She shakes her head. “My mom’s event. I told her I’d help her and it’s the same night.” She glances at the house where movement behind the glass doors catches my eye and I notice that her mother is busy in the kitchen making dinner. “One thing I need to do is work on cultivating a better relationship withher, and it won’t help if I ditch her high and dry right after she’s asked me to help her out.”
I cannot fault her for this. It’s family. But how do you react? I want to shake her and say that her family will always be there for her, but I know that they won’t. I also know that if I want to make things work with her, I need to give her the freedom and space to do what she needs to do for herself, otherwise won’t I only be getting a version of her that is half-glued together? I don’t want that for her or for her family because I know what this means to them both.
Thinking back to the last-minute phone call I’d made to the assistant coach right before I came in, I could slap myself, but never mind. I’ll have Travis deal with it tomorrow.
There’s a look of sadness and determination on her face, and I don’t want to push her. The sound of a door sliding makes us both turn, our heads swiveling toward the house.
“Hey, you two,” her mother calls out, nodding toward the kitchen table behind her. “I’ve made a last dinner for you, Jake. Riley, I figured you were staying, so I put a plate down for you, too.”
Her mother ducks back inside, leaving us alone with everything still unsaid, but a lot already laid out on the table.
“We’re kind of back to square one, I guess,” she mutters before turning toward the backyard and calling the dogs over.
“How about if we put a pin in this whole conversation for now and talk after the weekend?”
“The weekend?” she asks, her voice surprised.
“Yeah, I’ve got back-to-back games and appearances they want me to do before the season wraps. Your brother sent me an updated schedule a few hours ago, and they’ve got me really busy right when I get back.”
“Oh,” she manages, disappointment in her voice. Her eyes reflect her attitude, and something cracks in my heart. I feel likeI’m doing my best to show her I want to put her first, but I don’t know if she’s getting it. But maybe I could do a better job of it, of showing her I care?
Becks and Posh are at our feet, dancing around as Riley starts to walk back inside. Right before she gets to the door, I grab her hand and turn her around to face me.
“Hey,” I say, aware that we have an audience. “We’re not done here, okay? I don’t want you to think we are, but I do need you to know something before we walk inside.”
“What’s that?”
Slowly, I place my lips on her forehead and kiss her. “That this isn’t done. I’ll be free after the weekend and we’ll keep talking, okay?”
Riley nods. “Sounds good. I’d like that.”
She looks at me, her smile fleeting, before she walks away and opens the door to the house. She lets the dogs run in ahead of her before she steps through the doors alone, leaving me outside in the cold.
I really can’t blame her for her reaction; it’s as confusing to me as it is to her, but I know we’re going to have to try.
I just need to find a way to get her to see she can trust me. Trust us. Not only now, but always.
Because I don’t want a life where she’s not in it.
TWENTY
Riley
Iwoke up on the day Jake left town with an ache inside of me that couldn’t be filled. I even tried to eat one of the candy rings he gave me and it made my stomach turn. In fact, I’ve barely managed much down my throat today, but I’m here, with my mom, at the event space getting her set up for tomorrow night’s fundraiser.
“What time is Levi stopping by with those bales of hay?” she calls out as she crosses the room. She’d commandeered a church hall in town for the event, proud of herself for getting them to donate it and spare her a rental fee. “I want to get them in here first so we’re not tracking in hay once we get the other parts set up.”
I look at my phone. “The last time he texted me was about twenty minutes ago, and he was on the outskirts of town. He’ll be here soon.”
“That was a nice dinner last night,” my mother says as she sashays by me with a load of tablecloths in her arms. She walks over to where several long tables have been set up and begins draping them, signaling for me to come help her. “Did you get to say goodbye to Jake?”
“Sure did,” I sing out, not wanting to talk about it. Not that we had a chance to say a proper goodbye, not with my parents hanging around after dinner and the arrival of their neighbors who decided to stop by, so of course there was dessert and more talking. I’d finally left close to eleven knowing that Jake needed to pack and get to bed if he wanted to be on the road by six this morning.
“And, will you see him again?” she asks, not subtly. I shrug in response. “You two were outside talking for quite a while.”
“That we were,” I acknowledge, taking some of the fabric and lifting it across the table, letting it settle in place. “He’s a very interesting man.”
“I’ll say. Hot, too.”
