Page 110 of Beg Me

Still, as I reread Brooks’s message, I can’t help but to shed a few tears. He really is a great guy.

Me: Thank you, Brooks, but I’m just going to sit this one out. Appreciate you, though.

I bite my lip, fending off a wave of anxiety, as I open Jory’s message. It was sent at nine this morning.

Jory: Thanks for the prayers. Gus is hanging in there but it’s hard. Call me when you’re up.

I struggle to sit up. As I become vertical, the pain behind my eyes begins to throb. I want to lie back down and cover my face with a pillow, but that won’t help. Besides, it’s already one thirty in the afternoon.

I’ve replayed yesterday evening repeatedly, and every time I reconsider it, I’m even more convinced that Jory was, in fact, telling me goodbye. It was the look in his eyes and the way he touched me. It was just final. It was his version of, “You heard me say that I’m going to Nevada, so let’s just do this now.”

“You can’t blame him,” I say aloud to the empty room. “He never made you any promises.”

Maybe not, but it felt like a promise every time he smiled my way. Every time he touched the side of my face. Every time he said my name, kissed me, and made me laugh. It all felt like a piece of a bigger puzzle.

There’s a crack running down the center of my chest, and the pain from my heart is seeping through.

I love him. I fell in love with the single dad who came into my life and turned it upside down with his amazing pickleball skills and wicked sense of humor.

My temporary unicorn with a crooked smile and enormous … heart.

I love him and his little boy so damn much that I may never recover.

I read his message again and consider calling him. I’d give anything to hear his voice. But, if my instincts are right, and they always are, there’s a good chance I may not see him if he does come back to Sugar Creek. And once the summer is over—that’s it.

It’s game over.

My feet hit the floor and I stretch, trying to bring some life into my muscles. But as I push my arms over my head, an invisible band wraps around my chest.

It’ll be game over sooner or later, and I can’t keep worrying about it. I can’t tell him goodbye twice. But I need him to know how I feel, and I don’t think I trust myself to say it to his face.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and get to work putting my feelings into a text. Saying everything I need to say.

Me: I’m glad you made it and that Gus is doing okay. Please give him a hug for me.

I want to be honest with you before I turn my phone off today. And I’m saying it in a text because I don’t trust myself to get it all out the right way on the phone.

Last night felt like a real goodbye. I think I can read you pretty well, and I think you were telling me that this was the end of us. And, honestly, it makes sense. If we couldn’t play in the tournament together, then why drag this thing between us out over the next few weeks? It’ll just make things harder.

These last few weeks were the best weeks of my life. You and your little boy were a light in my life in a way that I never expected. And Jory—you’re the best dad. Never forget that.

I don’t know if you’re coming back to Sugar Creek or not, but I’m going to go away for a bit. I can’t risk running into you around town. And there’s no sense in seeing you before you leave. I’m not sure I could survive saying goodbye again.

I hope someday we can be friends, and maybe we can chat here and there on Social. But, for right now, I need a clean break. I hope you understand. This is a me problem, not a you problem.

I’m keeping your practice jersey to wear while I cheer you on from the couch next season. I’ll put anything else you left here in a box and set it inside the back door of your house.

Take care, Jory. Please.

Love,

Markie

I hit send and turn off my phone.

“Might as well pack a bag and make sure that Brandy can cover for me for a few days,” I say, sighing as I get up. If she can’t, I’ll have to stay in Laveen or somewhere close so I can commute back and forth to the market. Maybe I can stay at the ranch. It’s far enough away from town.

That’ll suck, but it’ll work. I think.