Page 68 of Curveball

You’d think I would know better by now, especially after just having a conversation with a few of the other players’ wives and girlfriends about protecting my peace and staying far, far away from comment sections.

Did I listen? Of course not.

Instead, I spent a solid twenty minutes doom-scrolling, hunting down every negative comment like it was my job. Then I stood in front of my mirror and picked apart every inch of myself, wondering if they were right.

Was it healthy? Absolutely not.

Did that stop me? Also no.

Luckily, Walker showed up, forcing me to pull myself away, and the moment I saw his face, felt his presence… all the noise quieted. The doubt faded. I felt anchored again. Back in us.

I decided to wait until after dinner to bring it up. I wanted to handle it right this time. Even though I felt steadier, I wanted to be honest with him—to tell him how it affected me and, more importantly, how I was able to work through it. We’d been here before, back in college, and I refused to give him another reason to doubt me.

When we got back to my place, we tucked Hadley into bed and settled onto the couch. Walker was scrolling through Netflix when I finally spoke.

“I saw a picture of us from Austin,” I said, peeking over at him.

He froze, jaw tightening. “Yeah. I saw it tonight.” He hesitated. “It’s a good picture, right?”

“It is,” I said softly. “And I want to be honest with you because a lot of our past issues came from me bottling things up.” I took a steadying breath. “I read the comments. And I’m not going to lie, I spiraled. I focused on the shitty ones and wasted way too much time questioning myself. That’s why I was running late tonight.”

His hand found mine immediately. “Farrah—”

“I’m not done,” I said gently, holding up a finger. “The minute I saw you, I felt grounded. The noise faded. For once, I didn’t let it swallow me whole.” I squeezed his hand. “There will be more pictures. More articles. More comments. I can’t control that. But I can control how I respond, and I promise you that if I start feeling insecure, I’ll come to you first. We’ll work through it. Together.”

I watched the tension ease from his shoulders.

“That’s the part that scares me,” he said quietly. “Losing you to all the noise again.” His gaze dropped to our hands.

My chest tightened at his admission as I softly brushed my thumb over his knuckles. “You’re not going to.”

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. Then he leaned forward and kissed me—soft, steady, sure.

“Together,” he murmured against my lips. "I like that."

"Together," I echoed.

“May I please speak to Farrah King?” the voice on the other end asked.

“This is she,” I replied, placing my phone on speaker as I organized the stack of fabric swatches scattered across my desk.

“Good morning, Ms. King. This is Tabitha York. I’m Duke Preston’s assistant. He reviewed the portfolio you sent over a few weeks ago and would like to schedule a time for you to come into the office to discuss the potential design job for the clubhouse renovation.”

I froze mid-swatch, my mouth falling open.

Emma and Maddie were both in my office. Their eyes widened in unison, and Emma mouthed silently, Are you for real?!

“Ms. King? Hello?”

“Sorry—yes!” I blurted. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to come in and discuss it.”

After we worked out the details, I hung up and turned to the girls, adrenaline buzzing through me. “Holy shit. We might be the design firm that renovates the Austin Aviators’ clubhouse!”

Maddie scoffed, planting a hand on her hip. “No. We are going to be the design firm that renovates the Austin Aviators’ clubhouse.”

Emma squealed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited. I’m so excited!”

We jumped around my office like lunatics, celebrating a job we didn’t technically have yet—but I didn’t care. Just getting a meeting with the owner of a Major League Baseball team was massive.