Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

by Teresa Michaels

I lower my head and rub my temples.

  “She’s already concerned,” Brett tells me.

  “Oh, really? And how do you know that?” I ask.

  “Because she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you for three days. Said she left you voicemails and text messages. She even went to your place,” he says. “She didn’t share any details but it was obvious she was upset. And I couldn’t reach you either. How was I supposed to know this was about her?”

  I glance up at him and purse my lips together.

  “Getting involved in my personal life isn’t one of your responsibilities.”

  “I’d like to think that I’m more than just your agent.”

  Brett’s right but I’m too pissed. Now she wants to talk? Why the hell does she care all of a sudden? The rational part of my brain tells me that she tried to get ahold of me the same night we fought, so it’s really not all of a sudden. But the majority of my brain, the pissed off part, blocks the rational thoughts out.

  “What exactly did you tell her?” I ask.

  “Just that you had business to take care of and that you were leaving town for a while.”

  Standing up, I dig my phone out of my pocket and turn it on. I sit back down and see that I have several text messages, three voicemails and a dozen missed calls from Breanne. There are also two messages from my parents, one from Agent Patterson and one from Brett. Frustrated, I hold my face in one hand and throw my phone into the next seat with the other.

  “You wish you hadn’t turned your phone off, don’t you?”

  “It’s a little too late to tell anyone now,” I say. I sound bitter and I am.

  “I thought you might feel that way,” Brett stands.

  I look at Brett. “I can’t call her this early. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You should try to figure it out quickly.” Brett looks to my right and I follow his gaze.

  Standing before me is a red-eyed, blotchy faced Breanne in sweatpants, a sweatshirt and the turquoise running shoes I sent her, flanked by her own security detail. My mouth drops open―I’m literally speechless.

  “I’m going to grab us some coffee. I’ll be back,” Brett tells us and then disappears.

  I stand and fist my hands in my back pockets to keep from reaching out to her. Judging by her appearance I’d say she’s been crying a lot and hasn’t slept that much either. Seeing her like this guts me, and I have to remind myself that she did this to us.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Breanne’s bottom lip begins quivering, and I can tell she’s trying hard not to cry. I reach out to her without thinking, wanting to console her. Just as my hand makes contact with her arm, she narrows her eyes and swats me away.

  “Whoa!” Taken aback by her reaction, I defensively hold up my hands and step backwards until my legs hit the chair I was just sleeping in.

  With tears streaming down her face, she takes a step forward and shoves my shoulders. Shit, she’s pissed! How the hell can she be pissed at me? She’s the one who broke things off, I remind myself again.

  “Why haven’t you called me back?”

  “I’ve been busy,” I tell her.

  Busy trying to drink you out of my mind.

  “I’ve been trying to contact you for days,” she hisses. “You were really just going to leave with things like this between us?”

  “Just following your lead,” I snap a little too harshly.

  She looks as if I’d just slapped her. Breanne takes a step back, her eyes shifting to the window, staring at the plane I’ll be boarding shortly, as it’s being prepared.

  O’Conner approaches me. “Mr. Scott, might I suggest you two have this conversation in a more private place?” I glance over his shoulder and become aware that the airport is now filling up with travelers, many who are watching the two of us. We follow behind O’Conner, who ushers us to a door that leads to a private lounge for pilots. He and Everett sweep the lounge, and after confirming that it’s empty, they leave us to our conversation.

  “I guess I deserve that,” she says fidgeting with her hands.

  “Breanne,” I start, but I have no idea what to say. I can see she’s hurting and I’m torn between being hurt myself and wanting to fix this for her. “You can’t show up like this.”

  “Did you listen to any of my messages?” she asks.

  “No,” I admit. Before I had no desire to listen to what she had to say. I didn’t want apologies or pointless explanations. Now, I at least wish I knew what they were about.

  She nods her head slowly and bites her lip.

