Page 72 of Double Play

“But I’m jeopardizing it by . . .” I swallow once more as my vision clouds. My eyes sting.

“Being with me,” he finishes, his voice quiet and strained before he reaches for me then thinks better of the motion and slips his hands into his pockets.

With a heavy heart, I turn my head away from him, speaking toward the boxwood bushes because I cannot look at him with what I have to say. “I’m going to get that job with the AWBL, and then I’ll be moving. And you’ll still be here⁠—”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he says, like he’s been saying all along. But he can’t mean he’ll really follow me.

“What?” My head snaps back toward him, then I shake it. “You can’t do that. This is where you were meant to be.” In Nashville. With Montgomery. He’s already moved once to be near his daughter and a second time to stay close to her. He shouldn’t separate himself from her now. She only has a few more years before she’s off to college. Plus, he has a good gig with the Terrors.

And even if I’m getting ahead of myself, with the new league not starting for another year and no promises made about a future with them, I’m still not giving up the chance at a personal homerun.

But what about a chance at love?

The whisper is like the breeze around me or that tail behind a homerun-hopeful hit, that drops into a centerfielder’s mitt or falls past the foul line.

You can never predict where the ball will land.

You can never predict when a second chance at love will strike again.

And if I don’t take a swing with Declan . . .

And I don’t take a hit with the women’s league . . .

My headache doubles until my vision is nearly impossible. Hopeless tears fill my eyes.

“Why do I feel like you are breaking up with me?” He chuckles again, only the sound that should be light is strained, worrisome, . . . and correct.

“I don’t want to,” I admit, swiping at the tears suddenly running in rivulets down my cheeks.

“But . . .” He hesitates.

There is where I should say there is no but. Be corny about wanting to grab his, but I can’t.

Declan licks his lips and glances away from me, pausing to collect his thoughts before turning back to me.

“What if we just take a break? I can wait. The end of the season is only a few weeks away. After that⁠—”

“I’ll still be bound by my contract with The Den. And you will still be the head coach of the Tennessee Terrors,” I state with finality.

I’m not asking him to quit his job. And I’m not giving up mine.

We are at a stalemate.

That bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded and all it takes is a single to bring someone home and tie the game. But games can’t end in a tie.

Extra innings are needed, only we don’t have the time, and I’m not hopeful of a win.

twenty-nine

. . .

[Declan]

While I could have stood in her front yard and argued all the reasons we are good together, and all the ways we can continue our secret relationship, India was adamant there wasn’t any way around this speed bump.

I wasn’t convinced her boss knew anything definitive about India and me and that dark conference room. He might have speculated, but she, of all people, should know speculations are only half-truths, if they hold any truth at all.

However, it was late, and I had a game to coach the next day. And the next day. And the next.