Holt: Maybe you should let Romeo confess his love for you. Seems like you have a good shot at making a match with him.
Romeo: Hey, love is love. Come to Daddy, big boy.
Carson: Jesus Christ. Stop texting me. I’ll let you know what happens later.
I pocket my phone and steeple my hands together, resting my chin on my fingers as I pace the length of the tiny dugout. Standing here, by myself, I can’t avoid the flashbacks of the many hours I spent with Milly on this sacred field. The first time she schooled me in how long you have to pick up a baseball. The dinners we shared on the bench, facing each other and laughing uncontrollably. The many games of bucket ball we played, her winning every single time.
The coy smiles.
The hearty laughs.
The hidden glances.
The joy from her saying yes to me.
The first taste of her beautiful lips.
The start of us.
A relationship was built on this field, a foundation of something incredibly amazing. It’s why I’m here again, to spring off that foundation and hopefully continue to build and develop what we have.
I glance at my watch, seven minutes late.
Fuck.
That’s so unlike Milly.
I’m desperate to text her, to see if she’s on her way. Then again, if she chose not to show up, that would be upsetting, so instead I keep my hands where they are as far away from my phone as possible.
If she doesn’t come, what’s my next step? I know I said I would take her decision like a man, but deep down, I know that’s a lie. I can’t leave it at this, right? Letting a no-show be the complete end of our relationship?
Then again, I let a hateful and ugly text be the end the first time.
Is this my punishment? Karma coming back to bite me in the ass?
As the time ticks by, the crickets chirping the only background noise filling the silent space, a sense of dread washes over me. Too much damage has been done. I had hopes that there possibly could have been an inkling of feelings still inside her, but the more I think about it, the more I start to wonder, does her hate for me overshadow any possible buried feelings?
With a half hour passing by, I think it has.
Deflated, I take a seat on the bench of the dugout and bury my hands in my hair, pulling on the strands out of pure frustration.
I might have accomplished my goal to be in the big leagues within three years, but what good is it if I have no one to share it with? I only had twenty-two years with my dad. And I’ve lost the chance of having forever with my girl.
I’m right back where I started, a talented player with no one in the stands to cheer for me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MILLY
Shane dropped me off at the entrance of the park half an hour ago, forcing me to at least hear the man out, but instead of making my way down the hill to the only lit-up field in the area, my feet stay planted.
I don’t think I’m ready for this.
I don’t think my heart can take whatever he’s about to say. I’m already teetering on the edge of utter heartbreak and hope.
I gave him everything I had. I took a chance, handed over my heart to this man, and he turned it away, slammed a door on me . . . on us. Pushed me away so far that I never thought I’d even talk to him again.
And then he shows up.
Life back in his eyes, an apology in his words, hope in his heart. Voice so soft, his strong hands so tender, his soul reaching out to me, I felt his apology all the way to the marrow of my bones and yet, here I stand, next to a giant oak tree with its rustling leaves, arms crossed over my chest, and a stubborn set in my feet.
My phone vibrates in my hand and instant dread sets in, wondering if it’s Carson asking if I’m coming, but when I see Shane’s name flash across the screen, I swipe to read.
Shane: You’re never going to know if what he can offer is the best thing to ever happen to you if you don’t walk down that GD hill and find out.
I knew he wouldn’t go far. When I told him about the invitation, he told me I had to go, if anything to find out what he