Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(28)

The second period bell rings and Carter appears in the doorway, accepting a congratulatory fist bump from E.J. before moving into the classroom and, for the first time, shutting the door behind him.

“Joe called me. By that time, you were already in class. I tried to call, but your phone went to voice mail.”

“It’s too much.”

“Avery, it’ll be old news before lunchtime; someone else will be the topic of conversation.”

“No, Carter, you’re not hearing me. I can’t do this. This is too much.” I hold up my phone, the alerts steadily going off. “There are people contacting me that I haven’t spoken to in years. People are sending me messages, asking random questions about our date.”

“You didn’t seem to mind the attention when it was focused on your parents’ place of business.” His accusatory tone only furthers my anger with the circus taking place around us.

“You did that with the feed store, not me. I never asked you to do anything.” I point to the cup of coffee and reach into the desk, grabbing out the key fob for his truck. Handing it to him, I intone, “You need to leave.”

“You’re scared. But it’s not of the attention or any of that bullshit. Something else keeps you wanting to run.” Dropping the key fob on my desktop, he makes no move to leave.

“Get. Out.”

He does an assessment, a slow scan of my face that feels more invasive than when he actually had his hands on me. “I’m scared too. Which is why I threw the signing event in your face, but I shouldn’t have. That was my doing. And I did it for you. And I’m sorry, Avery. But I’m terrified I’m going to lose you before we’ve ever had a chance to give us a real shot.”

His words hit more nerves than I care to admit because I want there to be an us, but I’m not sure if I can handle it.

Taking a deliberate step towards me. His voice is softer but still carries an accusatory tone that makes me feel like he can see straight through me. “What is it? What is it that you’re scared of? You can’t hide behind those romance books forever. And you’re too smart to bury your head in the sand.”

“You have no room to lecture me on hiding my head in the sand when you let everyone believe that Cash is some great baseball hero.”

“You’re right. But I know I’m a liar, and I know why I do it. I’m not running from the truth. I don’t want to answer the questions that follow the truth because I’d have to relive every broken bone, bloodied nose, and blackened eye over and over in front of the entire world, and I chose to not fuckin’ do it. But it’s not out of fear, it’s out of self-preservation. Because I want to murder the bastard every time I picture the moments he put his hands on my mother or she allowed him to hit me.”

I take a step back, breaking away from his anger as I shake my head. “Carter.”

He curses under his breath, moving to stand in front of me. There’s still a rigidness in his posture, but his tone is low. “Avery, tell me what the hell to do to fix this, because you know damn well neither of us wants to walk away from this … from us.”

When I don’t respond, he shifts closer, cautiously wrapping an arm around my lower back. Slowly, as if I’m the most fragile, delicate thing he’s ever handled, he pulls me into a secure embrace that was made for me. He makes me feel safe and warm, like I should never be anywhere other than his arms ever again. Which will make it hurt all the worse when it’s taken away for whatever reason.

“Tell me what you need. We can lay low, stay out of sight. I can ask for them to respect your privacy—although it’s at their discretion to respect my wishes or not. I can get you a new phone number. I can answer your phone and tell each one of them to leave you alone. Ave, I know you’re scared. I am too. But as much as this scares me, walking away from you scares me even more.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“Me either, but we’ll figure it out together.” He bends down to place a kiss on my forehead. “I should’ve thought to warn you last night, but I was so damn thrilled you agreed to a date, I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“It’s a lot to take in. Especially when my student congratulates me and keeps informing me of how many different websites my face is on.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I truly believe him. He’s had to deal with this stuff his whole life, so he honestly knows how a few pictures have frazzled my nerves.

“Can I see you after the game tonight? We can order in and maybe actually watch a movie. Or just hang out. It’s not even a school night.”

“Okay. Let’s hang out at my place.”

“Sounds like a plan. Send me your address, and I’ll pick up some supper on the way over.”

I agree, moving away from him as he hesitantly steps back.

“We’ll figure this out, Avery. We have to.”





20





CARTER





“Looking good, Lowe,” Coach Dundee says as I wrap up my workout in the bullpen. He’s quiet a beat before coming to stand in front of me. “Are you ready for next week?”

I get what he’s asking. He doesn’t want to know if my arm will be ready, he wants to know if my mind is prepared as I’ll be starting the first game of a four-game series on the road against my old team. The one that dropped me at the first sign of trouble with my arm. “Yeah. All good.”