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My goal was to say my piece and leave. I never expected for him to be this harsh. Buckets of tears spill over my lashes. My lips quiver trying to hold back but it’s no use—he’s so hurt and inexperienced at relationships and I’m so jaded by them, this will never work.
“Please, you don’t know what it was like growing up like in that house. I sought comfort and attention because I didn’t get any. Like when you got upset about me massaging clients at their homes, my foster parents never cared enough to tell me NOT to do something. I’ve never had normal.”
As I step toward him, he says, “Stop. I can’t fix you.”
“I don’t need you to fix me. I fixed myself. I made a career for myself. I hadn’t slept with anyone for months before I met you. I no longer need the sexual attention from anyone but you.” I close my eyes and expel what feels like a tank of air. “I don’t need you to fix me—I need you to love me.”
My hands land on his face, and his hands circle my wrists gently. “I can’t.”
Talk about a sucker punch.
“You can give up on me—on us—but if I don’t mean anything to you, why are you eating fast food, drinking beer, and being late to team activities?”
His head jerks. “I have not been late.”
“No, but you have been exactly on time instead of twenty minutes early. There’s a mole among you.” I smile trying to evoke some reaction. “There’s a bag of produce and your favorite protein powder in the kitchen. Use it because I’m not worth your career.” He is stunned. I lean in and peck his lips.
“Call me if you need a massage. I’m a professional and obviously, the best massage therapist you’ve seen.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
TACKETT
The delicate skin of her wrists is in my hands, and like a pompous ass, I let her go. But not before she glances over her shoulder uses “our” words against me. “Whatever it takes, Tackett. Whatever it takes.”
I dress and tell Karla she can leave. She seems relieved that I’m in one piece and walking properly without wincing in pain.
“Aren’t you taking your table?” I ask when she opens the front door to leave.
“That was your girl…umm…hers.”
I nod as she leaves. So, Talynn’s table is here. She expects that I’ll need her again.
Backtracking into the office, I reach for the annulment papers and scan them. Is it any different than being in a long-term relationship or being engaged? God, she smelled like champagne and lilies, the perfume we bought while at the mall one day. She sprayed a dozen little white things and waived them in the air before asking me to sniff. I catch myself with a brief, slightly bitter grin.
I’m doing the right thing for me. I need to concentrate on baseball, and if the past week is any indication of being in a relationship—Count. Me. Out.
* * *
I’m hyped. My back feels great. The athletic trainer stretched me out, then wrapped my hamstring. I won’t be doing any stealing tonight, and the Bladerunners know it since I’ve been out of the lineup for a week.
It’s an hour before game time, and I gave two people field passes, so I search the stands. Of course, Talynn’s here with Hagan and Harper. I turn away before she catches me looking. I jog in place, keeping warm and loose, then take off to second base. There. This is a safe distance from Talynn. Her golden locks are straight tonight. Likelay your hair on an ironing boardstraight and it glimmers in the evening sunset.
Ortega yells, “Towles, she’s here.”
For a moment, I think he’s talking about Talynn, but he’s talking about Evita. I jog over and shake Raul’s hand, then I go in for a hug with Evita. She’s gorgeous, with large brown eyes that look like they belong to a Disney princess. Her curves are well placed. She smiles like she wants an appetizer. My stomach flops but not in a good way, because I feel Talynn’s gaze on us.
I walk them both closer to the dugout where my friends, my brother, and his date are standing. “Hey, I’m having a small get together for my birthday tomorrow. You’re more than welcome.”
“I’d love to,” Evita says with a hint of an accent.
“Great. I’ll text Raul the address.”
I shake Raul’s hand and then she gives me a Sharpie and I break yet another rule. I bend down and sign her shirt on the stomach. Then they’re escorted from the field.
Acting like I’m happy as a clam, I shout to Harper, “Add two more to the list.” Talynn catches my eye and I wink as I rub my chin. A knot forms in my gut at what I’m doing to Talynn, but she needs to feel the same things I’ve been feeling—betrayal, jealousy, and disgust.
Tackett Towles is back.
