My heart hurts. Physically hurts. It aches, and my stomach is so sour from the feeling of loneliness invading it that I’ve had a hard time keeping anything down since Annabelle and I broke up. I miss her, so much that it is even invading the way I play. That has never happened to me before, although I’ve never been in love with anyone else besides her.
But I couldn’t believe her. I’m heartbroken at losing her, but I am also equally as heartbroken by the way she deceived me. When I found that fucking contract, when I read the betrayal she was about to slice Ramona and James open with, I was furious. I wanted to punch a wall but refrained only because my career depends on it.
She had cheated on me, once upon a time, and I’d forgiven her because I thought she was truly sorry, and she’d been a kid back then. But what she was going to do to her bosses? To the people who have mentored her and brought her into their family and home? It was despicable. It was cheating on an entirely different level, maybe even worse than what she had done to me, and she’s a grown woman now.
The minute I kicked her out has played over and over in my mind so many times in the last fourteen days. I could barely look at her, but when I did, she looked devastated. I hadn’t let her explain, I couldn’t bear it. It was the high school steps all over again, with me suffering at the news of her mistake. After she walked out, the apartment felt empty, and her pasta had burned. I threw it in the trash, and went to lie down in bed, but everything smelled of her. The pillows on my bed, the bathroom where she sprayed her perfume, even the couch, where we lay to watch movies.
I hate her. I miss her. I fucking love her. The first round hadn’t been hard to end because it was a high school romance, puppy love days. But this? It stings like a cut that keeps getting pried open. Because I’ve fallen in love with Annabelle, and the heart doesn’t forget shit like that quickly.
The bus pulls up to our home stadium, the creak of the door jolting most of us from our post-loss pity parties.
“All right, men, in the locker room. Wash up, get your shit together, and back here tomorrow at eight for practice. This is not a slump, you hear me? Don’t let that ole baseball superstition get in your head.” Coach walks off the bus, and reluctantly, we follow.
I stay under the hot spray of the shower until my hands and feet are pruned, and then go to my locker to dress and get the hell out of there.
“Boone, can you come into my office?” I turn around to see Coach rapping his knuckles on the doorframe, and then he walks back into his office.
Oh, fuck. This is going to be an ass reaming. I’ve been playing like shit, I know it, and they pay me to win games. The biggest piece of karma right now would be if I got fucking fired. Because that was just how my month was going.
My feet drag as I walk the short distance to his door, and when I step inside, Coach asks me to close it. I inhale a sharp breath, hoping with all my energy that he’s not going to give me the boot.
“Well, kid, it’s been a pleasure having you here,” he says, his hands folded on his belly as he leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk in front of him.
My stomach sinks like a fucking stone, and suddenly, a wave of nausea rolls over me. The thing I’ve been working my entire life for is about to come to an end. I never thought I’d need that fucking college degree, and now I was going to have to use it. I wish I could burn it at this moment.
“But I knew there would be a time where we’d have to let you go, and it looks like it came sooner than I thought. The major league team is calling you up.”
A beat goes by. And then another.
“I’m sorry, what?” I must have misheard him.
“They want you on the big squad. You’re going to The Show.” A tiny smirk crosses his lips.
I go temporarily blind and deaf, not able to use my senses or interpret the world. Is this what happens when all of your dreams come true?
I feel like skipping, or running around in circles, or just acting like a giddy little kid.
My dream, the one I’ve been working half of my life to achieve, has finally come to fruition. I’m going to the big leagues, I’m going to be at the most advanced level of professional baseball imaginable. I’m going to play on the same fields that my heroes, the legends I watched as a kid, played. I’ll be playing with and against some of the biggest names in the game, and some who will go down in history.
“Coach … I, thank you. Thank you for what you’ve taught me here and thank you for the support to accomplish bigger goals. I … don’t really know what to say right now.”
