Chapter 35 Desiree Dixon

It’s Okay, Buddy

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. Something shifted when I said I’m moving here, and I’m not sure if he’s excited about it or not.

He fell quiet when he’s normally not. He just invited me to his mom’s goat farm and then backtracked.

I think he’s getting in his own head, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

We pull onto a fairly deserted road as the sun dips behind the mountains, but the scenery is pretty and still lit as we drive in the desert toward what I’m guessing is Lake Mead. I discover I’m right when he pulls into a parking lot that’s probably filled with cars on the weekends but is empty right now, and we hop out of the truck and head toward the dock.

He grabs my hand, and we walk down the narrow cement walkway toward the slips where the boats are parked. I don’t know much about boats, but they look mostly like sport boats and fishing boats to me.

“You’re quiet,” I say as we stop and look out over the water as the skies continue to darken. “I feel like something changed when I told you I’m moving here, and now we’re stuck out here with all this awkwardness.”

He turns toward me and pulls me into him, and I rest my head on his chest, feeling comforted in his strong arms. He draws in a deep breath. “Something did change, Des. This is big, and it’s exciting. But it’s also scary.”

I nod against him. “I agree. But why’s it scary for you?”

He shakes his head and clears his throat. “I had a heart-to-heart with your dad after practice today.”

He lets go of me and wanders over to the next row of boats, and I walk a few paces behind him.

“What did you talk about?” I ask carefully.

He turns toward me. “Not us. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

A bit of relief filters through me at that.

He clears his throat and heaves out a sigh. “Austin Graham was a starter before my brother took over as head coach. He brought me over and started me over Graham, and Graham holds a grudge because of it. He’s been giving me shit about every single mistake I make. Then Terry Lawrence fucking laid me out at practice today, and I saw him laughing with Graham on the sidelines, and it felt like my entire team was against me.” He hangs his head a little at the end.

“I’m sure they’re not,” I say quietly as I loop my arm around his waist and step onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m working my ass off to be a leader, and it feels like your dad is the only one who sees it. He’s becoming one of my only allies on the team. He’s more than a coach to me already, and it’s only been a few months. And I feel like I’m betraying him with you, but I can’t stay away, Des. And on top of that, this is all so new, you know? You and me, I mean. I don’t want to fuck it up, yet it feels inevitable.”

I look up at him as I shoulder the weight of all that heavy stuff, setting the thoughts about my dad aside for now as I focus on the two of us. “Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know how to do this, and the example set before me is two adults who were married forty years and ultimately split.” He lets out a heavy sigh as he keeps his gaze focused out over the water. “I guess I’ve learned that nothing lasts forever.”

“So it’s not worth trying?” I ask.

“That. That right there,” he mutters more to himself than to me. “Your ability to call me out on my shit is something nobody has ever done. My brothers, maybe. But my parents?” He flattens his lips and shakes his head. “Nope. They let me get away with murder because they were too tired from my older brothers to bother with me. And that’s how I’ve lived my life. I’ve never had to answer to anybody, and I want to answer to you. But we had this space, this bumper with you in another city, and I’ve got my career, and your dad is involved in mine, and you’ve got yours, and those feel like they’re merging together when we hardly know each other, yet I want to know every single part of you.” He lets go of me to rub his temples. “It’s fucking confusing, that’s all.”

“Hey,” I say with a small chuckle as I rub his back a little. “Hey. Deep breath. It’s okay, buddy. We’ve got this.”

He laughs. “Buddy?”

I lift a shoulder. “It slipped out.”

“I kind of like it, buddy.” He raises a brow.

“Did you really just call me buddy?”

“I did. And now I’m going to kiss you.” He does, and it’s a sweeter kiss than the passionate, soul-crushing ones we’ve shared before. It feels good, like the foundation of friendship is forming, and as long as we keep open lines of communication, I think we’re going to be okay.

He runs back to the truck to grab a basket of food he packed for us, and we sit at the edge of the dock as we eat and look out over the water for a while. He tells me more about living with his dad, and I tell him all about Addy, Chloe, and Lauren. He tells me his closest friends are probably his brothers and that he’s not as close with his teammates as he wishes he was because of his suspension and his beliefs about nothing lasting forever.

It’s the first time I really think about what that must be like. New faces come, old faces go, and that’s really the only guarantee from season to season.

I want to stick around a while. I want to show him that not everything has to end.

But I can only hold his hand if he’ll let me. If he decides to let his fear win, we might be over before we even really get a chance to get off the ground.

“And it’s not just my parents’ divorce or teammates leaving,” he says, his voice low. “I lost my best friend when I was in high school.”

“Oh, Asher. I’m so sorry.” It feels like he wants to say more, so I encourage it. “You mentioned that your dad was there for you during a rough period in your life. Is that what you meant?”

“Yeah. His name was Jacob Fitzgerald. We called him Fitz, and we were at a party. We drank a little, and someone offered him ecstasy. We found out too late that it was laced with heroin and cocaine. Sometimes I can’t stop seeing him passed out cold before someone called nine-one-one.” He shudders a little, and I reach over and grab his hand.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” I say softly, and he lays his hand over mine.

“When it first happened, I wanted to stay in bed and be miserable, but my dad would come in my room and force me to get up and face the day. Do it for Fitz , he’d tell me. So I did. I got up, and I worked hard, and I never forgot that one stupid mistake could end it all.” He shakes his head with regret. “Fitz was adventurous. He got me into rock climbing and parkour and all kinds of weird shit. He’s the reason I take risks today. And I want to do something to honor his memory, but I have no idea what.”

Hmm…I’m accepting a job with the charitable contribution division of the Vegas Aces, and I’m an event planner.

An idea starts to take shape before he even takes another breath to say more words.

“What about a foundation raising awareness for the dangers of drug use for teens?” I suggest.

Do it for Fitz runs through my head. DIFF—like make a DIFFerence. What if we ran an event where we made a difference by saying who we’re doing it for?

It’s a sketch of an idea right now, but that’s how all great ideas begin.

“I can work on a proposal if you want,” I say. It’ll give me a reason to work closely with him, which sounds pretty damn good to me right about now.

“I’d love that. Thank you,” he says softly.

We finish the picnic he brought for us, and it feels like we’ve turned yet another corner together.