Chapter 16
sixteen
Reese
I slouched in the booth, fingers tracing the sleeve on my coffee cup while I tried not to focus on her intense eyes, the same ones that sort of reminded me of my own. I took my time with each sip, waiting for her to start the conversation.
"Reese," she finally began. "Oh, hunny, I never get tired of seeing your beautiful face." Her kindness was almost suffocating. "I am still in shock that you came to the diner the other night, and that you're willing to meet me here."
I knew my dad hadn’t been completely honest with me when it came to her, but none of that did anything to dull the sting of her absence.
"You've been coming to the games, waiting for me at the diner most of the summer. Figured I'd hear you out."
She fidgeted with a sugar packet on the table. "I'm so sorry it's taken this long for me to come around," she whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't been around most of your life."
"It's fine," I murmured. But it wasn't fine, and we both knew it.
"For so many years, I just felt so helpless.
I was told that I had no chance against your father, that I was nobody compared to him…
after a while, you start to believe it," she whispered, sorrow in her eyes.
"I didn't have the money that your father had, Reese.
I didn't have the justice system in the palm of my hand like he did. "
I looked away from her, focusing on the steam rising from my cup, unable to look at the sadness in her eyes any longer. I’m not the person who feels remorse, I’m not the guy who comforts people, but maybe it was because at the end of the day she was still the person who birthed me.
"Look," I said, my voice hoarse with the effort of keeping it level, "I didn't know any of that.
I just know I was a kid who needed his mom, but you.
.. you weren't there." I was searching for something—anything—that might help me with the animosity I felt from years spent wondering if she’d ever come back for me.
"I appreciate this, you coming to me now, now that I'm an adult who can sort of understand.
But understanding doesn't erase anything. "
There was a silence then, punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware from a nearby booth and a distant cash register.
"I know." The words were barely louder than the sound of sugar packets still being shuffled by her anxious fingers.
"I'm sorry for that, Reese." She folded her hands on the table, knuckles whitening with the grip of her own regret.
"Every single day I wondered how I could rewind time, rewrite our history.
How I could have changed it all." Her voice cracked.
The ache in my chest tightened knowing there was nothing either of us could do now.
But it all still fucking hurt, every missed birthday, game, and milestone in my life.
I was who I was now because of all of it.
I was hardened by it. Somehow, I found a way to channel that pain and inadequacy into baseball.
I made sure I wasn’t just good enough but the best pitcher there was, and I’d gotten where I was because of her in some twisted way.
The silence stretched between us. Too much time, too many years were now lost. She waited for some sign of forgiveness—a sign I wasn't sure I had in me.
"Time travel," I said finally, “it’s the only way." The corner of my mouth lifted upward in a small smile because sarcasm was clearly the best option in these situations.
She caught the smirk and, surprisingly, she let out a gentle laugh. It was what we both needed in such a heavy moment. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, reflecting back a history of pain that we were both carefully trying to navigate.
A warm smile spread across her face. "You're funny.
I should have known." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze softening as she took in my features.
"Not just that, but you’re handsome. And those dimples.
.." A hand fluttered to her chest, fingers brushing the gold necklace she was wearing.
"I'm sure you have every woman in the world after you. "
I swirled the remnants of my coffee. "Women," I chuckled, "they haven't exactly been my area of expertise.
" The steam rose from my cup, disappearing into the void above us—much like the years we'd never get back.
"Might be the abandonment issues I have," I added, letting the dig at her slip before I realized it.
Her reaction was a soft sigh. She fumbled with a napkin, twisting it between anxious fingers.
"Reese," she began, still sounding strange coming from her.
"I can tell you this..." she paused, searching for the right words.
"I've spent so many years wondering how to get you back.
And if you allow me"—her breath hitched—"I will be in your life every day until the last day of mine. In any capacity you allow."
For a moment, I considered the possibility of letting her in. Could I forgive her? Could I trust her? I wasn’t sure, but I knew the feeling of not having her in my life, and having the choice to allow her back in, and how much, had to be better than that.
