Chapter 15 #2
“Long night?” I say, joining her at the bar. She pours what looks like vodka into a small tumbler along with some cranberry juice, something that looks like a sweet syrup, and a few ice cubes. She stirs it and tosses in a cherry before pushing it across the bar to me.
“It’s mostly candy. But it should help you sleep before you hit the road in a few hours. The bus is miserable.”
I take a sip as she stares at me, I think for approval. The drink is delicious, and she’s right—it’s pretty weak.
“It’s great,” I say, lifting it to her. She fills her own glass with the same concoction, though she goes a little heavier with the vodka. She holds her glass up for us to toast, and we clink rims.
“To drunk men and all their bullshit,” she says, tossing back a big gulp, then running her arm over her lips.
“I bet you get some good ones in here,” I say, figuring this is where Coach Bastion got lit.
“Nothing but the best, even when it comes to drunks,” she grumbles.
She leaves her glass near me and begins to wipe down the bar.
“Can I help?” I offer.
She shakes her head.
“I just like the company.”
I nod.
Me too.
I nurse my drink and let my mind relax for the first time since Jayden fell asleep. Daisy loads two dishwashers before inventorying and storing the liquor, then moves on to counting the money from the register.
“You own this place, yeah?” I say, remembering what I read about Earl’s when I first arrived.
She nods with a smile.
“Yeah, it was my daddy’s. I mean, Earl is still alive, but he’s eighty, and not much for running a place where college kids and minor leaguers mix for no-good on weekends. And weekdays. And fucking mornings.”
She laughs out with a huff and stuffs a stack of bills into a yellow envelope before rejoining me to finish her drink.
“You’ve always lived here?” I ask.
She nods.
“It’s my home. And yeah, there are parts that are a bit . . . shall I say . . . rough around the edges?”
I chuckle at her framing of some of Sweetwater’s more interesting characteristics.
“I saw a guy pulling two goats in a wagon behind a tricycle the other day. He was maybe in his sixties. And the goats were pretty fat.” I shake my head, amused at the memory.
“That’s Jimmy. And yeah, those goats are his babies. His wife took the house. He lives in the trailer park by the highway. He got to keep the goats in their divorce,” she says.
“I bet you know all the characters.”
She nods again, then slides one of the stools around to her side of the bar and takes a seat. She props her chin in her hand and sets her gaze on me with a slight smirk on her lips.
“What’s your story?” she asks.
“Oh,” I cough out. I put my still half-filled drink down. Even weak, that’s probably enough. I shake my head.
“I don’t have much of a story. I mean, other than being a woman in a man’s world. But you get that,” I say, glancing behind me at the bar she runs.
“Yeah, I do. But also . . . you have a story. Remember what I told you about this place, everybody knows everything.” She squints one eye, and my stomach drops.
I draw in a deep breath, rubbing my suddenly moist palms on my thighs. I’m still wearing my practice clothes, and my hair is probably a mess. Plus, I was clearly leaving the apartment complex, and Daisy probably knows I don’t live there.
“You know Jayden Vargas, right?” I wince a bit, not sure why I’m opening up, but it’s too late to stop it now.
She nods slowly.
“I do. And his brother.”
Of course she does. Daisy is Jake’s mother, and she has her own complicated past—and perhaps present—with Jake’s dad, Roddy.
“Right, well. Jayden and I grew up together. He played for my dad.”
“Interesting,” she hums. It’s hard to ignore the slight dazzle that touches her eyes as her lips pucker. I hope like hell I don’t live to regret this. Daisy is very much a part of this small town. She may very well be the town gossip, for all I know. Yet, something tells me she’s a safe space.
“Jayden and I have a complicated history. And it’s made for a rather complicated present. And I’m not sure how to handle all of the . . .” I swirl my finger around my head.
“Feelings?” Daisy answers for me.
I nod.
“Yeah. Lots and lots of feelings. Some that I may have acted on that I shouldn’t have.” I drop my forehead into my hands and sink into the bar top as Daisy chuckles.
“Oh, honey, don’t beat yourself up.” She lifts my chin and smooths my hair out of my face. Her hands are cool and smooth, and I wish I had an ounce of the strength she emanates.
“It looks bad, coach and player and all that. And there are people who would love to see me fail. But there’s this knot in my chest, and every time I think about walking away from what I started—what we started . . .”
“You want to scream,” she says.
“Yes!” My eyes widen on hers as she nods.
“Colby, you can’t have history like that with someone without it being complicated.” Her head falls to the side, and her eyes soften. Her show of empathy coats the roaring burn that’s been tearing up my stomach and chest for the last hour.
“If it’s worth it, you’ll know,” she says.
My eyes narrow as my brow pulls in.
“That feels like a riddle,” I say, and she laughs, taking my glass away with hers to the sink.
“It’s not. It’s a matter of trusting yourself. I don’t know your story like you do, but I see the ache on your face right now. And believe me, there ain’t nobody in this town who can out-angst and out-secret me and Roddy when it comes to complicated pasts and love stories.”
“Yeah?” I wish it weren’t so late, or early rather. I’d love to hear more about her and Roddy. I’ll settle for the empathy.
“One hundred percent,” she says, coming back over and laying her hands on mine. She grounds me.
“That feeling you’ve got, the one that lives right about here,” she says, stepping back and pounding her fist to her diaphragm. Her eyes wince.
“I have that feeling, that knot in my chest, between my lungs, filling my stomach. It’s heavy,” I admit.
“I’m sure it is. And when it gets heavier, pay attention. Ask yourself this—is it heavy because I want him to stay or because I want him to go?”
I stare at her for a beat, not sure how this problem will ever be so simple.
I slide off my stool and attempt to leave some cash for the drink, but she shoves it back at me.
I leave her to finish closing up as I head to the door, hoping I don’t run into anyone else while I sort out the lump in my throat and the reason it’s there.
But before I make it to the hotel, my phone buzzes with an entirely new problem.
And this one isn’t just mine. It’s all of ours.
Texas all-star Adriel Vargas is heading to Sweetwater for a stint to find his confidence at the plate again.
Maybe all he needs is a woman’s touch. The new Sweetwater hitting coach, Colby Kessler, isn’t just the first female coach in the organization, she’s also a blast from the past. Kessler and the Vargas brothers grew up together, and her father was their high school coach.
It continued with a history of his stats, and I couldn’t force myself to keep reading.
I swallow hard and struggle to get a full breath. Two knots in my chest prove it’s hard to breathe.