Page 16 of Run Home

While Sam laughs, inspiration hits for more time with her. “We won’t bother the Wizard—why don’t you come over beforehand and figure out how to dadify my clothes and hair? Then we can sneak into the school undercover.”

“Oooh, pushing the limits of my assistance skills—challenge accepted,” Sam replies, and I casually pump a fist in victory. “I’ll be there at eight thirty, so make sure you’re up. Text me your address. I’ll let Griff and Danae know you’re coming so the office staff can sneak us in without scanning your ID card in front of other visitors.”

“Good call.”

“I’m full of good calls,” Sam says airily. She’s making a joke, but I think she’s entirely right. I’m about to tell her so when she continues, “Good luck at the game tomorrow. Don’t let tonight get in your head. You can have fun and win the series in game three.”

My lips twitch in a gentle smile as I respond, “Thanks. Will do. See you next week, cielo.”

“Are you gonna tell me wh—”

“Not yet. Okay, byeee,” I cut in, ending the call.

Clutching the phone against my chest, I stare up at the hotel ceiling. I walked into this room feeling discouraged and frustrated with myself—and the whole team—for a stupid loss tonight.

But after one ten-minute phone call, my heart feels as light and sweet as the cotton candy they sell in the stands.

Sighing, I wonder what Griffin would think about me asking Sam out—wonder what she would think. Because that simple phone call with Sam exceeded any mental escape from the disappointment of loss. It might even be better than celebrating victory with the team.

What would it be like to have this every night, every day? To not come home to an empty space when celebrating a win or sulking over a loss?

I know exactly what it would be like to spend every day with Sam—heaven.

Chapter seven

Sam

The security gates creep open, and I ease off the brake to pull forward into the neighborhood. I’m out of place driving my ten-year-old Honda Accord through this swanky area. Hopefully, no one calls to report a suspicious car driving through the streets. I follow the winding road to the address Adrian sent, pulling into the circle driveway of a sprawling house. It’s painted white with black accents, and multiple flat roof lines accentuate the modern architecture. My car looks really out of place in this driveway, even though I know Adrian won’t make me feel that way.

As Griffin’s younger sister, I’ve been lucky to be looped into Adrian’s inner circle for the past six years. A lot of my memories living here in Kansas City include Adrian. Then we were partners in crime last year clearing the way for Danae to be with Griffin. There was a lot of under-the-table communication between us, starting with coordinating our pressure on Griff to ask Danae out. Adrian and I were constantly collaborating on schedules to get them alone together, including us taking Jason out for ice cream during spring training.

I was a little afraid the camaraderie as coconspirators that deepened our friendship might fade away once Griffin retired, but that hasn’t been the case at all. If anything, Adrian has gone out of his way to maintain our communication, which makes me feel valued as a person and not just as the best friend’s little sister he took pity on.

Because let’s be honest—I was pitiful when I first arrived on the Kansas City scene. While pity could realistically still be an anchor tying Adrian to me, I’m going to pretend it’s not.

When I ring the doorbell, Adrian’s playful voice sounds through the camera doorbell speaker.

“What’s the password?”

“Menso, I’m not playing your games this time. I’m here to help you, remember?” I place one hand on my hip, lower my sunglasses with the other, and lean closer to the camera, attempting to look more intimidating than my slim five-foot-five frame.

A second later, Adrian swings open the door with a flourish and a wide grin. He’s dressed in a baby blue Crowns T-shirt and gray joggers, and his hair is wet, apparently fresh out of the shower. Stepping inside, I’m hit with a wave of the crisp ocean body wash scent emanating from him. I shake my head to clear the mental fog that rolled in with the unexpected ocean breeze.

“I hope you came prepared for battle because turning all of this”—he motions up and down his body—“into middle-aged dad style is gonna be your greatest challenge yet.” His expression dances with mischief, and I can’t help but smile even as I roll my eyes.

“No one else in the world could get away with the outrageous comments you make without getting labeled a total tool,” I tease, perching my sunglasses on top of my head. Adrian’s gaze tracks my hand’s movement before landing on my eyes. “Your otter personality makes it impossible to believe you could actually be that self-absorbed.”

Adrian’s smile slides to a frown. “Do I come across self-absorbed? Do you think I am? I’m not trying to be.”

“No, I said you don’t come across that way. You’re far too likable,” I assure him, and his lips neutralize. “But you are slightly ridiculous with all your exaggerated preening, even if it only makes you more endearing,” I add as I poke his stomach. I was unprepared for just how firm his abs would be, and a flush rushes to my cheeks.

Adrian’s full grin has resurfaced, the sparkle returning to his eyes. He takes a breath, but before he can make a comment, I say, “We’d better get started. Show me what we have to work with wardrobe-wise.”

He motions for me to follow him, and we walk through an expansive living area with high ceilings and a black fireplace scaling all the way up the height of the wall. Speakers are built into the ceilings, and Latin reggae pop music plays at a relatively loud level. Adrian punches some buttons on a screen in the wall, turning down the volume. We pass a pristine black-and-white kitchen, then walk down a short hallway past a door I assume leads to the garage before entering the primary suite.

The living room decor was sleek and modern—black leather couch, tan sitting chairs, sparse decorations. His bedroom, on the other hand, explodes with color. The walls are painted a vibrant sage green with an accent wall covered by palm branches wallpaper. The bed is neatly made, the comforter pulling in the darker shade of green from the wallpaper and contrasted by layers of orange-red and turquoise pillows. The rattan headboard and lampshades ground the space with an earthy quality. Three framed paintings of colorful city buildings hang on one of the plain green walls.

I stop short, taking it all in. Adrian watches my assessment.