17. Emerson

"Where are we going?" Gi asked as we wandered toward the water.

Although it was a quiet night, we were in Boston, and cars rushed past on the street surrounding the harbor. If we moved down away from the center, there was a breakwater in the salty ocean that protected the harbor from the waves of the Atlantic.

"I thought you might want some downtime. There's a quiet place where you can see the stars and hear the waves." Two things I missed. Growing up, I spent a lot of time by the water. Especially when I wanted peace from my large family and noisy younger siblings. My dad swore that the water quieted all the noise inside. And even though he'd been gone for almost a decade, those words always echoed in my heart.

"Are we in a hurry?" she asked, her breathing choppy.

I assessed her, taking in the way her chest was heaving and how she was almost jogging in stilettos to keep up, and quickly slowed my steps.

"Thanks," she said. "All that lankiness isn't something I was blessed with."

"Thank God for that."

She tipped her head, and a small line appeared between her brows.

"You without those killer curves would be sad."

She rolled her eyes at me, but she couldn't hide the slight lift to the corner of her mouth. Her heels tapped along the concrete as we moved farther from the noise of the zoo and the road. When we reached the end of the sidewalk and came to the five-foot brick wall. She glanced around, confused.

"Trust me?" I asked, setting the wine and cups on the ground beside me.

With a slow nod, like she wanted to but wasn't totally convinced she could, she studied me. Good enough.

"Okay." I grabbed her waist and turned her so her back was to the wall. "When I say three, jump."

Her big brown eyes widened, and she locked her hands around my wrists. "Wait. Wait." She looked over her shoulder, then zeroed in on me, her mouth parted in disbelief. "You do not think I'm going up there, do you?"

I tightened my hold on her waist, my fingers digging into the softness there, keeping her from escaping. "No, I don't think it. I know you're going up there. Trust me."

"You can't lift me," she scoffed.

I frowned at her. I wasn't the scrawny seventeen-year-old who'd been picked up by a triple-A team anymore. Even at six-two, I still barely tipped the scale at 190, but I was just as strong as any of the guys on the team. "Try me."

"I'm heavy," she pleaded, her eyes full of fear and what I swore was embarrassment.

That was nonsense. I didn't lift a lot because I didn't want to wreck my shoulders by pushing it. But I could bench 305. I was a professional athlete; it was insulting that she thought I couldn't help her jump up a couple of feet.

Brows lifted, I tightened my grip on her. "So on three?"

"Fine." She glared, sliding her hands to my shoulders. "But I warned you."

I counted, and when she jumped lamely, I lifted her the rest of the way and settled her on the ledge.

She shrieked. "I can't believe you did that."

I set the wine and cups on the wall, then pulled myself up next to her with little effort. "I told you I could."

She rolled her eyes at me, scoffing, but I just grinned as I slipped over the side.

Once I'd dropped down onto the rocky ledge that ran out into the dark water of the harbor, I rested my hands on her waist again. "Gonna actually trust me this time?"

Head tipped to one side, she studied me. I could see the eye roll before it happened, so rather than wait for it, I lifted and pulled her down beside me.

She squeaked again as she settled on the rocks. "I can't believe you just did that," she said again, this time her tone filled with awe rather than incredulity.

I didn't get it. It was like no one had ever lifted her before. She peered around me, taking in the water and the horizon. Then she focused on me once more, carefully stepping forward onto the uneven surface.

"What is this?"

"A breakwater. Goes a half mile into the bay." I tipped my chin toward the rocky path. "It's a bit uneven, so you might want to take those off." I pointed to her heels.

Part of me thought she might fight me on it. Barefoot, outside, in the dirt. But without a word, she slipped the sky-high heels off and hooked them over her finger.

"This way." I guided her silently down the rocky wall. About halfway, I stopped and set the bottle of wine and glasses down. Then I shrugged my suit jacket off my shoulders and laid it out.

