Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance

by Melanie Harlow

  Chloe shrugged. “True.”

  “And you know, I think seeing him struggling with his own emotional baggage made it easier on me—if he had still possessed that cocky-teenager attitude, I might have been put off.”

  “Makes total sense. So maybe you guys will actually be good for each other.” Her eyes took on a mischievous sparkle.

  Laughing, I shook my head. “No way. He’s only in town until the wedding, and I’ve been there, done that. I love the idea of reconnecting, maybe getting some closure, but that’s all this is. What I’m looking for romantically is something more meaningful.”

  My sister surprised me by coming around her desk and throwing her arms around me. “You’ll find what you’re looking for. I know you will.”

  “Thanks.” I hugged her back. “But don’t mess up my hair. I’m not going to bang him, but I still want him to think I look good after all these years.”

  “He will,” said Chloe, giggling as she let me go. “I promise you, he will.”

  Five

  Tyler

  After leaving April on the track, I went back to my hotel room and ordered room service for breakfast. While I was eating, my sister texted all the details about the rehearsal dinner and wedding—exactly what I was to wear, when and where I had to show up, what I would be expected to do. I was fine with everything until I got to Brother-Sister Dance: You/Me, then Josh/Mary.

  Frowning, I called her.

  “Hello?”

  “I got your text.” I took a bite of toast.

  “Oh, good.”

  “What the hell is this brother-sister dance?” I asked with my mouth full.

  “Josh is going to dance with his sister Mary for one song, and then you’re going to dance one song with me.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  I nearly choked. “For an entire song?”

  “Yes.”

  I managed to swallow. “No fucking way, Sadie. I’m not doing it.”

  “Please, Ty? You can even pick the song. Choose a short one, I don’t care, but I’ve always wanted to dance with you at my wedding. Josh is really close to his sister, and you mean so much to me—even though you’re being a big jerk about this—having a special moment where it’s all about sibling love is something we really want. Please say you’ll do it, for me.”

  I groaned, knowing I couldn’t say no to her.

  “It won’t be that bad, I promise!”

  “There’d better be good whiskey at this wedding.”

  She giggled. “There will be. Hey, what are you doing today? I took today and tomorrow off, but Josh has to work and I’m trying to move some furniture out of the room that will be the baby’s. Can you come over and give me a hand?”

  “Yeah.” I took one more drink of my coffee and set the cup down. “Text me your address. I’ll be there in an hour. Do I need to wear a fucking suit for this?”

  She giggled. “No. Jeans are fine. But could you please bring the outfit you’re planning to wear Saturday night so I can approve it?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes. But you’re a pain in the ass, and this wedding is already giving me a headache.”

  “Hey, I went to a lot of baseball games for you. I think I spent my entire childhood on the bleachers.”

  “I thought you loved going to games,” I said.

  “I loved you. Baseball was just something you did.”

  After we hung up, I sat there for a few minutes thinking about what she’d said.

  She had it wrong. Baseball wasn’t just something I did. Baseball was my life. Baseball was my destiny. I was never more me than I was when I was on the field, and I didn’t know who I was without it.

  I’d spent the last year totally adrift, feeling untethered to anything or anyone. I suppose it didn’t help that I’d spent much of that time in self-exile, throwing anything that would fit in my left hand at whatever target I could find, trying to find my motion again.

  Occasionally, I’d get close to it, and my body would almost feel like mine again. My head would clear a little. I’d latch onto some hope.

  But it would never last.

  Rising to my feet, I went over to my bag to pull out clothes for the day—jeans, sweatshirt, T-shirt, underwear, socks. I held the pair of balled-up socks in my hand for a moment, staring at it.

  I turned sideways. Gave myself the menacing stare in the full-length mirror. Imagined I got the sign for an inside fastball. In my head, I heard my high school pitching coach talking through the physics of a pitch—the mechanics—which he insisted I had to understand if I wanted to be good.

  The windup and stride. Elevation of the lead leg. Center of gravity back. Separation of ball from glove. Lead foot to mound, in line with stance foot and home plate. Pelvic rotation and forward tilt. Upper torso rotation. Late cocking. Horizontal adduction. Maximum torque at the elbow. Acceleration. Transfer of energy to upper extremity for maximum velocity.

  Release.

  Release.

  Release.

  I threw the pair of socks toward my reflection again and again and again.

  But it never felt right.

  I spent the rest of the morning helping Sadie empty out a spare bedroom at the house she shared with Josh. Then she sweet-talked me into ripping out the old carpeting, taping off the molding, and priming the walls.

  “If you’ll stay and put the first coat of color on, I’ll love you forever,” she cajoled.

  “You’ll love me forever anyway.” I set the roller back in the tray. “And I thought you wanted me to go get a haircut today.”

  “You’ll have time later. What else are you going to do, mope alone in your hotel room?”

  I thought about mentioning my dinner plans, but didn’t do it for some reason. “Fine.”

  She smiled sweetly. “And could you also go to the hardware store and pick up the paint? I’ll give you the name of the color.”

