Page 20

20

B rooks

Michelle had called after work the past two days, and while she said all the right things, something was off. The warmth that usually flooded her voice when she was in my arms had cooled, replaced with something careful, hesitant, distant. It wasn’t a huge change, just subtle enough that I had almost convinced myself I was imagining it.

But I wasn’t.

Maybe she had an out-of-sight, out-of-mind issue. Maybe she just needed to see me again, be with me, and then I could assure myself I wasn’t crazy for feeling this way.

We were supposed to hang out today, but she’d gotten called into work to cover for a co-worker. I had played it cool, understanding, supportive—all the things I should be as a boyfriend, or whatever I was to her—but inside, the thought of waiting another day to see her left me antsy, restless, filled with an unease that wouldn’t settle.

I had tried everything to shake it off. Working out? Nope. Cleaning? Didn’t help. Watching old batting tapes to start getting into the right headspace for spring training? Couldn’t focus. Everything I did, every distraction I threw at myself, just left me thinking about the same thing.

What if this was her slowly pulling away?

Shit. What was I going to do during the season? How were we supposed to keep this thing going when I was on the road for weeks at a time? Would she even want to try?

And then, the darker thought crept in. Would we even still be together then?

That thought sat like a pit in the back of my mind, growing by the second. Her odd behavior was solidifying the fear, but I forced myself not to act on it. She wasn’t the same person from two years ago. She had promised to talk to me if she got worried, if she got scared, if she had second thoughts. Despite my leftover mistrust, that had to be enough.

Didn’t it?

I heard Logan come in, the sound of keys clattering against the counter followed by the creak of the fridge opening. “Dude, you going to visit Mom today?” he asked, loosening his tie and grabbing a bottled water. He twisted the cap off, taking a long drink before glancing back at me. “Also, did you just work out? You smell, man.”

I scowled at him, setting my phone down. “Shut up. It’s my house. I’ll smell if I want to.”

“Oh, testy, are we?” He smirked, but I barely heard him. My phone screen blinked blankly at me, the same way it had for the last hour. Social media wasn’t helping anything, and Michelle was completely off the grid—by choice. Based on what I knew about her past, I got it. But right now, I wished I could get some kind of update. A post. A check-in. A photo that proved she was okay.

Logan tossed the empty bottle into the recycling and leaned against the counter. “I was thinking about going to see Mom for dinner. Angela spoils me, and I’ve got a work happy hour tomorrow.”

“Older women love you.” I smirked, pushing my thoughts aside. “It’s sick.”

“It’s a gift.” He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “Will Michelle be blessing us with her presence today? It’s kinda nice when she’s here.”

It is nice when she’s here.

“Nope. Got called into work,” I muttered, my tone sharper than I intended. Logan arched a brow, giving me a look like he could see right through me.

“What?” I asked, already regretting my tone.

“Let’s go visit her after we see Mom,” he suggested. “They have beer there, right?”

I hesitated, but the second the idea settled, I felt a little lighter. Seeing her would help. Reassuring myself she was fine, that we were fine, would help.

“That isn’t a terrible idea.” I nodded, already mentally preparing to see her in person, to figure out what the hell was going on. “Yeah. It’s a plan.”

Logan tapped his fist on the counter in agreement, and I quickly rushed through showering and dressing before we headed to the facility. The drive to the assisted living center was filled with the usual battle over music, Logan trying to switch my playlist to rap while I swatted his hand away.

“The driver chooses the music. It’s the fucking rule of law.” I smacked his hand when he tried to take my phone and change the playlist. “I will punch you.”

“Nah, you like me too much.”

“No rap shit today, Lo. I’m not in the mood.”

He paused, glancing at me, the lightness in his tone shifting slightly. “I would say you need to get laid, but… you have been, so…?”

I let out a slow breath, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m worried about Michelle.” The words sat heavy in the air, and I hated how much truth they carried.

“She’s been different the past two days, and there’s this underlying fear she’ll ghost me again.” My voice was controlled, but I could hear the frustration creeping in. “I can’t explain what the difference is, but her voice is off. She’s saying the right things, but it feels like an act rather than the truth.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, which wasn’t like him. Then he asked, “And you’ve asked her about it?”

