Page 15 of Curve Balls and Second Chances (Pickwick Pirate Queens #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R ose didn’t go home after practice.

Instead, she drove.

No destination, no plan—just the steady hum of the road beneath her tires and the gnawing wildfire in her chest that refused to quiet.

She kept the windows cracked, the humid night air spilling in like a second heartbeat, sticky and insistent.

The dashboard clock glowed, ticking away minutes she couldn’t account for.

Every turn of the steering wheel felt both aimless and necessary, like if she just kept moving long enough, the heat inside her might burn itself out.

But of course, it wasn’t just heat. It was Briana .

Only Briana could still rattle her this way after twenty years.

Rose hated that truth with every mile marker she passed.

It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing her again—it was the memory Briana unearthed simply by existing. That ache of betrayal that had never fully scabbed over. And beneath all of it was something worse: that ugly, dangerous whisper of what if .

What if things could’ve been different if they’d all just told the truth back then?

What if Acen had fought for her instead of walking away?

What if Briana hadn’t lied to her face, hadn’t stolen something she could never give back?

What if Rose herself had dared to ask why instead of letting her pride close the door?

The road stretched on, lined with trees and fields that shimmered in the dusky light. Her headlights caught flashes of old barns, broken fences, a deer darting across the ditch. The familiar landmarks blurred together until she couldn’t tell if she was circling Pickwick or circling herself.

By the time she finally parked, she realized her hands had carried her somewhere her heart knew better than her head. The lake.

Pickwick Lake lay sprawled before her, dark and gleaming under the bruised sky.

The water reflected the last shreds of daylight like broken glass, violet and copper streaks caught on a restless surface.

The dam a black silhouette against the colors.

She slid out of the truck and perched on the hood, her bare feet dangling, the metal warm beneath her.

The air smelled of fish and honeysuckle, with an undercurrent of damp earth that reminded her of summers spent sneaking out past curfew. Out here, cicadas sang their endless chorus, and the world felt both infinite and crushingly small.

Rose tipped her head back, staring at the sky deepening into indigo. Maybe she needed to stop running from the ghosts that haunted her. The Polaroid . The note. Briana’s voice like a blade disguised as honey. Acen’s eyes that still had the power to make her heart stutter.

Maybe it was time to face them.

She didn’t know how long she sat there before the moon rose, a pale coin climbing slow and steady, casting the lake in silver. She shivered, though the night was warm, then slid off the hood and drove home before she could change her mind.

Later, she sat on her porch, wrapped in a silk shawl that had belonged to her mother, holding a mug of tea she hadn’t touched.

The steam had long since faded, but the weight of the ceramic felt like something to cling to.

The porch light glowed soft around her, moths batting themselves senseless against it, while the crickets carried on below.

Her thoughts wouldn’t settle. They circled like crows, loud and insistent, landing and taking flight again.

So, when headlights flared at the end of her driveway, she wasn’t surprised.

Of course. Because this day couldn’t end without one more ghost showing up.

Acen’s truck rolled to a slow stop. The engine idled a moment before going quiet, and the night seemed to lean in. He didn’t move right away, and neither did she. They sat suspended in that charged silence, as if both of them were waiting for the other to blink first.

Finally, he climbed out and walked toward the porch, his boots crunching over gravel. He stopped at the steps, not daring further without permission. The porch light caught the lines on his face, the wear of years she hadn’t seen, but the shadow in his eyes was the same.

“She came to practice,” Rose said before he could speak. “ Briana .”

“I know.” His voice was low. “ I saw her.”

Her stomach twisted. He’d been there. Watching . Like a storm on the horizon, waiting.

“Must be nice,” she said, bitterness leaking into her tone. “ To have two women still hung up on you after all this time.”

“I don’t want two women, Rose .” His answer was sharp, unhesitating. He shifted one step closer, as if pulled by some gravity he couldn’t fight.

“I want you .”

The words were simple. Too simple.

She met his eyes, her own tired but clear. “ Then stop talking and start proving it.”

She didn’t invite him in. She didn’t need the intimacy of shared walls and closed doors. Not tonight. She stayed wrapped in her shawl on the porch, the mug cooling against her palms, a fragile anchor to keep her steady.

Acen stayed two steps down, shoulders tense but eyes steady. He looked like a man braced for judgment, for either mercy or exile. And Rose —well, Rose decided to let him sweat.

“You can say you want me all day,” she said finally. “ But words are easy. I’ve heard enough of them to last a lifetime.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need promises, Acen . I need truth. I need action.”

He nodded, jaw working. “ What do you want to know?”

Rose studied him. Really studied. Not the boy she’d fallen for at eighteen, not the ghost she’d hated for twenty years, but the man standing on her porch now.

His hair darker, threaded with the faintest streaks of silver.

His shoulders broader, marked by work and life. His eyes—the same, but older, too.

“Why did you leave like that?” she asked. The question scraped her throat raw. “ That night—after Briana kissed you. You didn’t call. You didn’t write. You just vanished.”

Acen rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tic she remembered all too well.

His voice came heavy. “ Because I was ashamed. Because I thought… you saw what happened and made up your mind. You turned and walked away, Rose , and I figured you were done with me. And I thought maybe you were right to be.”

She swallowed, the lump in her throat thick. “ You thought I should have fought harder?”

“No.” His answer came quick, fierce. “ I thought I should’ve. But I didn’t. I froze. I took the coward’s exit. And I’ve regretted it every damn day since.”

Rose stared into her mug, at the tea she hadn’t drunk, watching the faint ripples catch the porch light.

“I waited for you,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “ For a call. A letter. Anything . And when it never came, I made myself hate you. Because that was easier than wondering what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, voice low but certain. “ You were the best thing I had, Rose . And I let my fear ruin it.”

Her chest ached, a dull ache that carried twenty years of weight. But she didn’t let it soften her. Not yet.

“I need to know,” she said finally. “ If this is real. If this is something you want. Not because it’s familiar. Not because you’re lonely. Not because we have history. But because you see me now . As I am.”

Acen’s gaze held hers, unflinching. “ I do. And I want to show you. However long it takes.”

The night pressed close, heavy with crickets and the occasional croak of a frog by the pond. Rose let out a slow breath, watching the condensation curl in the warm summer air.

“I need time, Acen . I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting you to come swooping back into town and disrupt everything I’ve built.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders despite the heat of the night air. “ Can you give me that?”

“Yes.” The word came steady. Solid .

She sighed, the sound carrying weariness and something else - maybe the faintest flicker of hope.

“ Okay .” She sipped the lukewarm tea. “ I still need you to help coach the team. I’m not so proud that I can let those ladies down after all their hard work because you and I have some issues to work out.

They need the edge you can give them. So , this is what we’re going to do.

On the ballfield, we are just coaches. Nothing more. No personal stuff. Ever .”

Acen nodded once. “ I can do that.”

And for the first time all night, she almost believed him.

“Good. I’ll see you at the game. It’s Madison County and they’re tough as nails.”

“I won’t let you down.” His eyes stared straight into her soul, implying much more than softball games was at stake.

She watched him get back into his truck and melt away into the night.