Page 36 of Curveball: The Baby and the Grump

“Well, you don’t want to overexert yourself,” I say mildly. I don’t want to snap, but I do think he’s rushing things.

“True, but I also need to get back into the swing of it quickly. So, I’ll take it easy, but I’ll still go. I have to start practice again.”

“Right,” I say, sighing in disappointment. It’s stupid to be disappointed because I haven’t even told him what I’m disappointed about, but I guess if he’s going to be so busy playing baseball, he’s hardly going to have time to hang out with me.

And here I was just about starting to think we meant something.

He moves on to talking about stats and figures that I stopped comprehending a long time ago, so I just nod supportively, trying to focus on being with him, on being happy with him. With his smile and his hand in mine. With the way we’re here together and he’s happy.

I just wish he was happy to see me.

I shouldn’t begrudge him this. It’s not nice of me to be bitter, especially if I won’t say it. Not that he’d give me chance to say anything at all right now. And I am happy for him. Really.

If I think it one more time, I’ll believe it.

We’re still good. He’s here with me, and he’s excited, and soon it will all go back to usual with us.

Too soon we complete our circuit of the park, and finally, finally, Jackson turns to look at me and sees me like I’m a real person. He grins. “Hey, why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow? You booked the day off, right?”

I nod grimly and he continues. “I should have an hour or so between being at the club in the morning and being at practice in the afternoon, but lunch would be cool. I’ve missed you lately.”

For as much as I’ve wanted to hear those words, my smile doesn’t get any stronger. “Jackson, I can’t,” I say, gritting my teeth against the disappointment that I know is going to follow.

“Oh,” he says sadly. “You do have a day off, right? I didn’t get that wrong?”

“Yes, but the reason I booked that day off months and months ago is because tomorrow’s Matt’s birthday, and I wanted to do something special for him.”

“Oh,” says Jackson again, and that yawning gulf that I’ve felt opening up between us lately grows just a little wider.

“But if you can do dinner later in the week, I’d like that,” I say, trying my best to make it up to him.

He shrugs. “I should have time. You know, with all this training, it’s going to be super weird to not see you all the time.”

That’s the most self-aware thing he’s said all day. I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’ll miss it.”

“Me too.”

Slowly, gently he leans down to kiss me, lips warm and soft against mine, giving me that show of affection again, the one that means I can’t quite give up on him. I know he cares about me. I just worry that the differences between us are too great.

Despite the fact that I think I might love him, there’s no way he could ever love me more than baseball.

We release the embrace reluctantly, his hands lingering on my shoulders as we part. Somehow, this feels like a goodbye.

“I’ll see you around, Freya,” he says, and with that he turns and saunters off, leaving me standing alone in the park, not sure what to feel at all.

CHAPTER 19

JACKSON

Iskip through the front door. It’s amazing how much better I feel after a whole week of being back in training again. Part of me that was missing has been filled. That need I had to play ball has stopped itching under my skin like a horrible rash — and even better, I haven’t lost all my skills.

I’d been kind of worried that I’d have forgotten how to play after a month and a half, but I am delighted to announce that I am still the best pitcher on the Prairie Dogs.

Now, that’s a thought that fills me with satisfaction.

I sling my shoes onto the rack and wander through to the kitchen. “Hey,” I call out, but don’t get an answer.

Strange, I think. Not that Freya has to be here, but she’s definitely working days this week, and often when I get home late and she’s not working, we have dinner together. It’s about the only time we ever see each other now. We’re both just so busy that we hardly ever cross paths anymore.

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