No.
I couldn’t.
No…
A rage so deep, so sharp that it left my body shaking violently, clawed its way up from the depths of me. I needed a plan. I had to get them away from him. It didn’t matter what it took.
Even if it meant breaking my own heart.
Even if it meant shattering his.
Because severing the tie between us was the only way to keep him safe.
And I would do it.
Even if it destroyed me.
20
Brooks
Michelle had calledafter work the past two days, and while she said all the right things, something was off. The warmth that usually flooded her voice when she was in my arms had cooled, replaced with something careful, hesitant, distant. It wasn’t a huge change, just subtle enough that I had almost convinced myself I was imagining it.
But I wasn’t.
Maybe she had an out-of-sight, out-of-mind issue. Maybe she just needed to see me again, be with me, and then I could assure myself I wasn’t crazy for feeling this way.
We were supposed to hang out today, but she’d gotten called into work to cover for a co-worker. I had played it cool, understanding, supportive—all the things I should be as a boyfriend, or whatever I was to her—but inside, the thought of waiting another day to see her left me antsy, restless, filled with an unease that wouldn’t settle.
I had tried everything to shake it off. Working out? Nope. Cleaning? Didn’t help. Watching old batting tapes to start getting into the right headspace for spring training? Couldn’t focus. Everything I did, every distraction I threw at myself, just left me thinking about the same thing.
What if this was her slowly pulling away?
Shit. What was I going to do during the season? How were we supposed to keep this thing going when I was on the road for weeks at a time? Would she even want to try?
And then, the darker thought crept in. Would we even still be together then?
That thought sat like a pit in the back of my mind, growing by the second. Her odd behavior was solidifying the fear, but I forced myself not to act on it. She wasn’t the same person from two years ago. She had promised to talk to me if she got worried, if she got scared, if she had second thoughts. Despite my leftover mistrust, that had to be enough.
Didn’t it?
I heard Logan come in, the sound of keys clattering against the counter followed by the creak of the fridge opening. “Dude, you going to visit Mom today?” he asked, loosening his tie and grabbing a bottled water. He twisted the cap off, taking a long drink before glancing back at me. “Also, did you just work out? You smell, man.”
I scowled at him, setting my phone down. “Shut up. It’s my house. I’ll smell if I want to.”
“Oh, testy, are we?” He smirked, but I barely heard him. My phone screen blinked blankly at me, the same way it had for the last hour. Social media wasn’t helping anything, and Michelle was completely off the grid—by choice. Based on what I knew about her past, I got it. But right now, I wished I could get some kind of update. A post. A check-in. A photo that proved she was okay.
Logan tossed the empty bottle into the recycling and leaned against the counter. “I was thinking about going to see Mom for dinner. Angela spoils me, and I’ve got a work happy hour tomorrow.”
“Older women love you.” I smirked, pushing my thoughts aside. “It’s sick.”
“It’s a gift.” He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “Will Michelle be blessing us with her presence today? It’s kinda nice when she’s here.”
It is nice when she’s here.
“Nope. Got called into work,” I muttered, my tone sharper than I intended. Logan arched a brow, giving me a look like he could see right through me.
“What?” I asked, already regretting my tone.