  “I’m sorry to intrude like this,” she throws her hands out to her sides and shrugs. “I just couldn’t let you leave without seeing you; without getting the chance to tell you face to face that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wasn’t ready to hear that you felt that way,” Breanne’s purser her lips as she tries to regain composure. “And I—“

  “That’s what you came here to say? That you didn’t mean to hurt me?” I cut her off.

  “Damn it, will you let me finish?” She waits a few seconds and then continues. “I wasn’t ready to acknowledge how I felt either.” She chokes back her tears. “I thought I knew what love felt like, but this,” she says, gesturing between the two of us. “I’ve never felt this way and I was scared.”

  “And I wasn’t?” I shout. “So, what? You just woke up this morning and realized that you no longer had me at your beck and call, so you decided to come here?”

  “What? No!” she scoffs. “I’m here because I love you and I need you to know that.”

  “You don’t get to say that.”

  “It’s the truth,” she insists. “You know I love you.”

  “I was wrong. I’ve done nothing other than think about us, Breanne. And I’ve…”

  “Moved on?” she asks.

  Moved on? Does she really think I could do that so quickly, or ever? I exhale and run my hands through my hair.

  “I know about the woman at the bar,” she sighs. “So that’s it? One tramp is all it took for you to forget me?”

  I don’t even know how to respond to that.

  “Did you even love me? Or is that something you say to get women into bed?”

  Now, I’m really pissed. Is she trying to pick a fight?

  “If I recall correctly I didn’t need to tell you that before you got into my bed.”

  Breanne’s mouth flattens into a tight line. I probably shouldn’t have snapped like that, though on some level, I’ve purposely hurt her. I want her to know what I’ve been going through and I’m not convinced she’s truly had a change of heart.

  “You’re right,” she admits. “You didn’t need to say a word, and neither did I, because deep down I already knew how we felt about each other. My head just need to catch up…and I’m so, so sorry for that. Please give me a chance to explain. I want to make this better.”

  “I’d love an explanation. Why don’t you start with all the guilt you felt from moving on from Mark? Has that magically disappeared?”

  She takes a deep breath. “The only thing I feel guilt over now, is giving you a reason to doubt how I feel about you.”

  “I bet.”

  We stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. I’m speechless, yet she’s waiting for some kind of response and I don’t have a good one. Being with her is all I can think of, it’s what I want. But I don’t want to go through this up and down bullshit. And I don’t have it in me to recover from her leaving again.

  “You left. What do you want me to say? Days ago you were adamant that you didn’t love me, and now all of a sudden you do. Either way you lied about something, and I’m not sure if I can trust you.”

  She nods slowly and takes two steps backwards. “I know that I’ve hurt you, but I’m not giving up on us, Drew. It’s clear you’re not ready to talk. Just think about what I’ve said and call me when you get back.”

  “That may be a problem.”


  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “I’m not coming back.”

  Her lips part as the color drains from her face and fresh tears pool in her eyes. “W-what do you mean?”

  “I’m meeting with the San Francisco Giants. Brett’s confident that they’re going to make me an offer,” I explain, watching her shoulders slump.

  Her hands momentarily cover her eyes as she slowly shakes her head. She maintains her posture for a long minute before her hands drag down her face and come to rest over her mouth.

  “Why?” she whispers.

  Seeing her come apart is too much. My resolve is breaking and my confusion is at an all-time high. Right now I really need my anger to come back. I want to scream ‘Because you broke me’, but I’m losing my ability to fight. My gaze falls to her feet.

  “You’re running from me, aren’t you?” she asks, reading my mind.

  “My contract with the Red Sox is up. I have no reason to stay.”

  “What about us?” she asks.

  “What about us?” I retort, raising my eyes to meet hers.

  I watch her swallow her sobs and clench her eyes shut.

  “I love you.” Breanne takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.

  I hold her gaze, but say nothing.

  “I love you,” she says more adamantly as she takes a step towards me.