“You’re a good kid, Graham. Dedicated, tough, don’t say too much, your ego is in check. You’re going to do well up there, and I’m proud to be the one to give you this news.” He stands up, offering a hand.
“Thank you, Coach.” I shake it, knowing he’s dismissing me.
Walking out of his office, I can barely think straight. I should start cleaning out my locker, call my mama, or my agent … figure out what I need to do in the next few days which are bound to be a whirlwind.
But all I want to do right now is walk out onto the field, smell the grass, take a breath. So I do. My feet take me to the stadium, over to a specific section, and I sit down in a seat.
I don’t realize where I chose to sit until I look up at the scoreboard in the outfield. This was the seat that I’d sat next to Annabelle in when I kissed her all those many months ago.
My heart ricochets in my chest, and I know that it is because a small portion of me knows I am missing something to complete this dream. Damn her. Damn that hellcat of a woman, because the only person I want to tell about getting called up is her.
She’s become my go-to person. The one I went home to at the end of the day and commiserated or celebrated with. But all that has gone to shit, and it’s her fault.
Too bad my heart is taking longer than my head to come to terms with that.
Thirty-Nine
Annabelle
The news of Boone’s promotion to the major league baseball team came via an ESPN update, right there on my cell phone screen.
I installed the sports app when we started dating again, so that I could follow any news on him. Boone told me at the time that it was ridiculous, if there was any news I needed to know, he’d tell me before the media got their hands on it. But I thought it was funny, and I hadn’t had the heart to delete it off my phone in the almost three weeks since we’ve been broken up.
I saw the update come through as I hiked up the same trail Boone had once taken me to. The moment I realized what it meant, I looked up to the bright blue sky and mouthed the word congratulations. I wouldn’t get to tell him that in person, or even in a message since he wasn’t returning those … but maybe the world could deliver it for me.
His dream was coming true, and I ruined any chance of being there with him to see it happen. I wonder briefly, as I come to sit on a rock overlooking the landscape below, if Boone thought about me when he was told the words he has been waiting a lifetime to hear.
Having a week off, in my book, was unheard of. But after my talk with Ramona, and her realization that maybe they’d loaded too much on my plate, she insisted on me taking some time off. To be a young adult, to clear my head, to heal my heart. If she thought I would resist, I must have surprised her. Because I took it, gladly.
I need space, and some time to feel my pain and own what I almost did. On day one of my week off, I sat in bed the entire day reading a book. An actual book, not a textbook, that I became invested in and enjoyed the story throughout. The second day was spent getting a manicure and pedicure, and not having to rush out immediately after to go to class or to a shooting location.
And today I decided that I would let myself unwind in nature. The spot that Boone had taken me to was too off the map and too beautiful to not return to. On a random weekday morning, there is essentially no one here, and I’ve had quiet time to just … be. Then, the update had come through, and a sparkle of pride shimmered through
my chest at Boone living his dream.
There was one more person I had to tell about my news of turning down the show Kutch had pitched me, the one who has always been a silent supporter, whether I asked him to be or not.
“Hey, Dad,” I say when he picks up.
“Hey, honey, good to hear from you. Usually your phone calls are few and far between.” He chuckles, and that makes me feel guilty. I’ve spent so much time focusing on the bad parent that I haven’t appreciated the good one.
“Yeah … I probably should call more often.” The conversation feels a bit stilted.
But Dad was always a supportive Dad. “No worries, honey, I’m always happy to talk to you.”
Might as well just get on with it.
“I decided to say no to the show.” My heart feels like it has leapt off a bridge as I say it into the phone.
A sigh comes through on the other side. “I’m really glad you decided to do that. It wasn’t the right move, morally or for your career. Can I ask why you turned it down?”
My eyes scan the horizon, the dazzling sun rays making me shield them with my hand. This place is beautiful, serene even … and I’d admit only to myself that I came here because I wanted to feel closer to Boone again. If I couldn’t be with him, then I could go to the spots where we’d once been happy.
