“I’ll call you the minute I land. And then again before bed. And in the morning. Say you’ll answer.” I stare into her eyes, my stomach twisting with so much doubt.
“Why are you working so hard to hold on to this?” she asks.
“To us. I’m holding on to us. Because I feel it in here,” I say, pressing my fist against my breastbone. “I’m young, Renleigh, but I’m not naïve. I know what special feels like. And what we have is special. It deserves more time.”
She glances around again, and the attendant clearing her throat, waiting for me—the last passenger—to get my ass on the plane. I’m tempted to sit right here on the floor in protest, just to prove to Renleigh what lengths I’m willing to go to.
I wouldn’t give up my shot. That wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. But I don’t believe I have to. Thateitherof us have to give up anything. We just need to be honest. And care about each other. That feels like the easiest thing in the world to do.
“I’ll answer the phone. I can do that, Hunter. And I’ll be watching you throw. Me and my dad. And my fucking mom, probably,” she says, a half-hearted laugh vibrating her voice.
“That’s enough,” I say, pulling her mouth to mine for one last kiss.
I hold up my phone as a visual reminder as I walk backward to the gate, not turning till the last second so I don’t miss anyseconds of seeing her. Once the attendant scans my boarding pass, I glance over my shoulder. She’s walking away. I type out a text for her to read, hoping it will be before I take off so I’ll get anything she decides to text back.
ME:Would it help if I said I am falling in love with you?
I smile at my own words the moment they’re sent, and stare at my screen, waiting for any digital clue that she’s read them. But the only thing I get before takeoff is the little tag readingdelivered.
For now, that will have to be enough.
***
The delivery notice changes toreadby the time I land in Dallas, but there’s still no response from Renleigh. It was probably a pretty heavy confession to throw at her, but time was running out for us. if I don’t say it now, I’ll regret not taking the chance when I could.
I don’t prod her about my words while I wait for my checked bag. I simply send her a short note letting her know I landed. That message shifts toread, too, which feels somewhat lacking closure, but maybe she’s busy.
It’s evening in Sweetwater, and it will be sundown here in minutes. I picture her arguing with her sister over how her dad should or shouldn’t get into his wheelchair, and the imagined bickering amuses me. I don’t think Lindsey knows that Renleigh filled me in on her husband’s affair, and I wouldn’t break Renleigh’s trust by mentioning it without either of them inviting me to. I think it sticks in Renleigh’s mind, though, and probably heightens her anxieties about relationships.
The team sent a pretty sick car to pick me up. I’ve never actually sat in a Bentley before, but now I can say I have. I’m not sure I’m dressed nice enough for it, though. I never wentshopping for more suits, so I hope I can stretch the one I’ve got through two games until I have time to shop.
I pull my phone out, and there’s still no response from Renleigh. I decide to keep filling her in on my progress, and my thoughts.
ME:I need more suits. Maybe we can do some online shopping together tonight?
I send it and wait for the notice to shift toreadjust like the other times. It takes a minute or two, but eventually it does. And like before, she doesn’t send a response.
I tuck my phone into the side pocket of my leather travel bag and stare out the window at the passing subdivisions and full freeways as we weave our way toward Arlington. The team has an apartment set up for me, fully furnished. They have a few of them at a weekly-stay building near the stadium. It’s for situations like mine, the last-minute call ups. Sometimes there is more than one player bouncing between Sweetwater and here. I hope I get to stay and find a more permanent address; maybe a condo for now. And one day, a dog.
I pull my phone back out and shoot another text to Renleigh.
ME:What are your thoughts on dogs? I’m not much of a cat person, but I could be persuaded if necessary.
I don’t bother to wait for her to read it before tucking my phone back inside my bag and continue my trek to my new job, in a city I don’t know, all alone. I should be terrified. I should be thrilled. Yet right now, I feel neither.
The driver pulls up to my building, and my agent, Shawn, is waiting for me in a car parked out front. He approaches as I lift my bag out of the back and hand two twenties to my driver. He pushes my hand away, though, explaining he’s on staff with the team. I still feel as though he should get a tip. I don’t want to be known as the cheap asshole, so I glance at Shawn for approvalbefore reaching forward and tucking the money into the breast pocket on the driver’s jacket.
“Thank you, Mr. Reddick. That’s very kind,” he relents, covering the pocket with his palm and nodding once before rushing to the driver’s seat to head out for his next task.
“Okay, so here’s your key. And that car over there . . .” Shawn presses the lock button on a key fob and flashes the lights on a dark blue Honda Accord. “That’s yours for now. The team will get your truck up here for you?—”
“Can I drive it myself?” I quirk a brow.
“Uh, I think they want you here. It’s a pretty strict schedule, a lot more rigorous than Triple-A ball, but . . .”
I continue to stare at my agent with wide eyes painted with hope.
He sighs and makes a note on his phone.
