Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dylan
Dylan felt a stab of guilt, deep in his gut, when he heard Lucy’s tires squeal a little in the parking lot. He couldn’t remember, exactly, everything he’d said last night, but he’d been told pretty firmly that he’d been a complete and utter asshole. His guilt was only made worse when Otis stomped over to him, one of his fists clenched, and a fierce, overprotective look on his face.
“What did you do to my sister?” he asked, bold as day.
“Why do you think I did something to your sister?” he asked, trying to stay calm.
“Because she wanted to go see you after your tryout, but his friends said you didn’t want to see her, and she said you were acting like a boy. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds bad, and now she’s sad, and it looks like she’s been crying, and if you made her cry, I’m…I’m going to kick you in the shins.”
Otis paused to draw a deep breath, like he wanted to continue his tirade, but Tristan appeared behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “Buddy, why don’t you come warm up with my guys for a bit, until you cool off. You’re right…Dylan is acting like a dumbass, but kicking his shins won’t solve any problems.” Tristan shot Dylan a dark look over Otis’s head. “Trust me. I tried it already.”
Dylan rubbed his temples as Tristan led Otis away. The headache had persisted since yesterday…or maybe that was the hangover. He’d woken up on Nate’s living room couch, disoriented, to find Nate standing over him with a cup of coffee, four ibuprofen, and an irritated expression. He’d handed the coffee and tablets to Dylan without a word, then left the room.
That was the first hint that his friends were more than a little pissed with him. The second had been Tristan’s dressing down in the locker room before camp. His ears were still ringing with that one.
Now Otis. That one had him puzzled and embarrassed. Otis didn’t seem to know much, but he knew something was wrong. Which meant Lucy was really upset…which meant Dylan had a giant problem.
Because in the harsh light of morning, and the painful ache of a hangover, he knew, in no uncertain terms, that he’d been a raging asshole.
It wasn’t Lucy’s fault. He’d been upset and looking for something to blame. That’s what Tristan had said, and slowly the truth had sunk in through his aching head. He’d wanted to control his destiny for so long he’d forgotten that destiny doesn’t like to be controlled. The baseball gods knew that. He should have, too. He’d had a bad day yesterday, and the slightest bit of bad luck could torpedo your shot—hadn’t Rick told him that? The scout had said he was good, good enough for the majors, even, but that he needed more time to develop his arm. That didn’t mean never. It just meant not right now. The Plan was still alive… It was just delayed, was all. If he hadn’t been so fucking defensive, maybe he wouldn’t have blamed Lucy for everything. She wasn’t the problem.
He was.
Now, he was stuck wondering if he’d figured it out all too late. Had he missed his chance to play in college?
Had he lost Lucy because he’d been too stupid to realize what he had?
“Kid, you don’t look so good.” Coach came up alongside him, watching the pitcher group stretch. “Maybe you should take today off.”
He’d never done that before—given Dylan an out. And Dylan had never left in the middle of something. He stuck things out, didn’t shirk, didn’t quit.
But that was the old Dylan. The one who didn’t need anyone, who always came through no matter how much pain he was in. Tristan had hitched his star to Alyssa, taking her advice and improving his swing because he listened.
And what had Dylan done? Chased off the first girl who made him feel like himself, who’d broken through the walls he’d put up.
“You know what? I think I’ll take you up on that.” He nodded to Coach. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He headed to the parking lot without a backward glance. Tristan had told Lucy what happened. Dylan had no idea what Tristan had said, but that didn’t matter. She knew…so what mattered was apologizing and explaining that he didn’t believe it, not really. He’d ask her out to lunch, and if she said no, he’d get down on his knees and beg if he had to.
Not even bothering to go home and change out of his workout gear, he drove straight to Lucy’s mom’s shop. Lucy’s Jeep was there, so he parked and went around front. Trying to see where she was, he peered through the front door. A group of older ladies were seated at long tables, heads bent over fabric or sewing machines. Lucy’s mom was going from table to table, checking things out.
Lucy wasn’t in view.
Steeling himself, and realizing, belatedly, he was wearing cleats, he stepped inside.
A little bell tinged when he opened the door, and every head turned to look at him. Dylan brushed some dirt off his shorts and asked, “Um, is Lucy here?”
Her mom gave him a cool look. “She’s in back. She might not want to see you, though.”
The older ladies glanced at each other in delight. A soap opera was developing right there in the middle of the quilting shop.
Dylan stared at his shoes and nodded. “If she doesn’t, I’ll leave.”
He made his way past the tables, grateful to push through the curtained doorway at the back of the room. Lucy was hunched over a piece of bright pink fabric, sewing something by hand. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t stir.
Dylan couldn’t tell if she was ignoring him, or so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed, so he walked over to stand in front of her table.
“You’re in my light.” Her tone was flat.
Ignoring him, then. Dylan sidestepped. “Sorry. Look, I wanted to see you, to explain…”
“To explain why you think I ruined your tryout? Why I ruined your life?” She met his gaze. Her eyes were dark with anger. “Don’t bother. I deserve better than that.”
“You do.” He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. This wasn’t going well at all. Even if he didn’t remember everything, he’d obviously messed up more than he realized. “And that’s why I’m here. To say I’m sorry, and that I don’t blame you. It’s all on me. The scout said I need more time. I think I was more mad that my parents were right, and that I need to go to college for a few years first. I never would have said any of those things if I hadn’t been drinking.”
“People tend to be honest when they’re drunk.” Lucy set the fabric down. “And I appreciate the apology, but I don’t think this is going to work. I want to be with a guy who values what I bring to the table, not constantly questions the things I do. You had an epiphany, and so did I. I need someone who can handle spontaneous behavior, and you think I’m bad luck…it’s not going to work.”
Her expression was neutral, completely composed, but Dylan heard the raw hurt under the words. She must believe he didn’t think she was good enough for him. In truth, she was probably too good to be true, in his case, anyway. “I don’t believe that. If you’d give me another chance, I’d—”
Lucy picked up her work and started sewing again. “I have more important stuff to worry about today. Like the fact that Serena’s farm is about to be closed, and I need to finish up these pieces to be auctioned off so we can send the chickens someplace other than a commercial farm.”
He stood there, watching her sew, waiting for her to say something else. Finally, he nodded. “I wish you’d change your mind. If you do, I’ll be waiting. You, uh, you have my number.”
He turned and walked out the back door. He could tell she was hurt, but also that she still cared about him. He didn’t know how he knew, but it was obvious. She was angry and upset, but no matter what she said, he didn’t think she’d given up.
So he wouldn’t, either.