Chapter Forty-Nine
Taylor
“How’s Todd?” Chase asks, joining me on the balcony shortly after I end the call.
“He’s good—living the dream.”
He nudges my foot with his. “And what about you?”
The night air is thick with humidity, pressing against my skin like a warm, damp blanket. A car alarm chirps in the distance.
“Good. Busy. The players I’m working with are showing real improvement,” I reply. “It’s not playing, but it’s . . . adjacent—close enough to keep me from missing it too much.”
“And the rest of your life? Any exciting Arlington adventures I should know about?”
I hesitate, drawing my teeth over my bottom lip. “Not really. Work takes up most of my time. Emma the rest.”
“What about Justin? I thought you two were hitting it off.”
“We broke up.” I shrug. “It wasn’t going anywhere.”
Chase studies my face in that penetrating way he has, like he’s reading text written in invisible ink across my forehead. “Because of Todd?”
The name hits me like a fastball to the ribs—unexpected and jarring. I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. What’s the point of lying to Chase? He’s always been able to see through me.
I sigh. “Maybe.”
“What happened, Tay? I thought after the draft . . .”
“Nothing happened. That’s the problem.” I play with the tip of my braid. “We’ve been playing this game for so long, I don’t even know what the rules are anymore.”
“What game?”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. “The practice we were doing. I was just so inexperienced, but I didn’t have time for dating, so we decided to practice until I had the time or whatever. But it became more than that, at least for me. And I thought for him too, especially after the draft night.”
He clears his throat. “It was more than that for him.”
I turn to face him fully, something in his tone making my heart race. “What?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his expression contemplative. “There’s something you should know—something I probably should have told you a while ago,” he finally says, his voice careful. “Todd told me about Mom and Emma.”
The words don’t register at first, floating in the space between us like disconnected fragments. Then they click together and understanding crashes over me like a wave.
“What do you mean he told you?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
He shifts in his seat. “Back in March, when everything was falling apart, Todd called and told me he was worried about you throwing away your big break so you could handle everything alone.”
I stand abruptly, unable to sit still as anger and betrayal surge through me. “He had no right. That wasn’t his decision to make.”
“Taylor—”
“No, I trusted him, and he went behind my back? Called my brother like I was some child who needed supervision?” I pace the small confines of the balcony, fury building with each step. “How could he do that?”
Chase watches me, his expression calm in the face of my storm. “Because he loves you. Because he couldn’t stand seeing you destroy yourself for people who weren’t willing to save themselves.”
“That’s not—” I stop, the words catching in my throat. “He what?”
“He loves you,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He called me because he was desperate to help you, and you wouldn’t let him do it directly. He knew you’d push him away if he tried.”
I sink back into my chair, my anger giving way to confusion. “He could have just told me.”
“Would you have listened?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Or would you have done what you always do—insist you’ve got everything under control, that you don’t need anyone’s help?”
The question lands like a strike right down the middle. I stare at my brother, wanting to argue, but I know he’s right. I would have brushed Todd off—I did brush him off, multiple times—doubled down on my independence and refused to admit how close I was to drowning.
“He was scared for you. Said you were missing classes, practices, hardly sleeping, driving back and forth to Cleveland at all hours.” Chase’s voice softens. “He didn’t betray you. He was trying to save you from yourself.”
I swallow hard, the knot in my throat making it difficult to speak. “But why didn’t he tell me? After you came, after things settled down. Why keep it a secret?”
“You’d have to ask him that.” Chase shrugs. “My guess? He was afraid you’d never forgive him. That you’d see it as interference rather than what it was—an act of love.”
Love. The word echoes in my chest, expanding until it fills all the empty spaces. Todd called Chase because he loved me. Because he saw me drowning and couldn’t bear to watch it happen. Because he knew me well enough to understand I wouldn’t accept his help directly.
“I need to think,” I say, standing again. “I’m going for a walk.”
Chase nods, not pushing, understanding my need for space. “Just don’t overthink it. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the right one.”
I grab my keys and phone, slipping on a pair of flip-flops by the door. Once I’m outside, my feet carry me toward the high school three blocks from my complex—or more specifically, toward its baseball diamond.
I don’t realize that’s where I’m headed until I see the chain-link fence emerge from the darkness, the empty field beyond it a canvas of shadows and possibilities.
It makes sense that I’d come here, to the one place that’s always felt like home no matter what city I’m in.
On a baseball diamond, the rules are clear, the boundaries defined.
Nothing like the messy, complicated tangle that’s between Todd and me.
I’m sitting on the pitcher’s mound, drawing patterns in the dirt with my finger, when I hear the creak of the gate.
My whole body tenses, expecting Chase or maybe the school security guard coming to kick me off the property.
