“Not very original, bro.”
He combed a hand through his beard. Several of us had decided to grow out our facial hair throughout the playoffs, and Soren was leading the pack in terms of bushiness.
“I’m serious. I’m trying to take your advice and give her space, but it’s literally eating away at my insides.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
His lips kicked up to one side. I resisted the urge to sock him for smiling at my pain.
“Because it means you really care about her.”
“Of course, I care about her.” I lowered my voice before adding, “I just . . . I don’t know if she feels the same way, though.”
Scratch that. I was fairly confident that Nessadidreturn my feelings. Whether or not she was willing to act on those feelings and pursue something real, something beyond a farce, was what I still didn’t have a concrete answer to.
“But I’m not giving up.”On her, on us.
“I never thought you would.” He slapped my knee. “Just let me know when you need more advice.”
“IfI need more advice.”
“When.” He pulled his hat down and closed his eyes. “You’re not superhuman, kid. Even swoopers need saving sometime.”
By the time the bus pulled to a stop in front of the Roasters’ facilities, I felt like the walking dead. Everything hurt—my shoulders, my hamstrings, my eyebrows. I needed a hot shower and about sixteen hours of sleep. A cuddle would have been nice, too, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“We still on for M&M night tomorrow?” Diaz asked. “Practical Magicis calling.”
I groaned. “I love you guys, but no. I’ve got a hot date with my cotton sheets, so please give Nicole Kidman and Sandy B. my best.”
“You sure about that, brother?” Matty taunted, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t. My arm protested when I lifted my bag onto my shoulder and turned to see what he was going on about.
He nodded toward the window overlooking the entrance to the stadium. Several of my teammates flanked his side, all of them “oohing” and “aahing” at whatever was waiting for us outside the bus.
I followed their gaze out the window. “What the fuck are you guys—”
A flash of copper curls on the other side of the glass stopped me dead in my tracks.
Nessa.Angel.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. She was wearing the same checkered coat she had worn during our farm date. Her hair was loose under a Roasters hat with my number emblazoned on the side. Damn, how long had she been waiting in the cold?
The bus doors crunched open. I paused when I reached the final step and turned back to my teammates, who were still gawking out the windows. “If you really want me to pay for that cruise, nobody sets foot off this fucking bus until we’re through.”
“You told me you already paid for it,” Matty argued, arms crossed over his chest.
“Do you want the zip-lining excursion or not?”
They went quiet after that. All except Diaz who whined, “I wanted to watch the lumberjack show.”
I got my first clear look at her—and the cardboard tray of plant clippings in her arms—when my feet hit the ground outside.
“Hi,” I said, grinning like an idiot.
“Hey. Late night?”
“Kinda.” I crossed the wet pavement to meet her. She met me halfway. “What do you have there, angel?”