  “Don’t.” This is practically the same conversation we had a week ago as we sat in her car outside this very airport. Now does she realize how bad it feels to be on the other side? Part of me hopes so.

  “Stop being so stubborn! I. Love. You.” She takes three more steps until she’s less than a foot away. I put my hand out to stop her.

  “Just stop! Damn it, Breanne. You really want to know what I’m thinking? I’ve never told anyone that I love them before and you just walked out.” Breanne’s opens her mouth to speak. “I’m just getting started,” I blurt out before she gets the chance to reply. She visibly gulps and nods so I continue.

  “I handed you my heart and you fucking crushed it. I know you thought you were doing me a favor, but that wasn’t your choice to make. Just like me leaving isn’t your choice. You put up road blocks left, right and center, finding every excuse possible for why we wouldn’t work.

  “I couldn’t have cared less about your age, or even the fact that you don’t want more kids. I wanted you and a chance to build relationships with Colin, Aubrey and Maddie. I wasn’t trying to replace their father. I wanted to make my own memories with all of you, without having to constantly feel like you were thinking that I was trying to move in on someone else’s territory. I never would have let my job, or anything else come between us. I only wanted you, and I never would have hurt you.”

  “I want all of that too,” she cries. “Whatever I have to do to prove myself to you, just tell me and I’ll do it,” she begs.

  “You made your choice.”

  Breanne watches me carefully, trying to assess the seriousness of what I’ve just said. Her shoulders sag and her head follows suit. She respires, appearing defeated as she continues contemplating our situation. After several minutes, she dries her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt and walks towards me. When there’s barely any distance between us she takes one of my hands in both of hers, and folds our combined limbs at the center of her chest.

  “I’m glad you told me how you feel. You may not be ready to believe me yet, and I get it,” she tells me, barely above a whisper. “But I’m not giving up, Drew. I love you so much. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here, or there…wherever you are.”

  Still holding onto my hand, she rises on her tiptoes and softly presses her lips on mine. I feel alive for the first time in days, and it requires every ounce of self-control that I have not to push for more.

  Too quickly, our lips part and I immediately miss her taste. She takes my hand, places it over her heart and whispers, “all yours,” before turning to leave. I quickly grab her left hand forcing her to briefly pause, and rub my thumb over her knuckles out of habit.

  Something’s missing.

  I don’t speak as her hand slips from mine, and like an idiot, I let her walk away. It’s not until she’s out the door that it hits me that she’s taken off her wedding ring.

  Once on the plane, I sit down next to Brett who is busy with a last minute call. I need a distraction, so I take the opportunity to listen to my voicemails.

  After the first message from Breanne, I could kick myself. She’s right, I am stubborn. If I had just listened to that message, I doubt I would be headed to California. Her second message is sweet and full of concern. By her third message, she’s taken on a more spirited tone, which reminds me of our conversation right before we finally made it out of the woods. But instead of calling me out for my behavior like she did then, she confesses that she’s fallen for me and hopes it’s not too late for me to really hear her out. She may have lied about how she felt about me and purposely pushed me away, but it’s clear she had instant regret and tried to make it right. If only I hadn’t let my insecurities drive my decisions.

  In between her voicemails are two from my mom, asking me to call about coming home soon, with a reminder of how nice upstate New York is in the fall.

  “Hey, are you done yet?” Brett interrupts.

  “Hold on a second,” I tell him, and hit play on the last message, which is from Agent Patterson. He wants me to call him ASAP as he believes he has a lead on the case and needs to ask me a few questions.

  I drop my phone in my lap and look out the window. My mind starts reeling through every possible scenario, and the last place I want to be, is on this plane.

  “Did you catch up on all of your messages?” Brett asks.

  I turn to face him, but instead of answering, I lean in front of him and call to Everett who is sitting in the aisle seat across from Brett.

  “Hey, have you talked to Patterson? He left me a voicemail about details on a lead in the investigation.”

