Mr. Charming, page 12
I was going to Nashville and leaving the Fury. I could figure out all the details of where and when I would leave Florida and where I would live in Nashville, but whether she was coming or not was the only thing I wanted to know in that moment.
She sat back on her heels and stared at me. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s just deal with this first.” She motioned toward my knee.
And there it was. She wasn’t coming with me.
Something cracked in my chest. Part of me knew I couldn’t expect it, but I really wished I didn’t feel like she shut me down without even considering it.
She was quick to get off the couch. “Do you want to order dinner? Or I can go to the store and make something?”
“I don’t care.”
“Why don’t we just get Cubans? We can binge that new show you’ve been wanting to watch. Have a night in and just relax.”
She didn’t wait for my answer and went about it.
I felt like I did when I was a kid and my dad didn’t show to pick me up. My mom would fawn over me, giving me everything I wanted. Tedi was doing the same, but I wasn’t a naive seven-year-old anymore. I was a grown man, and I knew when someone was trying to pacify me because they wanted to spare my feelings.
So, I prepared myself for Tedi to end things.
Twenty-Five
Tedi
Tweetie’s been playing so well—I hope Bud Caldron is eating a big fat dick sandwich.
There was another away game tonight, and even though Bud told me to center everything on Tweetie, Coach Buford has let me interview a lot of the players so I can get things together and ready to go for when Bud’s whole plan goes to shit. Either that, or what I’m really hoping for—which is what Tweetie said about Bud finding another shiny toy to mess around with.
I’m sitting in my usual seat on the plane. It’s nighttime, so most of the players are sleeping. We’re going to get in late, and I’d rather stay awake so I can really crash when I get home. There’s nothing going on tomorrow, so I figure I’ll have a lazy morning, treat myself to a bagel with cream cheese, and work a little from my bed.
A big body falls into the seat next to me, and from scent alone, I know it’s him.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Tweetie whispers, buckling the seat belt. I swear, airplanes seem to be the only place where Tweetie follows all the rules.
“I’m sorry?”
“I saw your light on, so I figured I’d come back here. I was thinking.”
“Is that a new thing? Thinking?”
I armor myself for whatever he’s about to tell me. I really hope it’s not about our almost kiss. It took all my self-control to push him away, and when he brought up Decker, I was honestly like, Decker who?
He shakes his head, but a smile reaches his eyes. It was a middle school joke, but it was all I could think of to make sure he doesn’t think I’m remembering his body caging me against the wall in my hotel room.
“Let’s do it. Fuck Bud. At least if you showcase me, then another team will see what they can get.”
I’m disappointed I didn’t think of that angle or how he could benefit from Bud’s stupid idea.
“But you’d have to leave Chicago,” I whisper.
He nods, looking so sad and disappointed that I want to crawl into his lap and hold him. “Yeah, that sucks, but…” He shrugs and frowns. “Not much I can do about it. I doubt Bud is leaving, and I don’t want to play for someone who doesn’t believe in me.”
It feels like déjà vu from when Jana and Kane tried to get him back after they’d traded him away. He’s being proud, but I don’t know, maybe that’s not such a bad thing like I thought it was back then.
“Well, if you’re serious, I have a lot of ideas.”
He nods, and for the rest of the flight, I tell him what I’ve sketched out. I show him some of the stuff I have, and he chimes in with some good ideas too. That’s the thing with Tweetie, he’s always been really good about his social media. I suppose it’s easy when you’re Mr. Charming. I used to handle it for him when we were dating, but most of the time people just loved him because he’s such an authentic person. You can try to hate him if you want, but you’ll end up loving him all the same. Which is exactly my problem.
The plane lands, and Tweetie doesn’t leave my side as we file off, but I get my bag first, so I go outside and order a rideshare.
I’m waiting at the curb when he walks out of the airport with Conor and Rowan. Tweetie glances in my direction and stops as Conor and Rowan wave goodbye to me and slide into their waiting vehicle.
“Hey, you’re alone?” he asks with a frown.
I hold up my phone. “Car is five minutes away.”
He looks around and holds out his hand. “Can I see your phone?”
“Why?”
“I just want to see where they are.” His hand inches closer, so I hand my phone to him. He presses a button, hands me back my phone, then grabs the handle of my suitcase. “Let’s go.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, not moving.
He’s walking toward the black SUV Rowan and Conor already got into. “You’re not staying out here at two in the morning waiting for a fucking rideshare. You know who probably drives those things at this time of the morning?” He doesn’t stop or even turn around.
“Tweetie!” I follow, glancing at my phone to see that my rideshare has been canceled.
“Bad people drive those things in the middle of the night, Tedi. You need to take your safety seriously.” He pats the back of the SUV, and the back door lifts.
Rowan and Conor are in the third row as if they knew this would be the result of Tweetie coming over to me. “Hi, Tedi,” they say in unison, looking over their shoulders at us.
“I’m out of your way. I can wait,” I say to them.
“Do you live in Chicago?” Conor asks.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re not out of our way.” He turns back around.
