Davis
January 2026
I hadn't meant to yell at her. Ropyr Woods had a way of getting under my skin, and it wasn't always a good thing. She brought out the worst in me. Sometimes she could bring out the best. We argued more than we got along. I love pushing her buttons and she loved running her mouth. Life with that girl was never boring.
"Big plans today, honey?" Mom asked, trying and failing to flip a pancake.
"Going to look at a few houses with Kay. I told her to keep it small. Nothing extravagant since I don't have an income now." I sat at the counter with my glass of orange juice.
Mom handed me a plate of bacon and eggs. "Kay is one of the best real estate agents in the area. And don't worry about money, Davis. You've got plenty in savings. Your dad and I can help, too." I flinched at the sadness in her smile. My mom wore her emotions on her sleeve. "Do I need to ask where you went last night?" She was at the stove with her back to me, pouring more batter into the pan.
"Nope." Short and simple.
"She's still the cutest thing, ain't she?"
I chose to ignore the question and eat my breakfast. Ropyr couldn't be on my mind today. She wasn't the reason I came home. I couldn't allow her to be the reason I came home. I wasn't the guy that let a woman control his life. Did I want to talk to her? Yes. I wanted to apologize for how we left things. I wanted us to be on good terms since I was living here again. She could hold a grudge and I had hurt her badly. We couldn't have any animosity in this small town.
Kay Kiely wanted to meet at the first address. I wasn't sure what I expected when she told me to pull up just past the bend in the road, but it wasn't this.
The house sat back from the street like it had something to hide—or maybe just nothing to prove. Tall trees crowded around it, pines and oaks stretching overhead, their branches tangled with strands of Spanish moss that swayed lazily in the breeze. For a second, I just sat in my truck with the engine running, taking it in.
"Charming, right?" she said, stepping up beside the truck with a bright smile that didn't quite match the place.
"Something like that," I muttered, killing the engine.
Up close, the house looked better… and worse. The pale blue paint had probably been cheerful once, but now it was faded in patches, peeling along the trim like it was tired of holding on. The porch stretched across the front, wide and inviting in theory, but one of the railings leaned just enough to make you notice. I stepped up anyway, testing the boards. They creaked under my boots, not dangerously—just enough to remind me this place had history.
"Structurally sound," she said quickly, like she could hear my thoughts. "Just needs a little cosmetic love."
I gave a half nod, running my hand along one of the porch columns. The wood was solid beneath the worn paint. That counted for something.
The front door stuck a little when she tried to open it. She laughed it off, shouldered it lightly, and it gave way with a soft pop. "Adds character," she said.
"Sure," I replied, though I couldn't help a small smile.
Inside, it smelled faintly of old wood and something clean—like someone had tried to freshen it up without erasing what it was. Sunlight filtered through the windows in soft, uneven patches, broken up by the trees outside. The hardwood floors were scuffed but sturdy, the kind that had seen years of footsteps and weren't bothered by a few more.
I walked into the living room, hands in my pockets, turning slowly. "How long's it been empty?"
"About eight months," she said. "Previous owner moved in with family. They kept up with maintenance, but… you know how it goes."
Yeah. I did.
The kitchen was toward the back, smaller than I expected but not cramped. The cabinets were dated, the kind you don't notice until you really look at them. I turned on the faucet—steady stream, then a faint, uneven drip when I shut it off.
"Easy fix," she said from behind me.
"Everything's an easy fix," I replied.
She didn't argue with that.
Upstairs, the air felt warmer, like the house held onto the cold a little too well. The hallway was narrow, the ceilings sloping just enough to make the space feel tucked in. I pushed open a bedroom door, and it gave a soft protest before swinging wide.
The room wasn't big, but it had light. Good light. The kind that made you think about mornings you hadn't had yet. "This could work," I said, mostly to myself.
The agent perked up. "It's a great starter home."
I almost laughed at that. Thirty years old and still talking about "starter homes." But standing there, looking at the worn floors, the slightly crooked closet door, the way the trees outside framed the windows—it didn't feel like starting over. It felt like… picking something up.
