SHE STIRS. IT’S A SLOW process. At first her hand wiggles, then her feet start to rustle under the sheets. Her head goes back and forth and she yawns softly before her eyelashes start to slowly flutter.

It’s fascinating. I realize how creepy this may look—me lying on my side in my bed, watching a girl sleep. I don’t give a fuck. I want to be here when she opens her eyes. I want to be the first thing she sees.

Her lips press together as her lids lift. She startles for a half a second before realizing it’s me. “Hey,” she whispers, clearing her throat. “How’d I get in your room?”

“I carried you. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Her brows pull together. “What time is it? And when did you get new sheets?”

“I changed them today.”

“I’m impressed.” She yawns again. Her face looks pale, the start to bags evident under her eyes. Her normally smooth features are tight and I wonder what she was dreaming about. “Thank you for letting me come by.”

“Of course.”

She gives me an odd look, tugging the blankets around her. “What time is it?”

“It’s still pretty early. Want me to order some dinner?”

“I better get home. I’ll just grab something on the way.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“I work tomorrow.”

Kicking myself for missing such a huge point, I scramble for a solution. “Want me to stay with you?”

“You don’t have to do that. Thank you for taking care of me today. Thank you for being there for me.”

“Of course. I’m always here if you need me.”

Something I said hits her wrong and her eyes widen. She wiggles beneath the blankets, dragging in a deep breath.

“What?” I ask. “What did I say?”

Her head shakes from side to side. “Nothing.”

“Tell me the truth.”

After what feels like an eternity, she looks at me. “You are amazing. More amazing than I even imagined and that was a lot.”

“Naturally.”

A start of a smile slips on her lips. “I needed you today.”

She says it like those words say it all, like I should understand everything from the simple sentence. Furrowing my brow, I look at her. “I’m glad,” I say cautiously. “You should need me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“It’s not.” She climbs out of my bed, messing with her long, dark locks. “Things between us have been fun. Great, actually. But today when you walked into my office, I can’t even tell you the relief I felt.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face. “How is that a bad thing?” I follow her into the living room where she slides on her shoes.

“Me needing you like I did today is another step into something I’m not sure I can handle,” she says, straightening up and facing me. “We are fun, Landry. This thing between us, whatever it is, has made me so happy.”

“Me too,” I say, feeling a little seed of unease settle in my gut.

“But it’s a short term thing. You are going to head into the preseason soon and then you’ll be off for two hundred games.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I say nothing and hope she clarifies.

“I told you before I don’t want to be a baseball girlfriend. I won’t, as a matter of fact,” she says, pulling her gaze from me. “I somehow convinced myself I could keep it light between us and enjoy it for what it was and let you go when the time came. But I’m in too far.”

“There’s no measuring stick to what’s too far,” I say, reaching for her. My heart plummets when she starts to retreat. “What are you doing, Dani?”

“I think I need to take a little step back, Lincoln. For my sanity.”

“What are you talking about?” She won’t look at me and I swear I must have misheard her. There’s no fucking way she just said that to me. I bounce back and forth from being confused, to pissed, to what might just be hurt. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“You heard me,” she whispers.

I run my hands through my hair. “Why do we need to take a step back? What the hell does that even mean?”

She looks at the doorway. “It just means I don’t want to get to a point where I’m dependent on you or need you when I’m feeling crummy.”

“You’re fucking joking, right?” I repeat. My mind buzzes with a million thoughts, a thousand questions, a hundred replies to that. But I can’t get any of them to my tongue.

“When you came in my office today, right after I got my mother’s email, I was so happy to see you. And then you told me to come here, and Landry, I didn’t even hesitate. This is right where I wanted to be.”

“Great. Good. That’s what I was hoping for. That’s how it should be.”

“I know. I think I was too, but,” she says, frowning, “I can’t do this with you.”

“You’ve already done this with me,” I glare.

Her lips press together and I can tell she’s warring with herself. I have to bite my tongue, sit on my hands, because I’m two seconds from losing my temper . . . just like I’m two seconds from losing my girl.

“I disagree with all of this,” I say. “You are my girl, my girlfriend, my lady. I don’t care what you call it, but that’s where we stand.”

