Page 82 of Raging Fires

“I love your little noises.” He whispered in her ear.

“I love you.” She said in a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a sigh.

Everything in Jake cried out that he loved her too. That he’d never stopped loving her. But words didn’t seem like enough to express the depth of his feeling. So he told her with his kiss. He told her with his body. He told her over and over and over again until they finally crawled their way to his little twin bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jake went to work out early, and it was barely nine o’clock when he left the stadium. He started toward home, then decided he’d stop and get Kelli’s mother some flowers. That’d be nice, right? Good son-in-law. Responsible guy. There was plenty of time. Kelli’s mom came in at 2, so he didn’t need to be there until 1:30. No, make that 1:15. Kelli was already nervous, and he didn’t want to cut it too close.

He exited the expressway early and went to the florist near Gran’s. When he came out, he stood for a moment, looking down the street. Michael Borelli’s house wasn’t far from here. He knew because he’d found out Mike’s address a couple of weeks ago. He just hadn’t worked up the nerve to go there. Ever since Kelli started talking about her mother and how she was going around apologizing to the people she’d hurt, the thought of Mike had kept nagging at Jake.

He wasn’t an addict, but there were certainly people he had wronged six years ago. Maybe he ought to do the same thing as Kelli’s mom. Make his peace with the people he’d hurt. Not everyone—he wasn’t really all that sorry about pissing off his first agent and several coaches who had blown up at him along the way, not to mention that guy he’d slugged. None of them mattered, anyway. Everybody in the sports business had shrugged it off long ago.

The only people who mattered were here. He’d already spewed his guts to Kelli, and it was too late to apologize to Pops. Gran had stopped him halfway through his speech with a bone-crushing hug and told him she already knew he never meant to hurt any of them; she was his grandmother, after all. That left Michael Borelli.

Jake got into his car; it was barely ten am. He wouldn’t even come close to cutting it close. Jake turned in the direction of Michael’s house. He drove down the block, looking at the numbers. Mike’s was the one with a for sale sign in the scrubby front yard. Jake took a breath, then got out and walked up to the front door. Mike was probably going to slam the door in his face, but he had to try.

He rang the doorbell and waited, and after a little while, the front door opened. Michael looked much the same as he had the last time Jake saw him: black-framed nerd glasses, flip-flops, a faded T-shirt with a stain on the front, and shorts with a hole near the hem. No wonder Kelli liked Mike; they both belonged to the never-let-go-of-anything club. Except Kelli looked good in her old tees, and Michael looked like he’d just fallen out of bed.

“Jake,” Michael said. “I saw it was you on the door camera.”

“I’m surprised you opened it then,” Jake replied.

“Yeah, so am I.” Mike shrugged. “What do you want?”

Jake glanced to the side, then down at the ground. How the hell do you do this? He stuck his hands in his pockets and said, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Mike stared at him blankly. “You’re sorry for what?”

“For the way I acted six years ago. For acting like a douchebag. For…” Jake rotated his hand in a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “For being… whatever I was in Miami.”

Mike gaped at him. He pushed his glasses back up with one finger. “Seriously? You came here to apologize after six frigging years?”

“Well… yeah.”

“You are such a lame-assed idiot,” Michael said without heat and sighed, then stepped back. “Come in. It’s hot as hell out here.”

“Always is.” Jake walked inside.

“Yeah. I should have moved to Seattle.” Michael led him down the hallway, passing by a room that had probably once been a dining room, but was now dominated by computer equipment. “But my great-grandmother left me this house, so…” He shrugged.

They stopped in a living area, and Michael waved toward the couch. “You want something to drink? A beer? Soda?”

“I’m fine.” Jake sat down on the couch, feeling awkward, and Michael flopped into a chair nearby.

“I heard about Pops,” Michael said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jake nodded. “How’re your parents?”

“They’re fine.”

“Good.” This was excruciating. “Look. Mike. I can’t explain why I acted like I did. I didn’t mean to offend you; I wasn’t thinking straight back then. I’m not sure why I changed like that.”

“Money and fame,” Michael supplied. He settled back in his chair, looking a little more comfortable.

“Yeah. I guess. Thing was, I knew right off what I’d done, but I was too embarrassed to try to talk to you. And then Kelli left, and I kinda went off the rails.”

Michael was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I heard. Everybody screws up, man. You just always did things in a truly spectacular way.”