Chapter 26
Drake paced his living room, staring at the group text Zoe had sent moments ago. A fucking group text!
I’m okay. Sorry to worry everyone. See you at the game. xoxo
He was going to ring her scrawny neck with his bare hands until her pretty eyes popped out of her beautiful face. Right before he killed her and after he kissed her. Then probably repeat the process. Twice.
“Maybe you could quit climbing the walls now that we know she’s all right, yeah?”
Drake sent Cade a blithering glare and continued pacing. His brother shrugged from the chair he was slumped in and rubbed his eyes.
When she hadn’t returned last night after an hour, Drake had gone batshit. Storming the castle, howling at the moon, put him in a padded cell, batshit.
He’d posted Gabby at Zoe’s, Avery at Cade’s, Flynn at his own house, and Cade at Drake’s while he and Brent had scoured the town for Zoe. They hadn’t found a damn trace of her. Not at Shooters, the nursing home, the ballpark, and even the cove, or the fifty other locations they’d checked. She hadn’t returned to her house or answered so much as one of his three-million and twenty-four texts or calls. According to Gabby’s updates, Zoe’s car was still in the driveway at home.
Worry ate away at the lining of his gut until his ulcers had ulcers. Christ, the way she’d stared at that envelope. Face drained of all color. Swaying on her feet. Shaking uncontrollably. Worse, was that the news had come right on the cusp of her longtime forthcoming meltdown over her mother. It fucking killed him dead watching her fall apart. For years, she’d held him together, and to see her lose it was the equivalent of running his heart through a meat grinder. And then she’d just taken off. Left him standing there holding his jaw and scratching his head.
And she... Did. Not. Come. Back.
“We’re going to be worth spit in today’s game.” Cade yawned. “I’m not even sure I can move. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter since college.”
Drake rubbed the ache in his chest. “Thanks for being here.” If not for his brother, he might be in a straightjacket.
“Anytime.” Cade eyed him warily. “She’ll be okay, man. Zoe’s made of grit and iron.”
And tissue paper and toothpicks. Most didn’t know how very fragile she could be under all that strength. “Thank you. Again.”
His cell rang and he all but dropped it trying to answer. His chest deflated when he saw who was on his screen. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey. I forgot to tell you I stopped by your place yesterday when you were at work. I left something on your dresser.”
Digging his fingers into his eye sockets, he nodded. “I haven’t been up there, but I’ll go look.”
“I noticed the painting from Zoe on your fireplace. It’s truly amazing. It got me all misty-eyed.”
“Yeah.” He’d hung the one she’d made of him and his dogs above the mantle. “She’s talented, that’s for—” He stopped breathing for the fiftieth time in twenty-four hours when his gaze landed on said painting. “I have to go.”
“Sure. I’ll see you at the game. And, Drake? About what I left for you? It was time you had it, that’s all.”
Confused, gaze still locked on the painting, he muttered an okay and hung up. He walked closer and stood in front of the fireplace. When the hell had she done this? Last he’d checked, the piece was of him and his dogs.
But now, Zoe had been added at the bottom, lying in the grass, watching him with that come-hither smile of hers. And that wasn’t all. Heather was there, too, iridescent as a ghost and sitting on a cloud. Her finger was paused in a swirling motion, aimed toward the ground, where two dandelion seeds floated down. Like she’d conjured two wishes. Stars shone through her semi-transparent form.
“Holy hell.” He rubbed his chest, but the damn ache wouldn’t abate. Hadn’t all night. It just kept spreading and growing and expanding. His sinuses prickled and he inhaled. Hard.
“Takes a special breed of woman to not only accept the deceased wife, but to embrace her.” From his side, Cade stared at the painting. “I’d say it was because she was her best friend, but that’s not giving Zoe enough credit.”
Drake couldn’t survive this a second time. He just...couldn’t. He was one lucky bastard to have found two true loves in his lifetime, but if Zoe walked or wound up sick, he’d flat out die himself.
The front door opened and closed with a quiet click.
He whirled, and there—thank Almighty—was Zoe. Still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, her hair a knotted mess, and dark circles under her eyes, she bit her lip.
Most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. So he growled at the reminder of how she’d eviscerated him last night.
“I’m sorry I worried everyone.”
“Right. Well, I’m going to go.” Cade pointed to the door and raised his hands in surrender. He side-stepped to the exit as if fielding landmines. “Zoe, glad you’re fine. Drake, remember she has a helluva left hook, yeah?”
Zoe tracked Cade until he was gone and then she stared at the floor. Rubbed her forehead. Blew out a sigh.
Screw this. “First of all…” He strode toward her and kissed her into next week. Let her walk away from that. “Second, where the holy fuck in all damnation have you been? I can see you weren’t lying dead in a ditch. Which I blame my mother for putting that visual in my head.”
Her mouth opened and swiftly shut.