“Well, let me first tell you the reason I almost took it.” I pause, take a breath. I’ve never told my dad just how insecure I am over her leaving. “Mom.”
“Annabelle—”
“No, let me explain. I know that you have your feelings about her, and I have mine. All I see of how things went down is that she left us. Abandoned us. She fled from her child, the one person she should have loved unconditionally. And she never looked back. For years, I’ve been trying to get her attention, to be as highly publicized, first in the state of Texas and then the country, as I could be so that she’d take notice. Beauty pageants, good grades, cheer competitions, design projects, the show with Ramona and James … all of it was to get her to notice. To be proud. And this has nothing to do with you, Dad, if anything, I should have stopped this nonsense and realized I have a great parent right beside me, cheering me on. It’s just … she’s my mom. And she left.”
He’s silent for a beat, but then his voice comes through. “I honestly thought you’d never talk to me about this. At first, I tried to avoid even bringing her up because I was so hurt and scared it would cause more damage to you. But then, we just kind of fell into a routine of never talking about the elephant in the room … or I guess the elephant who left. You’re one tough woman, Annabelle. You’ve accomplished so much in such a short time, and you don’t need her to tell you that. You don’t need anyone to tell you that. You should be damn proud of everything you’ve done and will do. I’m … I’m a little shocked right now. It’s taken you a long time to get here, and I don’t want my daughter to push everyone away anymore.”
Instead of being sad, I smile, because my limbs, my heart, my soul … feel light. That heaviness that I’ve been sitting with for so long feels like it’s been lifted from my shoulders. And with it being lifted, I finally feel like I can open up. Who knew, the ice-cold bitch could express her emotions and feelings? I guess pigs really can fly, and maybe hell has just frozen over.
“Thanks, Dad. For listening. I’m finally starting to see that, yes, I don’t need anyone else’s approval. I’ve said that I don’t care about it for years, but now my internal emotions are maturing enough to realize I actually don’t. Maybe I should have major life decision meltdowns more often.”
Dad chuckles on the other end. “I think you’ve taken on about as much as a college student’s life can hold … or maybe a bit more than normal. Slow down for a bit, okay, kiddo?”
I roll my eyes at him calling me kiddo, but I nod like he can see me. “Got it.”
“Oh, and tell Boone congratulations from us. We just saw the news about him being called up to the majors.”
That one cuts deep. Clearly, Harper hasn’t said anything to them about our breakup, and I am thankful that I have a stepsister who is loyal, but also travels and probably has no cell reception where she is right now to even call home.
I do not want to get into that awful subject right now, so I skim over it. “Yeah, sure.”
One bombshell at a time is all I can handle at the moment.
Forty
Boone
I was right, in that I wasn’t prepared for the whirlwind that hit when the news of the major league team calling me up went viral.
The amount of media emails, calls and texts that are coming to my phone is insane. I have been on the phone with my publicist, who was hired this week at the urging of my agent, at least two hours every day.
I’ve had media training, I knew when to talk and when not to. But this media blitz that has swept in like a crazed tidal wave is a whole other level.
Not to mention the new contracts I had to sign with the team, the trusts and investment decisions I had to make with my financial advisor. And the packing that had to be done to move me an hour away from Austin, to be closer to the major league stadium.
It is all so overwhelming, even though I have a team of professionals practically wiping my ass for me. And all I can think about is getting out onto that field. The massive, stadium-sized bowl of grass was going to be bigger than anything I’ve ever played on. The rush I get every time I think about how insane those first moments of my first professional game are going to be … God, I can practically taste it.
Everything is in order for the move. Everything is in order for the next chapter of my life.
Except for one very important, aggravating, beautiful woman who I can’t get out of my head, no matter how much I want to.
