Unbroken Promises: a friends to lovers romance

by Nikki Ash

There’s a long moment of silence before Xander says, “I can’t. I’m sorry. But uhm...wish Delilah and her parents a Happy Thanksgiving for me. I gotta go.”

  That was the last time I tried to call him. It was clear he had moved forward with his life and wasn’t about to look back. He didn’t say it, but I could hear the hurt in his words. I hurt him. I’m the reason he stays away. He doesn’t understand, though, what it’s like to have your mom pass away right after making you promise things. My parents were amazing. They loved and supported me. They were at every one of my basketball games. Every parent/teacher conference. They always put me first, and on her death bed, after losing her husband, my father, the love of her life, all my mom asked of me was to find a woman and a career I love and create a life like the one she and my father had.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Delilah’s soft voice pushes the past to the side. I was so lost in my own head I didn’t hear her come into the kitchen.

  “Just wishing Xander was here to celebrate Thanksgiving with us.”

  “I know. I wish he was here too.” She gives me a sad smile. “Want to head to my parents’ house around ten?”

  “Sure.”

  “We have so much to be thankful this year,” Joanne says from across the dining room table. “I would like to start. I’m thankful for my daughter, who is healthy and happy. I’m thankful for my husband, who has finally decided to hire some help on the farm, so we can have some time to ourselves.”

  “Oh, Mom!” Delilah gushes. “Does that mean you and Dad will be traveling?” John groans playfully at the same time Joanne nods happily.

  Joanne continues. “I’m also thankful for you, Cole. For being an amazing friend and boyfriend to our daughter. We couldn’t have asked for anybody better.”

  I nod but don’t correct her. Obviously Delilah hasn’t told her parents about us splitting up yet. “It’s my pleasure.” I smile at Delilah. “I guess I’ll go next. I’m thankful for Delilah. When I was twelve years old and lost from losing my family, it was her friendship that grounded me.”

  “And Xander’s,” Delilah adds, and I swallow thickly. It never ceases to amaze me how big of a heart Delilah has. She should be angry at me. I called out another person’s name during sex for god sakes. But instead of hating me, she’s understanding.

  “And Xander’s,” I add softly. “I’m thankful for the two of you”—I nod to John and Joanne—“for welcoming me into your home, even after all the years of sneaking into Delilah’s bedroom.” I chuckle, and everyone laughs.

  “Yes, well if we believed anything was going on we would’ve stopped it. But it was obvious from the beginning, the three of you were nothing more than best friends.” Nothing more than best friends...if they only knew. When Xander left, and several months later Delilah and I started dating, we felt it was best to pretend as if we had only just gotten together. Two best friends that turned into more.

  “I’m thankful for every one of you at this table,” John says, “And I would like to add I’m thankful to God and modern medicine for making sure my daughter is here today.” He smiles at Delilah warmly, and I notice she has fat tears in her eyes that weren’t there a minute ago.

  “Well, I’m obviously thankful for all of you,” Delilah says, “But this year I’m thankful for what God has given us.” She turns her gaze to me. “A baby.”

  A baby? Holy shit! A baby!

  “You’re pregnant?” My eyes go down to her belly as if it will confirm what she’s saying is true.

  “I am.” She turns in her seat to face me. “And I just want to be upfront about it. I was late getting my shot. I’m sorry for that.” I can see the apology and fear in her eyes. She’s afraid of how I’m going to react. But fuck that! She’s having a baby. I could never be mad at her for that.

  “I don’t give a fuck!” I stand and pull her into my arms, my heart happy as hell. “You’re pregnant.” I hug her tightly. “We’re having a baby.”

  “We are,” she says, her voice watery. When I pull back, I see she’s crying, and I’m immediately worried. I know we’re no longer together but surely this changes things. We need to put the baby first, the way my parents always put me first. The way her parents put her first.

  “Have you been checked out? Is the baby okay?”

  “I have, and he or she is perfect. I’m four months along now, due in April.”

