Chapter 40
Liam
Iwoke up this morning with a strange flutter in my stomach.
Not fear, not regret—just the quiet reminder that things are about to change.
It’s like the last morning of a long, perfect vacation—the kind where every day has been full of adventure and memories, just you and the person you love most. Part of you doesn’t want it to end, but the other part knows that life is waiting for you beyond the bubble.
For twelve years, it’s just been Ruthie and me. She’s been my whole world. My constant. My everything. But now, Tessa is… here—steady, peaceful. The kind of comfortable you only feel at home.
Today, we’re telling Ruthie that we want to be more than what we are now.
What that looks like exactly, I don’t know.
But I do know it won’t look the same as the last decade has.
Not for me. And not for my baby girl. So, at least for this morning—this last morning of our trip together—I want to stay in our bubble just a little bit longer.
"Roo!" I yell walking down the steps. She wasn't in her room when I peeked in earlier, so my assumption is that she's already on her second bowl of Tootie Fruities.
"Down here!" she calls back from the direction of the kitchen, her words garbled together. Still got it.
I jump down the last two steps onto the landing, an extra spring in my step that I could probably nail down to the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Whatchya doin?" I ask, striding toward her.
I find her sitting at the island, the box of cereal standing in front of her as she reads the facts on the back the way I've taught her to—the same way Levi and I used to when we were kids. "Brehfas," she mumbles before slurping up another spoonful of rainbow, milk-soaked rings.
I laugh, shaking my head as I walk to the coffeemaker. "Have you seen Tess?"
The words pour out without me even consciously realizing I'm saying them.
It's jarring for a second, knowing what I know about today—but it's telling too.
Tessa's already so woven into our day, into our family, that asking the question feels natural.
And either Ruthie is too invested in solving the riddles on the back of the box to care, or it's natural for her too.
"She's not here," she says casually, nodding toward the counter. My gaze lands on a bright pink sticky note just beneath the coffee mug cabinet. "She left a note."
I whip around—not so naturally—a slight panic ripping through me. Tess doesn't need to be here. We never decided exactly when today we'd be telling Ruthie, and I planned to spend some time with her one-on-one before we dropped the news anyway.
But something about her leaving makes me… uneasy? I pause, trying to decide why. Is it because she didn't tell me? Because it's today? Does my brain immediately race toward the idea that she's having second thoughts about us?
After a moment of this inner turmoil, a lightbulb goes on.
Read the note, genius.
I stride toward the paper, forcing myself to move slower than I'd like, my eyes trailing over Tessa's loopy handwriting as I pluck it off the marble. I read it three times despite the fact that it says exactly seven words.
Gone for the day. See you soon…
They don't do much to calm my thoughts. But as I glaze over the rest of it, those last three dots—next to the small heart at the end—give me more hope than they should.
To be continued.
That's what they tell me—not an end, just a pause. Sure, I'd love to know that she's safe and everything's okay—details, that's all. But my mind latches onto that tiny extension at the end. Those dots and that little shape she didn't have to include but did.
And I realize two things: I trust that she's not bailing on me—on us. And I'm over-analyzing a two-sentence Post-It, stupidly, undeniably… in love with this woman.
Well, damn, Two-Three. Talk about a curveball.
My phone goes off in my pocket, and my hand flies to it, thinking it might be her.
It's not.
Holloway
Hey man, got any time today to help me with that swing we never talked about?
I blow a heavy breath through my lips, forcing my mind to stop reeling about Tess long enough to read the message. My eyes float over the words and suddenly, I'm blanketed in a strange sense of pride that a week ago would have been annoyance instead.
The one off day I decide not to take completely… off, and Holloway actually asks me for help. Apparently, there are a lot of changes happening today.
Sorry, Rook. Hanging with my kid.
I chuckle at the irony as I hit send, and Ruthie looks over at me from the other side of the island. "What's so funny?" she asks, knocking down the cardboard.
"Nothing," I say. "It's Jace."
"You guys text now?" Her face is draped in surprise as her eyes flit back and forth between me and her bowl.
"No," I answer honestly. "That's part of why it's funny. He just wanted me to help him with his swing today, but I told him that I'm hanging with—"
"Ooh, can we?" She cuts in with an excitement I didn't expect.
"Can we what?"
Her eyes roll light-heartedly. "Can we help him?"
Now I'm the one surprised. That is until suspicion creeps in. "Why…" I question, my eyes narrow.
Ruthie's cheeks flush the same bright pink as the note I can't stop thinking about. "I don't know," she lies. "Aren't you supposed to do that? Help him learn stuff?"
I roll my tongue over my teeth. "Mhmm… and when did that become a we thing?"
She swallows hard enough that I notice, then a false attitude settles into her expression. "Fine," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She moves her spoon around, pretending to search for the perfect bite. "Whatever, I don't care. I was just saying."
I stifle a smile—and the wave of nausea that comes with realizing my little girl has the hots for my future replacement. "You really want to do that? I was gonna say we could spend the day together."
She perks up, and just the clang of her spoon hitting porcelain is all the answer I need. "Yeah," she blurts, solidifying my thoughts. "We'll still be spending the day together."
My mouth hangs open as I stare at her blankly, contemplating saying no just on principle.
I've decided I like Jace. Hell, I might even like helping him improve before he takes my spot.
