Page 87 of Praising the Pitcher

A while later—how long, I have no idea—we’re parked on a fishing pier, parked under the streetlights. The sky is dark, because this is December in New England, which means it’s dark by five in the evening. Yet, with Noah’s headlights shining on the dark sea, I can see the whitecaps rolling.

I exhale. Noah hasn’t asked me what happened back at my dad’s house, and if I know him, he won’t. He’ll wait until I’m ready to talk. I’m not sure if I ever will be, but I also know I need to get it out there. That way, I can heal from it.

“Seeing that woman—her name is Kathy—sparked a memory for me,” I say, my voice weak. “My dad was having an affair with her for years. Even just before my mom got sick.”

I think about the awful turn of events. How things got rockier with my parents, and I truly think eventually, she would have found a way for us to get out. But then, she got sick before she could.

“For so long, I’ve wondered why she stayed when he was always awful to us. Now I know, she didn’t want to. She just … couldn’t leave.” Finally, I lift my eyes to his. “She didn’t stay with him because she was too weak to leave. She stayed to protect me.”

I always knew my mom had some part in the start-up of BOOMA, my family’s shoe company. But because she was probably too scared to be open about just how much she had to do with its success, I didn’t know. My mind blocked out the fight I just recalled, but now I know it was her father’s dream to start the company. And it was also his money that got the ball rolling.

Leaning over the center console, Noah wraps his arms around me, pulling my head into his chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, rubbing soothing circles on my back. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Despite the sadness gnawing at my stomach, knowing my mom spent years of her life unhappy yet stuck, I sniffle before I pull back and look at him.

“I’m not,” I whisper, tears blurring my vision. “For weeks, I’ve felt guilty for walking away, leaving him all alone. I’ve wondered if I was being too dramatic. If I was too hard on my dad, when maybe, just maybe, he only wanted what was best for me.” I look down with a swift shake of my head. “I now know that isn’t true. My dad has moved on with his life, and I think it’s time I do too.” I lift my gaze to his, just as his thumb wipes away my tears. “He isn’t a good man. He never has been. And finally, I feel free of him. So I’m not sorry.”

He hugs me again, kissing my forehead. He doesn’t talk or tell me he’s sorry again. Instead, he just holds onto me. For a good long while too. His arms calm me, centering me and making it easier to breathe.

Noah feels like home. And to be honest, I don’t ever want to leave.

When we finally separate, he dips his forehead closer to mine and grins.

“I know you aren’t a fan of driving in the snow, but I think I’m about to change your mind.”

I flash him a nervous look and cringe. “Oh God … what do you mean by that?”

He flashes me his charming grin and winks. “You’ll see, Smoke.” He jerks his chin. “Now, let’s get you buckled up.”

Noah’s hand reaches over, pulling the safety belt and tugging it across my body. As his fingers graze against me, my heart races. Once it’s secured, he murmurs, “There you go.”

Something as insignificant as him buckling my seat belt has me melting, and even after what just happened, somehow, I’m relaxed.

Well, that is until I think about the weather conditions we’ll be driving in. I like feeling in control, and snowy roads? They do the opposite of that.

And yet, despite how nervous I am, here I go … trusting him anyway.

NOAH

Once I reach over, tugging her seat belt to make sure it’s snug enough against her, I secure my own again before I back out of my parking spot and head off the pier.

This town is between Gigi’s father’s house and my parents’, but it’s a place my mom would bring us a lot as kids. A total tourist trap town with lots of shops and restaurants she always loved to visit. And on the way back home, we’d almost always stop and play mini-golf—which I think was and still probably is my dad’s least favorite thing to do.

I drive up the hill and through the town, and we don’t see a single car out and about. Then again, why would we, seeing as it’s Christmas, and although the snow has slowed to flurries, it was steady all last night and most of today, making the roads still not great.

Something I’ve noticed with Gigi is she doesn’t like the idea of being out and about on crappy roads. That’s how I knew last night I had fucked up royally when she still wanted to leave my parents’ house and get a ride back to The Nest just to get away from me. I know with her, it’s a control thing. She hates feeling out of control and definitely doesn’t enjoy living on the edge. I hope what I’m about to do helps her with that.

“Where are we going anyway, King?” she says, cooing my last name in a way that tells me her mood is improving. Tonight was hard on her, even though she told me it was practically a blessing to see.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. That asshole dad of hers, laughing and carrying on with his life like he didn’t abandon his own kid. What a dick. A useless, waste of space dick.

“You’re about to find out,” I tease, driving away from the small town and toward the outskirts, where some of the chain businesses reside.

I drive a few more minutes before pulling into the large, vacant parking lot that used to be some sort of mall but has since closed down. I pull into the center of it before I look at her.

“Have you ever drifted in the snow, Smoke?” I ask, already knowing the answer because there’s no way in hell she has. “Or done donuts in the snow?”