26. Isla
ISLA
Iwatch Killian’s fastball sail high and outside, missing Bishop’s glove by a foot, and my stomach drops to my knees.
“Ball four,” the umpire calls, and the runner trots to first base with a smirk that has me screaming internally at the television.
This is bad. This is really bad.
I sink lower on my barstool at The Alley Tap, the wood creaking beneath me as I try to disappear. Two innings in and Killian’s already walked three batters. His ERA is climbing faster than a rocket, and I know—I know—it’s because of me.
“Jesus,” Tara mutters beside me, her eyes glued to the screen. “He’s really off tonight, isn’t he?”
I can only nod, my throat too tight for words. The camera zooms in on Killian’s face, and even through the pixelated image on the bar’s old television, I can see the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows that only appears when he’s fighting his anxiety.
I did this to him.
“Maybe you should go to the game,” Tara suggests, nudging my elbow with hers. “He might play better if he knows you’re there.”
I shake my head, watching Killian’s shoulders slump as he walks off the mound after the inning ends. The camera follows him to the dugout, catching the way he slams his glove against the bench before sitting down alone, away from his teammates.
“I can’t,” I finally manage to say. “Not after what happened. He doesn’t want me there.”
Tara sighs, swirling her drink. “I know you didn’t ask my opinion but Sis, I’m going to give it to you anyway because I call total and complete bullshit. You know he’s probably beating himself up in that dugout.”
“Yeah. Because of me,” I tell her. I wince at the memory and the hurt in Killian’s eyes when I told him about the email I received.
The new assignment I was given. That my time in Portland was over.
I’ve replayed the moments over and over in my head at least a hundred times, wondering if I could have handled it differently.
“You should’ve seen his face, Tara. Telling him I was leaving gutted him. ” I lower my head. “It gutted me.”
“Girl, you know there’s an easy solution here, right?”
I turn my attention from the television to look at my roommate and best friend. And I sigh. “It’s not that easy.”
“The fuck it isn’t, babe.” She shrugs her shoulders and looks at me like I’ve just said the craziest thing. “You just…stay. You love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Then you stay,” she says. “You call Betsy and you tell her you can’t do the New York gig and you either ask for something a little closer to home or you come back over to commercial flying.
Any airline would be happy to hire you. You know that.
” She raps her fingernails on the bar counter.
“Ooor here’s another idea. You could tell Killian you’re madly in love with him, marry his ass and never have to work another day in your life. ”
A laugh bursts out of me. Not because it’s a bad thought but because out of all the thoughts in my head right now, marrying Killian Haynes and living happily ever after, after the way our conversation went the other day, feels absurd.
“Right. Okay.” I tip my beer back and let the cool amber liquid slide down my throat. “Easy peasy.”
Tara shrugs. “Tell me what part is a lie?”
Before I have the chance to answer her, the bar door swings open, and Sutton Price walks in, scanning the room before landing on me with an expression I can’t quite read.
She’s dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a Portland Lagers baseball jersey, her hair hanging around her shoulders in beautiful waves.
She makes her way over, sliding onto the stool next to me without invitation.
“Found you.”
“How did you know I would be here?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I didn’t.” She nods toward the man polishing glasses behind the bar.
“But you should know better than to come into the bar where I used to work. I have eyes in this place.” She nods toward the man behind the bar.
“That guy right there is Cal. He owns this place. When I didn’t spot you at the game, I sent a message to a few friends I know.
If you’re trying to hide, spoiler alert… you’re not doing a very good job.”
Great. Even the bartender is in on this intervention. I slump further on my stool. “I assume that means you know what happened.”
“Every excruciating detail.” She says. “You really did a number on him. He’s flailing on that mound today.”
“I’m sorry, Sutton, I just don’t think I’m ready for another conver—”
“Tough,” she interrupts, signaling Cal for a water. “Because I’m about to tell you something you need to hear.”
I brace myself for whatever’s coming, my fingers tightening around my beer bottle. Sutton takes a sip of her water, studying me over the rim of the glass before setting it down with deliberate care.
“You and I are, in a very roundabout way, alike.”
“Oh,” I say, tilting my head in curiosity. “So, you were in a debilitating car accident and watched your father die right next to you too?”
She shakes her head, her expression neutral. “No. I was raped, more than once, and abused by an ex-boyfriend years before I met Shepherd.”
My face falls, and I hear Tara gasp softly beside me. I lay a hand on Sutton’s knee. “Oh, my God, Sutton, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. And here I am sounding like a bratty little kid.”
“I’m not telling you for sympathy,” she says, covering my hand with her own. “And I don’t think you’d want mine either. Not really…“
She’s right. I wouldn’t.
“The point is, for years after I got away from my ex, I put up walls. Big, strong, walls of steel that I refused to let anyone break down. Even Shepherd,” she scoffs out a laugh. “God, I did not want to let him in. Not even for a second.”
A small corner of my mouth turns up. “Why did you then?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Because he showed me over and over and over again that I could trust him. And he made me feel time and time again that he was a safe place to land when I needed one. And he reminded me that no matter how long it might take me to come around, he would be there, waiting. Because I was worth waiting for. He allowed me the time and space to open up to him on my own terms, and I’ll tell you something else. ”
“What’s that?”