"Alright," I murmured, giving a slow wary nod. "I guess coffee is a good start then."
There was an almost imperceptible pause as the moment hung suspended, and then she wiped a tear just as quickly as it fell—relief marking her face. I lifted my cup with a steady hand. "Cheers," I said, the word slipping out.
"I do have something I want to ask you before we go," I said, curiously.
"Ask away," she murmured, sliding her purse onto her shoulder.
"After all this time," I began, "why are you finally trying now?"
She exhaled slowly. "Honestly, I had given up hope for a long time." Her hands, once steady, now shook as she clasped them tightly together. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, hated me even. But when I finally came back to Bayside and saw you pitching last summer, I saw it."
“Saw what?”
She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against the pendant on my chest—it had become as much a part of me as my own skin.
"This. It was my father’s," she said softly as she traced the outline of it. “I hoped... I hoped that maybe it meant a part of you was still holding on."
"I've hardly ever taken it off since I was younger... I've never really known why it means so much to me."
Across from me, she smiled as she said, "you're a lot like him, you know—my father. He loved Bayside, grew up here too." She looked out the window. "He had this charm about him; you couldn't help but love him—the whole town did."
“Sounds like someone I’d get along well with,” I said, now understanding my attachment to it.
We rose from our table, and she gave me a hesitant hug. "I'll text you tomorrow," she murmured. "To see if you'd like to meet up again soon." I held open the door and nodded as she made her way to the parking lot.
I lingered for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I was turning to leave when she walked. Caroline, with her mother and sister. Her sister carried a binder with colorful tabs peeking out from the edge.
"Caroline, you didn't tell us Reese was joining us," Her mom said accusingly.
I caught her faltering step. Our eyes locked for a split second, panic flaring across her face.
"Oh," she stammered, voice cracking, "must have slipped my mind."
I stepped back aside as Caroline and her family traipsed in.
"After you," I murmured, gesturing toward the vacant tables with a flick of my wrist.
Caroline's mother halted mid-stride, her gaze lifting to meet mine. "I still can't get over this." She looked up at me. "Reese, I've been telling Caroline to bring you by the house."
We drifted toward a booth bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light, which filtered through half-drawn blinds.
I slid into the space next to Caroline, our elbows brushing.
Before I could respond to Mrs. Matthews, Caroline responded for me.
"Mom, I told you. He's been so busy—you know, winning championship games and Blue Devils stuff. "
"I'm never too busy for you, Care Bear."
Caroline reacted exactly how I thought she would, in the form of a discreet kick under the table.
And it took every ounce of restraint not to let out the laugh I was holding.
I caught the deadly glint in her eyes as she hit me with her best glare, but it only fired me up.
There was a thrill in the deception of this whole thing, in seeing her react.
With a slow grin, I reached across the table and took Caroline's hand in mine.
She stiffened, knowing she couldn't pull away without raising suspicion, not with her mother's hawk-like gaze tracing our every movement.
What I didn’t see coming? The warmth. The softness of her skin.
There was this undeniable tension between us.
Holding her hand, I couldn’t ignore how effortlessly hers fit in mine, how smooth her skin felt against the roughness of my calloused fingers.
This was supposed to be just an act, but damn…
it was already affecting me more than I realized.
"Reese," Charlotte said, opening her binder. "The whole town is talking about how amazing you were. They needed that championship win."
"I'm glad we could make them proud."
Caroline's mother fixed her eyes on me before she said, "You must have every major league team interested in you.”
"I don't know about that," I answered, giving my best attempt at modesty.
"By the way, if you want to get to that thing you had to do today, you're totally welcome to leave here early, Reese," Caroline said earnestly. "I know you don't want to sit around for wedding talk."
"Actually," I said, the words slipping out with ease, "I happen to love wedding talk." It wasn't true, but I couldn’t pass up any opportunity to aggravate her.
"Oh, do you now?" Caroline glared, and I squeezed her thigh in response.