Page 95 of Something Like That

Nick blew out a breath, hoping the hurt would escape along with it. It didn’t. He shoved his hand through his hair. “She showed up at the funeral. Well, the wake, afterwards. At the house. Her flight was delayed.”

Ty pointed his fork at Nick. “You’re an idiot.”

“What? Why?” He pushed his plate away.

Ty rolled his eyes. “Let me get this straight. She told you she didn’t want to see you anymore, but then took time off work and showed up at your dad’s funeral—one where she needed to get on a plane—a few days later.”

“She’s a good person.” His voice did that whole gravelly thing again. He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Caring and thoughtful and all of that.”

“Sure, sure,” Ty said, taking another bite of his pasta. “But thoughtful people usually send a card. Maybe some flowers. They don’t fly across states unless there’s something more.”

He was afraid to even acknowledge the fragile curl of hope that wound through him. “Really?”

Ty rubbed his eyes like he was dealing with an especially dumb person. Nick would have taken offense, but he was beginning to believe that, once again, he was the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

The waitress placed Ty’s new beer on the table and then reached over and grabbed his empty glass. Ty’s gaze flicked to her and stuck, until she stood back up. “Anything else?” Her voice had that flirty, breathy thing going on.

“Nope,” Ty said, giving her a smile. “We’re good.”

She glanced between them, the apples of her cheeks turning pink. Yeah, she was cute, but Nick wasn’t the least bit interested. Besides, Alex’s blush was way cuter. She gave a nod, her gaze lingering on Ty, and then turned and hurried away.

“And then what happened?” Ty took a sip of his beer, an eyebrow raised in Nick’s direction.

“Huh?”

Ty blew out a breath that sounded a lot like exasperation. “At the funeral? With Alex?”

His gut clenched, the memory of making love to Alex so clear, he could hardly breathe. He swallowed and took another sip of his water. There was no way he was telling Ty about any of that. “And then I got the call that I was being traded.”

“And?” Ty circled his fork in the air, the universal motion for Nick to get on with it.

“I thanked her for coming and then told her I had to go. And then I left.” A sharp, piercing pain stabbed him right where his heart should be.

“You just left her there?” Ty’s eyebrows were so crammed together on his forehead, Nick was afraid they were going to permanently fuse together. “Alone? In Nebraska?”

The implications of what Ty was saying sunk in. Shame washed through him so fierce, for a second, he was afraid he was going to puke up the food he just ate. He slammed his arms across his chest and breathed deep, willing his stomach to settle. He’d been so lost in his own shit, so numb about everything that had happened, he’d been completely selfish.

“Oh, fuck.” He closed his eyes. That moment flooded back to him. She’d stood there, her arms wrapped around her middle, nodding as he’d thanked her and told her he was leaving. But now, now he saw it. The flush in her cheeks, the tremble in her lips, the glassiness in her eyes. It gutted him, right there in the restaurant. “Why didn’t she say something?” His voice came out low and hoarse. He didn’t give a shit.

“She was probably scared.” The you moron was implied in the tone of Ty’s voice. “That’s also why she ended things with you to start with. She was protecting herself. Ending things before you could end them and hurt her. That way, she was in control.” He pushed his empty plate away. “Did you ever tell her you wanted to keep seeing her, that you wanted to try the long-distance thing?”

He shook his head, too bombarded by bombshells to say anything. He slumped against the booth, suddenly exhausted.

Ty wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on top of plate. “You have to tell her how you feel.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window. The water in the bay was choppy and rough, but the clouds had thinned, the sun sending weak rays through. Something about it made the ache inside him ease. He looked back at Ty. “You think?”

Ty gave a single shoulder shrug. “If I’m wrong—which I’m not—isn’t it better to know for sure? Unless you don’t care. Unless she doesn’t mean anything to you.” He picked up his beer and sat back in the booth, all smug and shit.

That little wisp of hope buried itself in his chest and solidified. Which was dangerous. And also thrilling. But he really shouldn’t let it dig deep roots. Being rejected again would kill him. “Of course, I care. She means everything to me.” He swallowed. “I love her.”

He hadn’t expected to blurt it out like that. And he definitely hadn’t expected for Ty to be the first person he told, but it was true.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Ty raised an eyebrow, a very annoying, satisfied expression on his face. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the booth.

Wasn’t that the trillion-dollar question? He placed his napkin beside his plate—his was still partially full—and pushed the whole thing to the side. She was in Seattle and he was here in San Francisco. The flight was only a couple of hours, but it’d be at least a week until he could get back up there, given the team’s upcoming home stand. He wanted to be able to spend some time with her, and he couldn’t do that, and play at the same time.

Of course, if she rejected him, he’d want to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Lingering would only make it hurt more.