“And Kyleigh has a mean streak. She’d kill me if we didn’t give you a ride,” Rowan says.
Tweetie smiles at me. “See? Get in.”
I hesitate.
Tweetie shuts the back door and steps around to me. “Either you get in or I pick you up and put you in, but standing on this curb waiting for some creep to pick you up isn’t an option.”
“I’m pretty sure they get background checks.”
“Maybe, but you’re not going to be the headline story tomorrow morning.” He opens the back door. “Get in, so we can all go get some sleep.”
I walk over to Tweetie, stopping before climbing in. “Thank you.”
He smiles at me. A true smile that I haven’t seen directed at me in years, and my heart pitter-patters, remembering what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that smile for so long.
I climb in and slide all the way to the window. Tweetie sits on the other side and shuts the door.
“We have one more stop to make,” he tells the driver, and I give him my address.
The driver doesn’t seem to have a problem with the added stop. Rowan and Conor are arguing about some play from the game, and Tweetie remains so still I wonder if he fell asleep sitting there, until we reach my apartment and he opens the door.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells the guys.
Tweetie grabs my bag and walks me into the lobby of my apartment building. “I’d like to walk you all the way to your door. You know, so I can sleep tonight.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve survived this long walking myself home at night.”
He runs a hand through his golden locks. “It would give me peace of mind. I need a really good night’s sleep if I’m going to play well in two days and make your job easier.”
I chuckle. God, it feels so good being around him and just being able to be ourselves.
“Are you gonna make me beg?” he asks.
“Fine.” I press the button on the elevator.
He doesn’t say much on the way up, and I shouldn’t be sad that he really is just making sure I’m okay and doesn’t have a hidden agenda. But still, I wish things were different with us. It was like old times on that plane, working together on his social media, bouncing ideas off one another, no thoughts of the past and all the hurt and disappointment that lay between us.
We file out of the elevator and down the hall toward my door. I insert my key into the lock and step inside. He places my suitcase just inside the door.
I spin around, arms out at my sides. “See? All safe.”
“I’d come in and check for monsters, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave.”
My shoulders sink, and I’m bowled over by a wave of loss. “Don’t say things like that.”
“You know I don’t have a filter.” He holds my gaze.
“I know,” I whisper.
We stare at one another, and the tension crackles between us. How easy would it be to open the door wider, to step out of his way, and welcome him in? I could break the distance, press my lips to his, and take what I want right now. But I can’t. Because the aftermath will only destroy me like it did once before.
So instead, I say, “Thank you again. Get home safe.”
He nods but doesn’t move. “Always, Tedi.”
I inch the door closed, and he steps away from the doorframe. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams,” he mumbles.
I shut the door, flicking the lock as a failsafe against myself and the poor decisions that wait on the other side of the door. My back hits the door, and I rock my head back and forth, squeezing my eyes shut.
I feel it, just as I did at Ford’s retirement party back in Florida three years ago. That chemistry mixing and bubbling between us until eventually we both lose control and succumb to the inevitable.
Twenty-Six
Tweetie
My feet drag along the carpeted floor of her building’s hallway. I force every muscle in my legs to keep walking toward the elevator and not turn around to go back to her apartment.
Tonight on the plane was the first time since she came to Chicago that I wished all that bullshit wasn’t in our past. That we were just two strangers meeting. But we aren’t.
So I take the elevator down to the lobby, walk out the front doors, and hop into the black SUV to head back to my condo—alone.
“How was that?” Conor asks from the seat behind me.
“It looked really rough,” Rowan says.
I want to tell them about Bud’s plans, that he doesn’t know if he wants to keep me. Even if I know what they’ll say—that he’s crazy, that I’ve still got it, that I’m not going anywhere. I could tell Conor and Rowan, but it won’t do any good. In this industry, you have to be worried about yourself, as sad as that is.
I once thought differently, until I was traded to Nashville. Sure, my teammates felt bad for me, but they all stayed in Florida. I don’t blame my Florida friends for staying loyal to the team. It just really sucked to feel so left out, the one left behind. Reminded me too much of my childhood. Being the one who was pushed out never sat well with me. So if it happens here in Chicago too, I might as well retire. Fuck, just thinking about that six-letter word causes my heart to beat erratically.
“Thanks for letting me take her home and for waiting,” I say.
Rowan puts his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to thank us.”
“First you sat by her most of the flight, then you took her home. Are you changing your plan?” Conor asks.
“What plan?” I frown.
“Well, first you tried to hate her, then you decided to act like you were five years old on the playground, and now you’re being protective.”
I can’t say Conor doesn’t have a point. “There’s just this past I can’t erase between us, and it fucks with my head.”
“My ceiling has been really quiet,” Rowan says, his sly way of saying I haven’t brought anyone home with me.
“For how long?” Conor asks him.
“Funny thing, since that brunette we just dropped off arrived in town.” Rowan leans forward, so he’s right next to my ear. “What do you have to say about that?”
