Did I want to come to Decker? Hell no. But I meant what I said, he already thinks I’m an asshole, and it’s the last place anyone will look for me.
As I lie on the couch, I pull my phone out of my pocket and press on Callie’s name.
I desperately want to reach out to her and apologize and tell her I can’t be what she needs. That for one brief moment when she said those words, I wished I was anyone but me. I wished I could be one of those guys who could just confess to her that I feel the same.
But I don’t trust that feeling. Every time I’ve ever loved someone, every time anyone has ever said they love me—they’ve left. My mom, my brother, and even my dad, once I cut him off. And they’re my blood. If your blood doesn’t love you, what hope do I have with someone who’s not?
It’s better this way. Better for Callie.
She can find one of those men who are in tune with their feelings and can tell her how awesome and perfect she is without being paralyzed by the thought of losing her just because he loves her.
Chapter
Fifty-Five
Callie
* * *
There’s a knock on Foster’s condo door, and I swing it open.
Leighton holds up two grocery bags. “Ice cream, pizza, popcorn, chips, Twizzlers, and three bags of Hershey’s bars.”
She steps in and drops the bags, pulling me into a tight hug.
“Today we veg and cry. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”
The tears come because how was I so stupid to think that I could be a game-changer for Foster fucking Davis?
Chapter
Fifty-Six
Foster
* * *
Word travels fast because Hayes sat away from me on the bus and the plane. He hasn’t said a word to me today.
When I corner him in the bullpen before the game, seeing Callie’s eyes reflected back at me with the same pain I saw this morning tells me it’s a stupid endeavor to try to explain my side.
“Not yet.” He walks away but turns back around. “I’m not saying never, but I need some space.”
He leaves with McCarthy, and I sit in the chair to watch the game, wondering where she is now.
I don’t get called in until middle of the eighth, and of course the bases are loaded with one out. I reach the mound, and they’re all waiting for me. I’m met with Decker’s usual disapproving glare. Easton can’t even look me in the eye. And Hayes is fuming for good reason.
Ripley hands me the ball.
“Hey, guys, let’s just win the game.” Easton steps in, trying to ease some of the tension, which I suspected he would. “Put the personal shit away and get out of this inning.”
“Just throw a fucking strike.” Hayes turns and walks back to the plate.
“Fuck, man, what happened?” Easton asks. So he doesn’t know. “This is going to tear up the team.”
“Kodiak,” Decker says, in a tone that says shut up.
My jaw clenches. “Stay out of it.”
