(Found) Family Day
Flashback - Two Years Earlier
“Are you coming to Family Day next week?” Lincoln asks as I pack my bag up after practice. I pause, thinking about the email the team coordinator sent us earlier this week. It’s an annual party at the ballpark to recognize the sacrifices the players’ families make for the team.
When I got the email, that hollowness in my chest that’s been slowly easing over the past two months came roaring back—leaving me angry all over again that my brother isn’t here for these moments. Then a text came through from Delilah with a funny meme of a dog with his head out the car window, saying,“Can you imagine, isn’t he the cutest?” There was still that ache in my chest, but it felt a little less empty. Like maybe it was slowly healing—little by little, slowly stitching itself back together.
“Yeah, I’m going to ask Delilah to come with me. My parents can’t make the trip this time,” I explain, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Is her boyfriend okay with that?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“He’ll probably encourage it. Brad is all about making connections. He’ll love that she’s spending time with the team, because he can claim he knows players by association.” The look he gives me tells me exactly what he’s thinking:He may as well have Craftsman stamped across his forehead.
“Speaking of hanging out with the team, I’m glad to see you are doing more of it. We’re lucky to have you, even if the circumstances of your trade sucked,” he says as he squeezes my shoulder.
It might be my first season in Denver, but I know that the days that it’ll be warm enough to walk to and from the stadium are numbered. Patting Lincoln on the back I head out of the locker room to meet up with Delilah at the coffee shop.
The scent of cinnamon floats in the air when I get toBuns & Roses.The whisk in Delilah’s hand scrapes against the metal bowl as she whips up the glaze for her sticky buns. Her newest hire, Mikey, runs coffees out to customers, making small talk and laughing with them like he’s been here since the start.
“Is this your new work station?” I ask, stopping in front of her at the counter where she’s mouthing the words to the ‘90s pop song playing in the background.
“Not a chance. I like to bake in the back where I can really belt out the words while I mix ingredients.” She sets the bowl down and brushes a strand of hair off her face with the back of her hand before picking it up and resuming her work. “I’m out here so that I can help Mikey when he has questions. He’s catching on fast, I’ll be relegated to the back of the house by the end of the week.”
“Any chance he’ll be ready for a solo shift by tomorrow?”
“We can probably figure it out or I can have one of my part-timers come in to help. Why do you ask?” Her nose wrinkles in concentration while she mixes the ingredients together. Holding the whisk up to test the thickness of it. It’s then that I notice the grated cheese in the small dish next to the bowl.
“Are those golfeados?”
I’ve seen Delliah blush more times than can count but never this red. She peeks up at me through her eyelashes looking almost guilty. “Don’t get too excited, this is my first time making them. I’m sure they are nowhere near as good as your mom’s.”
My heart stutters in my chest and any lingering disappointment I had about my parents not coming fades.
“It’s family day at the stadium. There are activities before the gates open for the players’ families. I wanted to see if you would come.” The words come out in a rush. I feel uncharacteristically sheepish asking her. Delilah freezes in place, glaze dripping onto the counter.
She sets the bowl aside and looks up at me, her normally plump lips pulled tight. “That’s the most nervous I have ever seen you. Did you really think I would say ‘no’?”
“Not really, but I know that you’re busy training, Mikey, and it’s not always easy to get away. It’s a lot to ask.” I look down at my feet before meeting her eyes. I hate feeling vulnerable, even though I know she would want to be there for me. She already has one guy in her life that expects her to drop everything for him.
“What kind of activities are we talking about?” Delilah asks with a mischievous smile. “Is there a dunk tank?”
“There might be.” Her teasing tone is already helping loosen the knot in my chest. “I heard there’s a three-legged race, complete with a trophy,” I say, as she pours the mixture over the warm pastries.
“Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong. You better be able to keep up.” She reaches under the counter for a plate and slides one of the freshly made pastries to me. “Stop eye-fucking my buns and eat one. Lord knows you’ll just turn it into more muscles.”
My lips tilt up in a smile. “You love my muscles. All the better to haul your pocket-sized ass across the finish line during the three-legged race.”
“I think you forget I ran track in college, you clown.”
“How did I not know this?” It makes sense for someone so petite. Delilah’s got the kind of curves that men crave. Her short stature only enhances the mouthwatering peaks and valleys along her hips and waist. Plus, she’s not the kind of girl that talks about herself much, and she definitely doesn’t boast, so I’m not surprised that the topic hasn’t come up. She would rather celebrate everyone else’s achievements than brag about her own.
I watch, stupefied, when she dips her finger into a puddle of filling and syrup that have dripped out of my golfeados onto my plate and brings her finger to her mouth, sucking it off. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
What the fuck was that?
I stand there gawking as she crosses the space to the sink and washes her hands, completely off-balance from her teasing. Maybe it’s a good thing Dellah and I can’t be more than friends, because one little innuendo and I’m totally at a loss for words. She looks over her shoulder and smiles, a blush staining her cheeks.
“What time does it start tomorrow?” Just like that, she pops the ill-advised lust bubble we’ve found ourselves in, bringing us straight back to the friendzone.
