Page 51 of Home Safe

The doorbell rings, and I rush to answer it. Jason is all smiles as I swing the door open, and I pause to crouch down into his hug before greeting Danae.

She’s dressed more casually for this date in jeans and a long-sleeved top, but she’s just as heart attack-inducing as she was in the green cocktail dress. Her lips have a slight pink hue to them, the kind that comes from a tinted lip balm as opposed to flashy lipstick. They’re as magnetic as I remember.

A little kissing definitely wouldn’t hurt, right?

It’s a matter of moments before Sam is on her way out the door with Jason to drive Danae’s car to the movie theater. As the door clicks shut behind them, I can’t resist the urge to pull Danae into a lingering hug.

“Hi,” I murmur into her hair.

“Hi,” she murmurs back, her voice vibrating into my chest.

Reluctantly, I draw myself out of the embrace. “Hungry?” I ask.

“Famished, actually,” Danae answers with a smile.

“Good thing, because I have a whole dinner buffet waiting for you,” I say as I place a hand on the small of her back, gently leading her to the kitchen. I open the chafing dishes with a flourish.

Danae gasps. “Breakfast for dinner?” She returns my wide grin.

“I should clarify that I did not cook this. My chef, Robert, did. And he would like you to reserve your judgment on his cooking skills until he can prepare a fresh meal for you sometime,” I say. Danae scans the waiting omelets, pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, and biscuits with gravy, her eyes dancing.

“I can assure you—there is nothing else he could possibly cook that will be more impressive than this spread,” she says.

We load our plates with food and sit at the smaller table in the kitchen, forgoing the formal dining room. Conversation is light, recapping our weeks as we savor the meal. But as the piles of food are reduced to crumbs, I know it’s time to dive deeper.

I have to play the jokers. Even if I don’t want to.

Needing some movement, I stand to take our plates to the sink. Danae follows me, carrying the syrup and hot sauce from the table. After rinsing the plates, I dry my hands and then lean them on the counter, facing the sink. Clearing my throat, I say, “So, on our first date, you asked me about my injury last year, and I kinda shut down. But I want to talk with you about it now.”

“I watched a video!” Danae blurts. She’s standing right next to me, and when I turn to face her, I see the panicked look on her face, eyes wide and cheeks flushing. Her words come out in a rush. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I googled it and watched the video of what happened, and I’m so sorry!”

I’m stunned by her admission, not because I’m upset, but because I’m surprised that she cared that much. Danae must misinterpret my silence, though, because she doubles down on her apology. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry if searching about it behind your back breaks your trust. I’m sure you’re tired of people knowing all of your business from the internet, and I’m sorry that I was one of those people.”

“I’m not upset,” I say, shaking my head. Taking one of her hands in mine, I reassure her. “Not upset at all. Don’t worry—I was surprised you gave it a second thought.”

Danae sputters a laugh. “Um, second thoughts are all I give. Second, third, tenth. Too many thoughts about everything all the time.” She looks down at our hands, at my thumb tracing hers. “It looked really painful. Really awful,” she whispers.

I blow out a breath and lean my hip against the counter. “It was. Physically, it was more than painful. Total agony.” Her eyes are soft with compassion, and now I draw in a deep breath. “It was the mental toll that was harder to handle, though.”

“How so?” she quietly asks.

I stretch my neck, uncomfortable talking about the emotions. “Obviously, there was so much anxiety about my future in baseball. Was it over? Could I come back from a torn labrum? It’s a difficult rehab journey after surgery. It wasn’t my throwing arm, but the flexibility and reflexes of my catching hand are just as crucial in a defensive position like shortstop. I was plagued by the uncertainty.”

Pausing, I look down to see that now her thumb is the one tracing gentle patterns on my hand. “And if it had all been over, it would have been my own fault,” I confess.

Danae’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

I shake my head, weighed down by the memory of that moment. “I should have yielded to Farmer, our left fielder. We’d both called for the ball, but the placement fell within his territory more than mine. Ifhe was able to get there—which he yelled that he was—I should have let up and given him the catch. But coming off the previous season, I’d been getting a lot more attention. The ‘Wizard of Defense’ nickname had been around for several years, but I was gaining more attention as a five-tool player.”

Danae’s quizzical expression reminds me that the baseball lingo is going over her head. I explain, counting items off on the fingers of my free hand. “Five-tool players are strong in all areas—fielding, running, arm strength, and hitting for both average and power. I’d always been able to put the bat to the ball and had a decent batting average, but the season before my injury, I’d started hitting with a lot more power in addition to playing well defensively.”

I close my eyes, too ashamed to meet Danae’s honest gaze.This beautiful, authentic woman—will she still be interested when she realizes how selfish and prideful I was?

“I let all the attention over my success go to my head. Felt like I was a bigger deal than I was. So, in that split second running for the ball, I was determined to be the one to make that game-winning catch. Who was I if not the ‘Wizard of Defense,’ able to make a diving save like that?”

Swallowing hard, I open my eyes to look Danae in the eye. “I wanted tobethe Wizard of Defense. Wanted to get the catch that would have been on highlight reels for years to come. That would have garnered even more attention, put a greater spotlight on my abilities. So, I assumed that Farmer would yield to me, and I dove for the ball. And I almost ruined my entire life in the process.”

Chapter twenty-two

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