I walked back out onto the porch while she talked numbers behind me, her voice drifting in and out. The air was thick, cold, alive with the rustle of leaves. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked once and then went quiet.
I leaned against the railing—the sturdy part—and looked out over the yard. Overgrown bushes, a driveway that had seen better days, a garage that probably had its own list of problems.
Yeah, it needed work, but it wasn't falling apart.
"What do you think, Superstar?" she asked. "It's nice and quiet out here. If I'm not mistaken that was your top request." She tapped one of her perfectly manicured nails on the wooden railing.
"I like it. I could use a project. Could we see the others before I decide?"
"There's one more I can take you to right now. The other two won't be available for a showing until later in the week." She eyed me like she wanted to say something. Kay Kiely wasn't the type to keep things to herself. If there was something to be said, she'd be the one to say it.
"Say it, Kiely. What's on your mind?" I asked, smirking at her. "I can take it."
"Why didn't you ever settle down, Davis? I thought you'd be married with your own little team by now."
I was expecting some comment about my career, maybe about living in Chicago. I hated the cold, at least I used to. Now, after being there for six years I loved it. Snow was one of my favorite things now, and Honey Bell never saw any. Kay asking about my love life was not what I was expecting.
I shifted uncomfortably. Sure, I thought about getting married and having kids someday, but the girl I wanted all that with…I hadn't found her yet. Well, that's not true. I wanted all that with Ropyr Woods, but we weren't on the same page with all the details.
"I was focused on my career. Didn't make time for all that." That sounded believable, didn't it?
"It's not too late. Maybe she's been here all along," She smiled. Kay was one of Ropyr's fans. That girl won over just about everyone as soon as her feet touched the ground here.
I had a feeling that's where this conversation may be headed and I was not going there with my real estate agent. "Can we see the other property? I didn't hire you to be my matchmaker."
She narrowed her eyes but the light in them still danced. "Just for that, you can buy me lunch when we're done. Come along now."
I followed her to her car, opened the door for her. Then I went to my truck and followed her to the next house. It was on a cul-de-sac. I knew this area well; some of the younger guys from the team lived out this way. One of the freshmen who wanted to appear cool for the varsity guys occasionally threw a party over here.
The street curved in a neat, quiet circle, lined with well-kept lawns and houses that all looked like they belonged in the same conversation. No overgrown hedges, no leaning fences—just trimmed grass, tidy flower beds, and the kind of stillness that comes from people who take pride in where they live.
"This is more your speed," Kay said, and for once, I didn't argue.
The house stood near the center of the circle, symmetrical in that unmistakable Georgian way—balanced, precise, like someone had drawn it with a ruler. Two stories of clean red brick, evenly spaced white-trimmed windows, and dark green shutters that looked freshly painted. A straight walkway led from the curb to the front door, cutting cleanly through a manicured lawn.
I stepped out of my truck and took it in, hands on my hips. "Yeah… this is nice."
"Built in the early 2000s," she said, walking up beside me. "Well maintained. No major repairs needed."
That tracked. Even from the outside, nothing looked tired. The roof was clean, the brickwork solid, the landscaping deliberate without being overdone. Low hedges framed the front of the house, and a couple of small ornamental trees stood like they'd been placed there on purpose, not just grown into the space.
The front door was centered, painted a deep navy, with a polished brass knocker that caught the light. When she opened it, there was no sticking, no hesitation—just a smooth, quiet swing inward.
"After you," she said.
The inside hit me differently than the last place. It didn't feel aged or worn-in—it felt… finished. Hardwood floors, darker and gleaming, stretched out under soft, even lighting. The walls were clean, neutral, not a scuff or crack in sight. It smelled faintly of something citrusy, like it had been cleaned that morning.
I stepped into the entryway and paused. "Feels like a model home."
She smiled. "That's kind of the point."
To the right was a formal dining room—chair rail molding, wainscoting, a light fixture that probably cost more than I wanted to know. To the left, a sitting room or office space, staged just enough to suggest possibilities without committing to one.
