“I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing anything with me. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry,” she says, and I can feel my heart cracking, right in front of her.
“You don’t need to apologize, Indie. Last night was—”
“A mistake, I know.” She sighs and presses her hand to her forehead. “God, I just. I can’t seem to get my head on straight.” Her coffee machine beeps and she caps the travel mug with a lid. “I have to go. I need to get a workout in before I head into the office.” She walks up to me and places her hand on my chest. On her toes, she lifts up and kisses the side of my jaw. “Sorry about everything, Linc. Truly, I am.” She walks toward the front door and lifts a bag over her shoulder.
“Indie—”
She gives me a sad smile. “Could you lock the door on your way out?”
Say something . . .
ANYTHING.
But I can’t form words over the deafening sound of my hammering heart.
I want to tell her to stop—let’s talk about this. Figure it out, but the only thing playing in my head over and over again is the word “mistake.”
How could she think what happened last night was a mistake?
It was anything but a mistake.
Hell, to me, it felt like the start of something new. As if, every moment in my life led to last night, where Indie finally became my girl. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing anything with me. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.”
What the fuck do I do now?
“Care to talk?” Cory, my teammate and first baseman asks. He’s the resident dad in the clubhouse, the guy everyone seems to go to when they need the proverbial pat on the back.
I lean back on the leather couch in the locker room and say, “Not really, but I don’t think you’re going to let me get away with that answer, are you?”
He opens a bag of shelled seeds and says, “I’m feeling particularly annoying today, so probably not.”
“Figured.” I sigh and tangle my hands together on my lap. “Remember my friend Indie I told you about?”
“Yeah, the soccer player, right? You guys met in college?”
“That’s her. Well, I just found out yesterday that she’s back in Chicago. Got a coaching job at Brentwood.”
“Oh shit. Weren’t you guys an item?”
“No, not really,” I say, hating the words that are about to come out of my mouth, because it feels like it cheapens what we have. “We were best friends . . . and exclusive fuck buddies.”
“Romantic,” Cory says with a teasing tone.
“Yeah, not really. We’ve always been off and on, almost like we were stringing each other along until last year, when she showed up to a dinner with a fiancé.”
“Oh fuck, really?” Cory asks, leaning in. “So, is she married?”
I shake my head. “No. She wasn’t even in love with the guy. They were engaged because she was pregnant.” I grip the arm of the chair, remembering what she said last night. “She had a miscarriage. The fuckhead pushed her and she flew into a coffee table, lost the baby a few days later.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cory asks, his anger spiking just like mine.
“Honestly, I can’t talk about that part, because I’ll black out in rage.” I take deep breath, taking a second to center myself. “They broke up, her career was over, and she got a job at Brentwood coaching the men’s soccer team.”
“Damn, good for her. Let me guess, you saw her?”
“Last night.” I nod. “I was pissed she didn’t tell me she was in Chicago and even more pissed when she didn’t text me her address after I told her we needed to talk. I messaged her mom and got her address. Let’s just say the evening didn’t start off great, but then it ended in . . .” I shake my head, “Hell, it ended in the best way possible.”
“Ah, you got some.”
I chuckle. “We reconnected.”
“And judging by the sour look on your face, she freaked out this morning?”
“Yup,” I say with a pop. “Big time. Left before we could even talk. I barely had my eyes open. She apologized, said it was a mistake, and took off.”
“A mistake? Damn, that’s rough, man.”
“Yep.” I’m a man of many words today.
“And that’s where you left things?”
“Yeah.” I prop my legs up on the coffee table in front of me, slinking into my seat. “Now I have this empty ache in the middle of my chest, and I’m hell, I’m feeling depressed, man. Even though Maddox knows more about our relationship, I don’t want to tell him. You and I both know he’s going through his own shit with Kinsley . . . and is currently unstable. I don’t know what to fucking do.”
“You said you have this ache in the middle of your chest.” He looks to the side and then finds my eyes again, “Dude, are you in love with her?”
I look at my hands, noticing the calluses on my left hand from the seams of the ball I’ve rubbed against for years. Am I in love?
I blow out a long breath. “I think I’ve been in love with her for a very long time, but couldn’t admit it to myself.” My eyes find Cory’s as I say, “She’s all I fucking want, all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Tell her how you feel.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“How? You only have everything to gain by telling her you love her. Trust me, I know. I blew up on Natalie, broke up with her for no reason, and I fucking groveled my way back into her life by telling her how I felt.”
“But Natalie was never afraid of commitment. Indie is terrified of it.”
“Is she?” Cory raises an eyebrow. “Because from where I’m sitting, she’s committed to having a lifelong relationship with you and she committed to marrying someone on the premise of having a baby together. I don’t think she fears commitment. I think she might fear the magnitude of the love she harbors for you.”
“Man, you don’t know that.”
“I don’t.” He picks up his water bottle and takes a drink. “But from what you told me about her, I would wager that she has some pretty strong feelings for you and has no idea how to face them head-on.” He smiles at me. “Time to not take no for an answer, Linc. Fight for what you want. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. I wouldn’t take long to think about it. She’s a female coach for a men’s team. She’s going to get a lot of press and there will be people knocking on her door. Don’t miss your opportunity to finally make your move.”
I drag both of my hands down my face. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Then that means you’re about to do the right thing. Isn’t love fun?” He tosses more seeds into his mouth and smiles.
Hopping on my feet a few times, I rub my hands over my knuckles and then wrap them on the wood door in front of me.
Christ, am I really going to do this?
The door unlocks, and I don’t bolt.
I guess I’m doing this.