Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
Brooke
This time when I hear a knock, I go straight to the door.
It’s Aniston with Timothy and Carter. They all come inside. Timothy rushes toward me, talking about the game. He ends with asking how I’m feeling.
“A little better. I’ve mainly laid around and read in my room.”
“Nate was at the game.” He smiles.
I glance at Aniston. She gives me a look that says we need to talk, then she eyes the boys.
“Your parents were at the game, but Timothy wanted to ride with us since we stopped by Double Drive for milkshakes after the game.”
“How much do I owe you?” I start toward the kitchen, where I last left my purse.
She lifts a hand. “It’s fine. Your dad gave him money for hitting the ball, which more than paid for it.”
I roll my eyes.
“I wanted to check on you anyway.”
I watch the boys chatting on the couch, then inhale and hold my breath a second before letting it out. “Timothy, why don’t you show Carter your new game?”
“Oh yeah!” He runs upstairs with Carter behind him.
I collapse on the couch, and Aniston sits on the opposite end.
“You look depressed. I’m not sure staying home was the best idea for you.”
“Today I identify as a librocubicularist.”
“Huh?”
“Someone who reads books in bed. It’s very therapeutic. You should try it sometime.”
Aniston shakes her head. “I’m good. I have caffeine and cookie crack.”
I pull my knees to my chest.
“I saw him at the game, and we had a little chat.” Aniston sighs.
“What did you say?” I glare at her.
I’ve never been known for intimidation. She laughs, proving I still can’t pull it off.
“I could tell he was nervous being there, but he really wanted to watch Timothy.”
“Okay, but what did you say?”
“Long story short, he knows I know.”
I smack her across the face with a throw pillow. She shoves it back at me.
“You said you wouldn’t tell!”
“I won’t, but the man looked like someone had run over his dog.”
I groan and shove my fingers in my hair, now thankful I made myself shower.
“I know, and you know I know, and he knows I know. That’s all. No more knowing. I won’t even tell Easton.”
Aniston lifts both hands as if surrendering. I really want to trust her, but my stomach is knotted to no end. I haven’t eaten anything except one bowl of cereal around noon, so that might be it.
“If you tell anyone else—”
“I won’t.” She salutes me. “Scout’s honor.”
“When were you a scout?”
She rolls her eyes and mumbles what sounds like, “You two deserve each other.”
“What?”
“I said you two were made for each other. You need to talk.”
“Cliché as it sounds, it’s complicated. I can’t go over there with Timothy home. He’ll want to go, and then it will be awkward.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. He’s going back tonight. He said he didn’t want to make church weird for you.”
I drop my feet to the floor and toss my head back against the couch.
“It will all work out.”
“Don’t put false hope in my head, Aniston.”
“I’m not, but it will. Take me, for example.” She sits taller and runs her hand down her side like Vanna White presenting a letter. “Would you have ever pictured me living in Apple Cart, engaged to a doctor, raising two kids?”
“No, not at all.”
“Yet here I am.”
“And when we were in high school, where would you have pictured me in ten years?”
She shrugs. “Living on this farm, married to Nate.”
“Exactly.” I shove a finger toward her face. “So what makes you think it will happen that way for me?”
“Because as weird as this sounds, I believe in fairy tales and happy endings. Even though Jennifer’s life was cut short, she got a fairy tale with Luke. I don’t deserve Easton, but I have a fairy tale with him. If anyone deserves a fairy tale, it’s you, Brooke Marshall. You’ve always been a kind and hardworking person, and you deserve to be with Nate.”
Tears fill my eyes. I sniffle. “I thought you hated me in high school.”
“I kinda did.” She scrunches her nose. “But I hated everyone who was happy and had both their parents. That was my own hang-up. You were always nice to everyone, and you and Nate had something special.”
“So many times, I wanted to tell him.” I sigh and wipe my tears. “Then he got moved to the majors, and finally he got to start games. Every time I came close, his career advanced. I couldn’t risk ruining everything he’d worked for.”
She scoots closer and rubs my arm. “I’m sure it would’ve been fine.”
I shrug.
“There’s never a good time to give life-altering news. It’s best to just get it out in the open quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” She mimics ripping one from her leg. It’s so dramatic, I flinch.
“Well, I did tell him . . . finally. And now the ball’s in his court—or on his field might be the better metaphor.”
Aniston moves a pillow off her and twists toward me. “The man loves you, and he’ll be back. He had to go to back to Florida anyway, so it’s not like he’s leaving you.”
“But what if he decides to never come back here? What if all this is too much, and it’s easier for him to go back to life without us?”
She laughs. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“But Timothy doesn’t yet know, so it would be the easiest option.” I tilt my head and frown.
“Honey, if we took the easiest option, not a one of us would be dealing with Little League right now.”
I sigh. “True.”
Aniston stands, then pats me on the head. “Are you going to be okay if I leave?”
I nod. “I have Timothy.”
My throat closes on the last syllable of his name. I do have Timothy, as well as my family. I know I have Morgan and Aniston, and any number of people in town, at work, and from church too.
That had always been enough for me. Until now.
I pray Nate doesn’t decide to stay in Atlanta. I want him in our lives now more than ever.
* * *
Nate
The season is starting this week, and Coach is talking about starting me on Opening Day at home.
That’s a huge honor for any pitcher. After all I’ve been through, it’s even more of an honor. I’ve literally worked toward this my entire life.
I rotate my arm a few times and step out of the bullpen.
We have several good pitchers who can easily get us a win. All younger than me too.
