Rounding Third - Michelle Lynn Page 0,11

and make sure she’s on her stomach.”

I nod and leave Jen’s room, shutting the door behind me.

Their apartment is cute and girly. Noticing what I assume is her room on the right, I turn on the light and walk in. Instantly, the smell of her perfume engulfs my senses. The light and airy scent hits my nostrils, and I’m back on Screw Hill with her in my arms.

Her desk is cluttered with papers and books, but her bed is made, and no makeup is strewed around her dresser, like Jen’s. My eyes fixate on a picture frame placed next to her phone charger. Instantly, I recognize it.

Walking over, I try to convince myself that looking at the picture is not a good decision. Seeing their faces will only make the heartache worse, especially since she’s not mine to hold close tonight. If that’s the picture I remember, it confirms that she’s healed, and I’m not because there’s no way I could stare at this picture every day.

The silver frame is the first thing that stands out. Second, there’s an engraving on the bottom—Friends Forever. I vaguely remember that Ella received this as a birthday gift from Kedsey. Then, my eyes finally focus on the image. The four of us are standing side by side with goofy smiles and arms hanging over each other’s shoulders. Kedsey’s and Ella’s cheeks are pressed together. We were best friends.

Noah’s brown eyes haunt me every night. Even now, through this picture, I’m there, in that car, hearing his choking voice begging for safety.

“Hi.” Ella’s voice pulls me back from the memory.

“You’re able to look at them every day?” I ask, the picture frame dropping onto her mattress, as though it were moments away from spontaneously combusting in my hands.

“Yes. They were a part of my life. You all were.” She steps further into the room, her hands behind her back, and leans against the wall.

She’s fearful. She doesn’t know how I’ll react.

“But to be constantly reminded of it…” I shake my head.

“Crosby, you know that it wasn’t—”

Unable to hear the classic bullshit line, I push past her. “I need to go.”

“You haven’t healed, have you?”

I whip around and look at her. Those sad fucking eyes from two years ago are staring back at me.

What the hell did I think I’d accomplish by coming to Ridgemont? Is baseball this fucking important that I’ll torture myself all over again?

“Healing?” I shake my head again. “There’s only moving forward from something like that.” I open her apartment door, slamming it shut.

Chapter Four

Ella

I watch Crosby from my window. He’s outside the apartment across the way bent down on his knees, pulling on the strands of his hair. Obviously, he’s at war with himself. A part of me hopes he’ll come back and let me console him. Hell, we need to console each other. We’re the only ones who know the hell of that night, and we both chose to push the grief away and ignore the power it held over us.

I’m saddened that one picture has the capacity to plague his guilt. Healing was the sole reason we promised to move on, away from one another.

I went through a year of therapy and started stepping toward a future without him while he obviously remained in limbo between his past and his future.

He finally walks out of my parking lot, his hand continuously threading through his hair, and I’m relieved that he will be leaving my vision before I can run after him, promising to fix him. The urge to crawl into my bed, bury myself under the covers and cry for him only strengthens, but my eyes won’t leave him until he disappears out of sight.

Just when he’s about to turn the corner to pass the building on the right, he stops, and my heart halts. Turning around, he stares at my apartment window.

Tears well in my eyes. I wish things were different. I wish we had faced the aftermath of the accident together rather than apart.

He slowly shakes his head and rounds the corner.

In an instant, I’m there.

Crosby pushed his body off his truck, and without a word, he took my hand, weaving us through the trees to find our spot—the one from that night, where he had promised me a future, no matter what happened. I believed him because of his eyes. Crosby’s eyes were like a tunnel straight into his thoughts. It didn’t hurt that Crosby was a determined person, and that showed on and off