  I rolled my eyes, imagining this is what married life was like, a constant stream of do-this, do-that, get-a-haircut, shave-your-face, not-tonight-honey-I-have-a-headache, you-left-the-seat-up-again. Not for me, thanks. “Yes. Anything else?”

  “I mean, if you really want to, you could pick up lunch while you’re out. I’ve got a craving for Subway.”

  I wiped my hands on a wet rag, got her in a headlock and gave her a noogie. “You’re a pest. And this is the dance move I’m pulling out on the dance floor at your wedding.”

  “Tyler Shaw! Don’t you dare!” she shrieked, trying unsuccessfully to get away from me. “Let me go, you big jerk!”

  I grinned, feeling a little like my old self again.

  After I hit the hardware store, I picked up lunch at Subway for Sadie and me. We ate, we painted—well, I painted and she watched—we bickered like siblings, laughed at childhood memories, and reminisced about our dad.

  “I miss him so much.” Sadie sighed, cradling her belly. “I so wish he was going to be here to meet his grandchild.”

  I swallowed hard. “Me too.”

  “How about you move back here so you can see your niece or nephew grow up?”

  “How about you lay off the guilt trips?”

  She sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll just show him or her a picture and be like, ‘Well, you have an uncle, but he’s a hermit. I think he’s still alive, but he doesn’t leave his hidey hole, so I’m not sure.’”

  I gave her the finger over my head, and she laughed.

  “Hey, speaking of moving, there’s a box in my attic I want to give you. I found it in the house after Dad died.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Just some things he saved over the years. I think he’d want you to have them.”

  I nodded. It was probably memorabilia from my early baseball career, which I wasn’t sure I wanted, but I’d take it with me. Our dad had died in the middle of the season, and I’d barely had two days off to attend his funeral. Sadie had been saddled with all the details—arranging the service, s
ettling his affairs, selling the house, emptying it out. I’d paid for everything, but I hadn’t been there to help her, which was another reason I wanted to do anything I could for her now.

  She rose to her feet and put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the front steps and have a snack while this coat dries. The paint smell is getting to me.”

  We went outside and sat on the front stoop, where we ate potato chips and watched two little girls across the street set up a lemonade stand.

  Sadie waved to them. “Hi, girls!”

  “Hi, Ms. Shaw!” they chorused.

  “How was school today?”

  “Good!”

  “Students of yours?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not currently. I had their older brother last year. The girls are in second grade—they’re twins—but it’s a small school. Everyone knows everyone.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Twins.” Sadie shook her head. “I cannot imagine that. Two at once.”

  “I can’t even imagine one at once,” I said.

  “Oh, come on.” She nudged me with her leg and patted her belly. “Junior here is going to need a cousin someday. Can’t you find a nice hermit girl to settle down with?”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Another sigh. “Have you even been on a date lately?”

  I pretended to think. “When you say date, do you mean—”

  “I mean you ask a girl to have dinner with you, you pick her up and make polite conversation, you respectfully kiss her goodnight—if she says it’s okay.”

  “That sounds boring as fuck.”

  Sadie elbowed me. “Oh, come on, it does not. Are you really going to be alone forever?”

  “Why not? It sounds peaceful to me.”

  “It’s not peaceful, it’s weird. And it’s not healthy. You’re going to end up being that old guy in the neighborhood no one likes who’s always yelling at the kids to get off his lawn.”

  “Because it’s my lawn.”

  She sighed. “You’re hopeless. I give up.”

  We watched the kids across the street go in and out of the house a few times, returning to their stand with various items—plastic cups, two pitchers of lemonade, a small box I guessed would be their bank, a big sign that said LEMONADE FOR CHAIRITY 50 SENTS.

  “Oh, dear. Should we tell them?” Sadie wondered.

  “No. Don’t be such a teacher,” I scoffed. “This isn’t school.”

  The two girls took turns holding the sign, and waving frantically at the occasional passing car, but there wasn’t much traffic on the street. Ten minutes went by, and nobody had stopped. Eventually, they sat on the grass, looking a little dejected.

  “Oh, look how sad they are. Go buy some, Tyler.” She elbowed me.

  “I don’t even like lemonade,” I complained, but I was already getting to my feet. On my way across the street, I took my wallet from my pocket. The twins jumped up excitedly as I approached, huge grins on their faces.

  “Would you like some lemonade?” one of them asked with a heavy lisp. And it was no wonder—she was missing both front teeth. Close up, I realized they weren’t perfectly identical, but they both had big brown eyes, blond hair, and pigtails. They reminded me of Sadie at that age.

  “Yes, I would,” I said, taking some bills from my wallet. “How much for two cups?”

  “It’s fifty cents each, so two would be one dollar,” answered the other one. Her T-shirt said Girl Power, and the i in Girl was a lightning bolt. “And we’re giving all the money to charity.”

  “What charity?”

  “St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital,” they recited at the exact same time.

  “Hmm. That’s a good cause. Can you break a hundred?” I teased, holding out a crisp new Benjamin.

  The twins exchanged a worried look. “We only have quarters in here,” fretted the one with the lisp. Quarterth.

