The Dugout(104)

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 Twenty-Seven





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.

Dennis has really come along in the three years I’ve been working with him and he’s joined a travel ball team. Still an outfielder, he’s grown into his clothes and can really put power behind the ball. And he’s quick, really freaking quick. We’ve been working on his left-handed batting, turning him into a little bit of an Ichiro with a slight slap and run to his hitting. Apparently, his opposing teams don’t quite know what to do with him yet.

Rian and Sean have also been training him, putting him through quick burst-like exercises to increase his speed, and it shows. He’s a hard worker and by far my favorite student.

I know I shouldn’t have favorites, but I can’t help it.

“Hey, you ready?” Shane asks, walking up to my cage. He’s been patiently waiting for me to finish before we go to dinner.