“I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“A relationship.”
“What?”
He closes his eyes briefly, and when they open, they’re harder. They’re the eyes I recall from Charlotte’s penthouse when I first met him in New York. “I’m not cut out that way, Sage. I’m not the relationship type. I don’t do commitments. I’m selfish about my time and my training. Baseball is everything to me. It’s my world, and I don’t have room for anything else. It’s not personal. I like you, but I can’t be in a relationship with you. Do you understand?”
Do I understand?No, I don’t think that I do.
“I’m not following. I’m not asking for much.”
He sighs. “You want to see me when I’m in New York, right? But what if I have an early practice? What if I need to see my trainers? What if I want to put in extra hours? I don’t want to feel like I can’t because I’d be letting you down. That kind of pressure suffocates me. I’ve tried it before and it never works. I’d rather be upfront about it with you because we’ve gotten close and you’re different. If I wasn’t a ball player, I could really fall for you. But that’s exactly who I am. It’s all I ever wanted.”
And I don’t want you.I know he didn’t say that. But it still echoes in my mind. At least he doesn’t want me enough to make room for me in his life. To change his habits, even just a little.
The rebuff hurts. It’s as though that rollercoaster just rammed right through my chest. I rub it but quickly move myhand up to my neck and turn away. “I understand,” I lie. “I get it.” I really don’t but I pretend that I do.
I have school, and work, but none of those things stopped me from wanting to be with him. As much as I love my job, I love being with Casey more.
But he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
I’m such an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I inhale deeply. “Yeah. It’s all good.” I take a step back and push my hair out of my face. A strand must have gotten in my eye because it’s watering now. “Ah, I just remembered that I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll see you… soon… or later… or whenever. Bye.”
I rush off the dance floor and through the foyer and out the front doors. The cold air hits me and I shiver. Tears push through my eyes and I look up, willing them not to fall. “Damn it. I’m such a fool.”
“Sage?”
Frankie opens the doors wider and rushes over to me, pulling me into her arms. “Are you okay?”
“I just want to go home,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Do you mind driving me?”
“Of course not. Let’s go.”
We walk back to her car, and she doesn’t ask any questions. I’m glad because I don’t have any answers to give.
12
Casey
It’s only seven o’clock in the morning, but my mother scurries from one end of the kitchen to the other, frying bacon and adding another two slices of bread to the toaster. The salty bacon smell has permeated not only the kitchen but the narrow front hallway as well.
“You never make me breakfast in the morning,” says my father, snagging a piece of the greasy fried pork.
She playfully smacks his hand and moves the plate from the stove to the kitchen table. “The doctor said you can’t have this stuff anymore,” then turns to him and adds, “I always make you breakfast.”
“Black coffee and a stale muffin doesn’t count,” he snorts.
Putting her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes. “That’s not true and you know it.”
A smile escapes his lips. “I do.” He grins. “But I love it when you get that fire in your eyes.”
“Oh, you!” she grumbles and returns to the kitchen to grab some orange juice from the refrigerator. “Casey, can I get you anything else?”
