Page 62 of Bad Ball Hitter
Waking to a warm hand resting on my stomach, I can’t help but savor the pressure. Her fingertips brush against my skin with each breath. Yeah, I can get used to this. I grin, taking in the beauty beside me. The morning light highlights every curve and dip of her body. Her hair is as tangled as the white sheets. Her cheeks are flushed. But it’s her content smile that makes my heart swell and turns me into a caveman wanting to beat my chest.
Lila is finally back in my life, and I’m already fucking it up.
My stomach twists with guilt, gnawing at me. I rub a hand over my scruff, exhaling slowly as I watch her chest rise and fall. This is all too familiar to me—a cycle of guilt and bad choices. I’m trapped in a labyrinth of my making with no apparent way out.
I don’t know how to navigate this. I mean, what am I supposed to say? “Oh, hey. I slept with your best friend because she lied about you, so there’s a chance Jake could be mine. Hate to drop this bomb on you and then cut and run, but I have games to play. Be back in a week.”
No way. I can’t leave her with that kind of news. It wouldn’t be fair. I dropped a bombshell once and ended up with a dead father.
My jaw tightens as my thoughts spiral back to the past, into areas I hadn’t thought about until she came back into my life. It’s like stepping into a dark, treacherous forest with no clear path. Regret and guilt twist around me, tightening with each heavy step. Every turn reveals a new memory, a ghost of my past mistakes.
My dad.
My mom.
Every relationship I’ve had.
There’s a reason I keep people at arm’s length; anyone who gets close to me ends up getting hurt, or worse—dead.
Even when I don’t intend for it to happen.
“What has you thinking so hard?” Lila’s soft and curious voice pulls me back. Her blue eyes search mine, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows.
I run my fingertips along her arm, her warmth grounding me. I shift my gaze to the window, unable to meet her eyes as I offer a partial truth. “My parents.”
Her body stiffens beside me. “What brought them up?”
“I don’t know.” But I do know. It’s guilt. Guilt from the lie of omission. Guilt from making one poor decision after another. “I think having you around stirs up memories I’ve buried.”
She props herself up on an elbow and eyes me, that crease deepening. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s good, but it’s hard to look back and see how reckless I was.” My voice cracks, the guilt choking me. I could have a son, and I wasn’t part of his life. It’s the same thing I accused my dad of. “It makes me see how wild I’d become in those last high school years. I’m surprised you put up with me.”
“I understood what you were going through to an extent. Losing a parent is one of the hardest things to endure. You lost both of them and a sibling in a short time.” Her voice is soothing, but it doesn’t erase my guilt.
I pull her tighter against me. She had lost her mom when she was a toddler, leaving her alone with her dad. Losing him must have been devastating. “I’m so sorry I didn’t push harder to see you after your dad died.”
“Hey, we’re moving on from that, remember?” Her fingers trace the inked patterns on my arm, grounding me in the present.
“Yeah.” But we’ll have to revisit at some point. “I’ve told you how I blamed myself for my father’s death, but there’s also my mom.”
“Drake, your mom died in a house fire. You weren’t anywhere near the house when it broke out.”
“No, but I was the cause.” The words are a jagged pill lodging in my throat. I force them out, my voice barely above a whisper. Fuck, I haven’t thought of this for years. I’ve run from it.
“It was electrical. No way were you involved with that.”
“But the fire started in my bedroom. I’d known about the frayed wires on my game console. I meant to fix them, but then Roy called about the party, and?—”
“I remember.” Her tone is dry, her eyes dark with old hurt. I had ditched her that night to party instead—all from Roy’s relentless pushing.
“It wasn’t just any party. Roy had been bugging me for weeks to attend. ‘Come on, man, it’s going to be epic. It’s my last chance to throw a winter party before we leave.’ I told him we already had plans, but he wouldn’t let up. ‘Git off the tit. Your girlfriend will survive a night without you.’” God, I was so stupid back then. Why the hell had I listened to him?
“I remember how persistent Roy could be,” she says softly, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “He always had a way of pushing you into things.”
“Yeah, he did. I got so wasted that night and passed out at Roy’s house. It saved my life, but the fire started in my room. From my game console.” I wince, the guilt a sharp, stabbing pain. I’ve never confessed this to anyone, not even Mia. I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. “What if I hadn’t gone to that party? What if I had fixed the wiring?”
Her fingers slide across to my chest, her touch a lifeline. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened, Drake. It was a tragic accident. Nobody could have known.”