The Dugout(114)
He pauses, taking a deep breath as my mind spirals.
He loves me?
He couldn’t stop thinking about me?
Then why?
“Why?” I voice my thoughts out loud, my voice clogged with desperation. “Why did you keep your heart from mine?”
Facing me head-on, speaking straight to my soul, he says, “Because I was punishing myself. My dad died from working too hard. The stress of his life caught up to him, and it was because he made a promise to my mom to take care of me. It was a tough truth to face, and instead of being grateful for the life he provided for me, I set out on a mission to fulfill a promise I made him. I shut off everything around me, including you. In that moment, nothing could have pulled me out of the self-induced purgatory. By the time I finally blinked and allowed myself to breathe, I realized the damage I’d done, and I knew earning your trust back was going to be next to impossible, but I tried anyway.”
“The letters, the outreach, that was for me? For the facility.”
He winces. “Your brothers told you?” I nod. “It was the only way I could show you my love from afar. I knew what was important to you, and I wanted to make sure you were able to accomplish it. My letters were small, but it was all I had at the time. They had little impact compared to the reputation you built for yourself.”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“Because, it wasn’t an easy fix. Because I wanted you to establish yourself. Because I wanted to make sure even if you said no to me, you still felt my apology deep in your soul.” He glances at our connected hands and quietly asks, “Do you feel it, Milly? Even if you say no and move on, do you at least understand how sorry I am? How I wish I treated you differently?”
How can I not when he pours his heart out to me, honestly laced in every single word he speaks? I feel it; I feel it way more than I want to.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I do.”
A sigh of relief blows past his lips and he sits a little taller. “Thank you.” He squeezes my hands and then lets go. Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out four tickets to the Bobbies season opener and hands them to me. “They aren’t super amazing seats, but they are the tickets the team gave me so my family can watch my first game as a starter in the lineup. Don’t feel obligated to attend, but they’re yours if you want them.” I take them and stare at the picture of him mid-swing that’s printed on the tickets. Softly he says, “I love you, Milly, more than I can ever explain. I know I didn’t show it the last few years, but I do love you, and I know deep down that you truly are my soul mate.” He stands from the bench and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Think about it. No pressure, but I hope you can make it and consider what I said, because I want nothing more than to show you how much I do love you, how much I want to date you, take you out, listen to you school me all over again about the intricacies of the sport we both love.”
With a gentle smile, he takes off toward his car. I stare at the tickets and consider the value these pieces of paper hold. Not the monetary value, but the sentimental value.
Meant for his family. He has none but considers me the closest thing to it, and that means more to me than any other apology he could muster. Because even though he’s caused me great pain, I know to the depths of my being he truly never stopped loving me.
It’s obvious from the way he looks at me, the way his chest rises and falls more rapidly when I’m around, the sincerity in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes . . . the certainty he displays when he talks about my coaching abilities.
And if I’m going to be honest with myself, I never stopped loving him either and I never will. He’s it for me. The only love I ever want in my life.
He’s my man, and I can’t let him walk away without knowing that.
“Carson,” I say, my voice cracking as I spin and run after him. He’s halfway to his car when he turns around and catches me in my leap to his chest. His hands fall under my butt, hoisting me up as I circle my arms around his neck. “I . . . I love you too.”
His shock turns to joy right before I grip his cheeks and press my mouth against his for the most epic kiss of my lifetime. Desire and relief flood our movements as our lips seek each other out, twisting and turning, gliding with such demanding pressure that he falls back on the hill and I straddle his body, pinning him to the ground. His hands travel up my body, under my shirt and to the nape of my neck where he grips tighter.
With each pass of his lips and stroke of his tongue, I feel his relief, his gratefulness, his love, and in this moment, I realize this is the man I’m going to marry. This is the man I want to go through life with, riding the ups and the downs but never giving up on each other.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my lips and then pulls me into a hug, squeezing me so tight that I almost can’t breathe. “I love you so goddamn much,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “I’m sorry, Milly. I promise never to put your heart through that kind of pain again. I promise to always strive to make you happy. And I promise there will never be a day again when I don’t talk to you, where I don’t tell you how much you mean to me.”
I kiss his cheek, then his forehead, then his jaw, and finish on his lips. “All I want from you . . . is you, Carson. I want the good, the bad, and the horrible. I want every piece of you, and the only promise I want you to make to me is to handle my heart with the greatest of care, because you’re the only one it belongs to.”