Page 50 of Houston, We Have a Problem
Roundy told me on our way to the gala that I had to keep up appearances as if I had no intention of leaving the majors,regardless of what my decision ends up being. I had to schmooze the team’s owner and take selfies with sponsors, and I was hitting a point where it all had me feeling numb. My agent knows this decision is one of the hardest I’ll make in my life, but he also knows that if I don’t pretend everything is good, the decision might be made before I’m ready.
I wouldn’t have been able to socialize much longer anyway, but seeing Callahan groping Tamlin gave me a great excuse to take myself out of the game tonight. Even if I was seconds away from punching the guy’s lights out. Tamlin was right when she pulled me away. I have no idea how she had the mental fortitude to still be thinking logically when all I could see was red.
She’s stronger than I would have thought, and dancing with her tonight, I don’t feel like I have to prove anything to her. Somehow, she’s shutting out the world for me and removing any expectations.
As the music transitions into a slow song, I slowly pull Tamlin closer even though I haven’t actually let go of her since we came over here. “Tell me about the best story you’ve ever told,” I say quietly, desperate to keep this night going as long as I can.
In the back of my head, a little voice is telling me that Darcy is sick at home, wondering why I was so determined to talk to her. It’s a voice I want to ignore because I still don’t want to face the idea that she lied to me about Jesse and maybe other things too. I don’twantto confront her, but she’s also the only person I’ve ever wanted to trust with my everything. If I can’t trust her, I’d rather know now, before I’m in too deep to protect my heart from being broken.
Tamlin rests her head on my shoulder, tall enough in her ridiculous shoes to do that. I don’t even know how she can spendall night in heels that tall, but now that I’m holding her so close, I’m realizing she’s shorter than I expected.
I wonder how Darcy compares.
Stop that. You can’t be thinking about one woman while you’re dancing with another.
Thankfully, Tamlin starts talking, her voice not as husky as it usually is. She sounds tired, and I wonder how long she’s supposed to be here. She said her boss forced her to come tonight, just like mine did.
“One of my first stories was about a man who runs ultramarathons,” she says with a heavy sigh. “You know the kind where they run for literal days without stopping? I had preconceived notions in my head about why people run like that and what they’re hoping to gain, but when I got the chance to talk to him, he completely opened my mind. It wasn’t about the notoriety, or the fame, or even about being active and fit.”
What else could it be about? “Tell me,” I murmur, shifting my hold and curling my fingers around her waist.
She hums a little and nuzzles her face closer to my neck. “For him, it was the idea that he could live mind over body. He wanted to push limits and control how he responded to tough things. It reminded me of my days of playing baseball and proving to everyone—and myself—that I was more than they thought I could be. My town was too small to have a softball team, and I was the only girl on the team. That didn’t stop me from being one of the best batters we had.”
Pretty sure I just swallowed my tongue. This beautiful, tough, intelligent woman played on abaseball team? So much for my life leveling out—Tamlin Park has just knocked me so off balance that I’m not sure I’ll recover from tonight.
“I’ve broken you, haven’t I?” she says with a laugh.
I swallow. “Maybe a little.”
“What about you? Why baseball?”
If I hadn’t spent the last hour or so holding her against me and matching my breaths up to hers, I probably wouldn’t answer that question. But for some reason, this space feels safe, and I choose to believe she just wants to see deeper into my heart and understand why I’ve dedicated my life to something that is in no way easy. If anyone can understand, she can.
I take a slow breath, willing myself to trust this woman after she showed so much vulnerability. Besides, with what I just learned about her, I think she’ll understand what the game can be for someone who needs it.
“I never felt important as a kid,” I tell her, though the words frighten me. “My mom was dying of cancer. My brother constantly got frustrated by me. I had a dad who didn’t want me and a sister who didn’t need me, and it seemed like no matter what I did, it was never enough. Then one day in school P.E., we played a game of softball, and I was so determined to hit the ball and prove that I could do something.”
“You struck out, didn’t you?”
I chuckle, instinctively knowing she’s not asking that question seriously. “I hit it out of the park,” I reply. “Suddenly, I was the cool kid in the class, like that one fluke swing meant I could do great things. I became obsessed. I stole a ball and bat from the school closet and spent every afternoon at the park hitting that ball as far as I could get it.”
“I’m guessing you had to run after it every time,” Tamlin says with a gentle snicker.
“The runs were nice. I could get out of my head when I was running and get away from all the doubts that were always a step behind me. My stepdad eventually found out what I was doing and signed me up for a team, and the rest is history.”
Snuggling in closer, Tamlin sounds even sleepier when she asks, “What made you become a pitcher?”
“I realized I could stop other players from hitting the ball as well as I did if I threw the ball the right way.”
“Ah, so it was self-preservation.”
“At first. Then it became a challenge. A way to test my own limits and strength and see how fast I could throw it. How accurate I could be. I wanted to be the best.”
She shifts against me, no longer leaning into me but holding herself up again. When she pulls away to look at me, I can see the reluctance in her eyes, but it’s like she can’t help herself. “Wanted,” she says. “Past tense.”
I could turn my response into a joke. Tell her that I’m already the best so it’s no longer a wish but a truth. But I want to be honest with her, even if it might damn me in the end. “Wanted,” I repeat.
Her chin lifts, eyes locked on mine. “What about now?”
