Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Markie
“Ouch,” I mumble, squinting as I try to open my eyes. They’re puffy. Swollen. I can tell that without looking.
I groan, dropping my hand over my face. The light streaming through the bedroom windows is too bright and the sound of the ceiling fan is grating. This is worse than a hangover.
My phone buzzes somewhere in the pile of pillows and blankets that I apparently fought throughout the night. I rummage around with my hand until I find the device halfway off the bed under a sock.
“Looks and feels like there was a party here last night,” I say, unlocking the screen. “Too bad I missed all the fun.”
I was up to see the sunrise and even had a cup of coffee, figuring I wasn’t sleeping.
But I must’ve passed out around eight or eight thirty this morning.
The last thing I remember is my alarm going off—the one I set a couple of days ago so I could get up and make a hearty breakfast for me, Jory, and Gus before the tournament started.
There are three unread messages staring back at me. One from Adam, one from Audrey, and one from Jory. Of course, Jory’s is the one I want to read first, but I know once I read it, I’ll be unable to process anything else. So, I start with Adam.
I click on his name and his message pops up on the screen.
Adam: It’s game day! Kick ass! I’m pulling for you.
I smile sadly and try to decide what to say. Do I tell him that I’m not playing? If I do, he’ll surely want a reason, and I have zero desire to get into that with him.
Me: Thanks! Hope you’re having fun.
What I really want to say is, Thanks! If you’d just played with me, I wouldn’t be in hell right now.
I hit send and move on to Audrey’s.
Audrey: Hey, it’s Brooks. I heard about what happened with Jory.
If you need a partner, call Aud. I’m more than happy to come play with you.
I haven’t played pickleball in forever, but I am a professional athlete.
I got you. And if Gray volunteers, remember that fighters have more dexterity and think quicker on our feet. I’M the better choice.
“No,” I say, laughing through the tears that flood my eyes from Brooks’s sweet message. “I’m not crying today. I’m not a crybaby.”
Still, as I reread Brooks’s message, I can’t help but to shed a few tears. He really is a great guy.
Me: Thank you, Brooks, but I’m just going to sit this one out. Appreciate you, though.
I bite my lip, fending off a wave of anxiety, as I open Jory’s message. It was sent at nine this morning.
Jory: Thanks for the prayers. Gus is hanging in there but it’s hard. Call me when you’re up.
I struggle to sit up. As I become vertical, the pain behind my eyes begins to throb. I want to lie back down and cover my face with a pillow, but that won’t help. Besides, it’s already one thirty in the afternoon.
I’ve replayed yesterday evening repeatedly, and every time I reconsider it, I’m even more convinced that Jory was, in fact, telling me goodbye.
It was the look in his eyes and the way he touched me.
It was just final. It was his version of, “You heard me say that I’m going to Nevada, so let’s just do this now. ”
“You can’t blame him,” I say aloud to the empty room. “He never made you any promises.”
Maybe not, but it felt like a promise every time he smiled my way. Every time he touched the side of my face. Every time he said my name, kissed me, and made me laugh. It all felt like a piece of a bigger puzzle.
There’s a crack running down the center of my chest, and the pain from my heart is seeping through.
I love him. I fell in love with the single dad who came into my life and turned it upside down with his amazing pickleball skills and wicked sense of humor.
My temporary unicorn with a crooked smile and enormous … heart.
I love him and his little boy so damn much that I may never recover.
I read his message again and consider calling him. I’d give anything to hear his voice. But, if my instincts are right, and they always are, there’s a good chance I may not see him if he does come back to Sugar Creek. And once the summer is over—that’s it.
It’s game over.
My feet hit the floor and I stretch, trying to bring some life into my muscles. But as I push my arms over my head, an invisible band wraps around my chest.
It’ll be game over sooner or later, and I can’t keep worrying about it. I can’t tell him goodbye twice. But I need him to know how I feel, and I don’t think I trust myself to say it to his face.
I sit on the edge of the mattress and get to work putting my feelings into a text. Saying everything I need to say.
Me: I’m glad you made it and that Gus is doing okay. Please give him a hug for me.
I want to be honest with you before I turn my phone off today. And I’m saying it in a text because I don’t trust myself to get it all out the right way on the phone.
Last night felt like a real goodbye. I think I can read you pretty well, and I think you were telling me that this was the end of us.
And, honestly, it makes sense. If we couldn’t play in the tournament together, then why drag this thing between us out over the next few weeks? It’ll just make things harder.
These last few weeks were the best weeks of my life. You and your little boy were a light in my life in a way that I never expected. And Jory—you’re the best dad. Never forget that.
