Page 98 of West Bound

“Viv…didn’t you have one of your old hookups confront you and Phoenix at the bar when you had just discussed a relationship?”

“Yes, but…that was different! He was the one who wanted a relationship, and there had definitely been no I love you’s exchanged. It’s a whole new ballgame, now. Shit! It’s not even the same game. We’re playing two different sports and he’s the pitcher and I’m the quarterback and our games just don’t align.”

Cami tips her head to one side like you’d see a puppy do. “You lost me on the pitcher and quarterback thing.”

I wince. “Yeah, that was a bad analogy. CeCe’s better with those than I am. But that doesn’t matter. What is important is that it was only a matter of time before Phoenix broke me again. Time expired. Game over.”

Cami lets out a deep sigh but stays quiet knowing there isn’t much more she can say to change my mind.

Phoenix and I are over. It was all a silly dream that, once again, has turned into a nightmare.

I watched the game from my bed that night, a gallon of ice cream and the last of Phoenix’s cobbler sitting on my lap.

The Wranglers lost and Phoenix pitched the worst game I’ve ever seen. He hit two guys–one I think on purpose– and almost got into a fight over it. Tuck flew in from the outfield to hold him back, while Cisco got in front of the opposing player with a calm hand. His coach sent him to the locker room after that and I turned off the tv and cried myself to sleep.

I took one extra day off before returning to work to make it really seem like I was deathly ill, then went in the following. I still looked like shit since I’d only eaten ice cream and cried for the last two nights, so it wasn’t hard to convince everyone that I was truly sick.

I just didn’t tell them I was lovesick.

The team moved on to their second series and now are on their way back home after a disappointing back to back loss. Phoenix has definitely hurt their game and is looking like anyone but himself, but I can’t worry too much about it. I’ll just end up giving into him when I should be building my wall back up.

I spent the day packing Phoenix’s things–nicely, I might add–and have them waiting by the front door. I sit nervously on the edge of the couch, waiting to pop up the moment I hear the door open.

It isn’t long after I gulp down some medicine for my headache when I hear the locks clicking. I walk over to stand at the end of the entryway and wait.

The door pushes open and Phoenix’s face comes into view. He looks tired and worn out like he hasn’t slept much more than me. His clothes are a rumpled mess and his beard is overgrown.

He steps in and freezes at seeing the bags I’ve packed.

“Vivian,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Please don’t do this. You have to believe me.”

I swallow and steady my shaking voice. “I believe you Phoenix, bu–”

“Then why?” he thunders and it echoes in the small foyer.

“Because I think eventually you will tire of me. And I don’t want to resent you later when I’m too far in that I’ll drown when you leave me.”

He drops his bag to the floor and takes two large strides towards me. I hold out my hand to stop him from coming any further but Phoenix being Phoenix, pushes past and uses my outstretched arm to pull me to him.

“Dammit, Vivian. That’s not going to happen. For fuck’s sake, I have you tattooed on my body.”

“Those can be removed,” I say, flatly.

“But what about the one on my heart?” Tears begin to swim in his eyes and I feel everything I’ve been holding back rise up in my throat. “That can’t be removed because my heart isn’t even my own. I gave it to you. And I thought you gave me yours.”

I flatten my hands on his chest and pry myself out of his arms. “I did, but I’m taking it back before you crush it.” My legs move backward as I put distance between us. “I made sure to pack everything for you. I didn’t do anything to your stuff, and I labeled the breakables.” I point to the bags sitting against the wall.

He looks down at them, neatly in a row and labeled, and picks up the one that says ‘cologne and stuff’. He looks inside then fast as lightning, he hurls the bag against the wall, smashing its contents to bits.

I flinch, startled by his sudden anger, and jump back. He’s seething and his eyes are full of fire. A low rumble starts deep in his chest before it shoots itself out of his mouth just as he throws his fist through the wall.

My gasp surprises him and he blinks out of whatever daze he’s in.

“Vivian. I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You need to leave, Phoenix. Please?”

He sags in defeat and picks up only the bag he brought with him.

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