But the footsteps that approach are too heavy, too measured, too familiar. I look up, and my stomach flutters.
“Todd?”
He’s standing at the edge of the infield, his tall frame silhouetted against the distant glow of the parking lot lights, looking exactly and nothing like the boy I’ve known the majority of my life.
“Hey.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hands deep in his pockets. “I, uh, went to your apartment. Chase told me you might be here.”
I stand slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me. “What are you doing in Arlington?”
“Looking for you.” He glances around at the empty baseball diamond. “Should’ve known I’d find you on a field.”
The night air seems to crackle between us, charged with all the things we’ve never said. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly conscious of my messy hair and Rangers T-shirt.
“Chase told me,” I say, the words coming out more abruptly than I intended. “About you calling him. About my mom and Emma.”
His shoulders stiffen, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I was hoping to tell you that myself.”
“Were you?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “When, exactly? It’s been months.”
“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture so achingly familiar it makes my chest hurt.
“I was afraid. Afraid you’d be angry, afraid you’d think I betrayed your trust. And I guess I was right.
” He looks up, meeting my eyes directly.
“But I’d do it again. It’s like you were in a slump, and you wouldn’t let me pinch-hit. ”
The raw honesty in his voice cuts through my lingering anger. I take a step toward him, then stop, still not quite ready to close the distance. “Why are you here now?”
He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing to shoot a free throw. “Because I’m ready to tell you the truth. I had this whole plan for the Super Bowl weekend, you know. I was going to tell you how I felt, take you to dinner somewhere nice, do it right.”
“What?” I blink, caught off guard. “You never said anything about dinner.”
“Because you went off with Justin then ran out of the party crying . . .” He pulls his hands from his pockets, holding them open at his sides. “So I agreed to practice instead—not because I didn’t want more, but because I thought that’s all you could handle right then.”
My mind spins back to that night, reframing it through this new lens. Todd, following me out into the street, me, oblivious.
“But why didn’t you say something later? After things calmed down with my family?”
He shakes his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “When did things ever calm down? There was always something—your mom’s rehab, Emma’s doctor appointments, the playoffs, graduation. And then suddenly you were moving to Texas with a job and a sister to support, and I was headed to Minnesota.”
I take another step toward him, close enough now that I can see the flecks of amber in his brown eyes. “So you just let me go?”
“You needed to find out who you were.” He swallows hard. “And I think I needed to figure out who I was as well.”
“Todd—”
“No, let me finish.” He holds up a hand.
“I love you—not as a friend, a teammate, a roommate, or family. I love you romantically—have for a while, I think. I wish I could pinpoint the day I fell in love with you, but I can’t.
What I can tell you is that, during March Madness last year, I overheard Samantha grumbling that you think you can talk to all the guys.
I didn’t see the problem at the time—I mean you were on the baseball team and wrote for The Beacon, of course you were going to talk to us.
But Samantha looked at you with such pure jealousy that I started looking a bit closer to figure out why.
That’s when I realized you’re just as beautiful—if not more so—than her, you’re modest despite being admired by fans and teammates alike, your laugh is my favorite melody, and your smile lights me up like a ballpark on Friday nights.
Next thing I knew, I was getting jealous whenever you talked to Adam or anyone else.
So, yeah, I love you, Taylor. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. ”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he must hear it. “I love you too—I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
He closes the distance between us, stopping just short of touching me. “I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is to hear you say that.”
“So where do we go from here?”
His hands find mine, warm, solid, and real. “Well, we’re gonna find ourselves a hotel so I can fuck you like I love you, since I heard you have a full house.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, unexpected and watery. “And after that?”
“We’re only two hours apart by plane—less than that on game days in the right cities. I don’t care if we have to make it work through FaceTime, red-eye flights, and long weekends. I just don’t want to lose any more time pretending we’re just friends or that what we have is temporary.”
I curl my fingers around his, holding tight. “Me either.”
He cups my face. “So what do you say? Real relationship, no more practicing?”
I smirk, one corner of my mouth tipping upward. “On one condition.”
He throws his head back and laughs, his hands resting on my biceps. “Oh boy . . .”
“No secrets, no games from here on out.”
His gaze drifts upward, as if he’s giving it some deep thought, then says, “Done. The only games we’ll play will be on the court—”
“Or the field.”
We stand there on the pitcher’s mound, wrapped in each other’s arms, the baseball diamond spreading out around us like a map of possibilities.
I don’t know exactly how we’ll make this work—the distance, our careers, the practical realities of loving someone long distance.
But for once, I don’t need to have all the answers.
For once, I’m content to take it one day at a time, one kiss at a time, and one honest conversation at a time.
Because, in the end, it doesn’t matter what games we play—he has basketball, I have baseball, but most importantly, we have each other.