Dirty Curve

Because there’s no other option, and since there can be no winner here, I’ll happily be the bad guy if it saves him the least bit of sorrow.

No matter what, we both lose a little.

I just have to make sure he loses less than me.

I swipe at my face, and pull myself free of Bianca’s hold, slowly pushing to my feet.

“Girly, what are you doing?” she whispers, watching as I pull my sweater over my head and smooth my loose strands of hair back.

“Getting ready.”

“For what?”

There’s a heavy knock at the door moments later and her eyes crinkle.

My lips twitch and I nod, and with a shaky breath and strength I don’t feel, I pull the door open, revealing Tobias on the other side.

“Tutor Girl ...”

CHAPTER 28

Tobias

I stumble, falling into a person, or maybe it’s a tree?

I laugh, push on it, but it doesn’t move.

Tree it is.

I take another drink from the bottle and walk over to the cages. Slipping inside, I set the bottle down by the door and flick the switches, the gears kicking on and whistling around me.

Grabbing a bat, I step up to the red X made of tape on the ground and get into my stance.

The first ball whips by and I chuckle, wobbling back a bit before I get ready again.

I swing, but miss and stagger forward, catching myself on the metal chain links.

A ball releases, blasting against my ribs, and I lurch forward.

“Fuck.” My hand falls to my ribs, but my body jerks when I’m slammed in the chest, the wind knocked out of me, sending me stumbling back against the fence.

Gasping, I lean over, slapping at the buttons on the wall, but before I’m able to push the off switch, another comes flying forward, nailing me in the jaw and my body slumps, crashing to the floor with my back up against the cage.

“What are you doing here, Tobias?”

“I wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

I wince, a ball connecting with my chin.

“Why? Everything was good. We’re good.”

“Don’t make this something it wasn’t.”

Another ball sends my head snapping into the chain links behind me, and I begin to cough, blood spitting into the air.

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it’s bullshit. I know you want me. I know what you feel. Stop this, whatever you’re doing, quit.”

There’s a hard impact against my brow, then something warm is gliding down my face.

“I need you to leave, Tobias, and please, don’t come back.”

“Baby, just ... just tell me what I did, and I’ll fix it. I’ll change it. Ma, I’ll be anything you want me to be if you just let me be yours ...”

Meyer laughs, but it sounds more like a cry. Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry ...

“Is that a joke? I saw you on the field, you lost your mind. I can’t have someone who acts that way around me or ... or my daughter.”

I lurch forward, my eyes beginning to roll into my head.

Everything fucking aches.

“I would never do anything that put her in danger. Her or you. Meyer, I love—”

“Get away from my house, Tobias, or I’ll call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.”

I groan, my body slammed with a ball again, but I have no idea where I’m hit.

Everything fucking aches, but nothing could possibly sting more than the last words Meyer spoke to me before she slammed the door in my face.

“You’re nothing.”

I hear a crack, and then I’m choking on something thick and warm.

Everything goes black.

I might lie there, passed out on the floor, for days, I don’t know. All I do know is when my eyes peel open, I’m hunched over on the turf-covered cement of the batting cage. It’s dark, my body is burning, and I’m covered in my own blood.

Reaching up, I accidentally touch my nose, wincing.

“Fuck,” I groan.

A deep hum rings in my ears and I look up, finding the pitching machine is still on, but the bucket’s empty.

I look around at all the balls surrounding me, and it’s easy to know what happened: the thing whooped my ass. My chest rumbles as I pull myself to my feet, turn the shit off, and make a mental note to come clean this mess before anyone else has a chance to see it.

Dragging my ass through the back of the locker rooms, I slip into the shower. The water burns, but I welcome the pain.

Only when I’m stepping out do I look in the mirror, confirming what I already know. My nose is broken.

Pointer-finger knuckle wrapped tight around the bridge of my nose, I press my thumb to the opposite side. I use my other for stability, gritting my teeth as I snap it back into place. It begins to pour some more, but this time, I’m ready, having done this a time or two before, and pinch the thing with a torn towel I had ready.