Sweet blessed grief, it was hard to hold on to angry through all the relief. “Were you pole dancing naked? Standing on the Eighth Street Pier debating jumping? Saving the homeless? Drinking yourself into a coma? Held hostage by a team of Smurfs? Because I assure you, all those scenarios streamed through my head. And worse.”
“Uh, no.” She fisted a piece of paper in her hand. “Though being held hostage by tiny blue people would—”
“Then where, Zoe? Because you had me scared to damn death.”
She pulled a deep breath and looked at him through fathomless eyes. “I was with Heather.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He was an asshole. And that was the one place he’d never thought to look when it should’ve been the first. Of course—of course—she’d go to the cemetery and be with her best friend.
Closing his eyes, his shoulders deflated right along with his chest. “Zoe, honey.” He hauled her against him, shaking from an adrenaline crash. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry for yelling.”
Pulling away, she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I freaked out.” She held the balled up paper. “You wanted to do this together and—”
He took the thing from her and ripped it to shreds, then dropped the pieces so they rained down like confetti. “That’s what I think of the damn test. I don’t care what it says. I only—”
“It was negative.”
Every hair on his body stood erect. “Wh…” He cleared his throat. “What?”
“Negative. In uppercase and bold print. They ran it twice.”
His lungs refused air exchange and something sharp jabbed his chest from the inside. Hope, maybe. It had been so long since he’d recognized it. “So, you’re not…?”
“Not a carrier.” Her lip quivered. “Fifty-fifty odds, and I beat them. Never had a lucky day in all my life. But I’ll take it, just this once.” Her voice caught. “I think Heather had a hand in it. Said a good word for me or something. This also means we can have children someday.”
Twenty. They’d have twenty kids. Hell, a hundred. It didn’t matter. She was okay. That was the important thing.
He cupped her face, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thank Jesus.” Because there was nothing else to say, and grateful didn’t cover it, he kissed her. Long, deep, and righting his upturned world again.
“Speaking of Heather. I saw the updated painting.” He’d never get over that. “I love it.”
She brushed her nose with his and her uneven breath skated across his lips. “She belonged with us.” Lip bite. Adorable smile. “I should’ve said yes when you asked about pole dancing. That couldn’t have been too tough a visual for you.”
Laughing, he kissed her again. Optimism blossomed and, for the first time in years, stuck. Grew. Cultivated. “I love you. And I think you should show me said dancing skills. Right now.”
She smiled against his mouth. “I love you, too. And I totally would, but we have a softball game in under an hour. I need to run home and change.”
Fine, later. Forever. Always. “I’ll meet you there.” He stepped back. “And you’re coming home with me after.”
“Duh. You owe me the last verse of a poem.” Gaze softening, she smiled. “I loved it, by the way.”
He shooed her out or they’d never make the game, then ran upstairs to change. Nylon shorts and jersey on, he turned to leave and glanced at the dresser. A little red box was placed near the candles Zoe had bought. Walking over, he lifted the lid and dropped on the bed in shock.
His mom’s wedding ring. The diamond was princess cut and surrounded by small pink tourmaline gems, which was Mom’s birthstone and Zoe’s. The gold band had an inlaid swirl design he didn’t remember it having before. It was pretty and just artistic enough to not be ordinary.
Dad had still been alive when Drake had proposed to Heather. Cade and Flynn hadn’t the heart to ask Mom for her ring when they’d found their loves. It seemed too right, too perfect, that it should go to Zoe. Her mother had been his mom’s best friend, and they did share the same birthstone.
He fingered the ring, heart in his throat. After he’d lost Heather, he never thought he’d recover, never love again. And then Zoe had swooped in like a tsunami, reminding him he still had life yet, even when her future was uncertain. She’d loved him as a girl, as a friend, and a woman. He couldn’t ever recall a time he didn’t love her either, no matter what capacity.
He’d meant what he’d said to her. He didn’t care what the result was, he only wanted her. But with her test negative and her mother safe in a home, thriving better, there was nothing standing between him, this ring, and Zoe. A family was possible now, too.
His mind fired on all cylinders, plotting. Planning. Thinking. And with a curve of his lips, he rose, shoved the box in his pocket, and drove to the game.
Sunshine broke through the slight cloud cover as mid-morning fog dissipated. Rainstorms had finally dropped a smidgen of the heat two days earlier, leaving the temperature hovering in the mid-seventies. Players warmed up on the field as Drake slung a bag over his shoulder and walked to the dugout fence.
Gabby and Flynn had Zoe sandwiched in a hug. When they parted, Brent gave her a talk-to-the-hand and then hugged her also before sauntering to the bleachers. Packed house. Good weather would’ve done that alone, but their games always drew a crowd.
Cade stepped up beside him. “Looks like it all worked out. No bloodshed.” He grinned. “And I hear the test results were favorable.”
Christ, Drake nearly wept just hearing it again. “Between you and me, I don’t know what I would’ve done. The very thought of losing her, too, was unfathomable.”
