In this together? Hardly. But that’s on me.
Fuck, that’s on me.
“You’ve made me so proud, Carson. Not just as a baseballer, but as a man. And the way you speak of your girl, Milly, reminds me of your mom. She pushes you, so she’s the girl for you. You may not have baseball forever, as our bodies can only sustain us for so long. But your girl . . . always work as hard at that relationship as you do in baseball. Never give up.” How had I forgotten those words that my dad spoke to me in one of our last phone calls? How had I somehow twisted his love and sacrifices for me as something he’d resented? He never told me about his debt, but not because he was ashamed. He did everything he did with pride. Fuck. He’d hate this version of me. And Milly . . . that beautiful and bright soul. “What the fuck did she ever do to you to deserve that kind of treatment?” Nothing. All she did was love, support, and push me.
I’m such an asshole.
“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I’ve really fucked everything up.”
“Nah, you’ve just muddied the water. Time to filter out the shit and make it clean again.”
I glance at Knox, a cock to my brow. “Is that some Texas saying?”
“You should know, you spent a few months there.” He smiles. “Come on, let’s get you better first, and then we can mend everything else.”
JULY
Feeling a little more human, a little less angry, and slightly more optimistic, I stretch out on my bed after a solid win and performance and pick up my phone.
It’s been a few months since I’ve “spoken” to her, but like Knox said, I’ll never know until I try.
There’s no denying I still think about Milly every day. Even when I didn’t want to, I thought about her. She was constantly on my mind. Every time I was in the cages, I swear I heard her voice bounce off the walls, reminding me to keep my hands high. When I would stare at my glove before every game, listening to my pre-game music, I would see her face when she handed me my glove back after tightening it. And when the lights turned off at the stadium, I’d imagine the night I asked her to meet me in the dugout, the first time I told her how I felt.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t extract her from my season, even when I said some of the worst things to her.
And now that I’m feeling more like my old self, I want to reach out to her, let her know how sorry I am.
Pulling up a text message, I type up a quick text.
Carson: Hey Milly, how are you? Was hoping maybe we could talk today? Let me know if you have time.
I hit send as nerves crash down on me. Worst-case scenario, she tells me to eat my own shit. Best-case scenario, she hears me out.
As I wait for her response, I stare at the last text I sent her . . .
Lose this number and get a hint. I don’t want to fucking talk to you.
Jesus Christ, I was horrible. I want to say I was in a bad place, but that’s no excuse. She kept talking to me after I pushed her away, never once holding that against me . . . and I snapped at her, took out all my anger on her. She didn’t deserve that, and I hate that it’s taken me this long to realize it.
I just hope she—
My phone vibrates as a text box pops up on my phone. My eyes focus and I read the text, my mind whirling.
Milly: Who’s this?
It’s like an ice pick to the heart.
I told her to lose my number . . . and she did.
She followed through. I should be proud of her, for dropping a loser like me and moving on, but fuck does it hurt knowing she really did.
I contemplate writing her back, telling her it’s the asshole she tried to contact for almost a year, that I’m sorry and beg her to talk to me, but set my phone down instead. I told her to lose my number, she lost it, and she’s . . . well, I guess she’s moved on.
Why fuck with her life now?
I drape my arm over my eyes and try to steady my racing heart, wondering what the fuck I should do. The promise I made to my dad comes to mind, making it to the majors within three years. It’s a strong promise, one I know I can make happen, but when I get there, who the fuck is going to be in the stands cheering for me?
It was supposed to be Milly. The girl I was meant to work just as hard for as I have at baseball. Now, once again, no one will be there. And it’s all my own damn fault.
“Soo . . . did you text her?” Knox asks, flinging himself on my bed.
“I did.”
He rubs his hands together. “How did it go?”
I glance at him and then back at the ceiling. “Read the room, man.”
“She told you to fuck off?”
“I probably would have preferred that, as at least I’d know there was still some emotion left inside of her when it comes to me.”
Knox shifts and sits up. “What do you mean?”
Hands linked together and resting on my stomach, I keep my gaze toward the ceiling when I say, “I told her to lose my number and she did. She had no idea who was texting her.”
Knox hisses an ouch sound and then chuckles.
Fucking chuckles.
I snap in his direction. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”
“Because, you are in deep, man. You have quite the hole to climb out of and it’s going to take a whole lot of fucking time to convince that girl that she should give you a second chance.”
He’s right about that, but should I bother? Would she give me a second chance after ignoring her for so long and then pulling an asshole stunt like I did? Do I even deserve a second chance?
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You love her, right?” He pokes my side and I nod carefully, not able to say the words out loud. He chuckles again and it makes me want to drive my fist right through his throat.
“So glad my downfall is funny to you.”
“Lighten up, bro. You remember how to have a good time, right? Be light and fun like you used to? Maybe start there and something will come to you. I mean . . . what’s her soft spot?”
“Her brother, baseball . . . teaching kids.”
And just like that, an idea starts to brew.
“Ah, I see the wheels turning.”
“They are.”
“Just remember,” Knox says, getting off my bed, “this isn’t an overnight fix. This is something that’s going to take some time.”
“I know,” I answer, sitting up and grabbing my phone. “This is going to take a long fucking time, but hopefully I can put the right things into action now.”
I don’t deserve Milly after what I put her through, but fuck do I hope she’ll wait for me. And even though with every fiber of my being I want Milly back, my actions need to be about her happiness. Her future. Her dreams. Her.
Chapter Sixty-Three
MILLY
OVER A YEAR AND A HALF LATER
“Thank you, Coach Milly.”
“You’re welcome, killer. Keep this up and you’re going to lead the team in batting average.”
“You think so?”
I ruffle Dennis’s hat and nod. “No doubt.” I give his mom a wink. They head toward the concession stand where he always gets a red Powerade so he can stock up on electrolytes, as he likes to say.