Page 70

“I need to go check on River.” She sighed, and reluctantly I dropped my hold and pushed to my feet.

“I should get out of your hair. I know I kinda just barged my way in here tonight.”

“Stay.”

“Stay?”

“Please. I just need five minutes, then we can …” Tillie gulped, “talk.”

I barely lasted a heartbeat after she disappeared before I was on my feet, pacing. Her offer to talk sounded ominous. I wasn’t really sure what it was I wanted to say. Not yet anyway.

I gathered up the empty boxes and let myself out the front door. After dumping them in the trash, I was walking down the path when the front door squeaked open.

“Guess that answers my question then,” Tillie announced, her voice filled with pain.

She folded her arms across her chest protectively and dropped her chin.

“What question?” I asked, confused.

“You’re leaving. I’ve gotta give you credit though. You managed to wait just long enough for me to leave the room before you ran.” Her accusation stung.

“Is that what you think?” I tossed back, unable to stop my annoyance bubbling up.

“It’s what I know,” Tillie replied stubbornly.

“You’re wrong,” I declared, stopping six feet in front of her.

“If I’m wrong, what are you doing disappearing as soon as I turn my back?”

“I was taking the trash out,” I answered honestly.

As my words struck her, I saw the moment she realized I wasn’t lying. Her shoulders slumped as a whoosh of air left her lungs.

“Oh.”

I took a step forward.

“Tillie …”

“Cody …”

“You’re a mom,” I pointed out.

“I am,” she confirmed. “And you’re a celebrity.”

“No, I’m not,” I replied quickly.

“Cody …”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“My son knows more about you than I do!” Her voice rose, and I wished we were having this conversation anywhere other than standing in her front yard.

I took another measured step forward, and Tillie’s eyes widened. I was in her space now. I could smell her shampoo. I could feel the warmth from her breath against my skin. My fingers itched to be tangled in her hair, but if I put my hands on her, I knew I wouldn’t be able to let go.

“I’m a baseball player, Tillie. I’m not a celebrity,” I told her honestly.

“You’re on the cover of magazines!” she accused.