Page 75 of Second Chance Faceoff

How could he just leave? We kissed. I chose him. I let myself believe.

And before I knew what was coming out of my mouth, I was speaking too fast, too loud “You said all the right things, made me think—for one stupid second—that maybe, this was different, that you were different. But clearly, I was wrong.”

Now I couldn’t stop. “None of this matters. We don’t matter. I don't matter."

He still hadn’t said anything.

The box shifted in his grip, fingers tightening around the edges like he suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with it.

That was all I needed to see.

Guilt.

Not hesitation, not uncertainty. Just guilt, plain and obvious, right there in the way he held himself.

He set the box down. Finally, he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickering between me and the boxes.

“I’m going back up to the majors. The coach just told me. I’m leaving tomorrow. He told me to pack.”

My stomach tightened. Tomorrow?

“When were you going to tell me?”

Colton exhaled, running a hand over his face, his jaw tight like he’d already replayed this conversation in his head a hundred times.

"I didn’t know how to tell you."

His voice dipped at the end.

"I thought maybe I could figure out what to say while I packed."

He looked down. His shoulders dropped.

He met my gaze, and I saw it—the hurt.

“I have spent so long believing I wasn’t good enough," he murmured, his voice rough at the edges. "That no matter how hard I tried, I’d always find a way to ruin things.”

“But with you... you made me think maybe I wasn’t that guy anymore."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"I thought you saw something in me that no one else did. I thought you believed in me." His voice was softer now, measured, not defensive, not frustrated. Worse, defeated.

"I thought this conversation would be about us figuring out how to make long-distance work." He exhaled, gaze flickering, lingering. "But it feels like this is more about saying goodbye."

His gaze dropped to the ground. When he looked up again, the fight was gone.

How did I get this so wrong?

I accused him before I even let him explain.

I didn’t ask. I didn’t listen. I just saw the boxes and decided I knew the answer.

I had spent all this time convincing myself there were only two options—he stays, or he leaves. That’s what this was, right? A choice between me and everything else.

But that was never how he saw it.

He wasn’t bolting. He wasn’t cutting ties. He wasn’t even hesitating.

---