“It’s certainly not my fault you knocked me up,” she fired back at him.
It was a knife jammed between my ribs, but more of a butter knife by now. Not like the serrated edge of the first time I’d heard them talk about not wanting me.
About how I was a mistake. Same with my sister, two years younger.
“You should have had an abortion like I told you to,” my father spit out.
I froze—even my blood stopped moving.
But my ears still rang with this new accusation, a barb he’d never flung at her before.
I couldn’t go back to the computer now. I didn’t care about the movie, only about the horror I was overhearing.
“Don’t blame me,” she yelled. “I would have, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”
“Well, just remember who was going to take you to the clinic. And you better not be lying about being on the pill now.”
A wave of nausea rose up inside me, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop listening.
“Get out,” my mother seethed at my dad. “I’m sick of you.”
“Why do you fuck me, then?”
“That’s all you’re good for.”
“If you’re pregnant again, you’ll get rid of it this time.”
It.
Get rid of it.
I needed to get away from my parents. Did they know I was here? Did they even care?
“Get the fuck out,” she screamed at him.
And that was enough.
No more for me.
I didn’t want her to come in here and cry with me, vent to me, complain to me. That was her favorite thing to do—sob with her kids over her shitty husband.
Not tonight, Mom.
I left my laptop on the bed, yanked open the window and climbed out, sprinting across my yard, then the neighbors’, all the way to Reese’s place a few houses down.
Her mom let me in. I must have looked awful, because she asked if I was okay, and when I told her I needed to see Reese, she squeezed my shoulder and walked me to her daughter’s bedroom.
With the door closed, I told my closest friend everything. I tried so damn hard not to cry. But it didn’t work.
“Shh. Someday . . . someday it will be different,” she whispered as she hugged me and I hugged her back. “At least you have your grandparents.”
She was right. My grandma and grandpa were all I needed. With them, I had more than enough, and I knew, deep down, I’d be okay.
As long as I was careful to never give a piece of my heart to someone who would throw it away.
7
Grant
Present Day
* * *
Declan broke my heart.
But baseball? Baseball doesn’t let me down. Baseball shows up the next day with a first-aid kit.
It gets to work on the wounded heart that River started to fix with friendship.
With three days left in spring training, Fisher calls me aside after a morning workout. I trot over to him by the third-base line, where he rests his elbow against the stands.
“Let’s talk, Blackwood.”
I straighten and square my shoulders, ready to take his news, whatever it is, like a man.
“Yes, sir.”
He sets a hand on my shoulder, looks me in the eye, and draws out the silence until his lips twitch and give him away. “How would you like to be our starting catcher on Opening Day?”
I try not to grin like a fool, but it’s futile. When your greatest dream comes true, grinning should be a requirement.
“I’d love it,” I say, as sunshine floods my veins.
“Good. Starting catcher job is yours, rookie.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much, coach.”
“No need to thank me. We’re not handing out favors here. Everything you get, you earn,” he says, then gives a crisp nod and turns away.
I raise my face to the sky. It’s bright and blue and full of possibility. It’s a brand-new day, and I am going to savor it.
I run a finger across my chest, over my uniform, tracing the place where the arrow is tattooed on my skin.
Goals, protection, a future.
I dodged a bullet.
I nearly lost the love of my life thanks to a man.
Now, I have a fresh chance with baseball, and I swear I will take this chance and be faithful to baseball.
A few days later, I get on the team plane and return to San Francisco, leaving Arizona with its desert and wide-open skies and memories of first times behind me.
I’ve been through worse than this and came out on the other side.
The key to survival is you don’t let the people who hurt you back in.
The Night Before Opening Day
8
Declan
Heels click-clack across the hardwood floor as I try to decide if I like this place.
I wander through the living room while the realtor, Avery, gestures to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the city beyond as Manhattan unveils itself. “And you have a fantastic view of Central Park. Soon the spring flowers will be in bloom,” she says, her pretty soprano voice floating across the one-bedroom apartment on Fifth Avenue. “The tulips are gorgeous, and the hyacinths too.”