I shake my head at the shit they’re insinuating, but they’re not wrong. “I can’t.”
“I think it’s more that you don’t want to.” Rowan leans back in the seat.
“It’s okay. But you have a boyfriend to contend with,” Conor says.
I think about it for a second. He’s right. Decker Davis feels like the death of me right now. But even if he wasn’t in the picture, I’m not sure Tedi would let me in again.
“What do you want?” Rowan asks, voice serious. “From her.”
I sigh. I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings. Hell, it’s the reason I put Kane out of my life the minute he traded me. I couldn’t show him how hurt I was by that decision. Stupid or not, trades happen, yes, but they felt like family to me. My therapist from when I was younger and Tedi are the only people I’ve ever felt comfortable knowing how fucked up I am.
I think about Tedi. Besides my mom and sister, she was the first woman to come into my life and love me for me—all the messed-up pieces included. I want her to find happiness, even if I’m not the guy. Even if it feels like a twisting knife in the gut.
So, I answer truthfully. “I want her to be happy.”
“And if Decker Davis makes her happy?” Conor asks.
“Well, I’m not going to go stop her wedding or anything like your dumb ass.”
Conor and Rowan grunt from my need to always deflect with an insult or humor when I don’t want to face something.
“Then I’ll survive. If Decker Davis is the one she wants, I’ll step aside.”
They might not understand my decision. They probably think I should fight for her. But why would I upend her life, put her in turmoil, and ruin her happiness? If I did that, then I never really loved her in the first place.
Neither of my friends says anything, but I don’t care.
I mean it, if she’s happy and I’m not, I can live with myself knowing she is.
Twenty-Seven
Tedi
The schedule has been grueling, and I’m about done with this travel thing. I remember it being hard when Tweetie traveled and how much he didn’t want to go and craved being home. I understand it on a whole different level now.
By the time we get off the plane after the Washington game, another flight coming in well after midnight, I just want a bed and soft blankets.
I’m walking out with Tweetie, Conor, and Rowan, but I planned ahead this time and ordered a car that should be here when we walk out. This way I won’t have the temptation of inviting Tweetie into my apartment when he insists on getting me home.
“You coming with us?” Rowan asks as the sliding doors of the airport open for him.
“Fuck, it’s cold.” Conor zips up his jacket and rushes over to their SUV.
“No, I scheduled my own ride.” I lift my hand. “See you guys later.”
Rowan and Conor wave, but Tweetie stands outside their SUV as if it’s not below zero with the wind.
I walk over to the car with the license plate number pulled up on my phone. For a moment, I think Tweetie’s going to stop me and make me go with him, but the sound of a car speeding down the road draws my attention. It stops right in front of my driver’s car. What the hell?
I glance over my shoulder, and Tweetie nods at whoever the driver is and puts his bag in the back of the SUV.
Decker climbs out of an expensive-looking car and rounds the back. He goes to the driver’s side of the car I hired and digs out his wallet, passing the driver cash before rounding the back of the car. The car I reserved drives away, and Decker takes my suitcase from me.
“Why are you here?” I seethe through my teeth.
“Ask your overbearing ex,” he whispers, opening his trunk and putting my suitcase in.
My gaze lifts. Tweetie’s still standing outside the passenger door of the SUV. I try to figure out why he’s watching me, but he climbs into the SUV. I miss his gaze on me immediately.
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s fucking cold out. Get in the car,” Decker says.
I shift my attention to him holding open his passenger door. The black SUV pulls into the traffic lane and speeds off since they’re one of the only ones on the road.
Mindlessly, I walk to the car.
“By all means, take your time. I don’t need my hands to play baseball or anything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just get in the damn car, Tedi.” He waves as if I need directions.
“I like this bossy side of you. Don’t be afraid to show it in the bedroom,” I joke.
He gives me a saccharine grin. “No worries, honey, your seat warmer is on, and I’ve blasted the heat for you.”
“That’s so sweet. What did I do to deserve you?” I put my gloved hand over his cheek in a playful way.
“You blackmailed me, remember, sweetheart?” he says through gritted teeth.
I climb in, my ass falling into whatever low-slung sports car he’s driving. He slams the door before I can even reach for my seat belt.
Then he’s in the driver’s seat, swearing and complaining, putting his hands in front of the heating vent. “We need to talk.”
After he blows into his hands and rubs them together, he slides on his seat belt and puts the car in drive.
“This car is a little excessive, no?” I ask, looking around at the stitching and leather and the lit-up screen. Maybe I’m just used to Tweetie, who never really splurged on anything like this. I mean, he lives in a two-bedroom condo when he could easily be overlooking Lake Michigan. But that’s Tweetie, and one of the reasons I fell for him.
“Am I asking you to make the payment?”
I turn my body toward him. “Decker Davis, I’m seeing a whole new side of you.”
“This is me at one thirty in the morning, having to stay up to make sure I pick up my fake girlfriend because leaving her to be picked up by a rideshare driver is inconsiderate… let me think of what else he said.” He pulls onto the highway.
