Chapter 7
Walker
I’d been playing for the Austin Aviators for a year now, and it had been both the best and worst year of my life.
I loved my coaches and my teammates, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I truly fit in with the guys.
Baseball was everything I had hoped it would be at the professional level.
But none of that changed the fact that I missed Farrah.
It felt as if she had ripped my heart out and taken it with her, leaving behind a hollow ache that never fully went away.
For some fucked-up reason, every home game I found myself searching the crowd for her face.
When I was out in Austin, I caught myself scanning sidewalks, restaurants, and bars, hoping for even a glimpse of her.
My sister Addison still talked to her fairly often, since they had always been close, but she never offered up any details about how Farrah was doing. The silence drove me crazy.
Still, I wasn’t about to ask.
Tonight, my youngest sister, Ava, was in town with her best friend, Aria, to catch one of my home games.
They had graduated from high school just a couple of months earlier and were trying to spend as much time together as possible before college pulled them in opposite directions.
Ava was heading west to USC, while Aria would be going to Auburn in Alabama.
Aria also happened to be Farrah’s younger sister, which made the whole situation even more complicated than it needed to be.
After the game, the plan was to meet them back at the penthouse I had recently purchased, order pizza, and keep things low-key. Ava wanted to see the new place, and I wanted a quiet night at home.
The game itself went well. My pitching was solid, and we pulled out a 3–1 win against Seattle.
We had recently signed a new rookie shortstop, Cohen Jordan, out of the University of Tennessee, and the guy was a beast. Shortstop had been a weak spot for us ever since our all-star veteran retired, but that all changed once we drafted Cohen.
I never had to worry when the ball was put into play—he was always exactly where I needed him to be.
The guy was easygoing, and we got along well, so I’d been helping him adjust to life in the big leagues. That was me only a year ago.
After I got home and showered off from the game, I had my doorman escort Ava and Aria up using the private elevator that opened directly into my apartment. When I heard the chime, I looked up just as the doors slid open.
Ava stepped out first, wearing my jersey and staring wide-eyed at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Austin.
“Damn, Walk,” she said, slowly turning in a circle, her deep blue eyes bright with excitement. “This place is incredible. Look at that view. You’re big time now.”
She poked me in the ribs before letting me pull her into a hug. I hadn’t seen my siblings in a while, and reunions always hit harder than I expected. When I pulled back, I smiled over her shoulder at Aria.
“Hey, A. It’s good to see you. I’m glad y’all could make it.”
Once I released Ava, I pulled Aria into a hug as well. She had always been like another little sister to me.
"Thanks so much for the tickets, Walk. They were awesome seats! You played great!" Aria smiled.
There were five King siblings in total. Grayson was the oldest and Weston's best friend. Farrah was next, close with Addison—and at one point, with me. Aria was the youngest daughter and Ava’s best friend, while the twins, Nate and Nolan, were the youngest of them all and rounded out the family.
“No problem,” I said as I headed toward the fridge. “I ordered pizza. I hope that’s okay. Can I get y’all something to drink?”
They both asked for water and took seats at the barstools lining the kitchen island. As I handed them their bottles, the elevator chimed again, catching Ava’s attention.
“Are you expecting someone else?” she asked, arching a brow as she gestured toward the stack of pizza boxes on the counter. “Because that looks like a lot of food for three people.”
“A couple of my teammates are coming by,” I said.
When Cohen and my catcher, Drake Cooper, found out I was having a quiet night at home instead of going out with the rest of the guys, they quickly invited themselves over.
I liked going out well enough, but after a game, I often just wanted to be home. They were similar in that way.
Well, Drake was.
Cohen was still finding his footing with the team; he seemed most comfortable around me.
When Cohen and Drake stepped into the kitchen, I immediately noticed Ava and Aria checking them out.
Ava, in particular, seemed to fixate on Cohen, and I felt a familiar rush of protectiveness.
With Cohen being twenty-one, they were only three years apart, but that didn’t make me feel any better about it.
I cleared my throat, drawing Ava’s attention. When her eyes snapped to mine, I shook my head tightly. She narrowed her eyes back at me in defiance, completely unembarrassed. Ava had never had much shame, and no one had ever been able to control her, which was both impressive and terrifying.
“Guys, this is my sister Ava and her friend Aria,” I said, gesturing toward them.
After introductions were made, we dug into the pizza and talked about the game.
As the night stretched on, I began paying closer attention to my sister and my shortstop.
Ava was a little too complimentary about the double play Cohen had pulled off—laughing a little too easily, leaning a little too close.
I caught the shift in Cohen’s attention too, the way his focus lingered on her just a beat longer than it should have—asking about USC and her plans to become a lawyer.
Yup. We were done here.
I stood up and told the guys it was time to call it a night.
"I've got to get home anyway, Elle gets home early tomorrow," Drake said, referring to his long-time girlfriend, who was currently out of town.
I said goodbye to the guys and cut off whatever conversation was forming between Cohen and Ava as they headed for the door.
Once they were gone, I turned to my sister. “No. Not an option.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically and flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “You’re such a buzzkill sometimes. Almost as bad as West.”
Aria started laughing, clearly entertained by our sibling back-and-forth.