“Yes. I hate feeling like I need assurances that we’re both in this, but I do. She’s not making it easy, and I knew that going in. I just—” I stopped, running a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.

“I love her, man.”

The words felt too big, too real, but they were true. I had been feeling it for weeks, but saying it out loud? That was something else entirely.

Logan clapped a hand against my shoulder, his grin stretching across his face. “Dude, that’s big.” His voice softened slightly. “I can see why though. She’s definitely your match.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, but something still felt unsettled in my chest. Am I hers?

Logan exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Neither of us are kings of relationships, but my advice? Trust her. If you don’t, it’ll be over before it starts.”

“I want to. I do. But she fucked me up two years ago.”

“I remember.” He let out a long breath and clicked his tongue. “Gotta go out on a limb then, bro. Give her a chance to break the trust.”

I knew he was right. Give her the chance to hurt me. Wasn’t that the fear of any relationship? The mere fact that it could end in pain?

“I guess, yeah.”

But even as I said it, that unease in my gut didn’t go away. Something was wrong. I could feel it. And I needed to see her to figure out what it was.

We pulled into the parking lot of the facility, and a different kind of weight settled over me. The kind that had nothing to do with baseball, training, or Michelle's sudden distance. This was the weight of uncertainty, of not knowing what version of my mom we’d be walking into today.

She could be having a good day, sitting up and chatting, remembering our names, laughing at Logan’s dumb jokes. Or she could be somewhere else entirely, lost in a time where we didn’t exist, where our dad was still around, where she was waiting for a life that was long gone.

That thought always put a knot in my stomach.

I locked the doors and was heading toward the entrance when something caught my eye. Across the parking lot, sitting on a bench, was a middle-aged man staring right at me. He wasn’t even pretending to be discreet—no sunglasses, no book, no pretense. Just a phone in his hand, aimed right in my direction.

He snapped a picture.

Fucking fans.

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head, forcing myself to ignore it. It wasn’t uncommon to get recognized, to have someone take a photo without asking, but there was a time and a place for that. Here, visiting my sick mother, was not one of them.

Logan snorted as he caught my expression. "You’re famous, bro. Comes with the territory."

“Yeah, well, this isn’t the damn ballpark.” I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets as we stepped inside.

I forced the man out of my thoughts as we walked down the hallway, my shoulders slowly relaxing at the familiar sights—the polished floors, the soft hum of activity, the faint scent of flowers and disinfectant. This place had become home in a way I hated.

Logan threw an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder. “Head up, big brother. Angela looks lovely today.”

I shook my head but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

“Logan Madsen, you are a charmer.” Angela grinned at us as she fell into step beside us, her usual warm presence immediately putting me at ease.

“She’s having a great day,” she said.

Thank Christ.

“No more episodes?” I asked, the tension in my chest uncoiling slightly.

“Not today. She forgot why she was here for a couple of hours, but we settled it. She’ll be happy to see you two.”

Logan smirked. “Angela, I swear, if you were twenty years younger…”

Angela blushed, swatting at him like she was scandalized but secretly flattered. "Oh, stop it. I’ll make sure to sneak extra cake into her room.

“My favorite woman,” Logan declared, winking at her.

I grabbed his arm and dragged his flirty ass toward our mom’s room.

“Hey, stop it!” he protested.

“Do you have an off button, or have you always been this way?”

“You play baseball, and I flirt. Your talent earns more money than mine, but it doesn’t make mine any less impressive.” He grinned, and despite myself, I laughed.

The weight in my chest eased, just a little.

Lately, I had felt myself slipping into a darker place, my usual upbeat attitude clouded by the storm brewing between me and Michelle. But I couldn’t let that bleed into this moment.

When it came to our mom, she needed me to be present.

We walked into her room, and she lit up immediately. “My boys!”

She looked good today. Her hair had been freshly done, her eyes bright, her smile wide as she held out her arms. I hugged her first, pressing my face into her hair, noticing how small she felt in my arms. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like there was less of her every time I visited.

“You look great,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light. “Did you go to the salon?”

“Sure did. Thanks for the gift card. I love spoiling myself with a snazzy haircut.”

She patted my cheek, then narrowed her eyes slightly, studying me. “Why are you sad? Your eyes aren’t the same.”

I stiffened.

She had always been able to see right through me.

