Chapter Five
Loran was sitting across from the most beautiful woman he’d ever met and he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that didn’t involve sex. He was dying to end their third official date at his place or hers, but things had been going so well with Bella he was afraid to ruin it with the suggestion of sex.
“So, uh, how was your day?” He chastised himself for resorting to small talk instead of manning up and talking to her about what was really on his mind: their relationship.
“It was good.” She smiled as she spread the white linen napkin in her lap before reaching for her wine glass. “How about yours?”
“Can’t complain. Did a bit of volunteer work.”
“Oh yeah?” She sipped her chardonnay before asking, “Like what?”
“Signed a bunch of autographs.” He shook out of his stiff hand for effect. “For some charity events my agent has me attending, visited the children’s hospital.” He cleared his throat when her eyes softened. “Passed by the local hospice, then hit the gym.”
He chuckled. “A day in the life of a professional athlete during the off-season.”
“I know a lot of athletes,” she said, leaning in. “And that’s not how most of them spend their off-season. Most are in a warm climate, lying by the pool or playing golf.”
“My golf game sucks and the heat and humidity wears on me after a while.” He tipped his beer back. Even though they were in an upscale restaurant, he still ordered beer over wine. “Besides, if I can give back, why wouldn’t I, right?”
“Your mother raised a good man.” She smiled, raising her glass to his.
“Yeah, that’s what my brother keeps telling me. Seriously, my mother works in social services. She’s always tried to get us to help out when and where we can. It only seems right.” He reached for a piece of bread, though he rarely ate carbs, just to have something to do with his hands.
Opening up had never come easily to him and he didn’t want Bella to think he was trying too hard to impress her. He was just trying to be real with her about the kind of man he was and what she could expect if she got more involved with him.
“I was blessed with the ability to play ball. I make a stupid amount of money because of that skill. Why wouldn’t I share the wealth a little, right?”
“So you donate not only your time, but also your money?” she asked. “Now I’m really intrigued. To what kind of causes?”
He didn’t like talking about his charity work, but he promised himself he would always be honest with Bella if she asked him a direct question about his life. “Local homeless shelters, children’s hospital and hospice mostly. That’s where I spend most of my free time too.”
She gaped at him. “You spend your free time at a homeless shelter?”
“Yeah.” He shifted, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. “Why is that so strange? What else would you suggest I do… sit around and count my money? Work on my six pack? Calculate my macros?” He didn’t realize he was scowling until after he’d taken a deep swallow of his beer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be an ass. I’m just used to people thinking I’m shallow and I guess by now I’d hoped you’d know me better than that.”
“How could I know?” she asked, softly. “You’ve never told me.”
She had him there. “I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to impress you. I’m not. I’m trying to be real with you.”
“Then try being real with me about why you do it.”
He swallowed, staring at her. Trying to think of any excuse to break his promise to always tell her the truth. This was personal, deeply personal.Kind of like the secret she shared with you.
“Shortly after I signed my first big league contract my old man hit me up for a loan. I hadn’t heard from him in years so I told him to go to hell.”
“That’s understandable.”
Bella smiled when the waiter placed their orders in front of them. Pasta in a rose for her and chicken and steamed veggies for him.
“He abandoned you so why should you want to help him.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He stared at his plate, wondering how he was supposed to eat when his gut was churning. “It wasn’t until after he died that I found out he’d been evicted from his apartment after he lost his job. He ended up homeless.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly, “but you had no way of knowing that.”
“He told me, but I thought he was lying. He’d lied to me about so many things.” He could have ended the story there. He’d told her the truth, but there was more, and he suddenly wanted to share the burden with someone who mattered to him. Someone who might understand. “It wasn’t until his doctor called to tell me he’d died that I finally got his story. He lost his job because he was sick. Stage four liver cancer. He couldn’t work anymore. So he ended up in a government funded hospice when it got too cold out on the streets.”
Her eyes filled with tears when she looked up from her plate. “It all makes sense now, why you do what you do.”
