Page 24 of Play the Field

The words pierced my chest. I knew she hadn’t meant it to feel so cold, but it was hard to hear that my motives would be so transparent. The worst part was, she wasn’t even wrong. That was why I asked for Cleo’s help.

But now, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Being away from the paparazzi and the pressure was a relief, I felt like I was actually breathing for the first time in a decade.

Shaking my head, I filled my fork with food. “Yeah, I want to get back on the field.”

Dinner finished pretty quickly, Lily and Jacob had excused themselves to get ready for bed while I cleaned up the kitchen. After the days Meredith and Dan had, I wasn’t about to let them wash dishes.

By the time I was closing the door to the guest room for bed, I was exhausted. Between the emotional exhaustion of seeing my ex and the physical exertion of a hike, my body was begging to fall into the plus duvet draped across the queen bed.

I pulled off my flannel, the sleeves damp from the sink, and let my sweats drop to the floor.

It was already 11 pm and I had to be at the field just seven hours later.

Deciding it was easier to get ready now than in the pitch black of a weekday morning, I went over to my suitcase and opened it. Inside, a pile of dirty clothes spilled over the edges.

I dug my hand through the fabrics, hunting for my sports bra, an old t-shirt, and some of the pristine, white polyester pants. Once I had grabbed all three items, I tossed them on the small, wicker bench at the foot of my bed.

There was one last thing I needed as I leaned down and pulled the stuffed duffel bag off the floor.

I shoved my hand inside, a part of me nervous to even look at it as my hand met the familiar leather. Tugging the new glove out, a part of me wanted to throw it down like a hot pan. But I had to get used to handling it again.

So instead, I sat down on the mattress and took in a deep breath. I cracked the glove open with both hands, trying to stretch out the leather. It was still stiff. It was sent to me a year after my injury, hoping to come back to the field with some new, flashy gear to distract from my slowing pitch.

But the team didn’t take me back.

It collected dust in my closet while I pretended not to see it.

After a moment of breaking it in, I tossed it down to the pile of clothes on the bench. Hopefully, it would serve me well in this new phase of my life.

Leaning back into the pile of pillows, I tried to steady my heart rate. I couldn’t tell if I was more nervous to try and play softball again or to be alone with Cleo again.

I stared up at the ceiling for a minute, turning out the light as I thought about their face. They had aged but somehow looked exactly as I expected them to. And underneath the slight wrinkles and the few grays starting to bleed into their dark brown hair was the same Cleo I’d fallen in love with.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes as I tried to erase their face from my mind.

That wasn’t what I was here for. I was here to play the field and get back to my life. A life Cleo couldn’t be a part of anymore.

I had never wanted to be blinded by the morning sun more than when I woke up to the blaring alarm near my face and a pitch-black sky.

Rolling over, I slammed my finger down on the “stop” button and peeled myself off the pillow. My eyelids dared me to fall back asleep, like they had thirty-pound weights attached to each eyelash.

Get the fuck up.

But my brain wasn’t listening.

Cleo is waiting.

It was a desperate attempt… that worked. My eyes jolted open as I sat up in one swift motion. I forced my feet onto the cold hardwood outside the bed as I stood from the mattress.

Blinking away the sleep, I threw on my sports bra and old shirt. If the bra hadn’t been so tight and rigid, I would’ve been too comforted by the warmth of the too-small t-shirt to stay awake.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand after I pulled up my white softball pants.

Coffee. Need coffee.

Shoving the hunk of metal into my pockets, I grabbed my equipment bag from the closet and tossed the new glove inside.

As the guest room door swung open, Dan zipped down the hall toward the kitchen. “Morning, killer.” Looking down at my shining-white pants, he laughed. “Haven’t seen you in those in a while.”

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