Page 55 of Bad Ball Hitter
I cringe, not expecting that question. “Miranda.”
“Answer.”
“Your eyes,” I say quickly, not bothering to meet her gaze now. “They’re beautiful.”
She scoffs, dropping a card onto the table. She doesn’t look at it. “Is that why you can’t look at me now?”
In frustration, I sigh, removing my ball cap and shoving my hand through my hair. Lila watches us in silence, her expression unreadable. I lift my gaze to Miranda again.
“I can’t look at you because I hate seeing you hurt,” I admit quietly. “And knowing I’m the one who caused it.”
She huffs, unimpressed by my sincerity or unwillingness to accept it. She turns towards Lila again, gesturing towards the deck of cards.
“Your turn.”
“Can we please just talk about this?” I ask. I should leave and get my ass to the field, but I can’t. No way am I leaving Lila alone with this woman. If anything, today proved I didn’t know Miranda all that well. I don’t trust what she’d do if I left. Lila may have been reluctant to move in with me, but she isn’t staying here.
Miranda shoots me a glare before returning to Lila. Lila reaches for another card with trembling fingers and flips it over—another truth card. The game feels like a cruel joke now. Miranda’s smile is back but no longer genuine—there’s a coldness in her eyes I can’t quite fathom. The shadows in the room seem to grow longer as if echoing the darkness in her eyes.
“Lila,” she starts, her voice dangerously calm as she leans forward in her chair. “Who’s Jake’s dad?”
“I don’t know.” Lila’s back straightens, and whatever nervousness she has is long gone.
“Don’t lie!” Miranda demands, her voice rising slightly.
“I’m not. Jake’s father is unknown. I have no clue who he is.” Lila’s voice is steady, but her eyes betray the turmoil within. As much as I want to console her, I sit still, my mind replaying that one word—unknown.
But how? How can Lila not know who fathered her child? That makes sense unless… Dread creeps into my bones as Miranda scoffs.
“How do you not know?” she asks, the question burning inside me.
“I-I just don’t.” Lila’s shoulders droop as the brave stance she held pops like a balloon. She grabs her necklace—my gift—worrying the pendant between her fingers. The topic of Jake’s father clearly upset her, but something has bugged me ever since meeting the little guy.
“Why does he call you Mama Lila sometimes?” I ask.
The room goes silent as the focus shifts to Lila. Betrayal flashes across her eyes before tears form. Well, shit. I didn’t mean to upset her. I’ve just been curious as to the reason behind it.
“Because I’m not his biological mom.” Lila’s voice trembles as she takes a deep, shaky breath. “But I’m the only mom he’s ever known.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she clutches the pendant around her neck like a lifeline.
An eerie feeling wraps around my chest as my asshole meter dials up a notch. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to take back words as badly as I do now.
“What happened?” I ask softly, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me.
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Jake’s mother … my best friend … she died of cancer. I promised to take care of her son. Jake was just a baby and never got to know her. But I keep her alive through old pictures and memories. That’s why he calls me Mama Lila sometimes. It was the only way I knew to distinguish between us.” Her voice cracks on the last word, the pain of her loss evident in every syllable.
That eeriness sits like a foreshadowing. “Which best friend?” I ask, though I already know.
“Darci.”
My face pales as that night that haunted me for eight years collides headfirst into my future. The memories flood back, unbidden and unwanted, a torrent of guilt and regret. The room spins, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Drake
EIGHT YEARS AGO
“Wow, look who decided to make an appearance.” That voice—sharp and unexpected—pierced through my haze of nostalgia and drunkenness. But it wasn’t the voice I longed to hear; it wasn’t Lila.