I don’t know if you’re coming back to Sugar Creek or not, but I’m going to go away for a bit. I can’t risk running into you around town. And there’s no sense in seeing you before you leave. I’m not sure I could survive saying goodbye again.
I hope someday we can be friends, and maybe we can chat here and there on Social. But, for right now, I need a clean break. I hope you understand. This is a me problem, not a you problem.
I’m keeping your practice jersey to wear while I cheer you on from the couch next season. I’ll put anything else you left here in a box and set it inside the back door of your house.
Take care, Jory. Please.
Love,
Markie
I hit send and turn off my phone.
“Might as well pack a bag and make sure that Brandy can cover for me for a few days,” I say, sighing as I get up. If she can’t, I’ll have to stay in Laveen or somewhere close so I can commute back and forth to the market. Maybe I can stay at the ranch. It’s far enough away from town.
That’ll suck, but it’ll work. I think.
I tug down the end of Jory’s shirt and make my way into the kitchen.
The tightness in my chest has taken root, and it’s somehow both hollow and heavy all at once.
I imagine that it’s the space that Jory and Gus used to fill.
I also imagine that I’ll become quite acquainted with the feeling for a long time.
“What will go bad?” I ask, looking in the fridge. There are fruits and vegetables, and some meat that will expire if not eaten soon. “Where’s my cooler? I could just take it all with me.”
I lean against the refrigerator, rubbing my eyes, trying to stop myself from crying.
This was not what today was supposed to look like.
There’s a saying that it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have experienced it at all, and I firmly disagree. I was so much better off hating men. I was functioning just fine without having a hole in my fucking chest, trying to figure out how to live through the pain.
“I’m just going to have to switch back,” I say, like it’s that easy and close the fridge. “I hated all men once. I can hate them again.” I pause before heading to the sink for a glass of water. “Well, I’ll never be able to hate Jory, but …”
The sound of a car horn blaring in front of the house distracts me. I grab a glass out of the cabinet before it starts honking again.
“What the heck is going on?” I ask, getting very good at talking to myself. “What the …”
I peer through the window, angling my neck to get a glimpse of the front of the house. Just as I lean forward, the glass falls from my hand, smashing against the floor into a hundred pieces.
No. There’s no way.
My heart pounds as I gasp, spinning toward the front door.
My eyes are as big as saucers as I hold my breath.
I’m afraid to run to the door like I want to, because I could be hallucinating.
Things get weird for me when I haven’t slept or eaten enough and, if I were going to see an apparition, I’d totally see Jory.
The door flies open and he comes into the house, scanning the room until he finds me.
A slow, sinful smile slips across his cheeks.
“You’re in my shirt,” he says, his eyes lighting up.
“And you’re in the same clothes you were wearing when you left here last night.”
He starts to speak then stops himself. I certainly can’t say anything more because I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or ask questions.
What is going on here?
As if he can read my mind, he springs to life. “We have twenty minutes. You gotta get dressed, babe.”
“For what?”
“Do we not play at two thirty?”
“I … I mean, yeah. But you left and …”
“And I’m back.” His smile softens. “Now get that fine, little ass of yours into something that you can wear in public. I’ll get your bag out of your car. We gotta go.”
“Jory?”
He slides a kiss across my lips as he moves by me, side-stepping the glass. “We’ll get that later. Do you have anything I can grab quick to eat? I’m fucking starving.”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s a banana and probably some snack cakes in the pantry. Jory, what’s happening?”
He closes the fridge and faces me. The crooked smile that I love so much shines back at me like a beacon guiding me home.
“This is not the way that I wanted to do this,” he says.
“But you’re not going to stop asking until I answer you and we gotta go.
” He smiles. “So, the quick version is this: I drove Gus to the hospital and sat with him for an hour or so. Then I got gas, a cup of coffee, and an energy drink and came back. I’m hungry.
I’m tired. And I owe a county in Kentucky like two hundred bucks for speeding. ”
I gasp. “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not. But it’s a small price to pay to keep my promise to the woman I love.”
My hand covers my mouth, and I know there’s no stopping the tears this time.
He wraps me up in his arms and kisses my forehead.
“I love you, Markie. I’m going to be honest and tell you that I don’t know what this looks like.
I don’t know how we make it work—only that we will.
We have to, babe. If that’s what losing you feels like, I can’t do it again.
” He grins, swiping the wetness from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“And I’m pretty sure Gus would never speak to me again, either. ”
“I love you,” I say, laughing through my tears. “I love you so much.”
“Then never send a text like you sent me a little bit ago again.” He groans. “That about killed me.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
He lets me go and smacks my ass. “Because you turned your phone off. Now get dressed. We have a pickleball tournament to win.”