Page 108 of The Promises We Break

“Are you ready?” Henry asks, as we pause to look up at the stadium from the main entrance.

I take a moment to marvel at the stadium, as if I were a spectator coming to see a game, like I was so many times before.

This is my newpermanenthome.

I turn to look at my brother, freeing myself of the resentment I’ve been carrying for too long. All because one little siren came into my life and made me realize the power of letting go.

“Ready.”

“I can’t tellyou how excited I am for next season,” Coach Raymer says, as I finish signing the last signature line on my contract.

“Me too,” I reply with a smile, because I am happy. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Henry left to go help the athletic trainer with some field equipment while I was signing, so I’m taking advantage of the private moment. “Thank you for your understanding this morning, too, sir.”

He pauses for a minute and sits back in his chair. His back rests against the tall plush leather backing and inspects me like he does when he’s pondering how to say something.

It’s something I realized about Coach when he debates about his approach. He’s so calculated, knowing how important the delivery is when sharing any type of news with one of his players.

“You know, Hudson, my wife had her masters and attempted to work in every city we transferred to. She didn’t have to work, and I reminded her of that all the time. After the third move, she realized she couldn’t settle into a company and decided to stop trying. I was relieved, but she was frustrated because I didn’t understand her desire to work when she didn’t have to.” He leans forward, folding his hands into each other.

“She resented me, she got depressed, lost purpose in her life, and it was hard on us for a while. Then she left me.”

I just about fracture my neck, snapping my eyes up to look at him. If I know anything about Coach, it’s his undying love for his wife. I had no idea that, at some point in their marriage, she left him, or that they had any kind of trouble at all.

“I gave her some time, knowing she needed that. At that time, we only had another month left in the season, and it was the worst fucking month of my life. After that, I decided I would give up everything to get her back. I’d leave baseball, stay home and take care of the kids. Whatever she needed me to do, because my career wasn’t worth losing her over.”

My eyes widen in curiosity. Even though I already know they are still together, I ask, “So, what happened?”

“I showed up at the house, groveling, begging. Confessed my eternal love. Continued to beg. She laughed. She actuallylaughed at me, Hudson.” He shakes his head with a smile at the memory.

“She needed time to find herself, her worth. She identified as a strong, independent working mother and put herself through school to get there. When we got married and started moving all over for my job, it stripped away her identity. She didn’t want to leave me, she wanted to find herself again, and me forcing myself to stay away from her gave her the space she needed to discover that. During that month, she started working on a foundation that she was able to dedicate her time to that she could do from anywhere we lived, and it brought her purpose.”

As much as his story is endearing, Ember isn’t lost. She knows what she wants. And it still ends with her in New York and me in Seattle.

“And you lived happily ever after?” I ask with a thin-lipped smile.

“Give her time. You both are young. Maybe it’s just not the right time for the two of you. That doesn’t mean it can’t be later.”

“Anytime is the right time with her, at least for me.”

“Are you sure you want me to have this?” He holds up the contract, exchanging a look between me and the paper shredder next to his desk.

I pause, debating what my life would be like. And I would give it all up, if I actually thought she wanted to be followed.

“Yes, I belong here.”

He gives me a long, very questionable slow nod, agreeing with a sad smile.

I hate it.

“Don’t lose?—”

“Hope?” I interrupt, standing up because I can’t seem to exit fast enough now. I made my decision, signed the divorce papers, signed my contract, and signed them both with inkfrom my bleeding heart. The last thing I need is fucking hope to carry with me day in and day out, knowing the end result.

“Hope is what guides us through the darkest of times,” he says, with far too much… hope.

Walking to the door, I grip the handle and swing it open, pausing through the walkway that started this whole endeavor, and I take a minute to think back on all the moments in between.

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