But between his name written across Tessa's back, and now my daughter's obvious crush, I'm starting to see a pattern I don't necessarily love.
One where Jace Holloway comes between me and my girls.
In my mind, at least.
"Fine," I concede, typing out another message. "But we're bringing the dog, and you two are playing in the field while we hit." I don't need either of them drooling near my teammate.
Ruthie pulls back, one brow arched. "Sammy's not allowed on the field, Dad… not after last time."
"I know," I nod, my eyes on the screen. "That's why we're not going to the stadium."
Change of plans. I'm good. But meet me at Three Strikes Cages in an hour.
"Not exactly what I expected, learning from the best," Jace says, stepping out of his Range, a batting bag tossed over his shoulder. He slams the door shut and walks to us as I resist Sammy's attempt to barrel toward him.
"Speak for yourself." I lock my truck, hike my bag higher on my shoulder, and hand the leash to Ruthie. The dog immediately settles, moving to sniff at the patch of grass above the parking spots. "This place made me the player I am."
"So… are we bonding or batting then?" he asks, a lazy smile on his face.
Ruthie catches up, jogging between us as Sammy walks perfectly by her side. Damn dog.
"Hey Jace," she mutters shyly.
"Both," I answer at the same time.
Jace rolls his eyes in my direction, grinning at my kid. "What's up, Ruthie? I heard you tore up the field this weekend. Crushed some old people in soccer?"
Her face glows as she smothers a laugh. "Yeah, with my nanny, Tess." We move toward the hut that's considered the front office of the cages. "She's the best."
Her words hit me with a realization that we still haven't heard from Tessa.
"I heard that too," Jace says.
My eyes dart to his, and he wiggles his brow as I step up to the window.
"Hey, Bill." I peek my head through the opening, only to find the owner sitting exactly where he always is, his head tucked inside a newspaper.
"Liam," he says, recognizing my voice and lowering the article just enough to see his face.
He moves to raise it again, but when it's at about the tip of his nose, he pauses and brings it back down.
"Jace Holloway?" he questions, scanning my teammate head-to-toe—or more like head to waist judging by the height of his stool and the opening in the kiosk.
"Yes, sir." Jace pokes his head into the hut.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Holloway chuckles to himself, peering over at me. "I was just asking myself the same question."
Bill laughs and sets the paper down on the counter in front of him—something he rarely does unless he has shit to talk or a story to tell. "I'll have you know, son," he starts. "I opened this place…"
His words trail off as I mentally check out. I've heard this story more times than I can count, and with Ruthie already halfway toward the open field beside the cages, I have time to check my phone.
Still nothing from Tessa, not that I expected an update. I just didn't realize how much I'd be waiting for one. Today is a big day for us—at least to me it is—and as it goes on and I still don't hear from her, that waiting weighs on me more and more.
I decide shooting her a text wouldn't hurt. If anything, there should be a whole lot more of that after today. I'm excited, and I want to check in and make sure everything's okay.
So that's what I do.
Hey, checking in. I hope everything's okay. I'll see you later.
I don't need an answer. I just want her to know that I'm thinking about her.
Still, I tap my finger against the side of my phone, waiting to see if I just so happen to get another set of three little dots from her—the ones that tell me she's answering anyway.
I don't, at least not quickly enough that they show up before Jace taps my arm.
"Ready, Two-Three?"
I look up to find Bill back behind the paper as Jace stands there, waiting.
"Uh, yeah," I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket. I nod toward my usual cage, and Jace follows behind.
"My brother and I used to come here when we were kids," I tell him, setting my stuff down. "Still do, actually. Mostly when we just want to get away from the rest of it."
Jace unzips his bag and pulls out his batting glove, snapping the velcro loose. "I didn't know there was still a place you could do that around here."
I laugh. Golden City is filled with sports-crazy fans, but that's something I've learned to navigate in ways that only come from experience.
I drive a truck—nothing flashy. It's top of the line, but not what people would guess.
I come here to decompress, not the clubs or local bars.
Sure, people still spot me around. But it's hard to hit a moving target when my biggest outings in the heart of the city are my early-morning runs.
"There are," I promise. "And they're different for everyone." I picture Ruiz at the mom and pop taquería or J.J. at the gaming store on 32nd that he single-handedly keeps in business. "You just have to find yours."
He nods. "Hopefully once I'm more settled…"
"You'll get there," I assure him. "I'll help ya out."
He chuckles to himself.
"Is that funny?" I ask.
Jace shakes his head. "Just seems like this goes a little beyond making sure I don't ruin what you've built."
"Yeah, well…" I shake my head too. "Savor it because I promise there's no one there to ease you out the same way they're there to ease you in."
He nods quietly to himself, taking in my words, and I do the same. It's true. If someone were there to guide me out the same way I'm trying to guide Jace in, maybe I'd have some clue of what I'm supposed to do next.
The thought triggers something in me. Holy shit, that's it. Ideas immediately flood my head, and just when my instinct to tell someone—to tell her—comes to mind, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I rush for it, and when I see Tessa's name flashing across the screen, everything else fades away.
"Hey," I say, answering eagerly, my heart pounding inside my chest. "I was just thinking about you."
There's a pause on the other end of the line.
"Liam?"
I hesitate. "Tessa?"