She backs away towards the door, her eyes wide. She’s scared. But I can’t let her leave here without knowing exactly how I feel.

“When I saw you so hurt today, it changed the game for me. I knew as soon as I walked in your office that it was a watershed moment. I couldn’t go back.” I stalk through the room until I’m standing in front of her. “I want to see where this goes. I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. Well, no guys either, for that matter.”

Her face slips and she starts to smile. I take it as a good sign.

“I want to lock you down. Be there to make you smile. Make you mad. Make sure you’re protected and know how awesome you are.”

“I’ll still come over and fuck you, Landry.”

She says it to get a rise out of me, to deflect from the topic she doesn’t want to discuss. It’s how she rolls. Instead, I flip it back on her.

“You bet your sweet, round ass you will. And you’ll come over and let me make love to you too.”

She moves down the hall to the front door, thanking me again for being there for her today. I can barely hear her over the roar in my ears. I put my hand on the door, closing it.

“I can’t get wrapped up in you,” she says, looking straight ahead. “I’m going down a rabbit hole and I have to pull myself out.”

“You can’t get wrapped up in me?” I ask, my voice a little louder than I care to admit. “You’ll wrap up in my sheets. In my arms. Around my cock. But you can’t get wrapped up in my heart because I play fucking baseball? Really, Danielle?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It looks just like that standing here.”

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me gently against the lips. “You are so amazing. Too amazing for your own good,” she smiles. “I just need a little time to work this out in my mind, okay? I’m sorry.”

I don’t respond as she walks out the door.

“YOU’RE KIND OF FREAKING ME out right now.” Pepper stands at the edge of the table and watches me like I might start screaming at any minute. “I’m not sure soup will fix this.”

“I don’t think so,” I sniffle. The napkin has a giant hole in the center from my tears. I toss it to the side and grab another one. “I don’t know what will fix this. Maybe a time machine so I’m not working the day he ventured off that damn elevator.”

Pepper sinks into the booth across from me. “What happened?”

“I broke it off.”

She gasps, her hand hitting her thigh with a slap. “You better have a damn good reason.” When I laugh, she narrows her eyes. “You broke it off with Lincoln Landry. Listen to that out loud: you broke up with Lincoln Landry. Hear that? Hear how stupid that sounds?”

I drop my hands to the table. “I never intended for it to get this serious with him. I have to get a handle on this while I can. Get what I’m saying?”

“I get you’re dumb.”

“Thanks, friend.” I shred the napkin, making a pile of equal strips in front of me. “It would be easier if he was a jerk or had a little dick or was self-centered. But he’s not.” I look at her. “He’s perfect.”

“I so don’t understand you.”

“When my parents got married, they were so in love. My dad adored her. I found this trunk in the attic when I was a teenager and it was filled with letters he wrote her while they were dating and right after they got married. He doted on her, Pepper. Whatever she wanted, he got her. Whatever he could do to make her happy, he did. He even had a plane fly over a picnic with a banner telling her he loved her. I mean, how sweet is that?”

Pepper gives me a thumbs-up. “I’m waiting on the point.”

“They had what seems like the perfect relationship. And then my dad got signed to play pro. I could hear the change in the letters, which went to post cards from different cities. Eventually, there were no more.” I grab another napkin. “I don’t remember him being home much in my early childhood and, when he was, I was a distraction. My mom was a distraction. I was a pain in her side because I took away from her energy to entertain him.”

“That was their choice, Danielle.”

“It happened to every one of their friends. Their wives sit at home, bored, while the men do what they really love. It’s like the sport replaces the love for their wives. I just . . . I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like that, Pepper. Since I was a little girl, at home with a nanny that I didn’t even know or like, I said I’d never end up like them, no matter what. I would have a huge family and hug and kiss them all the time and not make my children feel like they had to cower in the corner when I walked in the room.”

“But Lincoln has been nothing but fantastic.” She narrows her eyes. “What spooked you?”

I look away from her.

“What happened that you aren’t telling me, Dani?”