  “Oh, sweetheart!” Joanne gets up and rushes over to her daughter, pulling her out of my arms and into hers. John comes over and joins. “What a blessing.”

  As I watch Delilah cry with happiness, I know this is what my mom wanted for me, and I hope she’s watching me from above and proud of me. Now I just need to convince Delilah that we’re meant to be together.

  “What about this?” I hold the yellow onesie up for Delilah to see, and she grins.

  “We’re supposed to be looking for items on sale, not baby clothes. We have a long way to go.”

  “I know, but I can’t help it. I’m so excited. I hope it’s a little girl who looks just like you.” I smile down at her.

  “That’s what everyone says.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “And I’m supposed to say I hope for a boy who looks like you.” She stops walking and stares up at me. “Obviously I just want the baby to be healthy, but I kind of would like a little girl as well. I could see you spoiling her.” Tears leak from her eyes.

  “We’ll both spoil the baby, no matter the sex.” I kiss her forehead. “Is there anything else you want to look at?”

  “No, I’m exhausted. Let’s go home and take a nap.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  “Cole...”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re going to need to discuss this,” she says, and I nod in understanding.

  “I know, but we have several months to figure it all out. Right now, let’s get you home so you can rest.”

  We get home, and Delilah immediately falls asleep in her bed. Because I’m not pregnant or tired, and because I have no clue if she’ll let me lay in her bed since I’m sleeping in the other room, I don’t take a nap. Instead, I head down the hallway toward the other room we don’t use. If Delilah insists we can’t be together, I’m hoping she’ll still let me live here for a while to help with the baby. If that happens, we’ll need to use the third bedroom for the nursery.

  I open the door to Xander’s old room. I haven’t been in here since before he left. When I step inside, I inhale deeply, and even after two years of him being gone, I can still smell his scent. My eyes go to the empty mattress and the lone nightstand. He was never big on furniture. He would say all he needs are the necessities to survive. I walk farther into the room and open the closet door. I see a couple of storage tubs Delilah must’ve stored in here—Christmas decorations and such. I pull the Christmas tub down so she won’t try to do it herself. Delilah loves to get a tree the minute Thanksgiving is over. I haul it out to the hallway and set it down. Then I come back inside the room and sit down on the edge of the mattress. After looking around for a few minutes at the empty walls, I open the top drawer of the nightstand to see if Xander left anything here. I’m shocked to see that there’s a white envelope in it. I pick it up and see my name scrawled across the front in Xander’s handwriting. Running my finger along the flap, I crack it open, and inside is a letter.

  Dear Cole,

  If you’re reading this, you’ve found my letter. When I made the decision to enter the draft, it wasn’t an easy one. I had every intention of staying here until I graduated from college. Every time I pictured myself leaving, my heart hurt at the thought of walking away from you and Delilah. It still does. But then we crossed the line and you couldn’t even look at me, and I knew the only solution was for me to leave...to set you free. I was hoping to say all of this face-to-face, but when I realized you weren’t going to speak to me, I figured it was best to put it in writing. I love you, Cole. You are the best friend a guy could ever ask for. But I don’t just
love you. I’m in love with you. When I came to this realization, I wondered if I was gay, and it kind of scared me. At this moment, I’m not really sure what I am. I didn’t fake enjoying sex with Delilah, but if I’m honest with myself, many times I imagined it was you instead of her. The problem is that I know you don’t feel the same way, or if you do, you have no intention of acting on it, and because of that, I knew I had to leave. You have all these hopes and dreams and plans for the future, and they don’t include me, no matter how much I wish they did. And because they don’t include me, I felt it was time to find my own future. I’m not sure how quickly you found this letter, but if you and Delilah haven’t gotten together yet, I want you to know (not that you need it) you have my blessing. I’m officially bowing out of our pact. And if Delilah isn’t the woman you see as your future, I know whoever you find will be damn lucky to be loved by you. I wish you the best. Take care of our girl.

