Chapter 24
Farrah
Iwas scrolling mindlessly through my social media feed when a photo surfaced that made my heart stop.
Walker. With another woman.
They looked close—too close. Her body leaned into his, her hand resting on his upper thigh as if it belonged there. My chest tightened as I dropped my head onto my desk, the thud loud in my otherwise quiet office. Nausea churned low in my stomach.
God, I was so stupid.
Emma and Maddie appeared in my doorway almost immediately.
“I think she saw the photos,” Maddie said under her breath to Emma.
“I’d say you’re right,” Emma sighed, moving closer. “Hey, Farrah. You okay? I wouldn’t put too much stock in those pictures or the articles. They’re always fake and over the top.”
I lifted my head just long enough to speak. “I’d like to believe that,” I said, before letting it fall back to the desk. “But this has happened before.”
Maddie winced. “Maybe talk to Walker before you jump to any conclusions.” She glanced at Emma, sympathy all over her face. “We saw the way he looks at you, Farrah. That man has it bad for you. I don’t think those pictures mean what they’re implying.”
Emma nodded. “She’s right. Just talk to him.”
I exhaled slowly. Was it all in my head again?
I’d told myself Walker left because he was scared. That he needed time to sort through his feelings. I thought if I finally opened up—if I stopped holding back—it would be enough. That we could give this another shot.
But what if he didn’t run because he was scared?
What if what he didn’t want… was me?
Maybe he wanted to keep things light. Casual. Maybe having a daughter made me too complicated. Maybe I was just familiar. Easy. Someone to hook up with while he was back in Primrose Hill.
My phone pinged. A pit formed in my stomach when I saw Walker’s name.
Walker: Hey Wildflower. I just got back into town. Do you want to come over for dinner? I think we should talk.
I turned my phone toward Emma and Maddie. Both of their faces lit up.
“See?” Emma smiled. “Everything’s fine. Just go talk to him.”
“Or he wants to explain the photos and end whatever this is,” I objected.
Maddie scoffed. “Please. He called you Wildflower.”
I rolled my eyes and typed out a reply.
Me: I’ll have Hadley. Can you come over, and we can just order pizza or something? 8 work? Hadley will be in bed by then.
Walker: Sounds good. See you tonight.
I set my phone down.
I didn’t have a good feeling about this.
I had the pizza waiting on the table and had just finished putting Hadley down for bed when a knock sounded at my front door.
I opened it to find Walker standing there. He looked nervous. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and I could hear the faint jingle of keys as he fidgeted with them. Still, he managed to flash that devastating Walker smile as I stepped aside to let him in.
He pulled me into a quick hug before we sat down to eat.
“You know, I was planning on cooking for you,” he teased, grabbing a slice of pizza.
I let out a small laugh. “You know how to cook?”
Walker pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Of course I do.” He took a bite. “I’m pretty good on the grill. I was going to make us steaks.”
“Well, if I’d known that, I would’ve found a sitter,” I said, forcing a smile as I took a bite of my own slice.
The truth was, I wasn’t hungry. My stomach was knotted tight, nerves churning beneath the surface. I just wanted to get this conversation over with. But if I didn’t eat, Walker would notice. He always did.
We made small talk until the pizza was gone. I cleaned up the dishes while Walker waited, then we moved to the couch.
The memories hit me instantly—the other night, this couch, his hands, his mouth. A shiver ran through me. I squeezed my thighs together to try to dull the familiar ache.
Walker shifted beside me. “So,” he started. “I thought we should talk about the other night—”
I held up a hand. “Let me just stop you.”
He froze.
“I saw the photos,” I said quickly. “The articles. You and that woman.” I swallowed. “You’re single. You can do whatever you want. But it reminded me that you were right to stop things the other night. This,” I gestured between us, “was a mistake.”
Walker’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“We should keep the past where it belongs,” I continued, words tumbling out faster now. “People grow up. They grow apart. We’re on different paths. I have a daughter now, and you’re still very much a famous professional baseball player. But at least we can walk away as friends. Right?”
He just stared at me, brow furrowed, eyes searching my face.
The silence made my chest constrict, so I kept going.
“I mean, you shouldn’t be tied down with your lifestyle.
I know that. Five years ago, when I thought there was still something here…
” I motioned between us again. “I was going to suggest we explore it. But you went back to Austin. And you made quite the name for yourself off the field.” I forced a laugh.
“Which was fine. You were young. You were allowed to sleep around. We aren’t the same people anymore.
I think we just got caught up in the past. The comfort, maybe? I think it’s best if we stay friends.”
Still nothing.
“So,” I said, my voice tight, “friends?” I offered a lopsided smile.
Walker let out a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. “It’s like déjà fucking vu.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes narrowed. “If my memory serves me right, you said those exact words the first time you broke up with me.”
The air shifted.
“The fact that you immediately believe what you see in the media—without talking to me first—is unreal,” he continued, now rising to his feet. “I thought you knew me better than that. You really think I’d do what we did the other night and then turn around and go hook up with someone else?”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “That hurts, Farrah.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “If you had just asked me. Talked to me. You’d know that I got up and left the second that girl touched me.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Shit. This wasn’t how I’d expected it to go.
“And maybe,” he went on, voice sharper now, “you should stop making assumptions about what I want and don’t want.”
He stood up and paced once, then stopped.
“Five years ago, I bought my house. For you.”
My breath caught.
“I wanted to plant roots in Primrose Hill. Be closer to you. I’d hoped that house would be yours one day, too.” His voice dropped. “I found it a few days after Christmas Eve, closed on it right before I left for spring training. I was going to show it to you. I was going to tell you how I felt.”
He met my eyes. “I was going to fight for you.”
Then his expression hardened.
“But you got engaged,” he said quietly. “You made your choice.”
He turned and headed for the front door.
My chest tightened until it felt impossible to breathe.
“And it looks like you made your choice again,” he said over his shoulder. “Without me.”
The door closed behind him.
And with that final truth hanging in the air, Walker walked out of my house—leaving me alone in the wreckage of a decision I’d made all over again.
I slumped back down onto my couch, the silence pressed in around me, thick and suffocating.
Because I’d done what I always did. I’d ended things before they could end me.