"Wanna sit?" I nodded to my jacket and held out a hand for hers. Once she settled, I plopped down beside her. Our legs dangled off the edge, not even coming close to the water below. The only sound was the lapping of the small waves against the rocks as I poured wine into both cups and handed her one.

She took it and brought it to her lips for a slow sip as she surveyed the dark water.

"How often do you come out here?" she asked, setting the cup on a flat rock beside her. She was perceptive, quickly understanding that this wasn't a new thing for me.

"About once a week. Maybe more often in the summer," I admitted. This last year, I discovered that December and January were cold as fuck in Boston. "The city can be overstimulating." It was overwhelming at first. The smells, sounds, lights. Even the people.

Having this quiet space centered me. In high school, I'd been given labels to explain why my thoughts ran wild. Why I couldn't focus in class and why I struggled to pay attention, which so often led to walking into furniture and tripping over things.

The second I stepped onto the baseball diamond, though, all the chaos faded away. At first, teachers assumed I was doing it on purpose, begging for attention, because the jump between being unable to focus and being hyper-focused was so severe it was hard for many to comprehend. As it turned out, my brain just worked differently. Neurodiverse. I was nowhere near the only athlete who fit that bill.

"I like that you can see a few stars here." Gianna leaned back on her palms and tipped her head back. The smooth skin at the column of her neck called to me. Begged me to press my lips to it. To taste her softness. "I always wanted to paint a good night sky. Not a city skyline. I've done that more times than I can count. But the sky in the middle of nowhere."

"You should see the view from back home."

She twisted, focusing on me, and the lights of the city created a glow that highlighted the long lashes that brushed her cheekbones as she blinked. "Where is home?"

"Currently Boston," I joked.

Her lips pulled into a line and her eyes narrowed. Once again, she wasn't impressed with me and my jokes.

"Can't get you to crack a smile," I teased.

"Are we joking or talking?" she countered.

That question hit me hard. Though joking was my go-to, I wanted this woman to really know me. I wanted to open up.

"I grew up in Pole Ojea."

With a hum, she lowered her brows.

"It's in Puerto Rico. A small coastal town. Not much there. But my dad loved it. He loved the water. We stayed there until I was fourteen."

"Why did you leave?"

With a thick swallow, I jumped right into the hard part. "My dad died."

She leaned forward, and suddenly, her warm palm was resting on my thigh. "I'm so sorry." She shook her head. "Wow, that's a dumb thing to say. I know that."

Was there really a right thing to say? Her mom had died when she was eight, so she knew that as well as I did.

"People always say that when you tell them one of your parents is dead." She frowned out at the water. "They act like that simple apology—for something that couldn't possibly be their fault—makes it better." She shook her head and then focused on me. "Was he sick?"

I took a breath. Rehashing was a challenge for me. Normally, I didn't like to harp on the past. I just worked to focus on the good that had come out of it. But more than anyone, I wanted Gi to understand me.

"He owned a fishing boat. That's what he did for work. Sometimes he'd take me out on the shorter trips with him. It was fun."

My brother had vague memories of my dad, and my sisters had almost none. So we didn't talk about him a lot. It felt strange to be doing it now. I cracked my knuckles, and in response, Gi squeezed my thigh lightly.

"He went out for a long weekend. There was a storm. His boat went missing."

A sharp intake of breath echoed around us, and I covered her hand with mine to comfort her. As if on instinct, she flipped hers palm up. Her hand was warm and soft. Even with the two rings on her finger biting into mine, that connection soothed me.

"Did they ever find him?" She whispered the question, her words hesitant, like she wasn't sure it was appropriate. Still, she didn't stop herself.

I winced as a memory surfaced. The call I got a few months after I started with the Diamond Hawks, the Revs farm team. As hard as the news was to take, it had been a blessing. It meant my mother could finally collect the insurance money our family desperately needed.

The first few months in Pole Ojea without Dad had been a nightmare. On top of losing him so suddenly, the insurance company wouldn't pay out. At the time of my dad's death, my parents had a small cushion, but not a lot, and it was nearly impossible for Mom to find a steady job to support us.

