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It hits so hard in the gut that I’m delayed in standing up and crossing my hand over my heart for the national anthem.
“You look a little zoned out, man,” a guy beside me says, nudging my shoulder to get me to stand.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I stand, all the people around me now preventing me from seeing where Tinley is. I hate being so close and unable to touch her, convince her, persuade her to go to St. Louis.
I’m out of ideas. A grand gesture was supposed to bring arms around my neck, lips on mine, not a cold shoulder and the silent treatment. I’m close to calling and asking for advice, knowing my only options are Deacon, Flynn, or Wren.
All three of them have stable relationships, but all of them are also so damn new. I had my years with Tinley, that relationship lasting longer than any of the guys back home have reached yet, so they may not be much help.
I don’t think she’d appreciate me slinging her over my shoulder and choking her on my dick until she agrees, and I know that would be Wren’s advice.
Flynn would tell me to just wait, she’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, sitting where she could see me and staring at her would be his next suggestion.
I started with doing what Deacon did, a grand gesture, a way to give her what she wants. Hell, I gave her two ways.
Maybe I’m just not part of the what she wants equation.
When the song ends, my eyes immediately go to Tinley, and my heart races to see her looking in my direction. She turns her head, snapping it forward to cheer the guys on as they hit the field, but it’s something. I caught her looking, and that’s something that I can work with.
Does she know how hard it’s been for me to not go to her and demand an answer? Nearly fucking impossible is the answer.
Every evening Alex asks me to come in. He wants to hang out, watch the game, but I tell him I’m busy. I lie to my son because facing her and not knowing where she stands is a brutality I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Well, maybe Cedric Ramirez, but I haven’t seen that lowlife fucker since he came up to me while I was with Alex that day at the store.
Jesus.
I scrub my hands over my face, doing my best to focus on the game. I’m near my breaking point. Last night, I nearly asked Alex to put in a good word for me. I literally opened my mouth to use my son to convince his mother that she loves me. The manipulative bastard I was way back when wouldn’t have thought twice, but I don’t want a relationship that’s been forged in lies and tricks. She’s already accused me of doing it more than once, so sure that I’ve been putting bugs in Alex’s ear, planting seeds to get him to choose me over her.
I confessed my fucking love for that woman. Told her I never stopped loving her. I laid all of my truths at her feet, and she called me a liar and told me to get out of her house.
I stand abruptly, the guy next to me snapping his head in my direction as if he’s assessing me for threats.
“Need a drink,” I mutter.
“Don’t we all,” he replies to my back as I walk down the bleachers.
I tell myself I’m not going to look in her direction, but I’m incapable. The quick glance isn’t enough, but this also isn’t the time or place to make her stubborn ass see reason.
I’m going over the pros and cons of taking what I figure would be Wren’s advice as I pace back and forth along the fence line between third and home. I cheer the team on, the little bit of distance helps even though not having her in my line of sight makes my skin itch.
The first game turns into another and then another as the guys keep winning. By the time they finish, our team losing by two in the final inning, everyone involved is exhausted and near dehydration, players and fans alike. The stands get thinner with every game, the losing teams’ fans packing up and heading home.
With each game, it was easier and easier to see Tinley and harder and harder to keep my distance, but like I told her, the ball is in her court. I just never suspected that she would let what we had, what we could have go so easily.
Despite losing the final game, Alex runs up to his mom with a huge smile on his face, and I approach them then. She may not want me around when she’s alone, and I’ll do my best to respect that, but I won’t shy away when my son is around.