“Women problems,” Logan said before I could even try to come up with a lie.

“Dude.” I scowled at him, but it was too late.

Our mom sat on her bed, crossing one leg over the other, her foot hooking around her calf in the exact same way she used to when I was a teenager, venting to her about school, about girls, about life.

“Why would she leave you?” she asked, frowning. “You’re both great catches. If this woman doesn’t realize that… then you should end it.”

“It’s not like that,” I said quickly, pacing the small room, my fingers tapping against my thigh. “She had a terrible childhood. Abuse, drugs, her dad is in jail. She escaped a life that could’ve easily led to living on the streets.”

Logan’s smirk vanished instantly, his posture straightening. “I didn’t know that.”

“It wasn’t my information to share, so take it to the grave,” I said, pointing at him. “Relationships for her are tough. Every one she’s seen was toxic, and I knew that going into this, but I hoped I could show her how a real one should be. Love, trust… all that shit.”

“Language, son,” Mom chided, but her expression softened.

She stood, taking my hand, squeezing it gently, the same way she had when I was a kid. “If anyone has a big enough heart to love someone who doesn’t know love, it’s you.” Her eyes were so full of knowing, of certainty, that it made my throat tighten. “You’re my softy while Logan is my pistol.”

“I’m not a softy, Mom,” I scoffed, but my ears burned hot.

Logan smirked. “He totally is.”

I shook my head, rolling my eyes, but something about her words stayed with me.

She squeezed my hand again, her voice gentler now. “I want to meet this woman.”

I hesitated, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Her brow lifted. “And why is that? Because I live here and am sick?”

“No. No.” I shook my head quickly. “She’s been acting differently, and I want to get through this rough patch first. Then I would love for you to meet her.”

“Good, it’s settled then.” She turned to Logan, nodding firmly. “Make sure he follows through.”

Logan grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Now, enough mushy talk. Let’s go eat.”

* * *

Dinner had been good—better than I expected. Laughter came easy, and for the first time in days, the tension in my chest had started to unwind. Angela had joined us, Logan had charmed her into sneaking him two extra slices of cake, and I had spent most of the meal teasing him relentlessly for it.

By the time we left, I was in a better mood, lighter than I had been all day. The unease about Michelle still lingered, but it wasn’t as sharp, wasn’t gnawing at me like it had been earlier.

Maybe I was overthinking things.

Maybe I just needed to see her.

The decision was made before we even got into the car. We’d swing by her job, have a drink, say hi, and leave. It wasn’t too much, I told myself. She was my girlfriend, and we’d barely seen each other this week. That wasn’t unreasonable, right? Just seeing her, confirming everything was fine, would settle my nerves.

At least, that was the plan.

We pulled into the parking lot, and immediately, my eyes scanned the area, landing on the alley nearby. The place was too dark, too unsafe, and it made my stomach twist the same way it always did when I dropped her off here. I had tried not to fixate on it, tried not to push too hard about her quitting, because Michelle without her job, without her relentless focus and drive, wouldn’t be the woman I’d fallen for.

The chime of the door barely registered as I walked in, the familiar smell of grease and pickles filling the air. I expected to hear her laugh, to see her behind the counter rolling her eyes at a customer, but instead, the only thing that greeted me was a woman with curly hair that stuck up in all directions, flashing me a wide grin.

“Hello, gentleman. Damn, we don’t get city slickers like you often. What’ya want? Booth or table?”

I barely acknowledged her words, my eyes already sweeping the restaurant, searching for Michelle. Where the hell was she?

“Wherever’s fine,” I said, still looking around. “Could you send Michelle over to our table?”

The woman tilted her head slightly, a curious look flashing across her face. “Oh, she’s off tonight, hon. You a friend of hers?

My stomach dropped.

“Sort of,” I forced out, but the words tasted like sandpaper.

Logan tensed beside me, and I felt the weight of his gaze as he placed a hand on my shoulder. He knew. He understood exactly what was going through my mind right now.

She lied.

“You know what time she got off?” I asked, my voice tight, controlled, barely concealing the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“She didn’t come in today.” The woman shook her head, completely unaware of the way my entire world had just tilted. “It’s a good thing too. That woman works way too much for her age.” She smiled like she wasn’t talking about the fact that Michelle had looked me in the eyes and lied to me.

