train. I need to focus on baseball, so a relationship is not an option.”
“I can help—”
“What are you not understanding? I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he snaps so harshly that I’m forced to take a step backward.
His words hang heavy in the air as a small tear floats down my cheek. “Carson,” I whisper.
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves past me, bumping me in the shoulder on the way out. His heavy footsteps carry down the stairs, his departure swift. It isn’t until I hear the slamming of the door that connects to the loft building that I fall to the ground, head in my hands, and sob.
I cry for our loss, for the loss of what we had.
I cry for my broken and bleeding heart.
But most importantly, I cry for the shell of a man I used to know, the man who just walked out of the loft—my life—without a backward glance.
“Hello?” I answer my phone, my voice a distant mess.
“Mills, what’s going on?”
That’s all it takes, the combination of Cory’s concern and the one question that can tear someone apart when they’re on the brink of an emotional breakdown.
Unable to stop, I disintegrate into a heap of sobs. I sent a text to Cory, letting him know I canceled my flight to Topeka and that I would pay him back. Instead of texting, he called.
“Hey, talk to me. Is everything okay? Did the boys not like the proposal? I will seriously kill them.”
“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “They loved it. They agreed to everything, even making me a partner in their business. The meeting was perfect.”
“Okay, so that leaves one more factor: Carson. Did he finally call you back?”
“No. I ran into him at the loft when I was going to get him some more clothes.”
“What? And he didn’t tell you?”
“No. I had no idea he was back in town. If I didn’t run into him, I don’t think he would have told me.” Actually, I know he wouldn’t have told me. I honestly think he would have ghosted me, like he’s ghosted everyone else.
“You know what? I need to hear this in person. Get to the airport, you’re coming out to Baltimore for a week and spending some time with your big brother.”
“Cory, I don’t want to—”
“I sent a text to Cheryl. She’s already buying you a ticket. Get your ass here, sis, and we’ll talk. Don’t tell me you have anything else to do because that would be a lie and you don’t lie to your brother, right?”
I sigh and say, “I hope you don’t mind crying, it seems to be my new thing.”
“Bring it on.”
He didn’t have to fly me first class.
He also didn’t have to have Cheryl pick me up.
And he didn’t have to have my favorite crab cakes delivered to his apartment the minute I stepped through the door.
But he did, because he’s the best brother in the entire world.
The game is over and from his text, I know he’ll be here any minute.
His high-rise apartment that overlooks the bay is a dream. Decorated with a homey feel rather than the clean lines you usually see, his walls are full of pictures of him and our family and all the friends he’s made along the journey of his career. His couches are plush and comfortable, his colors soothing and earth tones. I’ve been to his apartment many times and each time, it feels like I’m welcomed back home.
How he doesn’t have a girlfriend is a complete mystery to me.
And as we all learned, it’s not Cheryl.
The door rattles, and I don’t have to turn my head away from the skyline view to know it’s Cory. He went two for four tonight with a diving double play at first, super impressive. It was on replay forever, the announcers talking about the amazing wingspan and length Cory has as a lefty over at first base.
Cory blows through the door, sets his bag on the floor, and comes straight to the couch where he sits next to me with a cake box and two forks. I would recognize that cake box from anywhere and without lifting the lid, I know it’s a ten-layer chocolate cake from Smith Island Baking Company. On my first visit to Baltimore, Cory took me there on a whim, not really knowing anything about it until we walked in and took a big whiff. We were hooked. For special occasions and