tilly had turned him away. She’d never done that before. She was the chill one, easygoing. If she didn’t have to work, she was up for whatever he had going, or she’d plan a hike or bike ride for them.
Her refusal had knocked him senseless. He’d never pictured a world where Tilly turned him away. Maybe she’d felt the same, and then he’d gone and betrayed that trust. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel good at all.
He’d thought about little else as he’d worked out. Doc had upped the intensity of his exercises. He still couldn’t rotate his shoulder—a key factor to throwing a baseball. Even though no one believed he could do it, he knew all things were possible. It was only impossible until someone proved it was possible. Why couldn’t he be that someone? A small part of his brain knew that he wasn’t going to get to that point, but he wanted to get as close as he could. Knowing that he’d done everything in his power to create a miracle was important. If not, he’d always wonder.
He wondered about a lot of things these days. He snatched up a plate, getting in line behind Dustin. “’Sup?”
Dustin grinned. “Me. I’m feeling fine.”
Typical pregame answer from the shortstop. “Sweet.” They chatted as they loaded their plates. Brayden noticed that his had significantly fewer calories than Dustin’s. He wasn’t burning the calories his friend was cranking out in pregame, and if he wanted to stay fit, he needed to change his intake.
He took a seat next to Blake, who was deep in a stupid argument with Juan about who was the fastest player in the league. He angled himself so they wouldn’t try to include him. Juan could talk. His skills on the field were far outweighed by the number of words that pumped through his mouth.
The room suddenly went quiet. Brayden looked up to see if Coach had come in; the guys often hushed in case he had an announcement to make. Instead of Wolfe, he saw Tilly—and Gunner.
Gunner took her elbow and led her over to the stack of plates. She tucked her hair, that gorgeous, beautiful golden-brown hair, behind her ear. Brayden had loved her dreads. They were unique, and they’d suited her—low maintenance and yet wild and free. He’d imagined her having them as she walked down the aisle to him. To see her look so different was a little unnerving, like a piece of his girl was gone. And yet, he couldn’t deny that the change in her appearance had shocked him, stealing the breath from his lungs. His fingers itched to run his touch the silky threads even now. Not being able to explore the texture, the weight of it was driving him nuts.
Brayden glared at his plate, no longer hungry.
Juan’s head whipped back and forth so fast he had to have whiplash. His eyes went crazy big. “Dude, don’t hit him. Okay? That’s a really bad idea. And I don’t think Coach would appreciate you starting a fight. I mean …” He licked his lips, a sure sign that he was just getting started.
Brayden held up a hand. “I’m fine. Can we just eat?”
Juan’s head bobbed. “Yeah. I mean. That’s what we’re here to do, right?” He shoveled a large forkful of chicken into his mouth and chewed with as much enthusiasm as he talked.
Conversations started back up, at a much quieter level. Like everyone in the room was half listening for things to blow up.
The only empty seats in the place were at the table behind Brayden. It seemed like people had heard about Gunner inviting Tilly to dinner and they’d filed in hoping for a show. They were going to be disappointed.
“So how are you fitting in?” Tilly asked Gunner as they set their plates down and took their seats.
“Some guys are cooler than others.”
Brayden snorted and then swiped his face with a napkin to cover it. Some guys. The Redrocks were the best group of guys in the MLB. They had your back.
“They all love you, though,” added Gunner. “You’re golden.”
Brayden could imagine the slight blush that spread across Tilly’s cheeks, even though his back was to her. “That’s not true,” Tilly replied. Her voice wobbly with sadness and a dose of resignation.
Did she mean him? Did she think he didn’t love her because he wanted more for her than a broken man who didn’t know where he stood in the world anymore? He blew out his lips.
Dustin elbowed him.
Brayden threw his napkin over his half-empty plate. “Thanks for dinner, guys.” He stood, his chair bumping into the one behind him.
Someone grunted. Yeah, like he’d done that one purpose. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Gunner.
“No worries.” Gunner smiled up at him.
He was so full of himself Brayden wanted to smash his plate in the guy’s face, take him down a notch or two. If he could still throw, he’d bury him in a pitch-off.
He glanced at Tilly. She had her head down, her hands in her lap. He moved his plate to his left hand. As he walked past, he let the back of his right hand brush the hair that hung over the back of her chair. His skin tingled and his hand twitched to touch her shoulder. He barely kept himself from crossing that line. Touching her was out of the question, but he couldn’t forget how soft she was, or the way she molded her body to his for life-altering kisses. And now that he’d felt her hair, he wouldn’t be able to be rid of that memory either.
She gasped as if she’d felt the contact. Brayden kept his eyes forward, not acknowledging what he’d done.
Chapter Eighteen
Tilly
