I hadn’t even thought about what it must be like for her during the games. Danika had never mentioned other girls being mean to her or anyone confronting her.
“Are the girls mean to her? Do they talk shit to her?” I said before apologizing for swearing even though I knew they didn’t care.
“Put a dollar in the swear jar,” Jacey piped up from the living room, and I pointed in her direction, my mouth wide open.
“We have a swear jar?” I asked, annoyed that she could hear me in the first place.
“We do now,” Jacey shouted back. “Double for you.”
“Oh my God, stop listening,” I shouted.
“I can’t help it, loudmouth!”
I snarled, “Go to bed!”
“You go to bed!”
“Do something,” I complained to my parents, who sat there, shaking their heads. “Doesn’t she have an off button?”
“You could always go to your own house. You know, the one where you live,” Jacey said.
I snapped my mouth shut instead of fighting back as my dad laughed. That girl always had to have the last word.
“Mom,” I said, directing the conversation back to the topic at hand, “are the girls mean to Danika?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything, but she doesn’t even pay attention. I mean, she doesn’t even look around or try to listen in. She’s completely focused on you and chatting with me. I was not like that when I was her age.” My mom gave both me and my dad an uncomfortable grin. “I was constantly on guard.”
“To be fair, the girls were pretty awful to you, Kitten,” my dad added, defending my mom.
“Well, you did sleep with half the school,” she said before wincing as she looked at me. “Sorry, Chance.”
“I already knew all of this,” I groaned, not wanting to think about my dad screwing his way through Fullton State.
Thankfully, my phone buzzed, and I looked at it. A text message from Danika sat there, asking if we could talk.
“Look.” I turned the phone toward my mom. “I gotta go.”
I instantly hated that I was at my parents’, so far away from the baseball house. I texted her back, asking her to give me thirty minutes before texting again and asking her if she needed a ride. She told me that she’d meet me at my place, and I had no idea if that was a good sign or not.
“Good luck,” my mom said before giving me a hug.
“It has to be good news, right? If it were bad, she’d just call me. Right?” I looked between my parents, who both shrugged their shoulders, which was not reassuring. “You guys are not helping.”
“Drive safe,” was all my dad said before clasping my shoulder and telling me it would be okay.
“Let us know what happens. I’m invested,” my mom reminded me as I walked toward the front door.
“You like her, right?” I asked point-blank.
“I like her a lot.” My mom smiled.
“Thanks. Bye, Squirt,” I yelled toward my little sister, who sat on the living room couch, watching some show that looked like an absolute nightmare.
She gave me a wave without even turning around, and I was half-tempted to go tackle her and turn off the TV just to annoy her, but I needed to get home.
I made it back to the baseball house fast. And not because I had been speeding. The freeways had been empty, and every light had seemed to turn green as I neared it. There was still time before Danika was supposed to be here, and I considered taking a quick shower, but I didn’t want to be in there if she came over early.
Mac was in the kitchen when I walked through the front door. He always waited up for me, no matter what he said.
“You’re back early.” He knew that I’d been staying at my parents’ at night until pretty late.
“Danika’s coming over,” I said as a lump formed in my throat.
“Shit. Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think she’s going to say?” Mac asked.
He knew everything that had happened between us, and he was the one person I talked to when I wanted to talk. Which wasn’t often. I tended to keep a lot of my feelings inside—at least while they were still up in the air.
“I don’t know. But she wouldn’t come here just to call it off in person, would she?” I asked him basically the same question that I’d asked my parents, hoping he’d have a better answer.
“I wouldn’t think so. But then again, Danika would probably want to tell you whatever it was face-to-face. Good or bad.”
I’d thought the same thing, which was why I was nervous. The doorbell rang, and I locked eyes with Mac, the lump taking up all the space in my throat.
“Do you want me to get it?” he asked since I wasn’t moving.
I shook my head. “I got it,” I said before forcing my legs to move toward the door and pulling it open.
Danika stood there, wearing jean shorts and a white tank top.
“You’re not wearing black,” I said, and she peered down at her clothes.
“Nope. Can I come in?” She looked up at me, her hazel eyes full of whatever she was hiding behind them.
I hated when I couldn’t read her, but right now, I was at a loss. I stepped aside and watched as she walked through the front door, hoping it wasn’t for the last time.
“Hey, Mac.” She gave him a smile and a wave, which he returned, before she focused her attention back on me. “Can we go to your room and talk?”
I nodded. It was like all words had seemed to disappear from my vocabulary before I pulled my fucking shit together. “Yeah. Let’s go. See you later, Mac,” I said as I led us toward my room and closed the door behind her.
Waving toward the chair at my desk, I watched as she sat before moving toward the edge of my bed and doing the same. We sat far enough away from each other that we couldn’t touch but close enough to read facial expressions and eye contact.
“It’s been hell, staying away from you these past two weeks,” she said as she blew out a breath, and I noticed that she was emotional.
“It hasn’t been easy for me either,” I said back, wanting her to know that I’d hated every moment that we were apart, but I wasn’t mad at her for it.
“I’m sorry it took me so long but—” she started to say, and I cut her off.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is whatever you’ve decided. Not how long it took you to reach the decision.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About everything you said,” she added, and I was grateful.
It was exactly what I’d wanted her to do, although every day that she had been away from me felt like I was being sucker-punched in the gut. I’d tried to block the feelings out, focused on baseball like my life literally depended on it, but she always found a way in.
“I’m glad.”
“So, basically, you weren’t wrong about me eventually resenting you,” she said, and I had a bad feeling about the direction this conversation was heading. “I agree with you. I think if I didn’t have something of my own, I’d get mad at you one day because of it. Even though it wouldn’t be your fault. And it would have been my decision. I would feel like I’d compromised everything and you didn’t have to compromise anything in order for us to be together.”