Lied, just like she had two years ago.

“So, table or booth?” the woman asked, still cheerful, completely oblivious.

“I think we’ll come back another time,” Logan cut in smoothly, his voice calm but firm. He flashed her an easy smile, nodding toward the door. “Have a good night.”

“Oh, okay. Be safe out there.”

Logan didn’t give me a choice.

The second we stepped outside, he was already pushing me toward the parking lot. “Be pissed out here,” he muttered.

I yanked myself out of his grasp and started pacing, anger burning through me so fast I could barely think. My hands clenched into fists, my breathing heavy as I tried to piece together what the hell was happening.

“She fucking said she got called in.” My voice was sharp, barely contained.

“Yeah. I’m sensing she lied about it,” Logan said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the car. “Probably a good reason for it.

“Fuck.” I kicked at the loose gravel, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to calm the storm raging in my chest. “I don’t get it. Things seemed better this time.”

“I like her, man, I do,” Logan said, his tone level, rational, the way he always was when I was spiraling. “So maybe there’s an explanation for this?”

I let out a harsh breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, she’s flighty as fuck, and her past is messed up. I get it. But she promised me she wouldn’t just disappear like last time, and lying about work seems pretty big.”

“Call her.” Logan shrugged. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think?”

I knew it was a weak excuse. He knew it too. But I was desperate enough to try

“I want to drive over there.”

“Might not be the best idea.” Logan winced, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Give her a chance to explain.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the explanation.

I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever she was hiding from me.

But I had to know.

Pulling out my phone, I called her.

It rang once. Twice.

Straight to voicemail.

My chest tightened, my jaw clenched, but before I could try again, my phone vibrated with a text.

Michelle: Hey, super busy.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I exhaled sharply, my thumbs flying over the screen as I typed.

Brooks: Oh, at work? The place where Logan and I are at to visit you?

Michelle: Brooks…trust me, please.

Something simmered beneath my skin.

Trust her?

She had lied. She had looked me in the face, told me she was working, and then vanished.

This was exactly what she had done two years ago.

Brooks: So you lied about working. Why?

Another pause.

Too long.

Michelle: I can’t tell you.

The words felt like a slap.

Not I will tell you later.

Not It’s complicated.

Just I can’t tell you.

My chest burned, anger and something else twisting deep in my gut. She was shutting me out.

Brooks: Are you home? I’m coming over

Michelle: No! I’m not. Don’t come.

The panic in her words made something in me snap.

Brooks: Then where are you?

Nothing.

No answer.

I stared at the screen, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. This wasn’t nothing. This wasn’t just flighty Michelle needing space.

This was something else.

“I’ll drop you off, Lo, then I’m going to see her. Something is off. I can feel it.”

Logan frowned, shifting in his seat like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Not yet. He studied me, and I could see the words forming before he even spoke. “Dude, I don’t think that’s the best way.” His voice was cautious, almost hesitant. “I’m not telling you what to do, but I say wait it out.”

“Get in the car.”

He sighed but didn’t fight me, sliding into the passenger seat as I backed out of the parking lot. My pulse was too fast, my grip too tight on the wheel, and every nerve in my body was coiled with frustration.

A million thoughts ran through my head, each one worse than the last. Maybe she was studying? No, she would’ve told me. Maybe she was tired? No, she would’ve said that too. Taking a spa day? Laughable. Avoiding me? Avoiding us?

Or worse.

What if she was calling it off?

The thought punched me straight in the gut, so hard I had to blink to keep my vision from blurring. She had told me we were more than a fling, that she wanted to try. But what if I had been stupid enough to believe her?

And then, an even worse thought crept in, slithering through the cracks in my resolve.

What if she’s still seeing other guys?

We had never talked about being exclusive. Not once. I had assumed. Fuck, I had assumed. I hated the bubbling nausea threatening to rise, my dinner churning violently in my stomach. If she was sleeping with someone else, if this was just another game to her…

I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

Logan cleared his throat as I pulled up to our place, giving me a long, assessing look. “Are you sure? The text said to trust her.”

“I’m not sure I can after our past. Not with this blatant lie.” My jaw clenched, my molars grinding against each other in a painful vibration. “Why did I have to fucking fall for the most difficult woman?”