According to statistics, we start to decline at twenty-six. Considering I’m coming off a bad injury and on the back end of twenty-seven, it’s a miracle I’m still here. Add to that the superstitions that loom over the baseball world, and I’m even more shocked I’m a contender.
I grab my water bottle and chug lukewarm water as I walk toward the field.
Staring at the mound brings up memories of the first game I pitched in the majors. It was three seasons ago, when we still had Dom as our catcher. That was the most emotional day I’d had in a while. Happy, excited, nervous, and grateful—all in one ball of emotions.
It was an odd mix of feelings that gave me an out-of-this-world tingle. Like I was an invincible superhero who could conquer anything.
I’ve been chasing that high ever since, afraid I’d never feel it again. I hadn’t, until I saw Brooke again.
My chest tightens at the thought of her.
We haven’t talked since that night. And I can’t decide if going to Timothy’s game was good or bad.
I got some valuable advice from Aniston. I also got to see Timothy and the boys play ball before I left.
On the flipside, Brooke was so hurt, she didn’t even go to the game.
It was like when we were ten and Paul got a shipment of new baseball cards at the General Store. He kept them locked up behind a glass, and you couldn’t touch them unless you bought them. I’d put my face to the glass and stare at the details. Being so close, yet so out of reach, made me want them even more.
Same with Brooke, except on a much higher level.
I lean against the wall in front of a huge State Farm logo and pull my phone from my pocket.
It’s Saturday afternoon and I just threw some awesome strikes. For the first time in months, my arm doesn’t hurt. There’s a good chance I’ll actually throw the first pitch in the Braves’ season opener. Six-year-old me would pee his pants at this news. I should be elated. Instead, all I can think about is Brooke.
She’s third on my call list. Right under my trainer, who follows Mom. I click her photo and hold the phone to my ear.
My stomach buckles as it continues to ring and ring and ring. Right before I hang up, she answers.
“Hello?” Her voice is a little rushed.
“Hey, Brooke.”
Silence. A small twitch churns in my chest like a tiny hammer hitting my heart. Clearly, I will need to carry the conversation.
“I hope you’re having a good day. I wanted to call and say I love you more than anything. I love Timothy too.”
A sniffle comes across the line. I hope it’s sinuses, but I’m more certain it’s tears. When she speaks, it confirms my suspicions.
“We love you too.” Her voice is shaky.
Now my heart completely breaks knowing she’s hours away and I can’t hold her while she’s hurting. Even worse, I’m the source of her hurt.
“I’ll be back in Apple Cart as soon as I can. The season’s starting. But I want us to talk as much as possible. I want to talk to Timothy too, maybe FaceTime or something.”
She exhales into the phone. A few long seconds pass, then she speaks. “I want that too. But you can’t tell him over the phone. We’ve got to make it as normal as possible.” She lets out a tense laugh. “Not that any of this is normal.”
“Yeah, but whose life is normal?” I wipe my brow and adjust my cap.
“Funny, Aniston said pretty much the same thing to me recently.”
“Yeah, she’s a lot wiser than she’s let on all these years.”
This time her laugh is genuine, and it makes me smile.
“Whatever you decide is best will be what’s best for Timothy. I’ll give you full control of this since you’re the one who really knows him.”
She groans, and my stomach drops.
“I didn’t mean anything by that other than you do know him best.”
“I know.” She swallows. “I already feel guilty for keeping him from you this long.”
“It’s fine. It did sting, but I get it.” After a long pause, I try and lighten the mood. “Besides, there’s plenty of MLB players with secret babies.” I chuckle.
“In a weird way, that helps a little.”
“Good, because I love you both, and I want us to be a family.”
“I want that too,” she whispers.
“I want us to talk while I’m gone. I want to talk to Timothy and assure him I’m coming back. But you talk to me about anything at all—including the big news, if you want. I’m here Brooke, forever.”
My heart beats faster, as if the word “forever” climbed from my chest up my throat and out of my mouth like a throttle.
“Now that the hard stuff is out of the way, I also wanted to say y’all can use my shop and property for practices and stuff.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s a key to the shop and my house hidden in the ceramic frog’s mouth by the pool.”
She laughs. “I wondered why you kept that ugly thing out there.”
“It seemed like a convenient location for hiding small objects.”
And that’s the only reason I kept it, especially out in the open. Paul gave it to me as a housewarming gift not long after I moved in. I’m almost certain he came by to snoop so he could gossip about what I’d done with the place. Most people hadn’t been inside the mansion in years. But he left me a heavy ceramic frog that he said would ward off bugs.
That’s not true. I’ve shaken spiders and caterpillars off the thing several times. However, with all the crap Paul sells, I consider myself lucky.
“We won’t use your place unless necessary.”
“No, I insist. You go there anytime, for any reason. I hate not being there to help them.”
“Thank you, Nate.”
I straighten my cap and turn from the setting sun. “Of course.”
“I wasn’t talking about your property.” She swallows again. “Thanks for not hating me.”
“Brooke, I could never hate you. Even when I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. Trust me, hating you would’ve made the first few years after our breakup so much easier.”
“Hating you would’ve made my life easier too.” She almost laughs, but it turns to a sigh.
“The only easy thing I’ve done in my life is love you, and that’s the only easy thing I want to do.”
“I love you too.” Her voice is less stressed.
I relax my shoulders at her calmer tone.
“Nate, can we go ahead and get your comments?” a voice calls from outside the field.
I turn to a reporter standing at the bottom of the stadium seats. “Yeah.” I hold up my finger for her to wait.
“That’s a sports reporter wanting an interview. I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.” I cut the call and head for the gate.
Time to get back to work.