The Game Changer (The Perfect Game 2)

So… I hope you’ll understand that I won’t come and ask for your forgiveness while I’m still legally married to someone else.

You probably think that’s stupid, right?

I’ll always love you.

Jack

He finished telling me about the night I left, and I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. “You wrote me a letter?”

“I wrote you a lot of letters. ”

Stunned, I mumbled, “I’d like to see those someday. ”

Through my shock, I literally ached for a subject change. I knew I’d asked for this, but it hurt. Talking about our past shouldn’t matter for our future. But that was my dumb heart talking. My heart… my little, keep-me-in-a-box-wrapped-in-cotton-behind-a-wall-built-with-bricks-and-stone-and-concrete-where-no-one-can-ever-hurt-me, stupid heart. My mind was at war with that beating thing. I fully believed that if my heart and my head could wage a battle within me, they would. And eventually, I’d die from it.

No, Cassie.

You need to hear this.

The only way to move forward without regret was to accept what happened. I couldn’t change our past, but I could change our future. And in order for me to truly forgive him and learn to trust him again, I needed to hear what took him so long. Truthfully, I longed to begin my own internal healing.

“So, then what?” My demeanor turned serious with my tone.

“What do you mean… so, then what?” he asked, his expression showing he was perplexed by my question.

“That was only the night I left. Then what happened? We have six months of CliffsNotes to get through here, Carter. ”

“I thought I was going to get kicked off the team the next day,” he admitted.

I propped myself up immediately. “Shut the hell up. What happened?”

Tired and bleary-eyed, I flung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and pressed the Down button on the elevator. I fidgeted with my tie, straightening my jacket as the doors dinged before opening, and I stepped inside the empty compartment.

The lobby filled quickly with chatter as the rest of my team filtered in, dragging duffle bags, and some even dragging their kids behind them.

I checked out, tugged on my hat, and walked out toward the waiting charter bus.

“Carter, come here. ” Coach’s voice startled me, and I dropped the bag at my side.

I walked over to him, and he tossed his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s walk,” he said.

Shit. Is he sending me back down to the minor leagues already?

Coach leaned in and locked his gaze with mine. “You’re a good kid, Carter. I like you. But don’t ever bolt out of my clubhouse again before I tell you that you can go. You understand me?” His voice was kind, but there was steel underneath it he wanted me to hear.

“Yes, sir. I’m really sorry about that—”

“Don’t apologize, kid. Just don’t let it happen again or I’ll send your ass down to the minors so quick your head’ll spin,” he threatened, making sure I understood my position on the team totem pole. Message received, loud and clear.

“Yes, Coach,” I answered respectfully, thankful that no one else was close enough to hear our conversation.

“Go get on the bus. ” He patted my shoulder with a slight shove.

“I would have cried,” I told him with a grimace.

“No, you wouldn’t have. But I was scared shitless,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“I bet. OK, so you flew back to Arizona for the game. We both know how that went. ” I paused, referring to the game they lost that ended his postseason for the year. “Then what did you do?”