Page 93 of Hard to Lose

It’s the first time in as long as I can remember that throwing the baseball as hard as I could didn’t help things.

It’s the second time in as long as I can remember that I called in sick to work and had someone cover my shift when I wasn’t really sick.

Fucking Joey. And his innocent and heartbreaking questions and my downright lies. I can’t shake the look on his face when he asked me if his dad was scared. What was I supposed to tell him? That I’m sure he was as terrified as I was as pain owned my body and the metallic scent of blood and explosives was all I could smell. That like me, his every instinct was to get up and run, to fight, but that he couldn’t. I couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend anything other than sheer terror. I may have said goodbye to everything I loved, but I still wanted to live.

I didn’t have a wife. Or a sweet little son. All I had was a sport and an opportunity missed.

When I woke up in that hospital bed, all I could think about was making sure the second chance I was given was earned.

Yet the question often rattles around in my head—why am I here and he’s not? Especially on days like today when I’m faced with a pair of innocent blue eyes asking me questions I don’t have answers to.

I take the turn down my street. My legs ache and my chest burns, as my feet pound the pavement, step after step. My head’s still a fucking mess, but all of those things assure me I’m alive. They tell me . . . no regrets.

My pace quickens when I see the house.

When I see the light on and know there’s someone there waiting for me. Wanting me.

Is it a waste to have this life, this second chance, this woman I want to come home to, and not live it to the fullest? To not fight for more with her? To not wonder what it’d be like to have a little Joey of our own to watch grow up?

Slow the fuck down, Gunner.

You can’t want that with her.

Hell, you’ve never even wanted that yourself until now. Until her.

She’s not staying.

And yet when I see her shadow pass in front of the window, I wonder what it would be like.

I question what it would take to change the situation.

I force myself to wonder just how hard I’m willing to fight.

But I don’t know the answer. I don’t have one, because this whole situation has taken me by utter fucking surprise.

Don’t think, Gunner. Just feel.

Don’t question. Just enjoy.

Chase.

I feel broken but know there’s only one way to fix me. One place to go. One person to wrap her arms around me and make the pain lessen. To make me feel that much better.

And I’m not certain how I’m going to let her go in the coming weeks but then again, no regrets.

It’s all I can rationalize as I jog up the walk, needing her more than I’ve ever needed someone before.

No fucking regrets.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Chase

“Chase?” Gunner’s voice and the slam of the door that follows takes me by total surprise.

He’s supposed to be at the bar. He’s not supposed to be home until two in the morning.

In an act of desperation, I take all my work—notepads and endorsement contracts and . . . freaking everything I have on the desk in front of me—and shove it into my oversized bag so he doesn’t see it.