I moved toward the back, where the space opened up into a larger living area and kitchen. The transition was seamless. Granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, cabinets that actually closed the way they were supposed to. I ran my hand along the counter, half-expecting to find something off—some small flaw—but there wasn't one.
"Turnkey," she said.
"Yeah," I replied, quieter this time.
Upstairs, the same story. Wide hallway, evenly spaced rooms, everything in place. The primary bedroom was bigger than I needed, if I was being honest. Tray ceiling, large windows, clean carpet that hadn't seen much wear. The bathroom attached to it looked like something out of a catalog—double vanity, glass shower, soaking tub that probably never got used as much as it should.
I stood there for a moment, looking at it all.
"It's a lot of house," I said.
"It is," she agreed. "But it's easy. You wouldn't have to do anything. Just move in."
That was the thing, though.
I walked back downstairs and out to the front, standing at the edge of the driveway. The cul-de-sac was quiet. Too quiet, maybe. No creaking porch boards, no stubborn doors, no signs of anything unfinished.
It was perfect, and for some reason, I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Seconds later, I realized what made me uneasy about this place. I recognized the tan four-door sedan pulling in next door. Shelby and Wyatt Lane. Jeremy's grandparents.
They supported the team for years. Donations, banquets, fundraisers. The problem was…they never liked me or my family.
"You could fill those rooms with babies…" she said.
"You sound like my mom."
"Can you blame her? With those cheekbones and that behind, you should be passing along those genes. Plenty of fish in the sea."
I shook my head and stifled a laugh. "Know what else is in the sea? Trash." She smacked my arm. "Where do you want to go for lunch?"
She said she absolutely adored this little diner in town. It hadn't been around long, only a couple of years. The food was all home made, classic dishes, and she had a little crush on the cook. Who was I to deny Ms. Kay a chance to flirt with the staff of a restaurant?
I followed her because she couldn't remember the name of the diner, just that they served the best meatloaf sandwiches. Was I surprised at all when she pulled into the parking lot of Sunshine's? No.
She smiled innocently when we got out of our vehicles. "I feel like you're setting me up here."
"It's a coincidence. A weird little coincidence. That's all. C'mon now, you owe me lunch and I'm getting a dessert, too."
I held the door open for her, ignored that devious little smirk on her pink lips and walked in behind her.
"Welcome!" Came from a man with his back to us. I knew that voice.
"Hey there, Bobby!" I greeted him. I kept in touch wit him off and on over the years. Nothing serious or too deep, mostly about my career. He reached out when news broke about my shoulder injury. Ropyr was mentioned in passing, but we both knew not to linger on that topic.
I joined Kay at the counter, and she slid a menu over to me. It was handwritten in Ropyr's curly font with little doodles around the paper.
Bobby turned to face us and Kay's smile lit up. "Davis! Once upon a time you were my favorite ball player. I don't think we serve Chicago players in here, though."
"Better ask the owner," Kay said, side-eyeing me.
Keeping his focus on me, Bobby yelled for his daughter. "Ropyr, do we serve Chicago players?"
She came out from the kitchen. Her hair was in a long braid. She held a tray of food. "What are you going on about, Daddy?" she asked before her eyes landed on me. She rolled her eyes, reminding me how cute I used to find that. "We're closed." She said.
Bobby and Kay chuckled. I watched as she carried the tray over to a family of three. She leaned in and pinched the toddler's fat cheeks. I used to like watching her with Callan and his friends. She was a natural with kids.
Kay ordered her meatloaf sandwich while I couldn't stop watching Ropyr. She moved around the diner so swiftly, like it was a dance she had memorized. She didn't look my way when she went back to the kitchen. I glanced at the menu, but I could feel Bobby watching me.
"Go on. I know you want to," he said with a heavy sigh. Like he had been expecting this.
"She doesn't want me to," I said.
"Davis, if you had respected her wishes all those years ago, I'd probably have a couple grandkids by now. This time, being selfish might work in your father," he pulled the menu away and jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. "Go. But steer clear of the knives. She sharpens them twice a week."
"I want Jeff Buckley played at my funeral," I said as I walked around the counter.
"What about the wedding?" Kay asked smugly, watching Bobby.
