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He glanced up at the crunch of tires. A shiny dark green truck with the words Value Hardware on the door pulled to a halt in the driveway, and out climbed Dillon, work gloves sticking out of the pocket of his jeans.
“About time.” Bryan set aside his travel mug and rose. “You lose the rest of your team, son?”
“The rest of the men are on another priority work site this morning.”
“Christ, what kind of shit do you plan to have me doing?” Bryan turned to look at the house. It appeared to be in perfect shape. Usually the Helping Hands homes that Dillon and his crew fixed up for returning vets and others who needed them were obvious works-in-progress.
Not this one, at least externally.
Dillon walked around to the back where he had a seedling wrapped in burlap and set it gently on the ground. “I got this at Lex’s Divine Flowers yesterday. Figured we could start with putting in some ground cover. Plus, there’s other stuff that needs to be done.”
Bryan narrowed his eyes. It was looking more and more like Dillon had an ulterior motive for asking for his help. The question was what. “Why can’t Lex help you with stuff like ground cover?”
“Maintaining separate spaces is vital to marital harmony.”
The pang that kicked hard in Bryan’s chest was an unwelcome surprise. Damn, they were dropping like flies around him. “Is that a hint that you’ll be getting hitched soon? FYI, I’m not going to any more weddings for at least a year.”
“What if Mel finds someone? She does all that traveling.”
“One sister getting married per decade is plenty. If you tie the knot, I’ll send you guys some box wine and a party pack of condoms, and pretend it’s like our prom night redux.” Bryan crouched and pulled down the burlap to poke at the roots of the tree. “So why a Maple?”
“Longevity. According to Lex—who’s been getting her woo woo stuff from Vic—such things are positive Feng Shui for the house.” He sighed. “Lately Feng Shui is all I hear about.”
Bryan smirked. “I’d pull out my tiny violin but I shoved it up your ass.”
“At the risk of losing my man card, it’s so fucking good to have you back. Seriously.”
“Yeah.” Bryan smiled. He still couldn’t believe it was good to be back.
“You enjoy the renovation stuff?”
Bryan shrugged and pulled at the burlap, covering the exposed roots of the tree. “I did
some charity work down south. I like putting shit back together better than it was before.”
“I know what you mean. You gonna be spending more time here in the off-seasons, or is this trip just a one-off for Vic?”
And there it was. Dillon had probably been angling for that information all along. He must’ve heard the Yorn rumors, too, and was wondering if Bryan intended to pack it in entirely. Not that there weren’t tons of teams he could go to, but Dillon knew how much being on the Mariners meant to him. It had been his dream since high school.
Sometimes dreams changed.
Rather than deflect, Bryan decided to lay it on the line. “There may not be an off-season for me if I don’t get picked up. Or if the team that picks me up isn’t one I want to go to.” Bryan brushed the dirt off his hands and stood. He hadn’t intended to reveal his insecurities in that arena to anyone, but hell, he’d known Dillon since he’d tried out for his first Peewee league.
He was so damn tired of keeping everything close to the vest. His team status, his progress with rehab, the fact that his mom was in a place some less enlightened folks might call a mental home. Now there was Jill. One more hidden thing in an ocean of them.
Going to the wedding together could be a positive step. The only problem was what came after that. He just didn’t know.
He was beginning to think he wanted more with her than just these five dates—fuck, he knew he did—but that didn’t mean he had any clue how to make it happen. Not with the distance between them if he stayed on the team—assuming she wanted him—and not with her own baggage from the situation with her dad.
Then there was his fame, which, whether he stayed on the team or not, didn’t make it easy to have a relationship. Even if he kept his nose clean, there’d still be stories circulating about women and parties. Gossip rags lived for that kind of fuel, and though they’d eventually leave him alone if he shunned the limelight, they’d hang on long enough to make a real life impossible for him for a long time.
Whatever happened, he needed to do what was best for her. Not him. No matter how it stung.
That included calling off their date to the wedding. Time spent together around their family and friends—even in secret—would only blur the lines. All the fun and games were great, but if continuing their arrangement until the moment he left would make it harder for her afterward, perhaps it was better if they quit while they were ahead.
His shoulders hunched. If he was going to call off their wedding date, he’d have to do it soon. But when?
They were going out again Saturday night. He’d suggested a latenight movie after Vic’s bachelorette party, something low-key and fun. Another small step.