Sobering, Cade faced him. “Listen to me. We all died a little the day Heather did, you most of all. Take this second chance with both hands and don’t look back. Zoe’s perfect for you, and no one deserves happiness more.”
Since he rarely left an opportunity on the table, Drake grinned. “You know I love you, right?” He scratched his jaw. “I mean, I love Avery more, but you’ll always be my brother.”
Cade laughed. “Understood. And I love you, too.”
Drake focused on the field, thinking about where he’d be if he hadn’t had his parents’ marriage as an example of how to love properly, without bounds. Sure, they’d fought and didn’t always see eye to eye, but there was mutual respect and adoration. He and his brothers had grown up knowing they were loved unconditionally and taught that showing so was the only way to live.
Zoe’s laugh brought his attention to her near the third base line. Parker and Jason flanked her and were grinning like dipshits. Didn’t matter. She was coming home with Drake. Regardless, he called Jason over.
“What’s up?”
“Question.” Drake jerked his chin toward the mound. “Who’s pitching today?”
“Funny story. Parker sent that douche Rick back up north to the precinct where he came from, which leaves me.” He shrugged. “Why?”
“I’ll keep you off the Battleaxes’ matchmaking radar for six months if you throw Zoe a pitch she can knock out of the park in her last at bat.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “You do know she’d probably homer off me without help?”
“Consider it insurance.”
“Huh.” Jason adjusted his hat. “Sure, okay. You’re on.”
As he strode away, Flynn eyed Drake. “What are you up to?”
Happy endings, but he smiled and said nothing.
And Cade had been right about sucking today. They played like comatose sloths, but the game was tied one-one in the bottom of the ninth. Bases empty, two outs, Zoe took a practice swing and stepped up to the plate.
Jason slid Drake a glance and wound to pitch.
Zoe watched it sail right over the plate for a strike. “What was that? The ladybug colony in my backyard can throw harder than that.”
With a sigh, Jason nailed Drake with a thanks-no-thanks glare and refocused on her. “Zoe, baby. I’m hung over and sweating Jagerbombs. Give a guy a break.”
She narrowed her eyes and took her stance. “Your funeral.”
Wind up. Pitch.
Her bat connected with a smack and the ball sailed over left field somewhere into the next zip code. She dropped her bat and took a bow, then jogged to first base. The stands roared in cheers and whistles.
Drake laughed. “That’s my girl.” With a nod of thanks to Jason, he ran onto the field.
Accepting high-fives, she rounded third and skidded to a halt between the bag and home. Jaw slack, her wide—growing wider—gaze took in Drake on one knee blocking the plate, ring in his outstretched hand.
“Holy crap,” she breathed.
The park and stands were so quiet Drake could hear cumulous clouds drifting in the atmosphere. And he owed Zoe a last verse. Ignoring every set of eyes on him but hers, he laid his entire soul at her feet.
“We met just moments ago,
The blinding instant you set me free.
A blip in the fragment of time,
If not for all you meant to me.”
Hand on her chest, she gasped. “I know what my next tattoo will be.”
He raised his brows. A tendril of anxiety curled his stomach. “What’s that?”
She tapped her hip, a mirror position to the spot where the dandelion was inked. “A baseball. Right here.”
Laughing, he scratched his jaw. “Is that a yes?”
“Are you serious?” She took a faltering step forward, then another. Still too far away, but he waited. “I…I…”
Jason cleared his throat. “Zoe, baby. You gotta touch home plate for the run to count. And save the guy from misery, would you? The rest of us can mourn your non-single status later.”
“Yes.” She breathed a watery laugh. Shook her head. And ran. Toward Drake. “Yes.”
He had just enough time to rise, step back, and catch her as she stomped the plate and launched at him. Cheers erupted and his eardrums would never be the same, but he had all he needed.
Grinning, he kissed her. “To make it official, would you marry me?”
“Yes.” She pressed her lips together, eyes shining. “The ring is beautiful.”
Setting her on her feet, he removed the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. “It was my mother’s. Dad proposed to her right over there under the bleachers.” He grazed his thumb over the gems, thinking it looked perfect on Zoe’s hand.
“Really?” She glanced at the stands and back to him. “What would you have done if I hadn’t hit a home run?”
Hilarious woman. “When have you ever not homered in a game?”
With a solemn nod, she pursed her lips. “This is true. I am awesome.”
Laughing, he tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “And gorgeous and smart and funny and talented.”
“Don’t forget yours.” Her gaze swept his face as she swallowed. Gone was the uncertainty and apprehension and guilt he’d born witness to the past few months. “Don’t forget, I’m yours.”
“Never.” Cupping the back of her neck, he drew her to him and kissed her. His lips moved over hers—a claim. Proof. A promise. As the crowd cheered anew, or maybe still, he eased away and spoke against her mouth. “I’ll never forget.”
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