Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance

by Melanie Harlow

  “Okay.” I suddenly pictured Tyler and I standing on the Carswells’ doorstep with a ticking bomb in our hands that was going to explode in their living room. Did I owe them a warning? Was this the right thing?

  As if he knew I was nervous about what was coming, he squeezed my hand. “Hey. Look at me.”

  I met his eyes.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” he said, and his grin wasn’t the cocky smirk of a hotshot teenager, but a genuine, reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

  My heart soared—he believed in me. He believed in us.

  The next day, I texted him an invite to dinner at my house. He messaged me back saying he’d only come if I sent him a grocery list for making spaghetti sauce and allowed him to cook for me, which I did.

  It took much, much longer than necessary.

  He made a gigantic mess in the kitchen.

  He put in too many red pepper flakes.

  He didn’t cook the pasta long enough.

  He burned the garlic bread.

  He made me close my eyes, then he surprised me with a bowl of cherry ice cream topped with amaretto sauce for dessert.

  “How did you get this?” I asked after one taste. “It’s from Cloverleigh Farms, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I had to buy the ice cream from the grocery store,” he confessed. “But the sauce I picked up from the restaurant. I know it’s your favorite, and I wanted to watch you lick the spoon again.”

  I licked more than the spoon that night.

  Apparently, taking it slow with Tyler Shaw was not a thing I could do.

  He just did something to me.

  Always had, always would.

  Twenty-Six

  Tyler

  On Friday, I crossed several things off my seemingly endless to-do list. Met with a realtor and looked at several properties for sale in the area, broke the news to Anna that I was moving back to Michigan (I may have shed a tear), and contacted my real estate agent in San Diego about putting my house up for sale.

  I also hit a car dealership to test drive some new SUVs, opened up a bank account, and stopped at my sister Sadie’s house to let her know what April and I had decided to do.

  We were sitting out on her front porch when I told her.

  “Are you serious?” she said, sitting up and clasping her hands under her chin.

  “I’m serious. She loved your idea about contacting a reporter on our own and breaking the story ourselves.”

  “It’s the only way to own the narrative. I really think it’s the best plan.”

  I nudged her foot with mine. “Of course you do. Because it was yours.”

  She raised her chin in smug satisfaction. “You’re welcome.” Then she leaned back on her hands again. “So when will it happen?”

  “Well, we’re going over to their house tomorrow. If they go for the idea, I guess I’ll need that reporter’s contact information right away. What’s her name?”

  “Victoria Nelson. I’ll give it to you before you go,” she promised. We were silent then, watching the two girls across the street turn cartwheels on their front lawn. “You nervous?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about being there for April and Chip. And it’s about . . . what Dad would have done.”

  She looked at me. “You’re right,” she said softly. “It is what Dad would have done.”

  I didn’t trust my voice not to crack, so I said nothing.

  Later, as I was leaving, she said, “Give me a minute. I’ll get Victoria’s number for you. I just have to go upstairs and find it on the computer.”

  “Okay, but hurry up. I’m supposed to meet April over at Cloverleigh to talk to her parents.”

  Her brows shot up. “Oooh, facing the parents. Are you scared?”

  “Fuck yes, I am. But she asked me to be there, so I’ll be there.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

  I waited by the back door, checking my watch impatiently every thirty seconds. She was taking much longer than necessary to go find one phone number. Couldn’t I just look the woman up online?

  Five minutes later, she came rushing into the kitchen again, her hands behind her back. “Sorry,” she said. “My helpers got a little carried away.”

  “Helpers?”

  “Yes.” She handed me a slip of paper. “This is Victoria’s email and cell phone. And these…” Bringing the other hand from behind her back, she held out a handful of clovers. “These are for luck.”

  I stared at them in her palm, little shamrocks plucked from the lawn just like she used to give me before a game.

  “Come on, take them.” She wiggled her hand. “Put them in your pocket.”

  I did as she said, my heart swelling in my chest. Then I grabbed her in a huge bear hug. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Although the twins did most of the work. I get dizzy bending down now. And their lawn had more of them anyway.”

  I laughed. “I’ll thank them.”

  “Let me know how everything goes,” she said as I went out the door. “I love you. And I’m so proud of you.”

  “I love you too,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”

  As I walked to my car, which was parked on the street, I saw the little girls watching me. I gave them a wave, and they waved back.

  “Did you get the lucky clovers?” one of them called.

  “I did,” I called back. “Thank you!”

  “We picked the luckiest ones we could find!” hollered the other one.

  “I appreciate it,” I told them, thinking a little girl might not be so bad one day. “I need all the luck I can get.”

  Twenty-Seven

  April

  On Saturday afternoon, Tyler and I stood side by side at the Carswells’ front door.

  He looked at me, his hand poised to knock. “Ready?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked up at him and grabbed his fist in both my hands. “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be scared. It’s going to be okay.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I just do. Listen—close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, do it.”

  I closed my eyes and he took me by the shoulders, turning me to face him.

  “Now hold out your hands.”