Gianna squeezed my hand lightly, reminding me I hadn't answered her question.

"They didn't find the boat for four years. And no boat meant no life insurance. In that time, my mom tried to support us, but she couldn't find work in our small town." I swallowed. "We moved to Jersey with my mom's sister and her husband. Lived in the same apartment complex. My aunt and uncle helped while my mom worked long hours at a law firm. I spent a lot of time taking care of my younger brother and sisters." While I spoke, I focused on the way my big hand swallowed hers up. The contrast of my slightly darker skin against hers. It kept me grounded. Kept my emotions in check. "Worked out, though, because the second the baseball coach saw me chase one of the team's fly balls, I had a spot on the team."

"Wow, that's pretty convenient. My dad coached for a long time, and I don't think he ever had talent fall into his lap like that."

I chuckled. "I doubt it was that convenient. I was fast, and I loved the game, but I couldn't hit for shit. He tossed me in center field. I had no issue racing every one of my teammates to every ball." I shook my head. "I annoyed them all, and I constantly begged to be put in. Swore I was ready to play, even when I had no clue what I was doing."

"You must have had some idea. Otherwise, I doubt you would have been recruited in high school."

"Coach Nelson put in a lot of time, teaching and working with me. And I was fast and threw the ball like a rocket." I joked the way Coach N had about the power in my throw. With a smirk, I took a swig of my wine before setting it down on the rocks. "But, honestly, without baseball, I wouldn't have made it through high school."

"I felt that way about art class," she said, so quietly I almost missed it. "It was my mom's and my thing, before she died. I painted more after she died because it was a way to feel close to her. And it turned into my peaceful place."

The ache in my chest that formed every time I thought about losing my dad and those high school days morphed at the sound of her voice and the sadness in her expression as she looked out over the water. But I understood her, because my peace had always been on the baseball diamond. Where everything but playing the game slipped away.

Rarely did anything break through my hyper-focus the second I stepped onto the grass.

"I wasn't like you, though. I was afraid to leave. I got into SCAD and the RI Institute of Art, but I was terrified to go somewhere new for college. So I convinced my dad I didn't want to go to college at all." She shrugged one shoulder. "I wish I had been brave like you."

It was my turn to squeeze her hand. "I was terrified. I wasn't even eighteen. But my family needed the money from my contract. So I didn't have a choice. Even though I wasn't making much, every cent I earned was a huge help to my mom. And the team's batting coach let me stay in the apartment above his garage."

She shifted my way, closing the space between us, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Then she dipped her head and took in the water two feet below our legs dangling off the edge of the breakwater. "I may act like it, but I'm not brave enough to make a leap like that. Hell, I'm not even brave enough to leave my awful job now."

Pivoting so I was facing her, I cupped her cheek with my free hand, forcing her to look at me. "Gi, you are brave enough. You can do anything you set your mind to. You amaze me."

Her eyes didn't leave mine for a full minute before they floated down to my mouth and rose again.

That tiny movement had my heart hammering in my chest.

As if she could hear it, her plump lips separated slightly and her breathing went shallow.

Damn, I wanted her mouth. I wanted to feel it pressed to mine. I wanted her taste on my tongue. I rubbed my thumb lightly against her cheek, and with a long breath out, I dropped my hand and shifted back.

"You say all these big, nice things." She swallowed, her focus once again fixed on the surface of the water, but then she straightened her shoulders and forced her eyes back up to me. "You make it seem like you want something from me. But do you?" Her eyes swam with uncertainty. The vulnerability in her tone hit me like a wave, almost knocking me over. For a minute, all I could do was stare at her and consider how the hell to put my feelings into words.

In the time it took to sort my emotions, her eyes hardened and she locked her jaw. Her chin rose just a fraction. All of her became defensive.

Fuck. I wanted the walls the down.

"You're all I think about lately, Gi." The honesty flew out of my mouth.

