Fuck.

  That’s so unlike Milly.

  I’m desperate to text her, to see if she’s on her way. Then again, if she chose not to show up, that would be upsetting, so instead I keep my hands where they are as far away from my phone as possible.

  If she doesn’t come, what’s my next step? I know I said I would take her decision like a man, but deep down, I know that’s a lie. I can’t leave it at this, right? Letting a no-show be the complete end of our relationship?

  Then again, I let a hateful and ugly text be the end the first time.

  Is this my punishment? Karma coming back to bite me in the ass?

  As the time ticks by, the crickets chirping the only background noise filling the silent space, a sense of dread washes over me. Too much damage has been done. I had hopes that there possibly could have been an inkling of feelings still inside her, but the more I think about it, the more I start to wonder, does her hate for me overshadow any possible buried feelings?

  With a half hour passing by, I think it has.

  Deflated, I take a seat on the bench of the dugout and bury my hands in my hair, pulling on the strands out of pure frustration.

  I might have accomplished my goal to be in the big leagues within three years, but what good is it if I have no one to share it with? I only had twenty-two years with my dad. And I’ve lost the chance of having forever with my girl.

  I’m right back where I started, a talented player with no one in the stands to cheer for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  MILLY

  Shane dropped me off at the entrance of the park half an hour ago, forcing me to at least hear the man out, but instead of making my way down the hill to the only lit-up field in the area, my feet stay planted.

  I don’t think I’m ready for this.

  I don’t think my heart can take whatever he’s about to say. I’m already teetering on the edge of utter heartbreak and hope.

  I gave him everything I had. I took a chance, handed over my heart to this man, and he turned it away, slammed a door on me . . . on us. Pushed me away so far that I never thought I’d even talk to him again.

  And then he shows up.

  Life back in his eyes, an apology in his words, hope in his heart. Voice so soft, his strong hands so tender, his soul reaching out to me, I felt his apology all the way to the marrow of my bones and yet, here I stand, next to a giant oak tree with its rustling leaves, arms crossed over my chest, and a stubborn set in my feet.

  My phone vibrates in my hand and instant dread sets in, wondering if it’s Carson asking if I’m coming, but when I see Shane’s name flash across the screen, I swipe to read.

  Shane: You’re never going to know if what he can offer is the best thing to ever happen to you if you don’t walk down that GD hill and find out.

  I knew he wouldn’t go far. When I told him about the invitation, he told me I had to go, if anything to find out what he has to say. Shane has always thought Carson and I belonged together. He told me last night even throughout college, he could see it, the way I changed whenever Carson was around. He instilled a sense of confidence in me that Shane had never seen, and even though the breakup was harsh, Shane didn’t deny if he would have done the same thing.

  Lips thinned and pressed together, I type him back.

  Milly: I’m scared. I don’t have another heart for him to break. The one I have is barely being held together.

  Shane: Then when you get down there, make sure he knows that. He’s making a grand gesture, Mills. He’s not here to break your heart, he’s here to mend it.

  I suck in a harsh breath, willing the tears forming in my eyes to hold steady as I put my phone in my little backpack and then cling to the straps as if they’re my lifeline.

  It’s time.

  On a deep breath, I take a step forward just as the lights of the field turn off. In a blink of an eye, the field went from lit with hope to dark and desolate. I quickly make my way over the hill to get a better view. As my eyes adjust, I search out any dark figures moving around but don’t see anything. Carson’s car from college is still parked in front of the field, but no one’s inside.

  I take a few more steps forward, scanning the dim area, looking for any signs of Carson. And that’s when I spot him, hunched over on the bench in the dugout . . . our dugout.

  Defeat in his shoulders, fingers threaded through his hair, tension coiled in his back. Instead of closing the space between us, I take a moment to observe him, to watch his genuine reaction to me not showing up.

  Disappointment.

  Sorrow.

  Failure.

  Regret.

  And oddly, I feel the same emotions when it comes to us, regret being the biggest one. I regret not pushing him harder, not flying to him, not forcing him to break out of the emotionless shell he put himself in.

  With him sitting in front of me, the opportunity to talk hanging between us, I take another step forward and another, realizing I’m not going to put myself in another situation where I regret my actions. I’m terrified, but I also need to hear what he has to say.

  I step up next to the gate and swing it open, startling him to his feet, but when his eyes focus on me, relief washes over him like a fresh morning wave. His entire demeanor changes. His tension and sorrow is replaced with excitement and hope.

  Softly he says, “You came.”

  Staring at the ground, his gaze almost too strong for me, I say, “I almost didn’t.”

  “I can understand that. I was horrible to you. Honestly, I didn’t think you were going to come and that was something I was going to have to live with, but you’re here now.”

  “Terrified, but I’m here.”

  He takes my hand in his and guides me to the bench where we both straddle the metal seat. “Tell me why you’re terrified.”

  We’re about a foot and a half apart, his hand is still connected to mine and for a moment, I stare at the threading of our fingers, how it feels so easy, like his hand is the one I should be holding for the rest of my life.