  Love, Xander

  I read the letter once more before I stuff it back into the envelope. I refuse to have any feelings about this letter. Delilah is pregnant. She and our baby need to be my entire focus.

  It doesn’t matter if my heart is breaking every step of the way...

  chapter twenty-six

  Cole

  “Alright, boys! Listen up! Here are the rules. Cell phones stay on the bus or in the hotel room. Each of you will be separated into a group with a different NBA player. If he’s not one of your favorites, don’t be rude. These guys are taking time out of their day to spend time with you. You’ll spend the morning doing drills. Lunch will be served in the onsite restaurant, and afterwards, everyone will play a few games. We’ll meet back at the front of the arena at four o’clock sharp.”

  It’s the first day of winter break and also the first day of basketball camp. I hated to leave Delilah home alone, especially since she’s pregnant, but she insisted she’s fine and will most likely visit with her parents, hang out with her friends, Summer and Kaelyn, and catch up on her sleep. I’ll be gone for a week, and when I return it will be Christmas eve. We haven’t spoken at all about our current situation and we’re still sleeping in separate rooms, but I’m planning to talk to her once I get back. I’m hoping the holidays will put her in a festive mood, and she’ll agree to give us another chance. I hate the idea of us raising our baby separately. That’s not what either of us wanted for our futures. But for the next week, my focus needs to be on the fifteen teenage boys I’m responsible for.

  We all get off the bus and enter the arena. On the outside I’m cool as a cucumber, but on the inside I’m an idiot who bit into a fucking jalapeño pepper with no water on hand. It’s probably over nothing. I mean, what are the chances of him being here, right? And even if he is, it’s a huge arena with hundreds of people. I probably won’t even see him if he is here. But just as I’m convincing myself I have nothing to worry about, I see him. He’s dressed head-to-toe in his team’s workout gear. His hair is still the same—shaved short with the top slightly longer and gelled neatly to the side. His arms are more muscular from working out, and I spot another tattoo on his bicep. He’s dribbling the ball down the court. He stops just before the three-point line, pulls up and shoots the ball, knocking down the shot the same way he’s done a million times, with nothing but net. He runs up to some woman who’s watching him from the sidelines and gives her his signature smirk. I can’t see the face she makes since I’m standing behind her, but I can see her shake her head and hold out a bottle of water for him, which he takes.

  It’s as if he can feel me watching him, because even with all the people in the arena, his eyes find mine. We stare at each other for a few moments, neither of us wanting to be the first one to look away. But then his name is called, and without another glance, he runs toward the person calling him. And I know it sounds crazy, but it feels like once again, he just ran away with my fucking heart.

  chapter twenty-seven

  Xander

  He’s here. Of course he’s here. I knew he would be when I saw his name on the sign-up form. When I signed up I didn’t even think about Cole being here. Why would he be? I knew his plans were to one day teach physical education, but the last time I saw him he was just finishing his sophomore year of college. So when I received the email with the dates I would be volunteering and the schools that would be attending, I didn’t think anything of it. Until I received the email detailing which schools I would be working with and their point of contact. Cole Andrews of Worthshire High School. I looked up the school and found out it’s in the same area where we went to college, which means he’s still living in Dallas. My first thought was if Delilah was still living there as well, but then I stopped myself. It doesn’t matter. He made his choice, and I made mine.

  Each player is assigned ten students and a coach. Luckily, I’m not assigned Cole, but as fate would have it—while laughing in my face—he’s assigned to Dean Marshal, the center on my team, who is located directly next to me on the court. I spend the next four hours trying my best to focus on running drills with these kids, but it’s hard knowing Cole is so close. It’s like I’m drawn to him. His voice. His laughter. His presence. It doesn’t matter how much I try to push my thoughts of him aside, I can’t help but gravitate towards him.

