Of course, with every other woman, I’ve held that part back as long as I could. Poppy has seen more than her fair share, and she’s still here.
For the first time in my life, someone has seen the worst of me and still likes me.
My heart jumps into my throat, beating so hard, I think it’s going to jump out. “Or we could sightsee in Cleveland and take the train tomorrow,” I say.
Her head lifts from the seat rest and she looks at me like she didn’t hear me right. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
Outside, the countryside gives way to suburbs—houses closer together, strip malls appearing, signs for Cleveland growing more frequent. “You’re the one who looks for detours,” I tell her. “Do you really want to turn down a little adventure?”
She grins.
“Can you guys all say cheese?” Scottie asks. “Jake said he’d give me a thousand dollars if I post a picture to his socials. Someone’s looking to rehab his image.”
“I’m not looking to rehab my image,” Jake says. “I’m looking to haveyourehab my image,” he tells Scottie. He smiles for the camera, though. Poppy tries to pull her leg off my lap, but I hold it steady. I’m not on social media. I don’t care who sees this. And I don’t want her going anywhere.
Scottie takes a picture and then looks at it. “Let’s take a couple more. Everyone look at the camera.”
“Shouldn’t Jake be looking at the road?” I ask, looking at Poppy.
“Pfft,” Jake says. “Like this car can’t drive itself.”
“You’re looking at the cruise control, you dingus. This isn’t a self-driving car,” Scottie says. She snaps pictures in burst mode and then looks at them. “That’ll do. Eyes on the road!”
“Pick the one where I look best,” he says.
I think I might hate this guy.
My phone buzzes with a call, which I send to voicemail. A minute later, the voicemail buzzes from Evan. I pull up the transcript:
What the help Ollie question mark
I’m not sure if the transcript messed up or if he slurred his words, as he sometimes does, but I know for a fact he didn’t mean “help.” I’m glad I’m not listening to this.
Sloane had a panic attack when she heard about my seizure and now she’s not sure she can go through with the wedding period why are you taking so long question mark I’m sick of this Ollie period this is so selfish of you period get home now period
My jaw tightens reading Evan’s words, and that familiar tension starts creeping up the back of my neck. Selfish. That’s what they always come back to when I don’t do exactly what they want. I was greedy when I leaned into that pitch. Selfish for getting into coaching. Self-absorbed for not dropping everything, for daring to have a life outside their expectations.
“Everything okay?” Poppy’s soft voice barely carries over the sound of Jake and Scottie snipping at each other.
I hand her the phone and she reads the message.
“You need to get home. Let’s take the bus.”
“I don’t want to take the bus, Poppy,” I say in a rough whisper.
Her smile is warm but tinged with regret. “We can’t always get what we want.”
“Why?” I ask. I’ve never been this bold. But, then, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Poppy. Not even baseball.
Maybe especiallynotbaseball. Not the way my family played it.
She wrinkles her nose. “We both have family obligations.”
“Evan’s wedding is tomorrow night.”
“If Sloane doesn’t get cold feet.”
“She’s not getting cold feet. Evan’s being a dramatic baby. It’s a thing we Fletcher boys do when we get worked up: overdramatize.”
