She smiled and hurried off, running her hands over her hair.
He paid for dinner, because he did feel like a jerk. A few minutes later, she pulled into his driveway and moved to get out of the car with him. He stopped her with a touch on the arm. There weren’t fireworks or electricity or a growing heat in his body when he touched her. There was just the coolness of her skin on his fingers. “Thanks for the ride.” That should let her know that he wasn’t looking for more. “I’ll see you around.”
“Sure.” She grinned, perky once again.
Crap, he shouldn’t have touched her. But he’d told her he wasn’t looking for more than a friend. He’d been honest. That was the best he could do and the most anyone could ask for—yet she still had a hope in her smile that made him nervous. He ambled up the front walk, being sure he didn’t turn around to watch her go.
He jumped when he almost bumped into his dad. “How long have you been standing there?” From the way Dad shifted his weight, it may have been a while.
“Not that long.” Dad looked down at the large box in his arms. “Here.” He shoved it at Brayden.
“What’s this?”
“Tilly dropped it off.”
Brayden set it on the ground, carefully. He still wasn’t all that steady when it came to bending over. It’s amazing how much the head and neck do to maintain balance. He was getting there; squatting was easier, because he could keep his spine straight. He lifted the flap and saw his old T-shirts, folded perfect. Only Tilly could fold T-shirts like that. She had a gift. A white plastic bag had the hospital logo on the front. His mouth went dry. He stuck his hand inside and felt around until he found the small square box. His fingers tingled as if he’d been shocked, and he jerked away.
He pulled out a pair of Redrocks socks. On him, they reached mid-calf. On Tilly, they went up to her knees. She’d worn them with cutoff jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of running shorts one day when they hiked Weeping Rock. The whole box smelled like her fabric softener. He used the same kind but could never smell it on his clothes like he could on hers. She had a magic touch. Dang, he missed her.
“Why did she bring this over?”
Dad glared, his steely blue eyes boring into Brayden. “That’s what people do when they break up. She’s cleaning you out of her life. You need to fix this.”
Brayden flipped the flap closed, put his hands on his knees, and stood. “I can’t. Not now.”
“Brayden, she’stheone. Not this nurse woman, not some girl you’re going to meet in the future. Her.” Dad rarely lectured. He was more of a sit-down-and-talk-things-through kind of parent. To see this much raw emotion, directed like arrows right at his chest, was unnerving.
Brayden could see the ring in his mind, the large center stone surrounded by a halo of smaller stones. He’d picked that one because it reminded him of the two of them, his arms wrapped around her. Even though he was technically the bigger-sized person, she was the brightest—her happiness filling his life.
He’d broken up with her to protect her. Why was that so hard for everyone to grasp? He had a chance at a job, but if he messed it up, then he was back to having nothing, to being nothing. And he couldn’t ask Tilly to take him on, and all the hassle that was a part of his life and injury, without some stability. “You taught me that a man takes care of his family.”
Dad nodded and folded his arms.
“I can barely take care of myself. I had to have my dad move in with me to help with simple things like laundry and cleaning the bathroom.” Although he was getting to the point that hemightbe able to lean over the washing machine to pull clothes out.
“So?”
“So, how can I take care of Tilly if I can’t do simple things like empty the dishwasher?”
“There’s more to taking care of a person than cleaning up after them. It’s more important to take care of their heart.”
Brayden shook his head, the weight of what he’d lost lying heavy on his soul. “She was beat up, Dad. That week before you got here, she hobbled around, favoring her side. It killed me to see her in pain, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even get out of bed.” He kicked the box into the corner by the front door. “I have film to watch.” He headed to his room, where he had a desk and a computer set up to watch game film.
He had baseball in a much different capacity than he’d had before, but he still had it. And he could coach because he knew what he was doing on the field and could share that knowledge. But he had no idea how to be half the husband he’d planned to be, or half the man she’d planned on having.
He knew what Tilly wanted in life, how she wanted to raise active kids who loved the desert and the sun and the sand and the wind as much as she did. Was he supposed to wait in the car while she led their family on adventure after adventure?
There wasn’t a backup to marrying Tilly. There was only letting her move on—no matter how much it killed him to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tilly
Tilly breathed in the smell of a full ballpark on a late summer afternoon. Hot dogs. Super-sweet lemonade. Buttered popcorn. Sunscreen. Grass. They all mingled together with the symphony of sounds. Baseballs smacking gloves. The players’ chatter on the field. The fans talking to each other and calling to the players. Tilly adored it all. She especially loved the heat that baked everything together. It hit her arms and the top of her head with a force that was both undeniable and comforting as she worked the section behind home plate.
From here, she had a great view of Gunner on the field. He’d been brought in for the seventh inning. The Redrocks were behind by one. His job was to keep Atlanta from getting a hit and close out the inning. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. Brayden would be proud of his reluctant protégé. Rumors floating around the front office were that the two of them butted heads more than they collaborated on pitching. Which was a shame. Gunner could use a little more Brayden in his delivery.
“Hey, beautiful!” called the guy on the third row from the top. He and his group of three friends had already asked for two bottles of water, provided free for the expensive seats. She’d given them her spiel about ordering drinks and snacks for delivery on their phones, all the while feeling their eyes on parts of her she’d rather they didn’t admire. Maybe they wanted nachos.
