“You don’t think she’d understand?”
“Understand what? I don’t know if I understand.”
“People change, Josie. Dreams change.”
I know he’s thinking of himself. But me? My skin feels hot. “I don’t have dreams. I have plans.”
“Why can’t you have both?”
Because plans I can control. Dreams I can’t.
I open the folder, my eyes skimming over the papers stacked on both sides. He’s serious. Garrett is serious about this. About us.
“We could go to your house. Talk to her about it. Together.”
I close the folder, set it aside on the couch. “No. I couldn’t do it that way.”
“Then what way?” He cocks his head and I know what this is really about. He confirms it when he says, “Does she even know about me?”
“Of course she knows.”
“Does she know I’m your boyfriend?”
“You’re not my boyfriend. We’re just hanging out while you try and make a comeback. That’s what we agreed on. Remember?”
He looks so hurt. “Things have changed for me. I thought they’d changed for you, too. Or is this it, Josie? Is this all you can give me? That we’re just hanging out?”
My eyes fill with tears. “I’m afraid to trust this.”
“You mean trust me?” The couch squeaks as he stiffens and puts space between us. “Because your dad left?”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what, Josie? What did your father do that you can’t forgive me for?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Don’t get mad.”
“Too late,” Garrett says. “You’re comparing me to your dad. Blaming me. How is that fair?”
“It isn’t. I get that. But if you’re standing in the batter’s box and you keep getting hit in the leg by wild pitches, you start wearing an ankle guard. You learn to protect yourself.”
“From what?” He reaches for my hand. I’m not at all petite, but his hand is bigger than mine, light hairs showing against the tan of his skin. The palms are calloused, and absently I wonder why they’re so rough. Why rough feels so good. “Tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened. My dad went to Japan.”
“You said it was more than that.”
I sigh. I know I have to give him more, but how much? “You already know most of it. We had a plan, my dad and me. That while he could play, he would. And after, he’d take a coaching job and eventually I could help. And that’s what happened when he got released. He took a coaching job and I got to help run mini camps. I was good at it, too. Then, the spring before he left, he asked if I wanted to coach Little League as a father-daughter team.”
“And you wanted to?”
“More than anything.” My throat fills. “By then, I knew I wasn’t going to play much longer, but I loved the game. I could totally see it happening. My dad and me starting with Little League and then running a club and one day coaching in The Show.” I glance up, expecting to find him laughing over the ridiculousness of that. But he isn’t.
“So you did have a dream,” he murmurs.
“I did. Right up until my dad got the offer to play in Japan. He didn’t even pause to think about me—about us. He chose Japan.”
“Yeah, but…” His eyes flicker to mine and then down. He rubs at a dark smudge on the couch.
“What, Garrett?” Because there’s obviously something.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. But it’s not like he could have told Japan to wait a few years until you grew up. Sports don’t work that way. Your dad was what, thirty, thirty-one at the time? You had to know he couldn’t play for long in Japan. Not at that age. I know it’s not what you wanted, but you could have postponed your plans for two years. You could be coaching together now. You didn’t have to cut him out of your life forever.”
“I didn’t!”
“But you said—”
“I wanted to go with him, Garrett.” I cut him off—my words sharp as knives, but I’m the one who’s sliced open, the memories spilling like blood. “I wouldn’t have let him go anywhere without me. He was my hero. My best friend. So while he and my mom were talking divorce, I ran to pack my suitcase. I didn’t want him to have to wait. That’s all I was thinking about. Grab what I needed and Mom could send the rest later. I rushed out to the living room with my suitcase and my coat and said I was ready.”
I’m suddenly back in that house. Standing on gray tile. The ceiling fan clacking overhead because Dad hadn’t tightened the bolts. The air smelling of burned beans Mom had forgotten on the stove. It’s all twisted with the memory like a song that pulls you back to a moment of time.
My breath shudders out. “I didn’t even think twice about leaving Mom. That’s how much I loved him. And he kept staring from my suitcase to my mom. She kept saying his name. ‘Clay. Clay.’ She was pleading with him. I thought for herself, but it wasn’t.”
Garrett reaches for my hand, but I shake him off. I need to finish this. “He said he’d get settled first, and then he’d send a ticket. He said that way I could finish school. So I rolled my suitcase to the landing by the front door and I left it there. Three months,” I choke out. “That’s how long it sat there.”
“God, Josie.”
“I checked the mail every day, but there was never a ticket. He started texting less and less. There were no phone calls because of the time difference, he said. Still, I didn’t get it. I was pretty dense until, finally, I saw it all spelled out in an article.” I gather a shaky breath. “You know why he wanted to coach Little League? He’d found out one of the parents was a Japanese businessman with contacts in the Nippon league. It wasn’t an accident. He used me as an excuse to coach and meet