  Shane’s encouragement pops into my head and on a scared exhale, I say, “You broke my heart, Carson. I gave it to you and without a backward glance, you broke it. And the recovery hasn’t been easy. I’m still trying to get over the hump of what you said to me, of how you pushed me away.”

  He nods somberly. “I understand.”

  “I’ve never felt for somebody the way I felt for you.” Feel for you still. “I took a chance and opened my heart to you and you threw it back at me.” A small tear careens down my cheek. “I just wanted to be there for you.”

  “You were, Milly.” He tugs on my hand, encouraging me to look up. “You were there for me and even though I didn’t respond, your voice and your words helped me through the hardest time of my life, and I should have told you that. I should have acted like a man, confronted the demons eating me alive, and said something.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “I should have talked to you. I should never have pushed you away.”

  We sit there, silence stretching between us as regret clouds the air, tainting everything around us. The field seems dull, the dugout just an empty space that used to be full of memories, and even though there isn’t a cloud in sight, the stars don’t seem to be shining as bright as they usually do.

  Gripping my hand tightly, he says, “Can I ask you something?” I glance up at him. “Do I have a chance at making things right with you? Of making you mine again?” A weight of a thousand anvils sits on top of my chest as I scramble for breath.

  Making you mine . . .

  Everything I wanted to hear the minute he walked away, and yet, my stomach rolls at the thought.

  I honestly don’t know what to say. I know what my heart wants—he’s sitting in front of me—but my brain is reminding me of the pain and agony I endured because of this man, begging and pleading to whoever wanted to listen to encourage him to talk to me. This hesitation isn’t about me trying to hurt him either. I’m terrified. What we had was incredible, something I had no idea would exist for me. Yet in the hardest and darkest hours of his life, he didn’t want or need me. And that painful reality is what I don’t know what to do with.

  He scoots closer and takes both of my hands in his. God, I’ve missed his touch. Holding firmly he says, “I understand what I’m asking of you, to consider giving me another chance when I broke our trust, ignored the extraordinary bond we had, and tarnished all the good times we once shared. But even during the time we were apart, I thought of you, Milly. I thought of you every goddamn day. I chastised myself for picturing your face before I went to bed, knowing I didn’t deserve that image. I berated my mind for always drawing an image of your beautiful face whenever I was in the cages. And with every night I had a weak moment and listened to your voicemails on replay, I punished myself the next day with arduous workouts in the weight room, trying to drill it into my brain to forget you.” He shakes his head as my pulse pounds so loud in my ears I can barely hear his voice. “But I could never shake you, no matter how hard I tried and with every day I ignored you, I hated myself even more, turning the darkest year of my life into a vicious cycle of self-hatred for not letting myself love you outwardly, but unconditionally loving you inwardly.”

  He pauses, taking a deep breath as my mind spirals.

  He loves me?

  He couldn’t stop thinking about me?

  Then why?

  “Why?” I voice my thoughts out loud, my voice clogged with desperation. “Why did you keep your heart from mine?”

  Facing me head-on, speaking straight to my soul, he says, “Because I was punishing myself. My dad died from working too hard. The stress of his life caught up to him, and it was because he made a promise to my mom to take care of me. It was a tough truth to face, and instead of being grateful for the life he provided for me, I set out on a mission to fulfill a promise I made him. I shut off everything around me, including you. In that moment, nothing could have pulled me out of the self-induced purgatory. By the time I finally blinked and allowed myself to breathe, I realized the damage I’d done, and I knew earning your trust back was going to be next to impossible, but I tried anyway.”

  “The letters, the outreach, that was for me? For the facility.”

  He winces. “Your brothers told you?” I nod. “It was the only way I could show you my love from afar. I knew what was important to you, and I wanted to make sure you were able to accomplish it. My letters were small, but it was all I had at the time. They had little impact compared to the reputation you built for yourself.”

  “Why did you wait so long?”

  “Because, it wasn’t an easy fix. Because I wanted you to establish yourself. Because I wanted to make sure even if you said no to me, you still felt my apology deep in your soul.” He glances at our connected hands and quietly asks, “Do you feel it, Milly? Even if you say no and move on, do you at least understand how sorry I am? How I wish I treated you differently?”

  How can I not when he pours his heart out to me, honestly laced in every single word he speaks? I feel it; I feel it way more than I want to.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “I do.”

  A sigh of relief blows past his lips and he sits a little taller. “Thank you.” He squeezes my hands and then lets go. Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out four tickets to the Bobbies season opener and hands them to me. “They aren’t super amazing seats, but they are the tickets the team gave me so my family can watch my first game as a starter in the lineup. Don’t feel obligated to attend, but they’re yours if you want them.” I take them and stare at the picture of him mid-swing that’s printed on the tickets. Softly he says, “I love you, Milly, more than I can ever explain. I know I didn’t show it the last few years, but I do love you, and I know deep down that you truly are my soul mate.” He stands from the bench and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Think about it. No pressure, but I hope you can make it and consider what I said, because I want nothing more than to show you how much I do love you, how much I want to date you, take you out, listen to you school me all over again about the intricacies of the sport we both love.”

