Page 32 of Coming For Her Curves
His eyes widen. He looks between his mom and me. “So you really are staying? In Whiskey Run?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, I’m really staying.”
Brock shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, I am really glad. I like having you around, but I’m going to be honest with you, if someone offered me fifty million dollars to hit a ball, I’d take it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I get it. But some things are more important than money.”
I get out my next present. I thought about what Izzy said about spending money on them, and I knew something from the heart would mean more to her than some expensive gift. It took me a while to figure it out, but I think I came up with the perfect present.
There’s a car horn outside, and Brock races to the window. “It’s Dad.”
Izzy stands up and hugs her son. It’s obvious she’s trying to be strong, but when I see a tear flow down her cheek, it breaks my heart.
Brock points at me. “Will you make sure she’s all right?”
I nod my head and promise. “I won’t leave her side.”
Brock hugs us both again, and then he’s walking out the door.
I hold on to Izzy, trying to soak up her sadness when she leans back. “We need to talk.”
I pull her to the couch and put her on my lap. Once we’re settled, I tell her, “I know.”
Her forehead creases. “You know what?”
“I know about your mom. I know you broke up with me because your mom was sick. I know you did it so I wouldn’t give up baseball.”
She tenses. “Ryker—” she starts.
I shake my head. “We can’t change the past, Izz. I wish I could go back. I wish I had fought harder for us. But I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. I’m not leaving. I’m done with baseball. And if you tell me that you want to take this slow or that you’re not sure about me or us, then I’m still not leaving. I’ll stay right here in Whiskey Run and find ways to prove to you that we’re meant to be together.”
“Ryker—” she says, but I shake my head.
I hand her the present. “Here. This is for you.”
She looks up at me hesitantly.
I nod. “Open it.”
She grabs the red ribbon and pulls it. Then she takes the lid off the box and peers inside. She picks up a stack of the letters and fans through them. “What… what is this, Ryker?”
I point at the letters. “I wrote these to you. After you broke up with me, I missed you, and when I wrote to you”—I shrug—“I felt close to you. At first, I wrote you a lot. Then as time went by, I wrote to you if something good happened that I wanted to tell you about, or if something bad happened, like when my mom died and I needed to feel close to you again.”
She’s stunned. “Ry…”
“Look, I wanted you to read these because I wanted you to know that I love you. For twenty years, I’ve loved you. I’m not going back to baseball. I’m not wasting one more day being away from you.”
She leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. “I love you, Ryker. I’ve always loved you.”
I kiss her, and I would keep kissing her if she didn’t push at my chest to stop me. “Wait, I want to read them.”
She grabs the box, but I stop her. “Pick one from the middle. The ones in the beginning, I was mad. I left them in there because I wanted you to know how I felt, but for right now, pick one in the middle.”
She takes a deep breath and pulls out a letter from the middle. She leans against me and unfolds it.
She reads it out loud, resting her head against me.
Dearest Izzy,
