Page 19 of The Flight Risk

“It can go either way, honestly,” he continues. “I can become a franchise player like Lawson and Beckett. Or I can go play for Chicago and be a ‘hometown hero.’” He does air quotes like it’s a pitch he’s heard over and over. He runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Tess. I’ve built a family–a brotherhood–here in Dallas. But my family means a lot to me, too. All the same, I have grown so much since moving away from the protection of my family. I don’t want to go back home just because it’s comfortable and familiar.”

I inhale, trying to steady my erratic nerves. I ground myself in the moment and not the unknown. I can’t control what Oakley does with his life. It’s not like I have any say or stake in that decision. He can do whatever he wants.

Just like that, I firmly close the cover of my book again. It’s safer this way. “I’m sure whatever you decide, it will be the right decision.”

His forehead wrinkles. “There is more at stake now, though. There’s more for me here in Dallas. More than I ever thought possible.”

We’ve been in such deep conversation that I’ve been neglecting to watch my favorite film for the hundredth time. Now that I think of it, I’ve never actually done this with a man. Netflix and chill. Onscreen, Jenna and Matt are having a conversation in the street about soulmates.

“You have those googly eyes again.” Oakley’s deep voice penetrates through their dialogue.

“Can you blame me?” I say, my eyes still fixated on my original crush. I can’t bear to look at my current crush at the moment, especially since I am about to confess something deeply personal. “A man has never looked at me the way Matt looks at Jenna. I guess no one has ever loved me, hell even liked me, the way he loves her. I mean, take you for example.”

“What about me?” Oakley’s gaze sears into my skin.

“You clearly don’t like me like that.” I laugh half-heartedly and point to hot, young Mark Ruffalo being extremely sweet to Jennifer Garner, trying desperately not to expose my humiliation about what happened a year and a half ago.

“Who said I didn’t like you?” Oakley scoots closer to me, and that’s when I break my attention from the screen to his face. His eyebrows doing that cute curvy thingy where he looks perplexed.

I am equally perplexed at this moment. I scoff, “Um, I think your actions, or the lack thereof in Telluride, would tell a different story.”

There, I said it. I addressed the massive elephant in the room. The one that has been weighing on me since that night where I leaned in to kiss him and he sucked in a breath, covered my half-naked body and said, “I think we better go to sleep.”

Yeah, that giant ass elephant.

“Just because I wanted to take things slow, doesn’t mean I didn’t like you, Tess.”

And just like that, everything I knew to be true goes straight out the window.

My lips part as Oakley inches closer to me on the couch, the very move I made in Colorado. He’s not even touching me and my skin is getting hotter by the second. I want to doust myself in whatever cologne he wears because it ignites all of my senses and sends them into a frenzy. He is inches from my face when he says, “That I don’t still like you.”

At that moment, the door unlocks. We both jump a little. Oakley hangs his head and mutters something under his breath. Lottie walks into the house, headphones over her ears, completely unaware of her surroundings. Namely unaware that Oakley is inches apart from me on the couch and that he was about to possibly kiss me for the first time. Music is blasting at an alarming volume as Lottie gives us a quick wave and heads straight upstairs to the guest room. I don’t even give her crap for not saying hello to either of us. I’m too shocked by what almost occurred less than thirty seconds ago.

Oakley retreats back to his side of the couch and then says, “It’s getting kind of late. Maybe we should head to bed.”

I gulp down my conciliatory wine and stand up, adjusting my clothes in the process. I don’t need to expose any more of myself tonight than I already have. It was too much, too soon. I scared him off again and he’s going to shut his own cover to his book and not let me read him again. Yet, his words are on constant replay over and over like my favorite movie soundtrack: “That I don’t still like you.”

Present tense.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry I hijacked your bed. Maybe we can finish this movie another time?” I say hopefully.

“Yeah.” He actively busies himself with cleaning up the pizza box. “Sounds like a plan. Don’t worry about cleaning up. I got it.” He tries to give me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t work. My intrusive thoughts have already taken flight in my head and I feel myself closing in.

Maybe we are meant to be like Jenna and Matt. Just friends. He’s going to choose his Wendy one day. He deserves a Wendy.

12

After what seems like a lifetime monitoring the carpool line, I am back at Oakley’s. When I walk in, everything is pristine and it smells fresh and clean. His housekeepers must have shown up. He did tell me that he gets his house professionally cleaned biweekly. I don’t know why, though. He is the male version of Monica Geller. I blame Brooke for getting me hooked on that show and now I don’t remember my life without endless Friends references. Anyway, I’ve never seen a house constantly in order. It’s a stark contrast between his place and mine. I am all about the lived-in look. Translation: my belongings everywhere. It’s organized chaos and I love it.

Although it’s spotless 24/7, there is this warmth to his house. A warmth that I haven’t felt in a long time.

I unload my lunch bag, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher right away. Usually I would leave the dishes in the sink until the end of the night before bed, but I want to respect that Oakley likes his sink empty at pretty much all times. He did open his home up to us and I don’t want to ever be a burden.

I close the dishwasher door and that’s when I notice some beautiful sunflowers in a vase–my favorite flower. The twists in my belly return and I can’t help but smile. He remembered that little detail about me from our conversation last night.

I need to get out of my work clothes that are probably covered in all the germs. I change into my favorite matching dark green loungeset and walk down the hallway toward the stairs. The guest room door is propped open. Lottie’s bed is made to perfection. Her bunny stuffed animal that she’s had since she was born is laying against the pillow. All of her things look like they belong in this room. I smile once more, thinking how Oakley did not hesitate to make Lottie feel at home. The sleeping arrangement could have been so different. He didn’t have to give up his bed or his guest room to us, but he did.

The guest room closet is slightly open and that’s when I notice the Storm logo. I open the door fully and see old jerseys and goalie helmets from years past. Each helmet has a special design with kelly green and white and silver. I take one off the shelf and inspect it.