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Baylee said thank you to the waiter and picked up her fork and knife. “This looks divine.” She cut small piece and placed it in her mouth. A long mmmmmm with closed eyes followed.
Drew cleared his throat and took a sip of water.
“Okay. Keep going. You were telling me how things are ‘fine.’” She put air quotes around the last word, her utensils still in her hands making the movement funny. “You know that’s a woman’s MO. To say we’re fine when we’re not. You can’t steal it.”
He laughed and cut into his steak. “You have me there.”
“Well, Tyler says I’ve healed well and I should be throwing like I was before.”
“Should be?”
Drew took a bite of steak and chewed. Did he dare say it out loud? What if he did? That would make it all real. The mind mess. Him throwing wild. Who was he kidding? It was real. There was no way around it.
“Tyler thinks I can throw harder than I am. And my pitches are wild.”
“Wild?”
Right. Baseball wasn’t her sport. Not yet, anyway. “It means I don’t have any control. The ball is all over the place. It isn’t going where I want it to go.”
She set her fork and knife down and sat back. “So it’s mental.”
Her knowledge of baseball was lacking, but her understanding of Drew was uncanny.
“Yes. Much of baseball is. Especially pitching.”
“You’re worried you’re going to hurt it again. Your shoulder. If you throw as hard as you can.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yes.”
“And you’re scared.”
And there it was. Laid out on the table in front of him to either brush away like he did with everyone else in his life, or address head-on like he had a knack for doing when he was with Baylee.
“Yes.” He took another sip of wine and sat back as well.
*
“What do youwant?” The question came to mind and flew out of Baylee’s mouth before she thought it through.
She’d always thought herself the type to filter her thoughts before speaking, but something inside her sensed Drew would be truthful in that moment about his feelings, more so than ever before, and she didn’t want to miss the chance.
Her question threw him off guard, she could tell, by his furrowed brow and how he cocked his head.
She said it again. “What do you want?”
“I want my position on the team. I want to play baseball.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not the knee-jerk answer you give when asked that. What do you want?”
He looked out at the window, the sky now dark, lights from a few boats twinkling on the water like lightning bugs. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. His beard was still there, trimmed, but there. The man oozed testosterone and heat. But she focused on those blue-grey eyes of his that studied the night, looking for the courage to answer her.
“I want to go out on my terms.” He looked at her then. “I want to go out on top. Not as a has-been who tried to come back from injury but just couldn’t cut it.”
Her heart hurt for him. She’d walked this road before with Erik. But unlike her ex, Drew wanted to stay in his sport for the right reasons. Erik wanted the fame, the attention. Drew avoided it. He loved baseball. End of story. And she saw nothing wrong with wanting to end a career on a high note.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