Logan laughed as he shut the door, but his expression softened slightly. “That’s how life works, man. Don’t be an idiot or an asshole tonight. There are always two sides to a story.”

I didn’t respond. Two sides to a story, my ass. If she had told me two years ago that she had feelings for me, I would’ve done whatever I could to keep us going. She had made the decision to keep that from me without including me in the choice.

And now? Now she was doing it again.

I sped toward her place, my hands tight on the wheel, my mind a blur of images and possibilities that made me sick. The second I pulled into her apartment complex and saw her car sitting in the lot, my stomach dropped.

Lie number two.

She had said she wasn’t home.

I took her stairs three at a time and pounded on the door, my breath ragged, uneven. Someone moved around inside, and for what felt like an eternity, I stood there, heart hammering, waiting for her to answer.

Finally, the door cracked open, the chain still locked in place.

Her face was a mixture of shock and something else—panic.

Her lips parted, her eyes flicking past me toward the road, as if she was expecting someone. Why did she look afraid?

I should have noticed that first. But I didn’t, because all I could focus on was the fact that she had lied to me.

"Michelle."

“Brooks, why are you—what are you doing? You need to go.”

My stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot. "Why?"

I wanted to kiss the shit out of her or shake the truth out of her, and it was a terrible combination of anger and desperation, one I had no idea how to control. I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing her, from demanding answers.

“Why did you lie to me twice? I’m struggling right now, Mitch and I really need an answer.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but she didn’t answer right away. She looked wrecked, like she hadn’t slept in days, like something was eating her alive. But still, she wouldn’t tell me.

She was hiding something.

“It’s complicated, okay?” Her frown deepened, and I watched the walls go up in real-time.

"Are you seeing someone else?" The words tasted like acid, and I hated that I had to ask. "Is that what this is about? You didn’t call off your flings with other men?” My voice rose into dangerous territory, and she flinched.

She didn’t answer.

My chest felt like it was caving in.

“Will you let me in so we can talk?”

She shook her head, her fingers tightening on the edge of the door like she needed it to keep herself upright. “No.”

The denial hit harder than I expected.

"Is there someone else in there?" My voice was a whisper now, my throat dry, raw. All rational thoughts left as hesitated for a second too long.

She straightened her posture, her eyes hardening as she nodded.

“There is someone else, yes.”

Something inside me fractured.

I wiped a hand over my face, forcing a laugh that held no humor, only disbelief. “Christ.” My chest ached like hell, my fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fuck, Michelle. I thought… I know we didn’t talk about being exclusive, but I assumed.”

I kicked at the railing, needing some kind of release, some way to stop the sting of betrayal from swallowing me whole. “It’s just you, for me at least.”

She barely looked at me. “Brooks, I-I think you should leave.”

Her voice was small, broken, guilty. “Let’s just…cool it for a bit.”

Cool it?

What happened to all the bullshit she said about this being different?

My temper snapped. “Was everything you told false? Was it a game or a distraction? Were you so sad with your life you wanted to come into mine to play with me?”

“No. No.” Her eyes went wide, pleading, but it was too fucking late.

I glanced past her, into the apartment, and my stomach turned.

Blankets and pillows were askew on the floor.

Had someone else been with her?

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t fucking do this again.

I placed a hand on the doorframe, leaning in, forcing my voice to stay calm even as my entire world collapsed.

"I was falling in love with you," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was envisioning how we could work when I traveled for the season. I wanted you to see my mom on one of her good days or maybe lose myself with you when she had bad ones."

I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes. "I can’t trust you. That’s it. That’s the issue.”

Her entire body shuddered, her eyes locking on something behind me.

I turned, following her gaze, my chest tightening.

Was she fucking waiting for someone?

“Michelle,” I said, sharper now. “Is someone else coming over? Is that what you’re looking at? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No, it’s not?—”

“What it looks like?” I cut her off, stepping back, my heart ripping itself to shreds. "Is that the line you’re going with?"

She didn’t respond. She stared at me with her wide eyes filled with tension, then she shut the door.

Just like she had done two years ago. And I had no one to blame but myself. I had chosen to pursue her despite knowing her chances of staying were slim.

I needed a fucking drink or three.

The sooner I could wash her out of my system, the better.