My stomach lurches, the minty taste from my toothpaste turning acrid.
“What do you mean?” I somehow manage to ask in an even tone.
“Guess you’ll find out.” She doesn’t say anything else as she shoulders past me. My hands shake as every possible scenario race through my mind. He was with her last night? On my birthday, no less. Tears prick my eyes, and I want to turn around and pretend none of this happened. Go back to bed and stay there for the next few hundred years. I do neither and march toward the door. It’s time to get answers even if they’re not the ones I want to hear.
A few loud bangs and the door swings open.
“Isabella, I—” Her name dies on Braxton’s lips when his gaze lands on mine. He doesn’t move. A mixture of hurt and hate swirls in his blue eyes that have taken on a darker hue. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.” I brush past him and stalk to the kitchen. My stomach twists when Miller comes up to me with his greeting. I can’t help but reach down to pet him. He’s like a lifeline I so desperately need.
I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other much.
Chapter Forty-Four
BRAXTON
Confusion swirls inside me at the sight of Cara. When I opened the door and saw her pained expression, my first reaction was to pull her into my arms and make her feel better. This need to protect this woman presented itself the first time I saw her at the quad. But I’m so dammed pissed the only thing I’m accomplishing is glaring. Honestly, I thought I’d have more time to work out what I was going to say.
Cara kisses Miller on top of his head before standing up to look at me. “What’s going on, Braxton? Why is Isabella leaving here looking well fucked?”
I continue to scowl while my insides scream at me to tell her the truth. My head, however, wants me lash out and demand the other truth. My head wins. When I speak, my voice comes out low, almost hateful. “When I texted asking where you were, what did you tell me?”
“AJ.”
I step closer and watch her take a large gulp. My anger rolls off me in sheets, but there’s still a tug at my conscience for interrogating her. “Now answer me again. Who were you with?”
“Get to the point.”
“I saw you leave the restaurant and get into Drake’s car.”
My heart wrenches when I watch the fight leave her face and morph into what looks like regret.
“You came?”
“I won’t again.”
She flinches. “I didn’t know he was going to be there. AJ and Mia couldn’t make it, so Drake came by himself. He wanted to apologize for the way he treated us at the wild card game.”
“And that led to you going home with him?”
“I didn’t go home with him.”
A huff escapes my lips, this being lied to scenario seeming way too familiar. And coming from her is like a spike to the ankles while sliding into a second base.
“That’s two nights in a row you spent with Drake. Two nights I caught you with your ex. Believe me when I say that will never happen again.”
“You don’t understand. I never—”
“You have one thing right. I don’t understand how you could do that to us.”
She shakes her head and tilts her chin up to me. Anger flashes in her eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Drake just happened to be in the same place as me. I explained all that in the voicemail. Perhaps you should have listened to it.”
“And what would I hear? More lies?”
“Don’t be an asshole. There was nothing going on. I can’t help he came up behind me and started dancing.”
“He had his hands all over you.”
“Only for a few seconds.”
“It was longer than that, sweetheart.”
She glances to the ground before raising her fiery gaze to me. “When he came up behind me, I thought it was you, but when he placed his hands on me, I knew right away it wasn’t. I didn’t react at first because I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry my reaction time was slowed down by my shock. Perhaps the next time I get groped in public, I’ll react faster.”
She has every right to be mad. I never had the courage to listen. I let my jealousy and frustration fester all evening, but there is still something bothering me. “That explains the dancing, but what about the picture?”
Confusion coats her expression once again. “What are you talking about?”
“You were sitting in a booth together, looking rather cozy.”
“The only time we sat together was when he forced himself into my booth and tried getting me to dance with him. I told him no. Who the hell sent you the picture?”
“That hardly matters.”
She lets out an incredulous laugh as understanding settles in those deep brown eyes.
“Let me guess. Isabella snapped the photo right as he leaned next to me and wasted no time sending it to you. You saw it, rushed down to the dance club, and walked in on him stalking me on the dance floor.”
The uncanny way she figured this out makes me a little proud, but damn, if it makes me look like an idiot. Even if I got butthurt over Drake, she was still with him last night. I saw her leave with him for fuck’s sake. Rick’s warning to let her go and focus on ball—the ultimate goal—still resonates in my mind. Fuck, Dad and he are right, and I’ve been an idiot. I shouldn’t get involved in relationships. I’ve fallen hard for two girls, and they both burned me with their lies. The best thing to do is to end this and regroup.
“I’m sorry if I overreacted, but I can’t do this. I need to focus on baseball.”
The tears welling in her eyes are like daggers to my heart. And even if running into Drake was accidental, it doesn’t change the fact she lied to me. How many more lies will she tell? As much as it kills me, I can’t afford this distraction. It isn’t good for me. It isn’t good for her.
“Let me get this straight. You were so stricken over seeing me with Drake you had to what? Fuck your frustration out by using Izzy?”
I remain quiet and let her draw whatever conclusion she wants. She steps into my personal space and glares.
