Page 38 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

The guys all trade looks, and I roll my eyes.

It’s at this moment that Lily looks over at us, sees me, and smiles. She gives me a small wave, and I know it shouldn’t, but my heart jumps a tiny bit, and Rico lets out a noise.

“Damn. She sure is pretty,” he says quietly.

She is pretty, and as each of them is now looking at her, I feel this strange surge of jealousy streak through me. I don’t get jealous. I don’t have anything to be jealous over, so this emotion searing its way into my veins is unsettling.

“I think I’ll go over there and introduce myself.” He moves, but my hand clamps down on his arm. He looks at my hand, then at me, and then just like Titan, another shit-eating grin appears on his face.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Fellas?” He looks at each one of the guys standing with us, and I do the same. It turns out, they’re all grinning as they stare at me.

I hate that they know me so well. I hate that they probably know more about me than I do myself. And it’s with that I tell them all that they can fuck right off and walk away. I know I’m confirming whatever it is they are thinking as I head toward her, but standing with her is where I want to be. I also want every other guy here today not to question who she’s here with, but to know it’s me. Am I implying something I shouldn’t? Maybe, but she doesn’t need anyone hitting on her, and I don’t need a reason to bash in any of their faces.

Chapter 15

Lily

Have you ever done something that in hindsight you can’t decide if it was the best decision you’ve ever made or the worst? That’s how I feel about showing up to Tyler’s team event.

I wasn’t going to go, but then something fundamentally happened to me when I saw how excited and proud he was of my books. I had this burst of confidence, one I haven’t had in a long time, and in the moment, I didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He validated something inside me that I didn’t know I needed validated, and he could have asked me to travel to the moon with him, and I would have.

While I had been hoping there wouldn’t be pictures of me online at the barbecue, there are. I knew this was a possibility, but when we left last night, I had felt optimistic as I didn’t pose for any or feel any cameras aimed my way. None of the players or their significant others were taking pictures, just the Tarpons PR staff, but when they posted the event yesterday morning to their social media accounts, unfortunately for me, even though there are like forty pictures, I’m in two of them. There’s one of me laughing with Camille and Sophie, with the guys all standing behind us, and there’s one of me where I’m talking to Bryan and Lexi.

Me. Talking to another team’s quarterback.

The expression “broke the internet” is how I feel. People are all up in arms that I’ve somehow betrayed not only Dean but also the Destroyers. All day, it was like watching a car crash coverage. People came out of the woodwork to discuss my presence and what this might mean.

Of course Morgan was thrilled that I went. She’s been on me to get back out there and live my life, but it’s hard. Did I need to make my grand reappearance at a Tarpons event? No. But the boldness I felt post–author confession said, “Just do it.” I’m certain Dean tried to text me, but given that I blocked him, I’m grateful not to have to hear him complain about how this is making him look. Camille, Lexi, and Sophie sent a group text checking in, and Lance shot me a text asking if I was good, in which I replied, “Yes,” but I dropped a pot roast in the crock pot for Tyler for dinner and then hid the rest of the night in my room.

Do I feel bad about this? Maybe. After all, I’m certain I’m not the only one dodging scrutiny left and right. Who knows what was said to him at practice today? There were enough people there who saw us together, and the cat will certainly be out of the bag soon. I just didn’t want to face it yet.

Yet.

But I am getting there.

It also doesn’t hurt that I’m making new friends. Friends who seem genuine, and that means more than anything. I saved that picture to my phone. I love how we’re laughing, but I also love that Tyler is in the background. He’s wearing a fitted white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, a nice pair of navy shorts, and another pair of white sneakers. His hair is styled, he’s holding a bottle of water and watching me while Jonah stands next to him, watching Sophie. Dean never took notice of me. At the time, I didn’t mind. It seemed normal, but the expression on Tyler’s face here says he knows exactly where I am at all times, and I love it. Butterflies danced in my stomach.

I don’t even have to guess what Dean is thinking about this photo. I know because he hated the picture I kept of Lance, Tyler, and myself at their college graduation framed in my office. He saw it once and said he didn’t understand why I chose that photo. But I did.

It’s not the first photo taken of us, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. Over the years, there have been several that come to mind—one of the three of us when I first went to visit Miami, one of the two of us dancing together at Lance’s wedding, and one of us in the hospital after my nephew was born. Tyler is standing behind me as I’m holding the baby, and both of us are emotional as we’re staring down at that sweet little face. I bet there are more out there too. I’m just not sure what they are.

This morning, Tyler beat me to coffee. He made the pot, poured my cup as I wandered out of my room and into the kitchen, and he stared at me over the rim of his as he sipped it until it cooled. Once or twice, I felt my cheeks heat, but he didn’t ask any questions and neither did I. Instead, he brushed past me as he went to the living room, sat in his chair, and turned on SportsCenter. Eventually, I joined him, but on my place on the couch.

“I was thinking I could take you out on the boat today,” he says, breaking the silence but not looking at me. He’s staring at the stats they have listed on the television, which I find boring and irrelevant, as games haven’t even started yet, and no one knows anything.

“Really?” I ask. I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does, and my heart gives a tiny delighted shimmy in my chest.

At my question, his head turns so he can look at me. “Why not? Now that the season has started, my ability to hop on and head out whenever I want has come to an end, and I miss it. It’s Tuesday, my day off, and I find myself free. There’s something about being on the water, with the wind in your hair that’s therapeutic, and well, no offense, but you look like you need a little therapy.”

A laugh bursts out of me at his bluntness, and one side of his mouth tips up. I shouldn’t be staring at his mouth, but I can’t help myself. He has that just-crawled-out-of-bed look, he hasn’t brushed his hair or shaved, and I feel insanely lucky to see him this way. My inner teenager sighs.

“Do you think anyone will see us?”

“Who cares if they do?” He shakes his head and shrugs at the same time. Such a simple gesture from him, but the consequences could be so much worse, I know.