  I peeked with one eye. “Why?”

  “Hey. No cheating.”

  Sighing, I closed them both again and held out my hands. A moment later I felt him place something light and feathery on my palms. “Okay, you can look.”

  I opened my eyes and looked down—my hands were full of bright green clovers. I gasped. “Oh my gosh! Where did you get these?”

  “From Sadie,” he said. “They’ll be right in my pocket. Feel better?”

  Laughing, I nodded. “Yes. But let me keep one.”

  He took one from the little pile and tucked it into my purse. Then he took the rest of the pile and stuck them back in the pocket of his jeans. “Should I knock?”

  I took one more deep breath. “Yes.”

  He knocked three times then took my hand.

  A moment later, the door opened, and my pulse skittered.

  “Hello.” Robin Carswell smiled, looking back and forth between Tyler and me. “Well, this is a surprise.”

  “Hi, Robin.” My stomach was flipping wildly. “I brought a friend. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I understand,” she said, although there was no way she could. “Come on in. It’s nice to see you both again. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

  We stepped into the front hall, my heart pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. “Thank you. Yes, we’ve—we’ve been friends a long time.” My voice sounded weird to me. High-pitched and quivery.

  Robin shut the door behind us and smiled sympathetically. “I know you must be nervous, April. But I think it’s wonderful what you’ve decided to do. Chip is anxious to know you.”

  I swall
owed, exchanging a glance with Tyler, who looked astonishingly calm. “I think I’m a little of everything right now. But I’m anxious to know him too.”

  “Why don’t you sit down in the living room?” She gestured toward a room on the left. “Chip’s upstairs. I’ll go get him. He’ll be thrilled to see you again, Tyler. He was disappointed to hear you’d gone back to California and wouldn’t be coaching anymore. He learned so much from you.”

  “He’s an excellent student and a talented pitcher. I’d be glad to work with him again.”

  She beamed. “That would be wonderful. And I can’t thank you enough for encouraging him to take the Clemson scholarship. I don’t know what you said, but it got through to him. He accepted it last week.”

  “I’m happy to hear it.”

  We entered the living room and took a seat on a gingham-covered sofa. I felt like I had no idea what to do with my hands and clasped them anxiously in my lap. I couldn’t believe how at ease Tyler seemed. Was it an act?

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” Robin said, heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” As soon as she walked out, I looked at Tyler. “How are you so calm right now?” I whispered. “I’m dying.”

  “I’m not calm, babe. But I’ve had a lot of practice keeping cool under pressure while on the mound.”

  “Oh. Right.” I moved a little closer to him, hoping some of his never-let-them-see-you-sweat would rub off on me. To distract myself from my nerves, I looked around at the room. It was comfortably furnished with a beautifully polished wood floor, a rug beneath the coffee table with fresh vacuum lines, and a vase full of fresh tulips on top of it. An upright piano stood against one wall, and I wondered if Chip or his sister played.

  Footsteps coming down the stairs had me jumping to my feet, and Tyler stood slowly, placing a hand on my lower back.

  For a second, I panicked. What if this was the wrong decision? What if we should just leave this kid alone? What if the decision to meet him was just selfish on my part—something I needed in order to move forward, but he didn’t? After all, the situation was potentially going to get publicly messy with Tyler, and—

  Then he walked into the room—that beautiful baby whose eyes I’d looked into so long ago—and his handsome smile melted my heart. “Hey,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Chip.”

  “I’m April,” I said, taking his hand and returning his smile as my heart fluttered with happiness. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Hey, Coach,” he said, shaking hands with Tyler too. “My mom said you were here.”

  “Good to see you again, Chip.”

  A little girl came sliding down the banister into the front hall, where she jumped off before coming to stand next to her brother.

  “Cecily!” Robin scolded. “How many times have I asked you not to do that? And I thought you were going to stay in your room.”

  “I changed my mind,” she said with a shrug. “I had FOMO.”

  “This is Chip’s sister, Cecily,” Robin said, giving her daughter a stern look. “She’s eleven.”

  “Eleven and three-quarters,” Cecily clarified.

  Chip poked her on the shoulder. “No one cares about the three-quarters, CeCe.”

  She gave him a dirty look. “I do.”

  “Why don’t we all sit down?” Robin suggested. “If you’ll just give me one minute, I’ve got some cookies and coffee made.”

  “Of course,” I said, barely able to take my eyes off Chip. He was so like Tyler at that age, from his coloring to the height to the way he stood. But I could see the Sawyer in him too.

  While Robin was in the kitchen, Tyler asked Chip about the team’s last few games, and I was grateful I could just listen for a few minutes. When she returned, I was glad to take a warm coffee cup in my hands, which felt twitchy. It was Chip who put me at ease.

  “So I hear you went to Central High too,” he said, meeting my eyes. It was apparent within minutes that he was not only handsome but also confident, humble, good-natured, and mature.

  He was naturally curious and asked a lot of questions about growing up at Cloverleigh Farms, wondering if he could see it sometime, expressing astonishment at the number of siblings I had.

