Page 76 of Make My Heart Malt

When Rylee was pregnant, we sat in her kitchen prepping for her baby shower, and I got her to admit she loved Trey.Pats self on the back.“Let’s back the baby balloon train up. Even calling this a relationship is a stretch.”

“You light up like a Christmas tree every time you talk about him. You might not realize it yet, but I saw this happening months ago.” She grabs a pint glass and pours a beer from the tap before passing it to a customer. She rests her palms on the bar and leans in. “Tell Georgia about Tony,” she pushes off and rises to her full height, “and then dive headfirst with Garrett.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. That’s exactly what I want to do. As I push away from the bar, the sound of my stool scraping across the linoleum floor fills the air. “Wish me luck. I hope she doesn’t shank me or something.”

“Call me from the hospital if she does!”

I give her a wave and a hopeful smile over my shoulder as I exit Porter’s.

It’s still been radio silence since the first message I left Georgia. I’d hate to do an uninvited drop in, but I have to tell her. While sitting in my SUV, I pull out my phone and call her number, making one last attempt to reach her. The call goes straight to voicemail, so I try again, and voicemail. This time I leave a message. “Hi, Georgia. It’s Dessa. Please give me a call. We need to talk. It’s really important.” I press end and blow out a breath before dropping my head against the headrest. No doubt Tony has already told her some bullshit story.

I drive downtown to where her store is located. I crossmy fingers that she’s there and she’s alone. At the curb, I shift my SUV into park. A plain black awning hangs over the front as brown craft paper covers the windows, but they’re illuminated by a light inside. She’s here, or at least someone is. I step out and tug my coat tighter around me as my boots crunch in the snow on the sidewalk. Once I reach the door, I pull off my mitten and knock. Several seconds pass until Georgia peeks through a lose flap in the paper and glances at me. Then she disappears. I think for a moment she’s walked away, but instead the lock clicks and the door swings open. I step out of the way and glance up at Georgia. Her hair’s pulled back in a high ponytail and a purple cable knit sweater drapes over one shoulder.

“What do you want,” she leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms, “besides trying to kiss my husband?”

I cringe at the words, not because I did anything wrong, but Tony now just gives me the ick. “That’s not how it happened at all. I don’t know what Tony has told you, but he is the one who made a pass at me. When I said no, he threw me out. I swear that’s what happened.”

Her face softens a fraction. “Why should I believe you, someone I’ve only known for a month, over my husband.”

“Honestly, I understand it’s hard to believe, and if the roles were reversed, I’d be hard-pressed to not believe my husband as well. But I know Tony. Right now, I have nothing to lose while he could lose everything.” The tension leaves my shoulders. “This is what he does. Garrett punched Tony because when Tony and I dated, he cheated on me, and Garrett overheard him talking about it. Yes, it was in the past, but it definitely shows on his track record.” I inhale a deep breath. Georgia stands in front of me, motionless as she absorbs my every word, her blank expression not telling if she believes me or not. But I continue anyway. “After the fight, Tony lied to me and saidGarrett was jealous of my friendship with him, and that’s why Garrett punched him.” She drops her arms and wrings her hands together. I’m crossing my fingers that she believes me. “You’re a great person, Georgia. We’ve only known each other for a month, but I love the friendship we’ve built, and I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I’m telling you all this. I’m sorry. Please call me if you need anything. Anytime.” I flash her a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for hearing my side. Bye.”

With that, I stroll down the sidewalk and toward my SUV. Halfway down the block, I hear my name, and I twist around.

Georgia is only a few steps away. Her arms envelop my shoulders in a warm, tight embrace. “Thanks,” she whispers. Hurriedly, she lets go and practically sprints back to her store.

Things may be okay between Georgia and me. Or I really hope so anyway.

THIRTY-TWO

WRONG BALLS

Garrett

It’s been over two months since I saw Dessa in person. Held her in my arms, kissed her sweet lips. Granted, I’ve loved building an emotional connection with her and not just a physical one. But fuck, I need the physical. My hand can only be a poor substitute for so long. I pull up our spring training schedule.

During the eight weeks of spring training, there are three breaks in our schedule. The perk of spring training being in Arizona is the warm weather. No one wants to play ball in Seattle, or any northern state, in February. The day off in the middle of an away game and a home game will be perfect for Dessa to come visit.

At the start of my career, they told me which games I was playing, and I went, no questions asked. Now because of my status in the league, I’ve been able to negotiatewhich games I play and which ones I don’t. Not traveling for the away game, I’ll get an extra day with Dessa.

First, I make a phone call to Jake. Since I want this to be a surprise, I arrange to get her the necessary days off before purchasing the plane ticket.

I peer at the time on my phone. Dessa should be off work and at home by now. She gave me her work schedule, so it’s easier to coordinate phone calls, especially surprise ones with happy endings. I pull up her number and press talk, and it rings a few times before she answers.

“Hey! I was just thinking about you.”

“Happy thoughts, I hope.”

“The happiest. I just bought a new bra, and I think you’d approve.”

“Send me a picture or it didn’t happen.”

A few seconds later, a picture text pops up on my phone of Dessa wearing a black sheer bra. The outline of her hard nipples is prominent as they push against the fabric.

“Fuck. Tates. You look absolutely amazing.”

“You mean my tits look amazing since that’s all the picture was?”

“No. I’m picturing you, your whole body, in this picture.”

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