Sighing, I feel my heart tug in my chest. “My mom emailed me. I felt that loneliness and my first instinct was to go to Lincoln. I woke up in his bed and realized how bad it’s going to hurt when either a) he leaves me or b) I end up like my mom. There’s no other end to this love story. Trust me when I say I wish there was, but there’s not.”

Pepper’s shoulders fall forward. “This entire thing makes me so sad. You were so happy lately. I was hoping this was a good thing for you.”

“It was good. But I need to end it on my terms while it is good, Pepper. I needed him today. I can’t need him.”

“You’re just scared.”

“No, I’m terrified. But it’s over now, more or less.” I look up at the confection display and smile as realistically as I can and do what I do best: deflect. “Can you make me those pumpkin cupcakes for Thanksgiving? I draw the line at baking for one.”

“You can come with us.”

“Pepper,” I laugh, sitting back in my seat, “you couldn’t pay me enough money to have dinner with your mother-in-law.”

She laughs too. “I feel you there. Yes, two pumpkin cupcakes for Thanksgiving. Consider it done.”

One broken heart? That’s done too.

BRINGING THE BOTTLE OF BEER to my lips, I take a long, steady draw. I hold the neck between two fingers, twirling it a bit as I try to figure out my fucking life.

My shoulder throbs. I haven’t felt it hurt like this in a while. It’s a little disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s from therapy. That Houston pushed me too far. That it’ll go away in the morning. There’s relief in that. There would be more relief in knowing my fucking heart won’t feel like this when I wake up.

The cake still sits on the table. Her pink mug, the one I bought just for her, sits by the sink. Both make a small smile play on my lips, even though I feel hollow.

Flipping off the coffee maker, I grab my phone from where it sits next to the cake and hold it. Finishing the beer and tossing it towards the trash, I watch it bounce off the lip and hit the floor.

I don’t even care.

Scrolling until I find the name in my Emergency Contacts, I place the call. It rings a few times and I almost hang up when she answers.

“Well, if it isn’t my long lost baby boy!” my mother trills on her end. “Can you hold on just a second, Lincoln?”

“Yeah.”

I listen to her talk to someone and recognize Paulina’s voice. She’s one of my mother’s oldest friends, one that Barrett used to bang off and on. Ford maybe too. Soon, she’s back.

“I’m sorry about that. We were wrapping up the plans for a coat drive for our women’s club.”

“How’s that going?”

“Good. There are so many needy families this year. The requests were double what they were last year. It’s so incredibly sad.”

“Can I send a check or something?”

“Such a sweet boy,” Mom gushes. “Why don’t you come down this winter and help us with a fundraiser. Maybe we could do a food drive. Put some baskets together for needy families for Christmas. With your name attached to it, I bet we could stock some pantries for the winter.”

“I’d love to. Tell me when and I’m there.”

She pauses and I hear a quick breath. “Linc, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t sound like yourself. There have been no jokes, no cracks, no baseball analogies, and we’ve talked for two whole minutes.”

I chuckle, but even that sounds sad. “I don’t feel like myself either.”

“Is it your shoulder?”

“Well, it’s hurting like hell.”

“Watch your language.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I sigh. “I go in for a battery of tests in the morning. Then I meet with the GM and team docs and things after Thanksgiving to see what they have to say.”

“It’s going to work out.”

“Yeah.” I place my elbows on the counter and sigh again.

“Give me one moment,” she says. “Paulina! Just one more thing . . .”

I wonder what Dani is doing. If she’s okay. If she misses me half as much as I miss her.

How can she do this? How can she just write this off like it’s nothing? This is something. Something possibly great and she knows it. Why wouldn’t she want this? I look down at my abs.

“Okay, honey. I’m so sorry,” Mom says, coming back to the line. “Now tell me what’s really wrong.”

“I just did.”

“No, you just lied to your mother.”

Chuckling, I stand up and walk around the island. “I met a girl.”

“That’s great!”

“She hates me.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Mom laughs. “No one could hate you, Lincoln.”

“Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate me, but she doesn’t want me.”

“Do you know why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

I head to the sink and pick up her cup. The paintbrushes remind me of how I finagled my way back into her office to paint with Rocky. Out of all the contents of this house, this cup is the only thing that I feel a connection to. That feels dumb.