“When the day came that I ran into my ex outside Shepherd’s locker room and found out he was working for the Portland Rush…”
Tara and I both gasp this time. “Whaaaat the fuck?”
She laughs. “Yeah. Right? Shepherd had no idea. Hell, I had no idea until I saw him that day. But when he learned about my past, he didn’t judge me or try to fix me.
And he didn’t try to make it go away by asking me to get over it.
He allowed me to be the…partially broken woman I was and stood by me as I slowly took my own power back from the asshole who hurt me. ”
“Sounds like something a Haynes would do,” I tell her.
“Sounds like something Killian would do,” Tara mutters beside me.
She’s not wrong.
“After really getting to know them all,” Sutton continues, “I’m pretty damn sure they’d do just about anything for the ones they love.” She leans closer to me and states, “And I know for a fact that Killian Haynes is head over heels in love with you.”
“I know,” I say, too ashamed to look at her. “I know he is. And I love him too. It’s just…”
“It’s scary,” she confirms.
“Yeah.” I start to cry. “Overwhelmingly so.”
“But Sis,” She bends her head down so she sees my eyes. “You know staying isn’t the scary part, right?”
I lift my head. “No, I get that. But losing the people I love is.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Sutton shakes her head. “But you’re already losing him, Isla.
Not to death or some tragic accident, but to your own fear.
And that in itself is tragic enough. The scary part is realizing that you’ve been so focused on avoiding future pain that you’re causing present pain.
To yourself and to the man who loves you with his whole heart.
To the man who desperately wants you in his life.
To the man who needs you almost in the same way you need him. ”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out because Sutton’s right.
I’m so terrified of losing Killian someday that I’m losing him right now.
I’m losing him to my own fear. My own inability to choose love over loss.
My eyes burn at the painful truth, my tears slipping down my cheek.
“Fuck,” I cry, desperately swiping at my tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
“I know,” Sutton says softly, her hand finding my shoulder. “It’s a hard thing to see when you’re the one living it.”
I lower my hands, blinking rapidly as I stare at the television. The camera catches Killian sitting alone in the dugout, his shoulders hunched, his face a mask of frustration and something that looks an awful lot like heartbreak.
“I’ve been so stupid,” I mutter, watching him run a hand through his hair in that way he does when he’s overwhelmed before slipping his hat back on. “So fucking stupid.”
“Babe.” Tara pats my arm. “The good news is this is all fixable.”
I turn my head, glancing between them, desperate for guidance. “How do I even start? I told him I was leaving.”
“But you didn’t leave,” Sutton smirks. “And if what I heard is true, you still have his key…”
My hand flies to my pocket, feeling the cool metal of Killian’s key against my fingertips. I haven’t let it out of my sight since the moment he gave it to me.
“You’re right,” I acknowledge, my fingers still curled around the key in my pocket. “I never gave it back. I couldn’t.”
Sutton smiles. “Because deep down, you never intended to leave. Not really.”
I stare at Killian’s image on the screen, my heart aching at the sight of him sitting alone, isolated from his teammates. I did this to him. My fear, my inability to commit, has brought him to this moment of pain and isolation.
I can’t let him play the rest of this game the way he’s playing now. The team has worked so hard this season and Killian has come so far. I have to do something before he gets pulled from the mound.
“I need to tell him,” I say, the realization hitting me like a thunderbolt. “I need to tell him I’m staying.”
Tara squeals beside me, clapping her hands together. “Yes! That’s my girl!”
“I need an idea. What can I do? How can I let him know I’m here? I mean there? Fuck, I’ve got to get to the stadium.” I spring off my stool and reach into my pocket to lay some cash on the bar.
“How do you feel about grand gestures?” Sutton asks with a playful smirk.
“Are you kidding? I’m the queen of heckling those guys on the field. What do you have in mind?”
She smiles. “Well, Shepherd once pulled this ridiculous stunt at one of his games. Got the whole team to sing and dance for me in the middle of the field.”
Tara giggles. “No shit! What was the song?”
“’I’ll Stand By You’ by Rachel Platten.” She shrugs with a smile. “It’s kind of our song.”
I twist my mouth trying to come up with a cool idea. “I don’t have time to get a song and dance going before the end of the…wait…” I gasp. “Oh, my God, I’ve got it!”
“What is it and how can I help?” Sutton asks, leaning forward with interest.
“Yeah, me too! Me too!” Tara says, rising from her stool.
I look back at the television, at Killian’s slumped form in the dugout, and a smile spreads across my face. This is going to be wild, and impulsive, and, if I’m lucky, absolutely perfect.
“I need to get to the stadium. Now.”
Sutton stands from her stool. “Then let’s go, girl.”
“Are Shepherd and Sebastian there?”
“Yep.” She nods. “And there are seats right around them with your name on them.”
“Perfect.”
Tara squeals again, bouncing on her stool. “Oh my God, you’re going to make a scene, aren’t you? This is going to be epic!”
I grab my jacket, my heart racing with a mixture of terror and excitement. “I need to show him I’m not leaving. That I’m choosing him, choosing us.”
Sutton stands, pulling out her phone. “I’ll call Shepherd. He can get us in quickly.”
“And I’ll drive,” Tara offers, already fishing her keys from her pocket.
We move quickly, tossing bills on the bar and rushing toward the door. Cal waves at Sutton as we leave, a knowing smile on his face.
“Good luck!”