I’m taking notes.
Blaire and Brooke both snicker. It’s strange having our counseling session out in the open air, but the Veggies—what Gloria Woodhouse calls Ocean and Haven—and the Remillards,Dakota and Sadie—who happen to know Evan and Blaire well—all agreed to stay in their trailers to give us privacy. Gloria and Clyde did not make the same agreement, and the only reason production is allowing us to continue our counseling during filming is if Todd is there to document it all.
Evan shouts across the trailer tops, “Thanks for the valuable insight, Mrs. Woodhouse, but I’d ask you kindly not to listen in to our private conversation.”
“And I’d ask you kindly not to sass me, Pastor,” she yells back. “I’ll march myself right over to your mama’s house right now and tell her how you’re talkin’ to me.”
He shakes his head, clearly familiar with this woman’s antics. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, ma’am. I’d just like to talk to Owen and Brooke privately.” He pointedly glances at silent Todd, filming every private word we say. “I hope you’ll understand, and I’m guessing you’re not going anywhere just yet if you want to win this competition.”
Clyde chuckles under his breath—the brave man—and Gloria huffs but grows quiet, so she’s definitely still listening.
“Okay,” Evan refocuses us. “This week has probably brought a lot of change for you. How has it been to be thrown into such a tight space while adjusting to married life?”
I feel Brooke tense under my hand, so I take the lead like last week, giving her more time to sort out what she’s thinking. “It’s been good. We’ve got a rhythm, give space when we can, and it just feels… normal, honestly.” Aside from the fact that I get to watch Brooke fall asleep and wake up every day. “We’re a team, here, just like we’ve always been a team.”
“Is it crazy to be in the same space all the time? Like, have you gotten tired of each other?” Blaire asks.
“Oh, no.” Brooke surprises me with her quick answer. “I don’t think I’d ever grow tired of Owen.” When she looks at me, I give her a wink of agreement.
Give me all your time, woman.
“I don’t think I expected to…” She pauses, adjusting in her seat. “I love spending time with O. If anything, I think he’ll be the one to… um, I don’t know… go stir crazy. Or need to… get away maybe…”
And already, we’re getting somewhere. I don’t need her to finish to know where Brooke’s head is at. I let my hand, still resting at the base of her neck, trail down the length of her arm until I’ve captured her hand. “Hey, that’s never gonna happen. We could be in this place, or in our house, or in a dang submarine, and I’d always want to be with you, Brooke.”
She clears her throat and pulls her hand away, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed by Evan and Blaire. And if they saw it, I’m sure Todd did too.
“That is an interesting point, though, Brooke. Owen is used to training, games, and being on the road. Right now you’re living in a simulation. It isn’t real life. What do you think it will look like when Owen’s playing ball again?”
Brooke shrinks. “He’ll go.”
Suddenly, I’m really regretting counseling right now. Only an hour ago I was waking up to Brooke’s flushed cheeks, embarrassed at another morning caught snuggling up to me. Now, she looks ready to run.
“Surely you can travel with him?” Blaire questions us both.
I nod. “Yeah. A lot of wives travel with the team. I don't do much traveling yet, since we only play in the Southeast.”
“But he’ll get picked up for the Major Leagues soon,” Brooke says, so sure of things I’m not even confident about anymore. “He’ll recover, and then it’s just a matter of time.”
“But I’d give it all up, Brooke,” I try to reassure her. “Baseball isn’t what’s most important.”
“But I don’t want that, Owen!”
“She sounds scared to me, son,” Mrs. Woodhouse shouts across the open air.
“Gloria,” Clyde says, hushing her gently, “if ya keep talkin’ ya won’t hear any of it.”
Despite the intrusion, Brooke snorts, lightening the mood.
“Ya know,” Blaire says, ignoring the Woodhouses completely, “my mama passed away when I was in elementary school. I don’t remember much of her, of course, but my dad didn’t remarry until I was a preteen. It’d been just me and him for years, and then, all of a sudden, the thing I thought I wanted most in this life—a mom to share things with, fight with, to get advice from—was happening, but it felt almost like she was too good to be true. There was a little part of me that thought if I let myself love her and trust her to love me back, that I might lose her anyway.”
Brooke’s eyes fill with tears, and it physically hurts to not jump up and hold her right now. I want to protect her from the pain I know she’s feeling, but I also don’t want to risk us not working through all of this. I’m learning every day, thanks to my morning physical therapy, that sometimes pain leads to healing. You can’t leave a deep injury stagnant unless you want long-term issues and pain. You’ve got to work at it. Every day. Until it doesn’t feel quite as hard to move forward again.
This is exactly why the competition is so good for Brooke and me. Yes, we’re in a vacuum right now. Most newlyweds don’t start out this way. But if we can work out any fears she has, here, while it’s just the two of us—even if it’s painful—I know we can work out there in the real world.
I take a chance, reaching out to link my pinky with hers and let out a breath of thanks when she doesn’t pull away again.
“It feels impossible to release control of something that you want so desperately to work out, right?” Blaire says and reaches out, taking Brooke’s free hand.