  I have a couple of his players on my team, and they mention him a few times. It’s clear he cares about them by the way they sing his praises. They tell me their season is only halfway through but they’re undefeated, and when they played for their old coach, they never won nearly as many games. Then one of the kids says something that has me stopping in my tracks.

  “I hope Coach Andrews does basketball camp this summer.”

  “Me too! But with his girlfriend having a baby, he’ll probably want to be home with her,” another kid says.

  Baby...is Delilah pregnant? Is he dating someone else?

  Lunch is over, and it’s time for the kids to practice what they’ve learned this morning during a couple games. As luck—or lack of—would have it, Cole’s group is paired with mine to play the first game. The NBA players and coaches aren’t supposed to be playing, just refereeing the kids, but when Dean comes down the court dribbling the ball and tries to dunk on me, and I block his attempt, the kids all go crazy.

  “We want to see you guys play!” Trevor, one of Cole’s kids yells.

  “Yeah! C’mon, Coach!” James, another one of Cole’s kids, exclaims. “You said you used to play in High School! Show us what you got,” he taunts Cole, and I laugh.

  “Ehh, I don’t know.” Cole shrugs. “That was a long time ago.”

  “And he wasn’t even that good,” I joke.

  “Wait! You knew him?” James asks Cole in awe that his coach actually knows an NBA player. “Is he the friend you used to have, who made it into the NBA?”

  Coles eyes go wide. So, he was talking about me? Interesting...

  “I am,” I say answering for Cole who seems to be stunned silent. “Not only did I know your coach, but he almost beat my record of most points at our high school,” I say to piss off Cole. It used to be an ongoing argument who was better between the two of us. We even kept a running record of our points scored, steals, blocks, and rebounds. He likes to play it off like he never would’ve had a shot at playing professional ball, but the truth is if he would’ve rehabbed his knee after the surgery, he could’ve easily proven himself again. The only reason why he didn’t was because he wanted to be there for Delilah.

  “Bull crap,” Cole says, finally finding his voice. “The only reason you had more points than me was because I got injured in the middle of my senior year. I would’ve broken your record. I almost did.”

  “Maybe...but you didn’t.” I know it’s a low blow. Cole tearing his ACL about killed him. He hated not being able to finish his season.

  “Maybe not, but I had you beat in steals and blocks.”

  “And I had you beat in rebounds,” I volley back. “And everyone knows rebounds win the game.”

  Dea
n laughs. “I think the kids are right. We need to see you guys play. One game, just you two. One-on-one. May the best man win.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I smirk.

  “Fine.” Cole snatches the ball I’m holding out of my hands and dribbles it over to the three-point line. “First to eleven. Make it, take it.”

  “Game on,” I say with a grin, joining him on the court.

  Cole checks the ball to me, anger evident in his actions. I laugh, checking it back to him, which only seems to piss him off further. With the ball in his possession, he immediately drives to the basket and scores his first point before I can even react.

  He stalks back over to the three-point line and aggressively throws the ball at me to check it once again. This time when I check it back to him, I’m ready, and when he drives by me, I trail behind him. As he comes up for the lay-up, I block his shot from behind. I get the rebound and go straight back up with the ball, slamming it through the net and making a show of hanging off the rim.

  The kids scream and shout as I drop to the ground and make my way back to the three-point line. Cole is fuming, and it only has me grinning harder. Fuck, I’ve missed him...

  The game continues back and forth as we both get our points in. Cole is dripping in sweat, having not played at this rigorous of a level in years, while I’ve yet to break a sweat. I have to give him credit, though. He’s actually kept up with me. The game is tied at nine all, and it’s Cole’s ball. He was never good at shooting from the perimeter, so when we check the ball and he begins to dribble, I’m not expecting him to pull up right there from the three-point line and take the shot. Everybody watches as the ball goes in—nothing but net. The kids all cheer, and Cole’s students pile on top of him to congratulate him on his win.

  When they’re done celebrating, I walk over to Cole and extend my hand, wanting to show the kids what good sportsmanship looks like. He takes it and shakes my hand.