“Lincoln?”

“She has this hang up with me because her family are complete dicks. Sorry, Mom,” I apologize for the language before she can call me out on it. “Her dad was an athlete and kind of ruined their family, I think. I’m losing her and it’s nothing I did. Nothing I am, other than exactly what I am.”

“That’s tough.”

“You think? She likes being with me, likes me doing little things to try to make her like me, yet she panics about it. She flipped out on me today because I tried to take care of her. How do you get around that?” I ask. “How can I fix her not wanting who I am as an athlete and not wanting me to, you know, love her? Not saying I do, but you know.”

I know my mother is smiling. She’s probably standing in her massive dining room with her diamond-laden finger sitting right on her heart. I said the L-word. She’s a sucker for that stuff.

“I don’t mean I love her,” I clarify. “Don’t go planning weddings and stuff.”

She laughs. “I won’t.”

“This is why I don’t date seriously. It’s too much of a headache.”

“You don’t date seriously, Linc, because you haven’t found a woman that makes you want to see her every day. No offense, but you don’t typically choose women that have much to offer you.”

“Oh, they offer me—”

“Lincoln Harrison Landry, don’t you even go there with me!” she nearly yells over me. “I do not want to hear about your escapades. Save that for your brothers.”

I can’t help but laugh, and before long, she’s laughing too.

“I think she’s scared,” Mom reasons. “From what you told me, she doesn’t have a safety net to fall on. She’s probably learned to be her own protection system. Think about it. You are handsome and smart and wealthy and talented . . .”

“Keep going,” I grin.

“You are a prize, honey. And she knows that. Think about this from her perspective: she is alone in the world. She finally breaks and lets you in and then something happens and it doesn’t work out.”

“But that’s true of any relationship. Not just with me.”

“True, but you’re an athlete. Like her dad. It’s human nature to stay away from things that remind us of other things that have hurt us.”

I hate when she makes sense. “So that leaves me shit out of luck?”

“That’s a disgusting choice of words.”

Ignoring her, I press forward. “So I’m supposed to just suck it up because her dad ruined her life? That’s not fair, Mom. I don’t accept that.”

“Then don’t,” she says softly. “You just struck out. What do you do when you strikeout in a game?”

“I hit a homerun at the next at-bat.”

“That’s right,” she sings. “Just be patient with her. Pretend like the pitcher is a little off his game and you have no idea what’s coming down the pike.”

“The pipe, Mom. What’s coming down the pipe.”

“Whatever,” she laughs. “You get the picture. Now, tell me when you’ll be home.”

“I have the assessment in the morning. I’m supposed to leave the day after.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Love you, Mom.”

“You too.”

Placing the cup back on the counter, I walk across the room. When I get to the doorway, I stop and look at it sitting on the counter over my shoulder.

Batter up.

Me: Hey.

It takes more than a minute for her to respond, every second feeling like a year. When I hear the ping announcing a message, I can’t swipe fast enough.

Dani :Hi.

Me: How are you?

Dani: Good. In the bathtub.

Me: Are you fucking with me?

Very slowly, a picture loads on my screen of one bent knee in a pool of bubbles. A wine glass is on the ledge, along with a row of little candles.

Me: You better be alone.

Dani: Of course.

I erase every response I type out. I’m not sure which emotion to use to inspire the follow up. When hers pops up, I let out a sigh of relief.

Dani: I’m good. Thank you for checking.

Me: Out of all the words you’ve ever said to me, and you’ve said some things that have been borderline offensive, those are the ones I hate most.

Dani: Which?

Me: Thank you.

Dani: How is that?

Me: Because it implies I’m doing you a favor. Or going out of my way when I ask if you’re okay or checking on you.

Dani: Ok. I appreciate you doing those things.

Me: That’s better. Sort of.

Dani: How does your shoulder feel tonight?

Me: Sore.

Dani: Ice it.

Me: I don’t want to talk about my shoulder.

Dani: I know. I was just thinking about it. The wine is starting to make me sleepy. I need to get out of here and get to bed.

Me: I’m here if you need me. You know that.

Dani: I do. Goodnight, Landry.

Me: Night, Ryan.

Strike one.