Her eyes widened just slightly, giving away her surprise.

"But you are a forever girl, and all I can do is casual. In the six years I've known your brother, I've never known you to not be in a relationship. Jake, Ron, Steve, Teddy."

She gasped. "You remember their names?"

"My interest isn't new. It's just more intense."

Tilting her head to one side, she shifted imperceptibly closer. I wanted to answer that invitation, lean in too. Desperately. To kiss those soft lips I'd only gotten a small taste of earlier.

But I couldn't.

I sighed and squeezed her hand again. "But I'm not ready to be half of something. I have to be selfishly devoted to baseball for the next five months and earn a contract. Or earn the attention of another team. Even after that, I can't drag someone across the country and leave them pretty much alone all season. I won't take a person I care about away from everything they know and love." I shook my head. "I'm not a good bet right now, Gi. I care about you too much—and I respect your brother too much—to do something that could hurt either of you."

She watched me silently, her eyes brimming with both disappointment and understanding. Slowly, she pulled her hand from mine. The loss was like a knife to my chest. A mask of indifference covered her face, as if she were completely unaffected.

She turned and picked up her drink, and as she set it back down, she said, "Someday I'd like to paint the moon over the harbor."

My heart panged in the most painful way at that simple statement. It was a shift. But at least she wasn't shutting down completely. Because I did want her words, her thoughts, as much as I wanted to touch her. Everything about her utterly hypnotized me. I'd told her we had to have lines. She was merely accepting them. So that left me with no choice but to move forward too.

I shook off the disappointment. I had no right to be upset. Because what did I want her to say? That she'd be down for a casual situation, since that was all I could do? Would I even have taken her up on it?

I refocused on her words. The moon. The night.

"You should do it. One night in the apartment, when it's reflecting on the harbor, just drop everything and paint it."

"Maybe." She took another sip of wine, keeping her eyes averted.

"I've heard you can see the northern lights sometimes. I check every night, because I've always wanted to see them."

She turned, her brows arched. "What?"

I shrugged. "They fascinate me. There is this place in Finland I've always wanted to visit. You can stay in a glass house and watch them?—"

Her mouth fell open.

"What?" I froze. Shit. That was a stupid thing to admit. When I'd mentioned it to the guys, they'd taunted me. We'd had a whole conversation about where we'd go if we could pick up and leave right then. Most of the guys threw out locations like Vegas or Iceland. But the idea of the flashes of color lighting up the sky above me thrilled me.

Gianna licked her lips. "The Kakslauttanen Resort."

I nodded, lowering my head and cracking my knuckles. "Yeah."

"That's my dream trip."

My heart stuttered as a vision swamped me. An image of Gi beside me as the greens and blues danced across her bare skin. Rolling her so she straddled me with the aurora borealis glowing behind her, reflecting off her long brown hair.

"Mine too," I whispered. My mouth was suddenly dry. The wine really didn't help, but I took a sip anyway.

She looked back at the water. "What else is on your list?"

"The underwater hotel in the Maldives, Bocas del Toro in Panama."

She chuckled darkly, but she wasn't smiling.

"What?" I asked again.

"Let me guess." She pressed her lips together and studied me with a thoughtful look. "The Tree House Lodge in the Amazon."

I nodded.

"Sounds like we have the same list. All the hot spots for extreme natural travel. I've always wanted to paint them." She shook her head. "I never realized how alike the two of us are."

I wanted to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. Because suddenly, the idea of seeing those places without her seemed underwhelming. More than the sights, I wanted to witness the smile that would spread across her face as fish swam above her and watch her experience a torrid rain from the top of a tree in the forest. I wanted to study her paintings of each moment. To soak in the emotions she experienced as she discovered and explored each place.

Hand trembling, I grasped hers and held it gently again. "I hope I can see the paintings." Because that was as close as I'd get to any of it.

She shook her head. "I doubt I'll ever go. I've never left the East Coast."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I'd take her. But no matter how badly I wanted to, that wasn't a promise I could make.