“So, do you want to talk about it?” Dean looked at me and the sympathy in his eyes made me cringe.
“I do,” I said with a nod. “But not with you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to talk to my wife first.”
Dean nodded his head in agreement. “Definitely. But then I want to hear about it, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for coming out here.” I punched his thigh playfully, wanting him to know that having him here made me happy.
“I’m your brother. I’d do anything for you,” he said, and I knew he meant it.
“Same here.” Of course I didn’t need to say it, but I wanted to.
I’d missed Dean more than I realized. It was easy to forget how much you miss people when you didn’t see them every day. I must be more of the out of sight, out of mind type. Unless we were talking about Kitten; then all bets were off. Because when it came to her, I was more the distance makes the heart grow fonder type. Or you could just call me pussy for short.
I burst through our front door with Dean on my heels, praying Cassie would be home. When I found her in the kitchen table with Melissa, her green eyes instantly found mine before they looked away, the pain I’d caused her abundantly clear.
Fuck.
She hated me. I’d hate me too. How many times had I said that before?
Ignoring Melissa, I rushed to Cassie, grabbed her hand in my good one, and pulled her into our bedroom, slamming the door behind us. Without a word, I pulled her over to the bed and sat down, pulling her to a seat on the mattress next to me.
“Jack, what are you—”
“Shhh. Please. Just wait here for a minute,” I begged. Leaning over and placing my head against my cast, I closed my eyes and silently berated myself. Cassie didn’t move and I didn’t either, afraid that if I disturbed the emotional dust settling around us, I’d mess it all up again.
I sat there a good ten minutes without moving a muscle. When I finally sat up and opened my eyes, tears began to spill down my cheeks.
“Oh God, Kitten. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” Her eyebrows flew up and her eyes grew wide, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.
“I fucked up. I’m just so scared for what all this means, you know?” I held my cast-covered arm in the air and she nodded. “I’m not ready to lose baseball. I’m not ready for my career to be over. And I’ve taken it all out on you.”
She started to cry. No words came, just tears, so I went on. “I know you probably hate me. Or you’re mad at me. And I deserve it. But please know how sorry I am. I’ll never treat you like this again, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shifted over, closing the space between us, and pulled her body against mine. “I’ll never treat you like this again,” I said against her hair as she trembled in my arms. “I am so sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I’m scared. Terrified I’ll never be able to throw again. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to lose baseball. But I’ll never be ready to lose you.”
Cassie pulled back slightly so she could look up at me. “Jack,” she said softly as I wiped the tears from her face. “Why are you so convinced your career’s over?”
I paused, my mind instantly thinking about my parents both choosing to abandon me and Dean at different times. The helpless feeling started to sweep over me again, filling me with dread. It amazed me how after all these years, one simple past action could send me into a tailspin. “I don’t know. Because I love baseball so much and I want it so badly, I’m afraid it will be taken from me. Like I don’t deserve to have the things that I love.”
“You have me,” she said softly as she pinned me with her gaze.
“But I lost you. I had to get you back. Nothing comes easy. I fuck things up. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I fuck up baseball too.”
Her face scrunched up and she shouted, “Stop it!” which surprised me. “Just stop it. I hate this side of you. It’s like you’re quitting and that’s not the Jack I know. Stop being so complacent. Be a fucking man. Be the man I know and love.”
I nodded, her words striking me square in the chest. I wanted to yell at her for being so harsh, but she was right and I needed to hear it. “You’re right. I’m filled with self-pity and it’s a joke. That’s why I don’t give a fuck if baseball tries to quit on me, I’m not going to let it.”