Page 12 of Curve Balls and Second Chances (Pickwick Pirate Queens #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

A cen parked at the far edge of the gravel lot that wrapped around the old softball field, cutting the engine before he reached the light poles.

The sun was melting into a late-summer haze, streaking the sky with lavender and gold.

A faint breeze stirred the smell of cut grass and clay, heavy with the familiar tang of dirt and sweat.

The chorus of cicadas hummed like background music, rising and falling with the rhythm of the evening.

From where he sat in the shadow of his truck, he could see everything.

The women’s team was already spread across the diamond, warming up for practice.

Dirty neon yellow softballs flashed against the deepening dusk, flying from glove to glove.

Cleats scraped across the infield, sending up soft puffs of red dust. Laughter carried on the breeze, mixed with shouted calls to “ Tag up!” and “ Nice catch!”

And then there was Rose .

She stood near the dugout, clipboard in hand like it was an extension of her arm, barking directions with the kind of authority that only came from years of being listened to.

Her auburn hair was pulled back into a messy knot at the base of her neck, loose strands catching the fading light like copper threads.

She wore an old team T -shirt, faded from countless washes, tucked into shorts that showed the powerful lines of her legs shaped by hours of running bases and drilling line drives.

She looked… steady.

Like she belonged exactly where she was, with her team circling around her, with her feet planted in the dirt of this field, with that clipboard like a shield and a banner both.

She looked like home.

Acen gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to summon the courage to move. He’d told himself all day that this was the right thing, that honesty was overdue. But watching her now, so rooted, so sure of herself and her place in the world, it was like his feet weighed twice what they should.

Still, he forced himself out of the truck. Gravel crunched under his sneakers, announcing his presence before his voice did.

“Hey, Coach ,” he called.

Half the team turned in unison, like prairie dogs poking their heads up at the same sound. A ripple of recognition spread, accompanied by a few poorly hidden smirks.

And then Rose turned.

Her expression didn’t falter, but her dark blue eyes did sharpen, and for a long beat, she simply stared at him. She didn’t turn away, though, and that was something.

Acen walked slowly, careful not to kick up too much dust, careful not to look like he was in a hurry. He stopped just short of the dugout, where the chain-link fence rattled with the vibrations of girls tossing bats against the bench.

“Did you get the box?” he asked quietly.

“I did.” Her arms crossed immediately, clipboard tucked under one elbow like she needed the barrier. “ Interesting choice, showing up like a ghost and leaving breadcrumbs.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “ I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve just talked to me.”

“I figured you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Then why now?” she shot back.

The team went on moving around them, but Acen felt the weight of half a dozen pairs of ears leaning in, pretending not to eavesdrop. Someone cracked a bat against the cage, the hollow ring reverberating like punctuation between them.

They stood silently until the team moved away from them.

Then, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “ Because seeing you with him— Declan —it made me realize I’ve wasted enough time. I hurt you. I should’ve stayed. Or at least told you the truth.”

Her eyes narrowed. “ What truth?”

He hesitated. The cicadas droned louder, like they were filling in the silence he almost couldn’t bear to break. He looked down at his sneakers, scuffed white with chalk dust, then back up at her.

“That Briana came to me,” he said finally. “ She told me Riley didn’t approve of us being together. That he’d asked her to warn me off. She said if I was really Riley’s friend, I’d leave you alone.”

Rose blinked, incredulous. “ That’s ridiculous. Riley never said?—”

“I know that now,” Acen cut in, voice rough. “ But I was eighteen. Scared . Stupid . And then Briana kissed me and you saw it, and I didn’t chase you down. I let it all fall apart.”

Her voice was sharp as the crack of a bat. “ You left.”

“I thought I was protecting you. From the fallout. From my fears. From everything.”

For a moment, all that moved was the bright neon yellow of a softball arching against the darkening sky. Rose stood still, clipboard tight against her chest, her jaw flexing.

“You were the one person who wasn’t supposed to run,” she said finally, softer this time.

Acen swallowed hard, throat dry. “ I know. And I’ve regretted it every single day.”

Something flickered across her face then—pain, recognition, maybe both. She let her arms drop slightly, not open, but not quite closed anymore either.

“It wasn’t just a high school crush, Acen ,” she said, and her voice cracked in a way that nearly undid him. “ I loved you.”

He took a step closer before he realized he’d moved. “ I loved you too.”

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” Her question cut through the humid air like a fastball straight down the line.

His reply was barely more than a whisper. “ Because I didn’t think I was worth fighting for.”

The words hung there, suspended between them like a ball waiting to drop.

Neither moved.

Around them, practice went on. A pop fly soared toward right field, and Ginny shouted for Dani to hustle. Tasha barked instructions from behind home plate. The clatter of bats echoed from the dugout. Life went on, ordinary and oblivious, while the ground between Rose and Acen cracked open.

Finally, Rose stepped back. Her face was unreadable again, shutters closed tight. “ I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything,” Acen said quietly. “ I just needed you to know. What you do with it… that’s up to you.”

She nodded once, brisk, like she was calling a play. “ I know you understand when I say I would prefer you not coach this practice. I need some space.” Then she turned, her voice rising with practiced authority: “ Dani , you’re pitching today. Tasha’s catching. Let’s move.”

And that was it.

She didn’t look back.

Acen stood rooted in the dirt, watching her stride toward the field, clipboard already tapping against her thigh as she barked orders. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t crying. She was steady.

That might’ve hurt worst of all.

He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse.

But at least now, the silence between them wasn’t filled with lies.

It was filled with truth.

And maybe, just maybe, that was a start.