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Wes walked back to where Hadley was standing. She looked somber in a black short-sleeved dress, her hair around her shoulders. She reached up and wiped a tear from the corner of Wes’s eye, and he leaned his forehead against hers. When she slid her hand around to the back of his neck and mouthed “I love you” to him, I knew.
I wanted it.
Sawyer was right—real love was rare. It was also messy and painful and, at times, all-consuming. But life without it was like living in black and white. Sariah was my chance to live life every day in vivid color, and I wanted it. I couldn’t say for sure that I was in love with her, but I knew the potential was there.
I looked away from Wes and Hadley, clearing the lump from my throat, while searching out Sariah. There she was. Looking right back at me.
What was she thinking? I knew she was pissed and had every right to be, but was she also feeling something—anything—else?
The service ended and those of us who weren’t in Annie’s immediate family headed for our own cars. When I turned to look over my shoulder, I saw Sawyer kneeling on the ground next to his wife’s burial plot.
I never wanted to hurt like that, but I knew that hurting the way he was right now was part of loving a woman as much as he loved Annie.
Rosa Romano, the owner of our team, hosted lunch for everyone at a local restaurant. The entire time, I was either glaring at Alvarado or staring at Sariah; there had to be a way for us to move forward.
Wes walked over and put a hand on my shoulder, leaning down to speak near my ear. “Sawyer asked a few of us to stop by the house.”
I nodded and got up immediately, even though I was only halfway done with my food. Sawyer’s family had planned to gather at his house after the service, and we hadn’t wanted to intrude on that so we’d come to the team lunch instead. But if my teammate wanted anything from me today, it was his.
On my way out of the restaurant, I buttoned my suit jacket and gave Sariah a final longing gaze, remembering the one and only night of passion and intimacy we’d shared.
I was determined for us to have more than that one night together, though. A hell of a lot more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sariah
* * *
It had been a long week since Annie died. Between the breakup with Nash, moving, Annie’s death and funeral, and then losing three in a row to Detroit, I was emotionally exhausted. Tonight was game five, finally back here at home, and the team had to pull out a win or the season was over. They’d played hard, but it was obvious the fire they’d had before Annie’s death had dimmed. And not just a little.
I wasn’t an athlete, so I had no idea how you pulled up your britches and played through something like this, but I imagined it was terrible. From what I’d heard, several of the wives had been very close to Annie, and their husbands by extension. The funeral had been one of the saddest events I’d ever attended, and I hadn’t even known her.
When my phone rang, I picked it up on autopilot. “This is Sariah. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Sariah. It’s Everett.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“How are you? I heard about one of your players’ wives passing away and the funeral was all over the local news.”
“Yeah, it’s been a rough week.”
“You can see it in their playing.”
“Are you pulling your ads?”
There was a pause. “Seriously? Is that what you think of me? When have I ever been so obsessed with money that it came before compassion?”
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my pointer and middle fingers back and forth across my forehead, hoping it would alleviate the tension there. “The last week has been…hard.”
“I’m sure. And no, I’m not pulling my ads. I wanted to get seats to the game. We were supposed to be in Florida with my in-laws, but Cora has a dance recital this afternoon so we had to cancel. I don’t miss my baby girl’s performances if I can help it. But this means we can come to the game tonight.”
“I’ll comp you two tickets,” I said, opening my email so I could request them from Lance. Everett had become a big spender the last couple of months, so it wouldn’t be a problem. “They’ll be at the will call window.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I want to. And sorry I’m cranky.”
“You’re allowed. Listen, once the season is over, we’re going to have you over to the house. Cora wants to show you her new bedroom furniture.”
I smiled. Everett’s six-year-old daughter was adorable and the last time I’d been at the house, I’d gotten sucked into hours of Candy Land games and nail painting, while the rest of the guests had been out back drinking and having grown-up conversations. When Everett had realized I was missing, he’d come looking for me and found Cora and me laughing hysterically at the mess we’d made of our nails. I was pretty sure that one evening had solidified him as a customer of mine forever.
