Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Cole isn’t like Dad,” Ethan says, struggling to control his feelings. “Cole did what he said. He meant what he said. He wouldn’t just leave us.”
Oh, son. But he did.
“He’s gone, Ethan. He’s probably back in California right now . . . like he was always going to do.” I sit on the edge of his bed and pray for the right words. “Honey, sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. Things change. Circumstances change. It happens.”
“So that’s it? You’re fine with it? He’s gone, and we just pretend like it’s all fine now?”
“What choice do we have?”
He releases his fists. The heat in his cheeks starts to fade.
The reality of the situation hits Ethan full force. Cole isn’t just a cool story to tell his friends. He can’t take this breakup in stride like he thought he could. And reality hits me too—Ethan is still just a little boy. He’s hurt and confused, unable to make sense of this mess.
But really, so am I.
As I watch my son come to terms with Cole’s departure from our lives, I can’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction. Not that he’s hurting—I wish I could take that away. But Ethan saw what I saw in Cole.
It’s a validation that I’m not out of my mind. What Cole and I had wasn’t a casual fling like he’s making it out to be. There was something there, something substantial. Something very freaking real, and Ethan felt it too.
“If you don’t want to go to baseball, we can skip it tonight,” I say softly. “I don’t really want to go either. Maybe we can grab a sandwich and hang out instead.”
Ethan stares at a poster that Casey gave him of the San Diego Swifts baseball team. Then he looks at me with a cold resolution that chills my soul.
“No, we’re going,” he says definitively. “I’m gonna go get my stuff together.”
He marches past me into the hallway. I hear the front door open and shut.
I get up and start to leave but pause by the poster. Cole is in the back center. The photographer caught him in a mixture of a smile and a smirk. And even though I’m heartbroken and angry, I can’t help but smile.
“I hate you,” I say, despite the warmth that his picture gives me. “I hate you so much.”
I reach out and let my finger touch his image. Then, with a heaviness in my heart, I walk away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
COLE
The sound of my cell ringing next to my head is the only reason I pull my face out of the pillow.
I bat around the sheets until my palm hits the device. I don’t bother to look at who it is. It won’t be the only person I want it to be. The only person who will never call me again.
“Yeah?” I say instead of a hello. No sense in pretending this is going to be a polite conversation.
“How are you?” Fish asks.
His words are measured, feeling me out. I’m sure he’s a bit concerned since the last time I talked to him, I was working my way through a fifth of whiskey—something I never do. It was the only way I could numb the pain.
God, I miss her. I miss everything about her. Her touch, smiles, laughs—the way she’s always upbeat and prepared with a comeback. I wish I were with her and Ethan this Sunday morning, maybe getting ready to go to Mom’s. We could have dinner and hang out with them before going back to Palmer’s for some trivia before bed. There would be no MS, no serious worries except how we look after her boss and his wife. Together.
I stretch out in Fish’s bed and enjoy the moment of relative peace in my brain. It doesn’t come often and arrives only when I’m thinking about being there with them.
My life has always been full of stadium lights and the roar of crowds. So why did I love the peaceful life with a single mom in the middle of nowhere?
Because that’s where I am meant to be. I know it in my soul. I just can’t have it without ruining her life, and that fucking blows.
“You there?” Fish asks.
“Yeah. I’m here.” I sit up too fast, and my head starts to spin. I push my fingertips into my temples. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“How much have you drunk?”
“I’m still awake, so not enough, apparently.”
He sighs. “Do you want me to get you a plane? Given that it’s midafternoon, you’ve missed your flight.”
I drop my hand and look around the room. I did. I missed my flight. But instead of the panic I expect to feel, I don’t. Maybe I’m just numb?
Or maybe nothing matters anymore.
I’m displaced, a man without a home. The only place that feels like I belong is the one place I can’t go.