The inconspicuous dig at Brad just slips out. Either Delilah doesn’t notice or she lets it slide.
“Let’s go to Draft. It’s been ages since I was out at anything but a stuffy restaurant,” Delilah says, moving around my car to slide into the passenger seat. “This ride is cushy.” Her hands smooth over the supple leather seats on either side of her legs. She’s rocking her favorite pair of cut-off jean shorts. Delilah’s a tiny thing, but she packs a punch with her pint-sized body. Right now, with the emotions of her showing up for me, and the post game adrenaline, I’m having a hard time ignoring the way the line of her thigh muscle disappears under her tiny shorts in the dimly lit car.
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I look ahead and start the car instead of leering at my friend like a creep. Fuck. I need to get laid. My hand just hasn’t been cutting it lately, but making my sex life a priority feels trivial when I can’t even hang with my teammates. Jarrett is probably getting a kick out of the fact that he can even cockblock me from the grave.
I ease the car forward and pull out of the parking lot, focusing on the drive to Draft. For the first time since we’ve met Delilah doesn’t fill the silence with chit chat. And from the covert glances she keeps throwing my way I can tell she’s concerned, but giving me the space I need to process as I weave through downtown. When we park, I turn toward Delilah, ready to face the question that I know is on the tip of her tongue. She’s been patient but now that she’s got my attention she’s studying me carefully.
“Is everything okay? You were quiet on the drive,” she finally asks.
I’m not sure I can express what it felt like to have her watch me in the stands without losing the slippery grasp I have on my emotions right now. She doesn’t know that she gave me a sense of normalcy I haven’t had in months. The simple joy of seeing her there, cheering for me, cracked me wide open and left me a little raw.
I look back at her, taking in the concern in her eyes. Her hands fidget like she’s just a little nervous about what might come out of my mouth. I can’t blame her. I enjoy keeping her on her toes. You never quite know what I might say.
I blow out a long breath and run my hands through my hair, letting my curls sift through my fingers. “Thank you for coming tonight. It’s the first time I’ve had someone in the stands for me since—” I can’t stop the way my voice breaks.
“Jarrett?” she finishes for me, saving me from myself. Her small hand reaches out, wrapping itself around my larger one. The pad of her thumb rubs a circle on the back of my hand, assuring me she’s here.
I nod in response. Thankful, yet again, that she knows how hard talking about this is, and is trying to take some of that sting away. Delilah gets me even when I don’t always understand how to navigate my grief. She gives me the space and time I need to work through it, knowing exactly what I need before I do.
It’s part of the reason I made the impulsive decision to get the jersey for her. She’s always showing up for me the same way my brother did. I want her at my games, watching with my name across her back. Plus, the idea of her at a game with Brad, while wearing it, does a little something to my ego.
I reach into the back, grabbing the jersey from the backpack.
“Having you there tonight was the highlight of my season. Thank you for being there for me, tonight and so many times over the past few months. I—um.” I swipe my damp palms on my pants. Delilah’s become my closest friend and as sweet as the treats she makes. She’d never make me feel silly for something like this. “I got you a jersey. So you can wear it to the games you come to.” Flipping the jersey around so she can see the back. “Myjersey, I want everyone to know you’re there cheering for me.”
“I think the way I pointed at you screaming,‘That’s my bestie’probably gave that away tonight, but this is even better. Now no one will doubt me.” Her words are light and bubbly, but when she takes the jersey from me, I don’t miss the way her fingers trace the letters of my last name. This time her words are soft. “Thank you. I can’t wait to show it off. You deserve to have someone there cheering for you, Cruz.”
We haven’t been at Draft for more than a few minutes and Delilah has already won over everyone. She marched right in and charmed them with her wit and bright smile. Lincoln seems particularly interested by the way his eyes keep flicking over her. The catcher and I are going to have to have a little chat about the way he’s looking at her.
“You tell us ‘no’ every time we ask you to come out, but a pretty girl asks you, and here you are. I see how we rank,” Lincoln says, looking Delilah over.
“She is much nicer to me than you all are, and makes the best coffee so I have to stay in her good graces,” I say, dropping my hand to the small of her back as I steer us from the bar to one of the high-top tables.
When Delilah excuses herself to use the restroom I level Lincoln with a glare, stepping into his space. “Don’t even fucking think about it. Not only is she seeing someone, but she’s not some cleat chaser that you can use to get your dick wet and kick out in the morning. She’s my friend and if you make that shit awkward for me you might find yourself benched on the IL with a broken nose.”
His hands come up in front of his chest and the self-satisfied look that crosses his face does nothing to tame my annoyance. “Message received, hands off the bestie. For the record I never kick them out without a goodbye orgasm. Morning sex is my kink—we both part happy.”
“Keep your eyes to yourself too while you’re at it,” I grumble as Delilah bounces back up to us cheerfully oblivious.
“It was nice to meet you, Delilah. It’s like Cruz is a brand new man with you around,” he tells her with a smirk.
Delilah frowns at me and I know we are going to dive deeper into the reason for that later. She looks back over her shoulder at Lincoln. “You can call me Lilah. You’ll be seeing me at more games. I had forgotten how much I loved watching baseball in person.”
When we get to the table, I set our drinks down and take advantage of the more private setting. “Do you prefer Lilah?”
Her head tilts to the side, and she nibbles on her plump bottom lip before replying with, “I like whenyoucall me Delilah. No one else really does, but it feels right.” She pauses for a second. “Is that weird?”
“Not at all. It feels right to me too. I like Lilah, it suits you, but to me, you’re Delilah. That’s how you introduced yourself when we met and calling you Lilah seems too casual, like you’re just an acquaintance.”
“But I’m not, I’m your bestie.” Her smile lights up her face, making her ocean blue eyes twinkle under the bar lights.
“That you are,” I tell her, tilting my beer to my lips. “So, you really want to come to more games?”
Her brows pull together. “Yes. What’s not to love? I get to be there for you, plus there are hot guys in tight pants and all the popcorn and beer a girl could dream of.” Her demeanor shifts to something more serious. “My dad and I used to go to games together before they moved to Hawaii. Going to games makes me feel close to him.”
“Remind me to thank him for fostering your love of baseball. I’m not sure we could stay friends if football was your favorite sport,” I tease, drawing her brilliant smile back out.
Chapter 14