  Everett leans across the aisle. “They’re looking deeper into Mark Sullivan’s death and how it could be linked to the Innovation Airways sabotaged flight. His body is being exhumed on Monday.”

  “Are you serious?” I blurt out, gaping at Everett as he nods his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I press.

  “I believe you instructed us not to mention anything related to Breanne,” he states and raises an eyebrow. I’m sure he’s just waiting for me to challenge him so he can rub this in. Instead, I sit back and look out the window.

  “Here.” I turn back to look at Everett, who’s holding out a folded piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” I ask, taking it from him.

  “Something you should have read earlier.” I take the paper, noticing that it’s been taped, and look at him before reading it. It’s Breanne’s letter–the one I tore up and threw at him earlier this morning.

  “What made you think that I’d want this?”

  “I knew you’d come around eventually. I just didn’t expect it to take this long.”

  I open the letter and start reading as the plane begins backing away from the jet bridge.

  Drew,

  I love you. I love you so damn much.

  If that’s the only part of this letter you read, I wanted it to be that. I wish that I could take back the way I’ve treated you over the last few days. If that was possible, I would do it in a heartbeat.

  You were right about everything. I lied. I don’t hate you. My feelings for you are the exact opposite; I was just too much of a coward to admit it at the time.

  Before we even spoke, I was drawn to you, though I never could have imagined what an amazing man I now know you to be. I’d say you brought me back to life, though I’m not convinced I was ever truly living before you claimed my heart. I have so many things I want to say to you, face-to-face, but I’m not sure when or if you’ll give me the chance. I’m not saying I deserve your forgiveness, though I hope you’ll at least hear me out.

 
You’ve done so much to show me that I have nothing to doubt, and I want to be able to do the same for you. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make this right. I’m not giving up on us and I pray you haven’t either.

  I love you,

  Breanne

  “Damn it,” I growl, punching the seat in front of me. Why the fuck didn’t I listen to her messages or read this before?

  “Drew, are you alright man?” Brett asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I look out the window and bite my clenched fist when I see that our plane is next on tarmac for takeoff. Turing my attention back to Brett, I can see the tension written all over his face, yet it’s not even a fraction of what I’m experiencing.

  “Not even fucking close.”

  THREE

  Out With The Old

  By the time Corinne pulls into the driveway, I can’t remember leaving the airport. I’m not even sure I actually went. Seeing Drew so hurt and pissed at me was surreal. I’ve really made a mess of things. Did I seriously walk away and let him board that plane without putting up more of a fight? Is he really moving across the country to get away from me?

  Exhausted, I walk into the house determined to go through the motions of a typical weekday morning, though my thoughts are miles from here, stuck on a man who’s likely soaring over my head at this very moment.

  After eating breakfast with the kids and dropping them off at school, I head back to the house, not really sure what to do with myself. Sarah had an appointment with a divorce attorney today, so until it’s time to get Maddie from pre-school, it’s just me. I drag my aching body up the stairs as quickly as my tired limbs will go, which is sluggish at best. Though torturing Corinne got me the chance to see Drew, the conversation didn’t go as expected, and now my body physically hurts as much as my heart…not to mention I reek. I wonder if showering before going to the airport would have increased my chances of Drew taking me back, and I have to laugh, because if I don’t I will absolutely cry.

  Once inside my bedroom, I automatically stop at the edge of my walk-in closet. Since Mark died, I have spent countless hours in there, privately crying my eyes out with wine and chocolate. It’s amazing that I haven’t gained 20 pounds from that alone. I’m so tempted to go in and collapse like I’ve done all those other times, but I won’t. Though my heartache is heavy, I need to be strong. I’ve told myself time and time again that I’m done being a victim, and I vow that I will no longer allow myself to engage in that kind of behavior. My resolution to fight for Drew won’t last long or make much of a difference if I don’t have a plan.