My hand trembles on the doorknob, but I turn it and open the door. I immediately wish I could slam it shut and say bad idea, we need to stay on separate sides of this earth from this day forward.
“Sorry, I got pulled into a media session.” He runs his hand through his wavy dark hair that’s still damp at the edges.
I’ve always loved the way he looks effortlessly gorgeous after a game. Freshly showered, smelling amazing, the anxiety of the game shed like a second skin. Decker is undeniably attractive. There’s no mystery why he’s been the Colts’ diamond girls’ latest obsession.
“Oh, it’s fine.” I open the door wider. “We might just have to eat dinner in the middle of her lesson.”
“I’m running on a protein bar, so no complaints from me.” He steps over the threshold, taking in the cracked baseboards and dated peeling wallpaper in the small foyer. They’re all dead giveaways that this place is in desperate need of work. Decker crouches down to Hazel’s level—which he always does—and I pretend not to be a little more smitten with him for it. “Hey, Hazel.”
“Hi.” She steps forward, her hand going limp in mine.
I resist the urge to tighten my grip and warn her about how hard it is to not love a man like Decker Davis.
“She’s been practicing all afternoon,” I say.
“You have?” Decker stands, smiling at her.
“Since after school.” Hazel lets a tentative smile fill her face.
“Okay then, how about you show me?”
She releases my hand, breaks away from me, and picks up her hula hoop.
Decker follows her, and I watch him cross the threshold into the living room, into our space, and I hate that it feels so right. That the anxious energy I’ve been carrying all afternoon is gone the second he walks in. Because that means trouble.
He sits on the couch and helps Hazel with her start. At one point he pulls out his phone, and they time her.
I make it two rounds before I excuse myself to finish dinner. The smell of the garlic butter chicken pulls me somewhere I wasn’t planning to go. I’ve made this dish dozens of times, but tonight my mind drifts back to my freshman year of college, when my dad took a coaching job at Hartwell College, right by Kingsley University, where Decker attended. That first dinner when my dad invited him over.
It had been a year, and I almost didn’t recognize Decker, watching from the front window as my dad shook his hand in the driveway.
That’s not true. I recognized him immediately. How could I not? He was the first boy I’d ever fallen in love with. At that point, the only boy I’d ever loved. But the version of him I’d been carrying in my head for twelve months, through my entire senior year of high school while he was off having his first year of college, wasn’t this. He was no longer the boy I remembered.
He’d grown into himself. That was the only way to explain it. The boy I’d memorized had become someone I’d have to learn all over again, and I knew standing at that window that I absolutely wanted to.
I heard my dad open the door. Decker’s voice—somehow deeper now—saying thank you and congratulations on the coaching job.
I ran into the kitchen and stirred the garlic butter chicken with orzo my dad had requested on Decker’s behalf.
Hartwell was a step up for my dad. A better program, more talent, and the fact that it came with free tuition for me settled the question of where I would attend college. I’d never tell anyone how much I didn’t mind having the decision made for me, since coming to Hartwell put me half an hour from Decker.
We hadn’t had much contact over the past year, but I’d read that letter so many times I was surprised it hadn’t been worn thin and broken apart at the creases.
My dad always told me that Decker needed to keep it all together. He’d seen other kids buckle under the pressure, academic and athletic. I didn’t want to be the distraction my dad worried Decker would run into. He deserved to get everything he wanted.
It had been a full year. He’d been gone from my life twelve long months.
“Pen, look who I found!” my dad said.
I turned from the stove as if I was surprised Decker was already there.
“Hey,” he said in an easy drawl that made my stomach flutter.
Decker crossed the distance with his arms open, and I stood by the stove, never setting down the spoon. He hugged me, and I only used one arm because it felt safer. My cheek rested against his chest and brought everything back regardless. He wore a different cologne now, but the warmth still came off him the same way.
I inhaled as shallowly as possible in an effort to pretend I was unfazed.
“It’s good to see you.” His voice was low, as though he wanted to say more and wished my dad wasn’t five feet away, standing by the fridge.
