Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
That finally gets a real laugh out of her. I smile, but I don’t let her off the hook. “You need four days to think? Take them. You need space? I’ll give you space.” My thumb brushes over her cheek. “But I’m not going to date anyone else. I’m not going to sleep with anyone else. And I’m sure as hell not changing how I feel about you.”
Her smile fades, and she looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do with that. Good. Maybe she needs to sit with it.
I lean down and kiss her forehead instead of her mouth. “I’ll call you when I land.”
“Guy—”
“I know. Space.”
I take a step back. Her hand slips from my shirt, and I hate the empty feeling immediately. “Four days, Nicole.”
She leans against the doorway. “What happens in four days?”
I look straight at her. “I come home.”
I let that sit between us for a second before turning toward my truck. I make it halfway down the sidewalk before she calls my name. “Guy.”
I turn.
She’s still standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself. “Be careful.”
My chest tightens. I nod. “Always, honey.”
Then I get in my truck and force myself to drive away.
She wants space, I’ll give it to her but only four days.
And then I’m coming back, and when I do, I’m going to show her how good it can be between us.
CHAPTER 22
NICOLE
I’m nervous. Not about the game but about being here. I keep telling myself I made the right decision and that coming to San Antonio to tell Guy I love him too makes sense. I didn’t get a lot of sleep because I kept thinking I was going to call him and tell him, but I thought this was something I should do in person.
I didn’t call and tell him I was coming because I wanted this to be a surprise. My stomach is doing flip-flops as the game gets started. I’m wearing my Jasper Bears jersey with my last name on the back of it, and I’m sitting in the very back row of the family section.
I’m holding my breath when I see Guy come up for his first at bat, and I can see he’s still wearing my hair tie on his wrist. I lean forward in my seat and watch as he steps into the box. He adjusts his gloves, taps the bat once against the plate, then looks toward the pitcher. The first pitch is way inside, and he has to step back to avoid getting hit. Ball one. My eyes round when I see the speed was a hundred miles per hour. From here, it looks like the second pitch is on the corner of the base. The umpire yells out, “Strike!”
Guy steps back out of the box, does a few practice swings, takes a breath, then gets back into position. The pitcher throws the next pitch, and it’s so fast, I barely see it. I hear the crack, and it’s like one big gasp as the stadium reacts. I’m on my feet, hands to my mouth, watching in horror.
It all happened so fast, I’m not sure where exactly the ball hit him, but he’s on the ground, and he’s not getting up. I have never in my life been somewhere with so many thousands of people and there be no sound.
I scream his name. “Guy!”
He still isn’t moving, and then all of a sudden his team and coaches are running. I search for the team doctor, and he’s sprinting across the field. I hear the sirens for an ambulance, and I hold my breath. Oh my God! He’s hurt. Guy is really hurt… and I didn’t tell him how I feel.
I wrap my arms around myself and whisper, “Get up. Please get up.” But all I can see are people hovering over Guy. I tilt my head backwards and close my eyes, pleading, “Please, Guy, I need you to be okay.”
My heart is racing so hard it feels as if it’s coming out of my chest. It feels like I’m standing here for hours when it’s probably only a few seconds. When two men carrying a stretcher come onto the field, I shake my head. “No.”
People start talking all around me, but I can’t take my eyes off Guy lying on the field. They lift him onto the stretcher, but his face is turned the other way, and I can’t see if he’s conscious or not. I know it’s bad, and I start moving. I push my way down the row, mumbling apologies as people shift out of my way. By the time I reach the concourse, I’m running. I run down the stairs and lean over the fence to the bull pen. “Dad!” I scream.
He rises up and looks at me. He’s surprised to see me, and he waves at the security guard to let me closer. “What are you doing here, Nikki?”