“I may not have been totally forthcoming, but I never cheated. I never disrespected you like that.”
“Lying to me is disrespectful. Don’t you get it?” I let out a frustrated growl. “It doesn’t matter, we’re through.”
“You said you loved me.” The words tumble from her mouth so low I almost miss them. I wish I had because they fucking kill me.
“Yeah? That was before I knew you were this huge-ass drama queen. I don’t have time for this bullshit. It will only interfere with my game.”
She rears back as if I’ve slapped her, but then she straightens her spine, the metaphorical armor snapping in place. “Won’t you make your Dad proud.”
My jaw clinches as her words cut to the bone. She doesn’t give me time to respond. She just steps around me and exits out the door without so much as a goodbye. I let her go, knowing I’m making the worst mistake of my life.
“You’re letting her leave thinking you slept with Isabella?” Dalton steps from the staircase. I shoot a glance to the upstairs, half-relieved no one else is coming down. The last thing I want is to be on the receiving end of Noah’s lectures.
I stand there with my hands on my hips, glancing back at the doorway. Back to the girl who I do actually love. “Yep.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s better this way.” Less chance of her forgiving me. Less chance of me taking her back. Even though letting her go is the last thing I want to do, I don’t say those words. Instead, I lie. “I don’t want to start the season hung up on some girl. I don’t need this type of drama.”
The words are as acidic as they sound, and I want to punch myself for voicing them. She’s so much more than some girl. She’s everything and deserves to have someone a hell of lot better than me.
And I don’t deserve her.
“Wow, and I thought I was messed up.” He pad
s into the kitchen and heads straight to the refrigerator.
“Whatever. It’s over.”
Chapter Forty-Five
CARA
A hint of blueberry wafts through the air as Mom places a mug in front of me. Her gesture earns a faint smile, but I can tell by the coloring the cup lacks the second shot of cream. She never remembers, unlike Braxton who always did. Pain grips my chest, but I push through it and take a sip.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You going to tell me what has you moping around here like someone stole your last cookie?”
I avert my gaze. This is way too early in the morning and the breakup too raw to be discussing the details. I’ve only been home for a week, but the finality of our split hasn’t settled well yet. I’m not sure it ever will. “Nothing.”
She lets out a sigh. “I was just about to roll out the dough for the sugar cookies. I thought you’d want to help cut them out.”
I relish in the memory of helping her in the kitchen. Before I started college, I always helped make the Christmas cookies. No matter how hard the times were around here, Mom never skimped on decorating for Christmas. The one constant from my childhood.
“Sure.” I sort through the plastic tote and pull out my favorite metal cutters: Christmas tree, Santa, snowman, and Christmas stocking. She has a few others like an angel, but the tip of the wings always gets stuck in the corners and cuts off. I wait as Mom dusts the countertop and rolling pin with flour.
“I received an email from your school. Congratulations on making the dean’s list. That’s a wonderful accomplishment.” She concentrates on the dough as she rolls it out. “I suppose sending you to a school so far away was for the best.”
“Thanks. I know you worry.” Truth be told, she fretted over me when I lived here, so there isn’t much difference other than me not having a front-row seat.
“A mother always worries no matter where their kid lays their head.”
I meet her gaze wondering if I voiced my thought out loud.
“I know I haven’t been the best parent with you.”
“Mom—”
“Let me finish,” she interrupts as I punch out a snowman. “AJ’s wild streak about did me in. I love that kid unconditionally, but there were times where he tested my limits. He was uncontrollable. I can see now that by shifting that control over you, it ended up smothering you instead.”
My heart cracks. This is the first time Mom isn’t lecturing me or telling me what to do. It’s an honest, open discussion. “Mom, I’m sorry for always pushing back. I just felt weighed down with the constant hovering.”
“I’m very proud of you. I don’t know why I never noticed how driven you are. I have no doubt you’ll reach your end goal.”
For a slight moment, hope bubbles inside before the realization crashes over me. I swallow the lump forming in my throat and place the cut-out dough onto the baking pan. “I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Big surprise. I messed up.”
Mom puts the rolling pin down and stares at me. “I know you think you’re this big screw-up, and that’s on me, but honey, you’re so much more than that.”
A sob escapes. She rushes over and wraps her arms around me for a three-year-overdue hug. “But I really messed up this time. And it’s beyond correcting.”
I pull up a chair and explain my assignment, everything Alan had said, and the choices I made. As the truth spills from my mouth, the more I realize how ridiculous the whole scene sounds. The only part I leave out is the full details surrounding the breakup.
“You were right about one thing,” I say.
Her eyebrows scrunch together as she tilts her head. “What’s that?”
“My drama finally caught up to me.” I let out a low groan. Mom has always said I cause drama for drama’s sake. When Braxton called me a drama queen, the slight did more than hurt; it drove home his dad’s point. The entire time we were together has been nothing but turmoil. Well, not the entire time. We had some really good moments together.