  With a gentle smile, he takes off toward his car. I stare at the tickets and consider the value these pieces of paper hold. Not the monetary value, but the sentimental value.

  Meant for his family. He has none but considers me the closest thing to it, and that means more to me than any other apology he could muster. Because even though he’s caused me great pain, I know to the depths of my being he truly never stopped loving me.

  It’s obvious from the way he looks at me, the way his chest rises and falls more rapidly when I’m around, the sincerity in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes . . . the certainty he displays when he talks about my coaching abilities.

  And if I’m going to be honest with myself, I never stopped loving him either and I never will. He’s it for me. The only love I ever want in my life.

  He’s my man, and I can’t let him walk away without knowing that.

  “Carson,” I say, my voice cracking as I spin and run after him. He’s halfway to his car when he turns around and catches me in my leap to his chest. His hands fall under my butt, hoisting me up as I circle my arms around his neck. “I . . . I love you too.”

  His shock turns to joy right before I grip his cheeks and press my mouth against his for the most epic kiss of my lifetime. Desire and relief flood our movements as our lips seek each other out, twisting and turning, gliding with such demanding pressure that he falls back on the hill and I straddle his body, pinning him to the ground. His hands travel up my body, under my shirt and to the nape of my neck where he grips tighter.

  With each pass of his lips and stroke of his tongue, I feel his relief, his gratefulness, his love, and in this moment, I realize this is the man I’m going to marry. This is the man I want to go through life with, riding the ups and the downs but never giving up on each other.

  “Fuck,” he whispers against my lips and then pulls me into a hug, squeezing me so tight that I almost can’t breathe. “I love you so goddamn much,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “I’m sorry, Milly. I promise never to put your heart through that kind of pain again. I promise to always strive to make you happy. And I promise there will never be a day again when I don’t talk to you, where I don’t tell you how much you mean to me.”

  I kiss his cheek, then his forehead, then his jaw, and finish on his lips. “All I want from you . . . is you, Carson. I want the good, the bad, and the horrible. I want every piece of you, and the only promise I want you to make to me is to handle my heart with the greatest of care, because you’re the only one it belongs to.”

  He strokes my cheek softly and brings his lips to mine where he presses a whisper of a kiss across my mouth, so gentle and so delicate. “You have my word . . . Coach.”

  Smiling, I tackle him to the ground again and next to the field where we developed our relationship, I solidify my future with the man of my dreams.

  Epilogue

  MILLY

  “Are you ever going to stop crying?” Shane asks next to me, mouth full of popcorn.

  I shake my head, tears still streaming down my face as I watch Carson take the Bobcats field, looking handsome as ever in his tailored uniform. “I’m just so happy for him.”

  Jerry sips his beer and wipes his eyes. “I have to admit, I’m getting emotional as well. The dude has had a rough life, but look at him now. Fucking starting second baseman for the Bobbies.” Shouting and pointing at Carson—even though he can’t hear Jerry—he says, “You’re my hero, Carson Stone. That’s our boy.”

  “Can you not be that person,” I say to Jerry just as a correspondent for the Bobbies comes up to me with a cameraman.

  “Milly Potter?”

  I smile kindly, prepared for this moment. After Carson and I made out at the park for what felt like hours, we went back to my place and had slow, all-consuming, toe-curling sex. The best I’ve ever had. That was until the second round . . . and then the third. Basically, every spare moment we’ve had together we’ve been naked. But between catching our breath, Carson walked me through the opening ceremonies and what will happen during the broadcast of the game. He warned me that they were going to come talk to me and asked if that was okay. I told him I’d be honored to represent his family. After that, he spent the rest of the night worshipping my body and I must admit, I missed his heart, his mind, his jokes, and teasing . . . but boy, I didn’t realize how much I missed his tongue until a few days ago.

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Taylor Hutchinson.” I know exactly who she is. She’s the on-field correspondent for the Bobbies, the girl who gets to interview the boys after the game, one of the best jobs ever. But instead of fangirling the poor lady, I play it cool and shake her hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “We’re just going to ask you a few questions about Carson if that’s okay. It will be live, so please make sure not to swear.”

  Shane leans in and says, “That means you can’t say fuck.”

  With my palm, I push him away and mutter, “Thanks.”

  Sitting tall, I smile at the camera as Taylor gives us a countdown and then turns on her camera face. “Yes, I’m here with Milly Potter. Some might know her as the girl who’s changing swings around Chicago over at D1 Athletics, others might know her as Cory Potter’s sister, but here, we know her as the girl behind Carson Stone. As he has told us many times, she’s the girl behind his swing, and the one who owns his heart.” Taylor clutches her chest and turns the mic to me. “Milly, tell us how you met Carson.”

  Smiling, I say, “Well, it all started in a panini line . . .”

  * * *

  “Ahhhhh,” Shane and Jerry scream at the same time as Carson approaches us, freshly showered and walking with some pep in his step from starting the season off with a solid win. “Our hero.”