Page 42 of Sliding Into Love
“I don’t know. I didn’t go.” The sting of regret still rose inside him when he thought about it, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t make himself forget. But they wouldn’t have wanted him there anyway.
“Why not?” Her hazel eyes grew shadowed, her brows pinched. Ethan looked back at the pan as he whisked the sauce.
“It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it?”
Ivy gave Ethan a long, searching look. “I do. But this sounds like a conversation to have over dinner. Let’s finish this first.”
“It’s not my finest moment.”
“If you’re okay sharing with me, I’d like to hear it. I’d like to know more about you.” Silently, she nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
“I think it’s time to add the cheese, anyway.”
The mountain of Parmigiano Reggiano slowly disappeared as Ivy sprinkled it into the sauce while Ethan stirred until it had incorporated into the creamy mixture. When Ethan pronounced the sauce done, he pulled the bread from the oven and showed her where the plates and utensils were. They loaded up plates with pasta, sauce, and bread, and he showed her out onto the balcony where he’d set up a small metal table and chairs.
Ethan chose the balcony rather than the dining area because it looked out over a park dotted with clumps of trees and a few hills sloping down to a lake. He’d never seen it until that afternoon when he had been panicking over figuring out what to doon a fucking date. During the panicky trip to the grocery store, and subsequently the mall because he somehow only owned a couple of suits and gym wear, he’d been wracking his brain for what to do. He’d thrown open the balcony doors for fresh air, and the green of the park had calmed him; he’d thought Ivy would appreciate the scenery.
Taking a huge, fortifying gulp of wine, Ethan decided it was best to get it over with. Let her decide if she still wanted to be around him once he’d finished.
“My mom inherited ownership of one of the largest sports agencies in the country after my grandfather died. He played baseball too before he became an agent, but things went south for him pretty quickly. Drugs and bribes. Gambling debts. When I was younger, when my dad was still playing and my mom was trying to rebuild the agency, they weren’t around much. In high school, I got the chance to live with my uncle who coaches for the Tornadoes. I thought I’d have the chance to train with one of the best coaches in the country. Thought even if my parents weren’t around, at least I’d be with family. And I guess I learned a lot from him, but he traveled too, with his team, so I was still on my own a lot. But when he was there, it was all training, all baseball, all the time. I barely had time to go to school, much less finish my homework or have friends.”
Pausing for a breath, Ethan looked at Ivy, whose green-gold eyes were wide and sad as she listened to him, her fork forgotten in her hand. “After high school, my parents planned for me to sign with the agency, but I didn’t want anyone to think I had my place handed to me because of who my parents were. I wanted to earn it. To be good enough on my own.”
Not good enough. Half the player your father was.Ethan had to fight to push Marshall’s voice out of his head.
“Before all that, though, Marshall found me through a scouting program and started trying to recruit me early. He kept in touch, coming to some of my college games too. Halfway through my sophomore year, when Marshall offered me a place with the Hawks, it sounded amazing. Like everything I wanted. Going straight to the big leagues without playing my way through the minors.” Ethan let out a laugh devoid of mirth. “But when I told my parents about the deal, they said it sounded too good to be true and Marshall had a bad reputation in the League. But I didn’t care because it was all I’d ever wanted. They wouldn’t even try to listen; they tried to shove me in the direction they’d chosen when I graduated. My dad and I…well…I regret the fight now, but I stand by not wanting anything handed to me. They didn’t understand, so I got the fuck out and signed with Marshall to play for the Hawks.
“Once I’d signed the contract, Marshall was completely different. Always telling me I was worthless. He wrote into my contract that I’d play center field, even though I’d pitched my entire career. My first season was rough. I had to pivot to the outfield but still keep up with the pitchers, ‘just in case’, Marshall always said. He threatened to break my contract constantly, pushed me to get into fights…
“But I didn’t question it. I have been lately, though. All the injuries he made me play through and the way he talked to me… Always telling me I wasn’t good enough, how I’d never make it … Now, I think his hiring me was some misguided revenge against my uncle. And maybe the agency. Marshall and Lawrence played together in the minors and had some weird rivalry, and the agency didn’t sign him. I think Marshall blames my family for keeping him from getting further in his career.”
Ethan trailed off, realizing he’d probably spoken more in the past twenty minutes than he had in a year. Longer.
A sniffle sounded from Ivy’s direction. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were lined with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away. “I understand your issues with them. But for me, it was the other way around. My mother left me outside a hospital when I was little–three– I think. I have vague memories of my mom, or maybe they’re dreams. I don’t know. I don’t know if she didn’t want me, or couldn’t take care of me, or…” With a huge gulp of air, like she was preparing herself, she continued.
“Anyway, once it was clear to the authorities she wasn’t coming back, I became a ward of the state, and I bounced around the system for a few years, then I wound up in a group home.”
Ivy paused to take a breath and a sip of wine, and Ethan had to stop himself from smashing his glass after hearing her story.
“Anyway. Enough about me. I understand why you don’t want to see your uncle. He sounds terrible. But you parents—” her voice cracked. “Did they know how he treated you? Were they that hard on you too?”
“No, they were never like him. They weren’t around much, but they never pushed me past my limits the way Lawrence did. Or Marshall. My dad used to call Lawrence a crackpot sometimes, but the teams he coached always won, so I never questioned his methods. I thought I had to do what he said to win.”
“What do you think they would have done if they’d known? Would they have made you stay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but it’s been so long, and I never thought of it that way. Hell, I assumed they knew. But what if they didn’t?”
For a moment, Ethan stood there, staring blankly into his glass. Would things have been different if his parents had known?
“Hearing you chose to leave… well I guess I understand why, but at the same time, I don’t.” Ivy continued, draining her glass.
“Ivy.” Her name cracked out of his lips. He’d upset her, and he hated it.
A tear fell, dripping onto her cheek and leaving a silvery trail over her freckled cheek.
The table was small enough for Ethan to reach out and touch her, to cross the space between them and take one of her hands in his. With the other, he swiped his thumb along her cheekbone, erasing the track of the tear, nearly losing himself in the warm hazel of her eyes.
