Page 39 of Bad Ball Hitter
“Drake, I can’t…” I trail off, not knowing how to articulate the jumble of thoughts whirling in my mind.
He looks at me, his brown eyes soft and understanding. “It’s okay, Lila,” he whispers, brushing away a tear that slides down my cheek. “We were kids. We made mistakes.”
But we lost so much time.
A wave of nausea hits me, but it has nothing to do with my illness. I miss us. Drake was the love of my life. He understood me, shared my dreams and fears, and made me laugh and feel special. And now he’s here, holding me in his arms, but belonging to another woman.
“Where do we go from here?” I dare to ask.
Drake opens his mouth, but the door swings open and draws our attention. Miranda appears as if summoned and halts as she takes in the scene.
“What’s going on here?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Drake
Miranda’s shrill voice is like an ice bucket over a warm, cozy fire, extinguishing the flicker of solace I found next to Lila. Her accusatory gaze lands on me, and I instinctively assess the situation through her eyes. I’m on the couch next to Lila, our bodies practically entangled, my head tilted as if I’m about to kiss her.
I push to my feet, trying to mask my guilt. “I was helping Lila. She’s sick.”
Miranda remains silent, her arms crossed over her chest, a less-than-impressed expression etched on her face. A sickening feeling—one I’m unfamiliar with—weighs on me. I’ve spent my entire adult life doing whatever and whoever I wanted. If something shiny caught my attention, so be it. But I made a promise to myself to change. The first challenge came along, and I failed miserably.
Because I wanted that kiss, damn it.
And what does that say about me? About my relationship with Miranda?
I feel like a lowlife piece of shit right now. But I don’t know if I feel bad because of the thought of cheating on Miranda or the fact that being a cheating asshole proves that I’m still not good enough for Lila. She deserves someone who can commit—a lifelong partner who can care for her and her son.
If today proved anything, it’s that person is not me. Yet, I’m selfish to know that I still want her—that the part of my heart she still owned started beating again. I’ve never been as whole as I am with her.
But I’m not so selfish that I could tell her how Darci blocked me from seeing her that day. The truth would’ve complicated things further. She obviously had loved her best friend, though she never mentions her now. I don’t know if they had a fallout or if they are still in contact. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Darci screwed me over twice. I should’ve known something was off when she barely opened the door. Was Lila inside, and Darci didn’t want me to see her? Is that why she hardly showed her face?
My blood boils. We spent years apart, angry with each other over lies and misunderstandings. Now that I know the truth, I ache to be near her.
So where does that leave Miranda?
“I tried calling you. When I couldn’t reach you, I tried Drake. I thought maybe you were with him,” Lila says.
That snaps Miranda out of her trance.
“You’re sick? Like the flu?”
“Yeah.”
“Ew, then get to your bedroom. You’re spreading germs everywhere.”
“Yeah, sorry. You’re right. I don’t want you getting this.” Lila nods and pushes to her feet, her legs wobbly and unsteady. I instinctively move to grab her when she stumbles, but Miranda’s icy glare freezes me in my tracks.
Lila raises her hands as if to stop me. “I’m fine. Just weak. I’ll get to my room.”
“Good. The last thing I need is to be sick.” Miranda rolls her eyes.
I study Miranda as she interacts with Lila. The differences between the two are staggering. If the roles were reversed, I would bet my entire baseball career that Lila would care for Miranda. She wouldn’t banish her to her room like some leper.
Miranda is all about appearances; I know this. But Lila? She’s all about the substance. It’s what drew me to her in the first place. The way she cares for her son, Jake, with an unwavering dedication. How she always puts others first. Lila’s strength is quiet, but it’s there and powerful. But I knew this from that first day, seeing her reaching for the perfect-sized pinecone to make that hideous wreath.
Once Lila is gone, I turn to Miranda. “Was that necessary?”