  I smiled. “That’s okay. Tell you what. You give me two nice big cups of lemonade and I’ll donate all one hundred dollars. How does that sound?”

  This time, the look the two girls exchanged was pure, open-mouthed excitement. “Wow!” said Girl Power. “Thanks, mister!”

  I handed over the hundred and watched as they carefully tucked it into their cash box then poured lemonade, one holding the cup steady, the other concentrating hard, the pitcher in both hands. Looking relieved when both cups were full, they each handed me one.

  “Thanks, girls. Good luck.”

  “Thank you! Bye!”

  I could still hear them squealing while I crossed the street.

  Sadie was leaning back on her hands, a suspicious smile on her face. “How much did you give them? They can’t stop looking in their box.”

  I handed her a cup of lemonade. “A hundred bucks.”

  “A hundred bucks!” She laughed. “Are you crazy?”

  I lowered myself onto the cement. “They’re giving the money to St. Jude Children’s Hospital. It’s a good cause.”

  She pointed her nose at me. “Softie.”

  The girls were still laughing and marveling over their good fortune, peeking into the cash box as if to make sure the hundred hadn’t escaped. When they saw me looking at them, they waved excitedly.

  “I think you have some new fans,” remarked Sadie.

  I laughed, taking a sip of the lemonade in case the girls were still watching, then setting it aside. “They’re a little young for me.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. I readjusted my cap. “I ran into April Sawyer this morning.”

  Sadie looked over at me. “Did you? Where?”

  “At the track over at the high school. I went for a run this morning, and she was there walking.”

  She nodded. “Did you say hello?”

  “Yeah. We chatted for a bit.” I hesitated. “She looks good.”

  My sister nodded.

  “She still has that red hair,” I went on.

  Sadie gave me the side-eye but didn’t say anything.

  I waited for what I hoped was an appropriate amount of time. “So is she married?”

  “Nope.” Again, she stuck her elbow in my ribs. “Why do you ask?”

  I moved away from her. “Will you quit elbowing me? I was just curious.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Too bad. I always wanted you guys to be a thing.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. At one point, I had this whole fantasy where you two got married and lived next door to me.” She giggled. “How come you never dated her?”

  I shrugged. “I never wanted a girlfriend—I didn’t have time. Plus, I’m not sure she’d have dated me anyway—she was too busy making jokes about my big ego.”

  “You guys never even . . . you know, hooked up?”

  I thought about lying, but then thought, fuck it. I trusted Sadie. “Actually, we did. Once.”

  She bolted upright. “You did?”

  I nodded. “The night before I left for Arizona.”

  “Wow.” She leaned back on her hands again. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Nothing ever came of it?”

  Taking a deep breath, I admitted the truth. “Something did come of it. She got pregnant.”

  Silence.

  I looked over at my sister, who was staring at me, her chin practically in her lap. “What did you say?”

  “April got pregnant that night.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Sadie sat up tall and put a hand over her heart. “I’m in shock.”

  “We were too. Believe me.”

  “So what happened?”

  “She gave it up for adoption. We agreed I wouldn’t be named as the father to make everything easier.”

  Her eyes closed and she exhaled, her shoulders slouching. “What did she have?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her eyelids flew open. Her stare was sharp. “You don’t know? Please tell me you’re lying.”

  I shook my head. “No. We . . . never really talked
after that.”

  “What do you mean, you never really talked after that?” Sadie’s voice was getting louder.

  I glanced at the kids across the street. “I mean, she went back to school and I went back to Arizona, and that was that. We never talked again.”

  “You never even called her to make sure she was okay?” Sadie asked, incredulous. “Or in all the years since?”

  Again, I shrugged. “No.”

  My sister jumped to her feet. “Tyler Michael Shaw, what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” I was surprised at her angry reaction. “That’s how April wanted it.”

  “She said that? She specifically told you not to contact her ever again even though she carried your baby for nine months and then had to give it up?”

  “Well . . . yeah.” Hadn’t she? I rubbed the back of my neck. The details were fuzzy in my head. All I could recall was the sheer terror of hearing her say she was pregnant and the utter relief at being absolved of any responsibility.

  Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. “For some reason, I have a hard time believing that. How could you completely abandon her that way?”

  I frowned. “I didn’t abandon her.”

  She touched her chest. “I got pregnant unexpectedly. What if Josh had done that to me?”

  “Sadie, you’re being ridiculous. I saw April this morning, and she isn’t mad at me. So why are you?”

  “I don’t know! I just am!”

  “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  She stared me down. “I want you to say you’re the guy I think you are. That’s what I want.”

  I clenched my teeth and said nothing—of course I wasn’t the guy she thought I was. Turns out I wasn’t even the guy I’d thought I was—and she stormed into the house.

  For a few minutes, I sat there on the stoop, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. What the hell was wrong with me, digging up this secret baby bombshell and lobbing it at my pregnant sister? Why hadn’t I just left it buried in the past where it belonged?

  Across the street, the two girls were silently staring at me. Had they heard the argument? Grimacing, I stood up and went into the house to find my sister and apologize—for what, I had no idea. But it felt like that was supposed to be my next move.