  “Four sisters?” he asked, glancing at Cecily, who grinned impishly from her perch on the piano bench. “I wouldn’t survive.”

  I laughed. “It was a crowded house, but a nice way to grow up. I’d be glad to show you around sometime. All of you. My family would love that.”

  “Does your mom know about Chip?” asked Cecily, taking a bite of her cookie.

  “Cecily,” Robin said, giving her daughter a look.

  “It’s okay,” I said, smiling at the precocious little girl. She reminded me of Chloe at that age—no filter. “She does. And she’d really like to meet him—and you too.”

  Cecily grinned. “Are there horses at your farm?”

  “There are,” I told her.

  “Could I ride one?”

  “Sure.”

  Her face lit up.

  “So I hear you took the offer from Clemson,” said Tyler.

  “I did.” Chip smiled. “Thanks again for all the advice.”

  “Any idea what you might study there?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but maybe environmental engineering.”

  “Hey, who is Chip’s biological dad?” asked Cecily, out of nowhere.

  “Cecily!” This time Robin’s tone was sharper.

  “What, I’m just curious. You said you never knew, but she’s got to know. Right?”

  There was an awkward silence during which I wasn’t sure what to say—Robin appeared mortified, and Chip looked like he sort of wished the earth would open up and swallow him. But rather than panic, I took it as an invitation from the universe to speak up. I exchanged a quick glance with Tyler, who gave me a nod and took my hand.

  “Actually,” I said, sitting up a little straighter, “I do know.” I met Robin’s eyes and then Chip’s. “This wasn’t something I ever planned on sharing, but I’m at a point in my life where I’d like to be more open about . . . everything.”

  Crickets.

  Their faces were a mixture of confusion and expectancy, but I saw hope and excitement too—or at least that’s what I chose to believe.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, so, as you know, Chip, I was very young when I had you. Just eighteen. And your, um, biological dad was young too. We were just good friends, and the pregnancy was a bit of a shock for both of us.”

  “You didn’t use protection,” stated Cecily matter-of-factly, swinging her feet below the piano bench. “We learned about that in sex ed this year. They call it Adolescent Health”—she made air quotes around the words—“but we all know what it is.”

  “Oh, my Lord.” Robin shook her head. “Cecily Carswell, could you please button your lip? I’m so sorry, April. We do not have to discuss this.”

  “It’s okay.” I laughed nervously, suddenly grateful for Cecily’s presence. “She’s right. We weren’t careful. And by the time I realized I was pregnant, I was already away at college, and he’d been drafted.”

  “To the Army?” asked Robin with some confusion.

  I shook my head. “To the major leagues,” I said, watching the shock overtake Chip’s face. “He was a baseball player. In fact, he was a lefty pitcher.”

  Chip’s jaw hung wide open as he looked back and forth between Tyler and me, putting it together. “Oh my God. It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Tyler nodded and swallowed. “Yes.”

  “What?” Robin’s voice was shocked.

  “Holy shit. Holy shit.” Chip glanced at Robin. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “It’s okay.” She looked at us, her face a jumble of emotions. Mostly shock. “I’m just—I can’t quite—Tyler is Chip’s biological father?”

  “He is. But he didn’t know that when they met,” I said quickly. “Tyler and I lost touch after my pregnancy. For reasons that are
too complicated to go into here, we never talked about the birth or the adoption. We only reconnected a few weeks ago, when he came back to town for his sister’s wedding.”

  “I had no idea who you were when I started working with you,” Tyler said to Chip, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “I only realized it after April got the letter from your mom with a photograph. I was totally shocked.”

  “I know the feeling,” Robin said, hands covering her cheeks. “This is—this is—”

  “It’s a lot to digest all at once,” I said. “And I’m sorry to blindside you. We’re still processing it too. But . . .” I looked at Tyler. “We felt it was better to get the truth out right from the start.”

  “That’s why you left, isn’t it?” Chip asked Tyler. “Because you found out about me.”

  Tyler’s expression was grim. “At the time, I thought that was the best decision. I was trying to protect you.”

  “From what?” Chip looked confused.

  “From media attention.” I squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Tyler is still a hot topic, and the stories are not always kind. He was concerned that if it got out he was your biological father, you’d find yourself the subject of a lot of tabloid gossip. He didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  “I’m not embarrassed to be your biological son,” Chip said, as if he was surprised anyone would even think it. “Not at all. I think it’s really cool.”

  “You really think media will care that much?” Robin glanced at Chip with maternal concern.

  “Unfortunately, I think we have to plan for that,” I told her. “I wouldn’t have guessed it before, but after seeing firsthand how they manipulate and distort things to grab eyeballs, I believe he’s right to be concerned.”

  “Grab eyeballs!” repeated Cecily. “Ew!”

  “She doesn’t mean grabbing actual eyeballs,” Chip explained. “She means get people’s attention.”

  “Oh.” Her feet began swinging again. “I think it would be kinda cool to be in the news.”

  I smiled ruefully at her. “It would be, for the right reasons.”