I paused at the kitchen door. "Trace Adkins."
I heard Kay going on about Bobby's hair and asking him how he keeps it looking so shiny. So, he was her crush. I could see it.
Ropyr was pulling a sheet of bread from the oven. She made the butter from scratch and it smelled amazing. My mom begged her the recipe but Ropyr refused, claiming Woods family secrets. I loved watching her in the kitchen. She was comfortable and happy, relaxed. "Hey…"
She slammed the over door with more force than necessary. Always dramatic. "What do you want?"
I stood on the opposite side of the counter, noticing the knives closest to her. "What if I said I wanted you?" Risky, but I took the chance. I don't even know why I said that. I couldn't think straight around this girl.
"I'd say you're about ten years too late, Lewis." She began lightly brushing butter onto the top of the bread.
I pushed away from the counter and walked over to her. Her back was to me. I put my hands on either side of her, boxing her in. When I inhaled it was only her. Not the spices and seasonings around us, only her. She smelled of something sweet and floral, something completely her.
"Only ten years?" I asked. I left twelve years ago. Her shoulders tensed and I grinned. I looked her over and that's when I saw the tattoo behind her left ear. An open locket with the number 43 inside. She remembered. I gently rubbed my finger over the ink, noticing her body shiver. "Looks like you moved on."
"I did move on," she turned to face me. We were chest to chest. "It took a long time, but I did. An embarrassing amount of time. You didn't return my calls or texts for three months."
She looked at me, wanting an explanation. Daring me to lie about my lack of communication. "I'm sorry. I don't have a good reason for that."
"Three months. For three months I kept traying to get ahold of you. On month four, I went out to Washington for a few days. I watched you play, witnessed a whole new crowd fall in love with you. That's when I knew that you were meant for things I couldn't give you."
"Ropyr…" I rested my forehead against hers. She didn't push me away or try to move. "I never stopped loving you."
She brought her hands to my arms, her nails grazing my skin. For a moment we stood frozen like that. "Please leave. Please."
"Have dinner with me tonight. One conversation. Please give me that." I wiped away a few of her tears with my thumbs. I hated seeing this girl cry. It rarely happened, she held herself together so well. I was mad at myself for being the one to bring the tears out of her.
She didn't answer right away. She looked away from me, around the kitchen like she was looking for an escape route. "Fine. One dinner. One conversation." The look in her eyes shattered me.
"No running," Ropyr had a habit of running away from her problems, or of anything that scared her. I used to be good at catching her, but after twelve years I wasn't sure I could keep up with her anymore.
A small smile pulled her lips. "No promises."
I wanted to kiss her, but I knew how horrible that would have ended. I wanted to make things right. I missed her being my girlfriend, but I missed her friendship more than anything. "I'll see you tonight." Then I left the kitchen before she could change her mind.
Kay and Bobby were flirting with each other when I went back out to the main area. They stopped when Bobby saw me. "How'd it go?" He asked.
"She agreed to dinner tonight. No knives were used."
"Dinner sounds like a date to me," Kay said, sipping her lemonade.
Bobby gave her a look, not liking what she said. "Can I talk to you outside?" He asked.
Outside on the sidewalk, Bobby turned serious. I hadn't seen this side of him. He was a big guy, and honestly, a little intimidating. From the first time I met him I knew I never wanted to be on his bad side.
"She's in a good place now, Davis. She's happy." He said, almost like a warning. "I like you, son, I always have. You were a good friend to her when she needed someone. When I wasn't around, you were there to protect her." I listened, not missing how he emphasized the word friend. "I want you two to be on good terms. That's all I'm asking. Hash out your issues and move on from it. I can't see her hurt again."
"I'm not going to hurt her again. I promise."
He nodded once. "I just got out of prison. I'm not afraid of going back. I'd rather not go back, but I'll do what I have to for her."
"Understood."
"Good man," he held out his hand and I shook it. "Tell your folks I'll see 'em tonight for karaoke and drinks."
After leaving Sunshine's I went to the baseball field. That's where I did my best thinking, and after the conversation with Bobby…I had a lot to think about.