Vulnerability, plus trust, plus love equals heartache. A simple enough equation, and one I promised myself I wasn’t going to deal with ever again.
Ryder
An hour later,I have the hum ofQuantum Leapepisodes on in the background. I’ve always loved the show. The idea of leaping into different people, experiencing so many different things resonated with me since I felt like I didn’t fit anywhere for a long time.
As the episode plays, I make the final check to ensure none of the gifts have been forgotten in the large box.
Everyone on the team tossed something inside. Gift cards to fancy restaurants on the Strip; crystal glasses; a platter made from something called pewter; bedsheets that are supposed to make you melt in bed or something ridiculous; and my gift—a second honeymoon to a cabin in Lake Tahoe.
Knowing Griffin and his need to get me to break down and man-sob with him, he’ll profess his undying love and friendship for that one.
I used to think it was an act with Griff, his bright, endless need to make others smile. Turns out it’s just him. Maybe it comes from a constant fight to keep his thoughts positive and in control, but the guy is the epitome of sunshine.
I drag my thumb and index finger along the edge of the box, creasing the paper neatly, then gingerly fold the sides in. Symmetrical and flat. Now, the bow. Skye sent over three different bows and told me to choose. All satin black. One has glitter which triggers my annoyance over my car again. Another has stripes in varying shades of black. The last one is satin and glossy, like ink.
Which one matches best? There is no point in going through the work of wrapping with seamless edges if I screw it up with a stupid bow. I’m overthinking. I know I am. But when my mind gets stuck on something, I need to see it through, puzzle it out. I’m stuck on this.
Two of the bows are in my palms. I lift and lower them as though I’m weighing their worth.
Wren isn’t showy. Deep inside she wants to live a little like I do. Away from people.
Eyes narrowed, I make some decisions. Wren will probably like the inky bow. But Griffin, he’s eccentric. The stripes would match him.
I shouldn’t be the one in charge of this task.
Maybe I should call Alice. But I have a feeling she’d give me a lecture for being sexist since men are perfectly capable of wrapping and delivering big gifts. There’s also the issue of the demon cat. Alice hates that thing.
This is ridiculous. I’m about to break out in a sweat over a bow.
I study the bows once more and decide. “Both.”
The next ten minutes are spent rearranging the striped bow and the satin ribbon in a way that makes it look like they’re one topper. Satisfied the box is wrapped and topped with a nice enough ribbon, I gather it in my arms and head out to my garage.
The night is mild with the barest chill. October in Las Vegas is pleasant. My favorite time of year. Out here, where farms and empty fields stretch to the brown mountains, there’s solace. I sit on two acres with my nearest neighbor down a long dirt lane. Those two things equal my perfect living conditions.
Wrapped around my iron banister are little pumpkin lights. Not my doing. Alexis, Parker’s younger sister, has made it her mission to make sure the singles (as she calls the few of us not in a committed relationship) on the Vegas Kings are festive for the upcoming holidays.
I frown at the pumpkins while my chest tightens, knowing the family of one of my teammates finds a bit of joy in taking care of me.
Like they truly do care.
A hard notion to accept. One day, maybe, I’ll crack the ribs and accept that these people are sincere. Maybe it’ll be the day I truly believe it.
In my car, I seatbelt the box into the front seat. Look, I don’t seatbelt my groceries and stuff, but the crystal in that box is imported from Italy. Our left-fielder’s wife was the one to buy it, and she was raised in New Jersey.
I’m pretty sure she has an uncle in the Mafia.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket before I pull out of the drive. I groan, annoyed at the name. I have no time for my douche of a cousin, who isn’t even my real cousin if I really want to get technical.
Mitch:Ryder, I have a question for you. Potential business investment. Call me sometime.
Almost instantly another message comes in.
Mitch:You’re the worst at responding, but remember, I can be persistent and repetitive. Just like you.
A small growl escapes my throat as I toss my phone on the front seat and pull onto the road.
No matter how old we get, no matter how many years pass, no matter how many zeros are in my salary, he will always add a little jab. It took me a long time to catch them, especially over texts.
