Page 143 of Off Season

Tears immediately well in her eyes. Her head swivels as if realizing just how many people are silently waiting for her answer. And waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

The silent pause is so long that people separately begin yelling out, “Do it!” before forty thousand people end up chanting it in unison.

I can tell she’s struggling. The look on her face tells me that I’m not going to get the answer I had hoped for. Eventually, I stand, and my shoulders fall. “You’re not going to say yes, are you?”

Tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Cruz. I can’t. I told you I’m not the marrying type.”

“Do you love me?” I pathetically ask.

She’s again silent, simply staring at me, looking miserable.

The extreme awkwardness is broken only by the bevy of boos being leveled by the crowd as they begin to understand that I’m being rejected. They start shouting expletives ather. And then they start throwing things onto the field. Hot dogs, beer bottles, pretzels. All of it.

Shit. This is bad.Reallybad.

Security rushes out. They have to shield and escort her to the underground, private area of the stadium. What the hell did I do?

Despite the warm weather, a chill suddenly works its way through my body. My hands are shaking.

As my team silently takes the field again, my teammates all slap my back and mumble things like, “Sorry man,” and “That sucks.”

Trey is the last to walk over to me. I look up at him. “I feel like such a loser. She doesn’t love me like I love her.”

He sighs as he hands me my baseball glove. “I don’t know if that’s true, but given her issues, it was an impossible spot to put her in. And now you’ve probably turned her into the most hated person in Philly. This is going to be a PR mess. I’m truly sorry, this sucks for you, but it’s about to get really fucking bad for Kam.”

I remove my baseball cap and run my fingers through my hair. “Shit. You’re right. I didn’t mean to do it to her. I was just feeling the moment.”

He nods. “I know, buddy. We’ll figure out a way to make it right. Let’s focus on finishing this game for now, and we’ll deal with this afterward.”

KAMRYN

I’m pacing in front of the locker room. What in the fuck was he thinking proposing to me? He knows my feelings about marriage. And in a public setting? Is he on crack?

I don’t know what to do. Should I go find my sister? Although she’s not herself right now. She and Tanner started things back up again but are supposedly truly casual. She’s pulling the purse strings this time around, keeping him at arm’s length. But I know my sister. Casual sex isn’t in her vocabulary. I’m fearful that she’s going to get hurt all over again.

I can’t think about her fucked relationship with Tanner Montgomery right now. It consumes too many of my thoughts. I’ve got my own fucked-up relationship to deal with.

Should I leave? Maybe this was for the best. We were never headed for his happily ever after. Maybe this will give us a clean break. I haven’t wanted to let him go, but perhaps this is the push I needed. He obviously wants to get married. I don’t think I’m capable of it.

But the thought of losing him hurts more. Is that what marriage is? When you’d rather be with a person than not? I can’t imagine it’s that simple. It’s not exactly like I had an example of a happy marriage to watch growing up.

My head is spinning with a million thoughts. Maybe I should go call Dr. Pearl. I have an emergency number. Yes, I’ll go home and do that. She’ll tell me what to do. More likely, she’ll push me to figure out what it is I want to do, but I think I need her thought-provoking questions to figure this out.

I hurriedly walk to the end of the hallway to the exit and place my hands on the large, heavy metal door. My eyes stare at my hands pressed against the cool metal. As hard as I try, I can't seem to make myself push that door and leave.

I’m hit with the sudden realization that I don’t need Dr. Pearl for this because I know what I want to do. I don’t want to walk away from him. For some reason, I know if I leave, it’s truly over between us. I can’t stomach that.

After a long, calming breath, I turn back around and head toward the locker room. This will probably be a press shitstorm, but that’s not my concern. I don’t give a crap about any of that. It’s Cheetah I care about. The look of disappointment on his faceis what will now haunt my nightmares. I need to figure out a way to make this right.

About thirty minutes go by with me practically wearing a hole in the ground. I can hear that the game is finally over. Within minutes, I see several members of the team making their way to the locker room.

None of the guys make eye contact with me. I don’t blame them. I’m sure they all hate me, as does every fan in this stadium. Within a few hours, the entire city will despise me. By morning, the whole country will. Fuck ’em.

Cheetah eventually makes his way toward the locker room door. He’s walking slowly, and his head is down, looking like someone shot his dog. I start to say, “I’m sorr—" but he looks at me and holds up his hands.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “I know I shouldn’t have done it in this setting, but it still hurts. I don’t want to be around you right now. Give me time.”

Fuck, he looks so pained. It hurts me to see him hurting. My instinct is to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I care about him. I do. I just don’t want to marry him.

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