“We’re not perfect, honey.”
“No, I suppose you’re right. It just sucks.”
Braxton hasn’t spoken to me since the day I walked away from his house. The following Tuesday, we finished the last lab assignment, and since it counted as the final grade, I didn’t have to see him anymore. Shannon remained hunkered down studying and didn’t understand why her brother was being an ass. In a way, her acceptance made me feel worse. It only proved he didn’t actually love me. You don’t tell someone you love them and then break up over something so trivial.
But I should’ve told him the truth from the beginning.
And there lies the problem. Deflated, I place my elbows on the table and rest my chin in the cradle my floured hands make. “I’m not going to lie, concentrating on the finals was tough, but I had to earn the grades.”
“I’m sorry this happened,” Mom says. “You need to tell the administrator what that professor did. Even if he made it right by accepting you back into class, someone needs to know about him being a snake. You want me to call?”
“No!” I practically shout. “It’s done and over with. Besides, I have another class with him.”
“I trust you know what you’re doing.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
We hug, and I wipe away the tears that spilled over. I haven’t had a heart-to-heart talk with Mom since I don’t know when. It feels good. We have a long way to go to mend our relationship, but we’re on the right path.
As far as Braxton goes, my heart still aches. No matter if I’m at fault, I refuse to be used, and I refuse to be a doormat. I spent the first few days of break checking for a text or missed phone call. The silence killed me. So, I did what every jaded ex-partner does. I blocked his number and deleted his photo. I dread going back to school, but I’ll stand tall. No matter how much it hurts to see him.
Chapter Forty-Six
BRAXTON
Waves crash upon the shore in a violent, turbulent manner, matching my mood. The viewpoint from my backyard, perched on a hill, makes the dangers appear calm, but the serenity from the scene is as fake as the persona I’ve been putting on this entire Christmas break. I pick up my phone for like the hundredth time and type an apology to Cara. But just like the other times, I hit the backspace button until the words disappear. Slamming the phone down, I stare back at the same view that had enthralled Cara.
“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” Shannon asks, settling in the chaise lounge beside me.
“I don’t need your input on my life.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to get it. You messed up, Gee-Gee. Letting her think you and Isabella got together is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
My gaze flashes to hers. “You haven’t told her any differently, have you?”
Her jaw ticks. “No, but it wasn’t easy. You know better than anyone how deeply that betrayal hurts, and yet, you’re letting her suffer.”
“I had to end it. It’s best this way.”
“Then, man up and tell her the truth. You didn’t see her afterward. She was a mess.” Shannon’s words are like a punch to my gut. I hate that Cara’s hurting, especially when the worst part is a lie. But I needed to end it swiftly, and this was the fastest way to get there.
“You don’t know everything that happened,” I say, trying like hell to justify my actions.
“I know she’s not like Jasmine.”
Hearing Jasmine’s name used to cut deep, but her memory no longer holds the power it once did. Will that happen with Cara? Will I get to the point where the mere thought of not having her in my life doesn’t feel like a chainsaw shredding through me? I rub my knuckles over my chest and close my eyes. This pain is a hundred times worse than what I felt after Jasmine’s breakup. Somehow, I don’t see this going away. Ever.
“I know that,” I say before staring back at the ocean.
&n
bsp; “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. If anything, Cara’s worse. I caught her twice with her ex. I don’t need all that fucking drama.” I keep going with this excuse because it’s the best I’ve got. Even I’m questioning my logic. But whether I’m being stubborn or not, it changes nothing. When I get back to school, the same decisions face me and the need to focus still present.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I miss her spunk—that sweet tendency to overreact. I miss her sassy mouth. The way she puts me in my place. I miss her.
“I know how it looks, but you need to place yourself in her situation.”
“Enough.”
We both stiffen as Dad’s voice booms behind us. Dad turns to Shannon and shakes his head. “You need to stay out of it. Braxton’s better off starting the season without baggage.”
Shannon bristles as she stands but doesn’t say anything. She knows better than to argue with Dad. She won’t win.
“You don’t have to worry about it. I’m done.” She stomps her feet onto the concrete and marches past Dad with her head held high. She has brass, I’ll give her that.
“I’ve been letting you brood these past few days, but enough is enough.”
“Let it rest,” I say through gritted teeth. Dad may be able to tell me what’s best for my career, but he won’t dictate how I chose to grieve.
And this feels like I lost the best thing to happen to me. The worst part? I have no one to blame but myself.
“How many times have we gone over this? You know the stakes and need to snap out of this funk. I won’t stand by and watch you sabotage yourself. You did the right thing by breaking this off before things got serious.”
My nostrils flare. He has no idea how much I care for Cara. And that is on me as well. I seem to be batting a thousand. Fuck, I should have set the record straight during Thanksgiving instead of wimping out. Cara didn’t want me to make things awkward, but I shouldn’t have listened to her. “She isn’t a distraction.”
SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One Page 29