Ignoring the comment, because I was not the buzzkill in this family, I motioned down the hallway. “I’ve got the guest rooms set up for y’all.”
While they got settled, I cleaned up the kitchen. I was almost finished when I heard footsteps approach from behind. When I turned around, Ava was already in her pajamas and climbing onto one of the barstools.
“Hey,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“If this has anything to do with Cohen, I’m not interested,” I teased.
She shook her head with a small laugh. “No, you idiot. Aria told me something, and I figured you should hear it from me.”
My heart rate picked up at her tone. I nodded for her to continue.
“Farrah’s dating someone else,” she said quietly. “They’ve been together for about four months now, and Aria says it’s getting pretty serious.”
I nodded stiffly; anger and a strange sense of desperation crept through me at the same time. I couldn’t do anything about it, and that lack of control sat heavily in my chest.
Seven months.
That’s how long it had taken her to move on after four years together—after everything we had planned. I hadn’t so much as glanced at another woman since we’d broken up, which felt like a feat in itself, given how much my DMs had blown up since going pro.
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter. “Thanks for telling me. I hope she found what she’s looking for,” I said, venom slipping into my voice.
Ava shot me a concerned look.
I forced myself to shake it off. “It was bound to happen at some point, right?”
“It’s okay to be upset about this,” she said softly. “I always hoped that once you got your first year of baseball under your belt, you’d find your way back to each other. You’re perfect together.”
I scoffed. “Evidently, not to her.” My eyes fell to the floor.
She stood and wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry, Walk. I really believe there’s someone amazing out there for you.” She stepped back. “It’s Farrah’s loss. I hope she’ll come to her senses.”
Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone in the kitchen to stew in my misery.
News of Farrah’s new, serious boyfriend spread quickly through my family, resulting in an influx of messages that I didn’t have the energy to deal with.
Lucky me.
Addison: I heard Ava told you. I'm sorry Walk. Farrah told me but Ava said she was planning to tell you in person which I thought would be better. Let me know if you want to talk. Love you.
Weston: Hey brother. Hope you’re doing alright. I heard the news.
Ava: Love you big bro. Just checking in to make sure you aren't doing anything stupid since I told you the news.
Mom: I'm so sorry about Farrah, sweetie. I know how much you loved her. Let us know if you need anything.
Dad: Great game last night. Your fastball was unreal, proud of you bud.
I chuckled at my dad’s message and slipped my phone into my pocket. In typical Dad fashion, he was likely clueless about the Farrah situation altogether. The sympathy texts could wait.
I headed to a local bar to meet Cohen. We were off today, but leaving early the next morning for a road series that would start in Boston and end in Chicago. The bar was a bit of a dive, but we knew the owners, and it was mostly locals—people who kept to themselves and let us drink in peace.
I spotted Cohen in the back at a high-top. He threw me a fist bump once I sat down across from him, "Hey man, how's it going? I already got you a beer." He slid the amber liquid towards me.
"Thanks, I needed this." I took a long pull from the frosty glass.
Cohen gave me a look. "Something going on? You seem distracted lately off the field."
I needed someone to talk to who wasn't closely tied to Farrah, the way my entire family was. I felt like I couldn’t really let it all out—how angry, frustrated, and hurt I was—without them turning around and trying to protect Farrah too.
I downloaded Cohen on everything that was Farrah and me. I told him about our time in high school, everything that went down in college, the College World Series, the breakup, and the most recent development: her being in a serious relationship not even a year after we’d broken up.
Cohen was a good listener; he sat there and let me get it all out before he spoke.
"Damn, brother. That’s some shit." He took a quick sip of his beer before placing it back down to look at me.
Finally, someone on my side.
"That right there is exactly why I avoid relationships at all costs.
After everything I've been through in my life, I just don't do complicated.
I don't have the capacity for it. I don't need any more loss in this lifetime.
" Cohen's dad had left his mom when he was two, and he’d lost his mom in a car accident when he was nineteen and away at college. He’d opened up to me about his past a couple of months ago.
I nodded. "I don't blame you, and I'm sorry again about your mom."
Cohen simply nodded. "Thanks, man."
"These road games could not have come at a better time. I can get away from Texas and my suffocating family. I need the distraction."
One of the bar owners, Barry, stopped by and placed a basket of fried pickles on our table. He always brought us food without us asking—we tipped him generously. I grabbed a fried pickle from the basket and popped it into my mouth.
"Have you hooked up with anyone since Farrah? Maybe that’s what you need now. Get her out of your system. Baseball can distract your mind, but you probably could use a good lay." Cohen chuckled.
I shook my head, "Actually, no. I haven't even attempted, honestly. Not that I haven't had offers, just been focused on baseball."
A mischievous smile crossed Cohen's face. "We can change that."
I shook my head again. "Nah, man. Not really interested. I just want to focus on my pitching. It's only my second year. I need to buckle down and focus. If I want to make a name for myself, I've got to put in the work now."
And that’s exactly what I did. I threw myself into baseball, using it to push all thoughts of Farrah out of my head. My sole focus was baseball.
I trained hard, practiced hard, played harder.
It paid off—I became a beast on the mound.
After my second year, I won the Cy Young Award in the American League, an extremely difficult achievement for someone who had only been in the league for two years.
Was losing Farrah worth it?
I still couldn't answer that.