Page 23 of Bad Ball Hitter
The last bit of daylight fades while Miranda rambles about catching a baseball. I try to show some enthusiasm for her, but all I can think about is Lila. It’s hard not to think about the past when she stands beside me. The love we shared still lingers in a small corner of my heart. Being with her is like a game of catch between past and present. The thought that keeps haunting me is, what if I had found her before meeting Miranda? Would Lila and I have gotten together? Do second chances really exist, or were AJ and my sister anomalies?
These are the thoughts I shouldn’t be having when I’m holding my girlfriend in my arms.
Cue the fucking guilt.
“I knew we were heading to something great when you entered my parlor.” Miranda presses close, her body heat seeping into mine, and I should feel anchored by her presence. Instead, there’s this itch under my skin, a longing glance toward Lila, whose eyes crinkle when she’s really happy.
I can’t help myself. I’m lost in her beauty. I sneak my phone out and snap a picture of her like a stalker as she watches her son’s futile attempts to catch butterflies.
The simple act brings me back to the meadows and fields where we used to sneak away. Oh, how I loved our nature walks. My mouth waters as I remember the taste of Lila’s kisses, sweet with a hint of honey from the flowers we would pick on our walks. What started as an innocent venture always ended with us doing dirty deeds.
“Drake!” Miranda’s demanding voice slams shut the vulgar thoughts toying in my mind. “Are you paying attention to me?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and wrap my arms around Miranda’s waist to ward off the funny sensation. What felt right this past month now feels wrong. I clear my throat. “You were talking about catching my baseball.”
“It was more than that, but I shouldn’t expect you to be romantic.” She huffs.
“I can be romantic.” I trace my nose along the nape of her neck and lower my voice. “I can show you later when we’re alone.”
Lila stiffens beside us, and I suddenly feel like a dick—quite possibly the one everyone accuses me of being. I’ve had years to polish my dirty talk game, so making sex references comes naturally to me as dressing for a game. But I hadn’t meant to disrespect Lila. And what makes me the biggest asshole of all is that I secretly wish I was holding her.
Which is unfair to the woman in my arms.
I promised myself I would give us a real go. That I would put in the effort. For once, I want to keep that promise. I just hadn’t expected to run into the true love of my life.
I’m so fucked.
“Mom, I caught one!” Jake’s joyous voice rings through the air and pulls our attention.
“Be sure not to harm the wings,” Lila says.
“I know, Mom.”
“Still the martyr.” I smile at the memory, picturing her saying those exact words every time we went to the fields.
“Of course.” Lila’s smile meets mine, and it’s like we’re sharing a secret, just us and the ghosts of our younger selves. I suppose we are, in a way. I’m unwilling to admit to Miranda how close Lila and I were. It’s complicated with them being roommates. I don’t want to cause friction and definitely don’t want to be the reason behind un-housing a woman and her child. It’s best to keep what we meant to each other in the past where it belongs.
“Makes sense, coming from someone who wanted a big farmhouse with lots of land,” I say.
“Oh, I still want that.”
“Why?” Miranda asks, her nose scrunched as if the thought was pungent.
“Because it’s perfect.”
Lila’s answer is whimsical, much to Miranda’s dismay. She rolls her eyes as if that’s the stupidest answer ever. But I know precisely what Lila’s talking about. After we’d made love, we would lie on the blanket holding hands while watching the clouds. We often talked about our dreams. Mine was easy—play ball. But she wanted a big farmhouse to open a bed and breakfast inn. She wanted enough land so her dog could roam. Not that she owned one, but she dreamed of having the biggest, fluffiest breed.
“Do you still want that bed and breakfast inn?” I ask. Her mouth parts, forming the perfect “o” shape. That’s right, sweetheart. I remember everything. I haven’t forgotten one damn thing.
“No,” she says, a soft smile ghosting her lips, her eyes mesmerized. “But I still want that big farmhouse with lots of land for my Tibetan Mastiff.”
“Seriously? You’ve never changed your mind?”
“No!” She laughs, and the sound wraps around me like a familiar embrace. “That was always the dream.”
The one I was supposed to be starring in.
“You achieved part of it anyway. You groom them.” Miranda’s voice grounds me back to her, but I can’t take my eyes off Lila.