“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says it so fiercely, I watch the tic in his jaw.
“I’m aware of that now. But for a long time, I couldn’t see it. Just like you couldn’t see past your alcoholism. We all have a past, Sinclair. Mine is just as ugly as yours. That’s what makes us beautiful, as we are right now.”
His palms smooth over my cheeks. “And that’s why you went into fitness, isn’t it?”
God, how he knew me in such a short time. I nod. “After I got out of the in-patient program, I started to get better. My image of my body was changed forever, and it put me on a path to healing. I got invested in eating clean, in only giving my body good fuel. I wanted to be strong, so strong that I would never go back to that way of living. I switched my major doubled up on nutrition and physical education degrees. I started talking to the coaches in the gyms that I would see there, training their athletes. They gave me pointers, and I started to study the way professional teams did it. I became … well, obsessed. From one obsession to the next, that’s my personality. I replaced an addiction with an obsession, albeit a healthy one. It’s why I’m so dedicated to my work.”
“We’re both damaged.” Sinclair twines his fingers with mine.
I think it’s the first time he truly sees how similar we are because I’m allowing him to.
“Both healed,” I correct him.
And I see it there, the fear in his eyes. He wants to protect me fiercely, but now he knows my darkest secret. There is nothing more between us, nothing that keeps him from knowing every part of me. I’ve done it, given all of myself to him. And he’s not pushing me away, but I know there is a hesitation there.
I just hope his want for me, his feelings, are strong enough to overpower that.
Clearing my throat, I have to change the subject. I didn’t realize that telling Sinclair about my bulimia would dredge up so many emotions, but it has. Things I haven’t thought about in forever, images of a girl I no longer know. I thought I was long over this, but it’s always there, in a corner of my mind. Thinking too much about it will send me spiraling.
“Do you want to work in a more expanded capacity than spring training? Do you see yourself staying here, or going to another organization?” I ask.
We haven’t talked about the future. What he wants professionally, or about what we will become. He knows my goal of going to Packton, working for the major league team there. But I have no idea where that leaves us or what he’ll do after spring training.
An unreadable look passes over Sinclair’s face. “I’m honestly not sure. Taking it one day at a time was all I could manage when I first got down here. And now that I’m starting to really enjoy my job, that I’m improving my skills, I’m cautious about dreaming too big. I think I’d like to stay on a video production team, wherever that is. I’m not sure Nick can keep me on after spring training, though.”
He hasn’t really answered in the way I hope, so I press for more. “Would you ever want to go to Packton?”
Because for me, that’s the goal. As I feel myself getting more and more attached to him, falling for him, I kind of want that to be his end game, too.
Sinclair pulls me to him so that I can’t see his face. “I’m not going to say no to any opportunity that comes calling.”
Again, kind of a brush-off.
“I hope they promote me, at some point. I know it’s probably a few years off, since it took me a few years to get the head coach job here, but I want to go to Packton. Until then, I’m going to kick ass here.” I say it both to convince myself and to let him know where I’ll be.
I was the one who told him we should keep this casual. But the more time we spend together, the more I want to define this. The more he shows me who he is, the deeper into him I fall.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known, Francesca.” His hands palm my breasts as he rolls me over, the use of my full name sending my heart galloping.
I ignore the fact that Sinclair has made me no promises. I ignore my usually spot-on gut as it blares warning signals. I ignore that the end of spring training is so close, it’s practically smacking us in the faces. I ignore the fact that our days are numbered.
When he slides into me, our eyes locked, I ignore everything else.
I let Sinclair make the closest thing I’ve ever felt to true love, to me.
And I feel my heart slip from my chest and into his hands.
16
Frankie
The week after Sinclair and I essentially make love in my bed is the last week of spring training.
We haven’t spoken about our feelings. Neither of us addressed what happened in my bed that night. I don’t know how he feels, and I’ve never felt so fragile. If I tell him that I want to make this work, that I’m falling in love with him, and he doesn’t say it back? It will devastate me.
Things have been strange. They’ve been the same, yet different. We still spend every waking moment that we’re not working or at games together, but there are words we’re not saying trapped between us. This has turned into more than either of us bargained for, and I don’t know that we’re quite equipped to handle it.
No one was looking for a relationship. It was only supposed to be one fun night or a few hookups that left everyone feeling satisfied.
Hell, I knew I wasn’t looking for anything long-term. And I especially wasn’t expecting to fall in love with Sinclair. There’s still so much I feel I didn’t know about him.
But I know his soul. It scares me to death that I want him to know mine.
So I say nothing. And knowing that today is his last day on the spring training video crew, I …
I can’t bring myself to go see him.
It’s the last game, and the players leave for Packton tomorrow. In the next twenty-four hours, there will be a mass exodus from the southern facilities. My Florida city will become its little world again; gone will be the flashbulbs and media swarming the famous baseball players who live here for just weeks.
And with them, Sinclair will go, too.
What will my life be like, then? He’s filled my world with an energy I didn’t know it was missing. He’s filled my time with a companionship I didn’t know I needed.
Will he ask me to come with him wherever it is he’s going back to? Will he ask to stay here with me?
In all other aspects of life, I seem to be so brave, so decisive. But in this instance, I am weak. There is no strength in me; I can’t bring myself to summon the courage and tell him how much he means to me, how much I want him.
Maybe it’s because after my confession about my eating disorder, he looked so spooked. Yes, he told me how beautiful and strong I am, but I could see it in his eyes. It was the first time I peeled back every layer, where I was completely raw. And it had scared him.
I’m sitting in my office, trying to work up the bravery to go to him. I hear a noise coming from somewhere in the building, and I know it’s over. The last spring training game has ended.
That spurs me on.
Stop being such a child, Frankie. A voice in my head chastises me for being so foolish. I’m a strong, determined, brave woman. If I want the man, if I want any shot at having this relationship last, then I need to will it to happen. I need to take action.