Annabelle has been leaving me texts and voicemails every day this week. She’s persistent, and damned desperate if it’s okay to say that. But … I would be lying if I said she wasn’t wearing me down. I have even listened to some of the voice messages this week, her voice making me half-hard. That’s what this woman does to me, gets me aroused even when I’ve broken up with her. She drives me crazy inside even when I don’t want to think about her.
She said oh so many things. How she was sorry, how she was proud of me, how she wants to explain the whole story to me. My heart splintered each time she said the word sorry. Anna used the word like it was one of her limbs … as if giving it to me hurt like hell but she’d do it anyway to prove her point.
I kind of respect her tenacity, that she isn’t willing to give up on us. And lately, I’ve been doubting myself and my actions. How had I given up on us so quickly? I did the exact same thing I’d done back in high school, the exact thing I promised Annabelle I wouldn’t do to her again.
I dismissed her from my life without listening to her side whatsoever.
My own emotions are clouding my judgment, because as much as I don’t want to see her face-to-face … I want to see her face-to-face more than anything in the world right now. Maybe even more than I want to play my first game in the majors.
There is only one person I can go to for advice who will shoot it to me straight.
Twenty five minutes later, I walk into a high-tech training facility on the west end of the city, a place I know a lot of amateur and professional athletes train at in their off-seasons.
“Hey, man.”
I stand in the doorway of the training room where Cain is working out. He drops the barbell he’s been squat pressing when he sees me in the mirror, standing in back of him.
“Big man on campus! Or should I say off campus now? Either way, you got a big boy contract, my dude.” Cain struts over, fist bumping and bro-hugging me when he reaches where I stand.
I smile. “It’ll be you soon enough.”
“You got that right. And I’m going to sign for more money than you, dude.” He takes a long chug of water from the clear Poland Spring gallon by the weight benches. “But you’re not here to talk about your contract or yo
ur move. You’re here to talk about Annabelle.”
“How the hell did you know that?” Is it tattooed on my forehead or something?
“Because I’ve been privy to every girl-code conversation between Harper and Anna for the past three weeks. Believe me, I knew you’d show up on my doorstep at some point. So what’s up? You realize you actually love her and can’t live without her?”
I eye him suspiciously. “Are you psychic?”
Cain waves a hand at me. “Nah, just have been a dumb-ass myself in the past and know how this goes. All is well, lovey-dovey, hot sex, relationship and then BAM! You or she makes some huge mistake and fall apart, only to realize after that you’re meant for one another.”
I sit down on one of the benches, my elbows resting on my knees. “Except I’m not sure that this will end in a happily ever after. What she did, man … it was fucked-up. I don’t think she’s changed.”
“She has, trust me.” He looks at me with this weird, intense stare.
“I’m just not sure about that. Annabelle has always been … distant, cold. Even when we were at our happiest there for a little while, she’s a very independent woman. Not that it’s a bad thing, but … I’m leaving. A long distance relationship between the two of us could never work.”
Cain sighs and squats down, plopping himself to the ground with his legs outstretched. Then he holds his hands out, gesturing as if to make me see his point coming at me.
“Annabelle got me the second chance that I needed with Harper, and I’d be remiss to not give her the same courtesy. She and I, we’re cut from the same cloth. I think I’ve told you that. We both had our mothers abandon us, so I know what her pain feels like. And I know that doing something desperate to get her mother’s attention probably felt rational at the time. But trust me, I’ve seen a huge change in her the last six months that you all were together. I’ve seen a huge change in her since she graduated high school. But it’s slow … she’s Anna. She’s not going to change overnight. And from what I’ve heard, in the sad phone conversations she’s had with Harper, she was going to turn it down, man. You just found her out before she could come clean and admit what she’d been doing. It might sound a little Monday Morning Quarterback, but I believe her. I believe she was going to do the right thing. And I also believe she’s crazy about you. So maybe … maybe you want to hear her out before you leave for the big time and don’t get another chance.”
You’re the One I Don’t Want Page 16
