Trouble With the Curve (Learning Curve #2)

by Felicia Lynn

  “I love you, buttercup. No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Please don’t avoid me to cry in the shower alone. It’s my job to hold you and make everything better,” I plead, feeling really fucking guilty for asking her not to keep secrets, knowing I’ve been keeping information from her for days that will essentially pile on to her already visible pain.

  I’m supposed to talk to her about her dad tomorrow, clueing her into another part of the shit storm surrounding us that I’ve been hiding. I fucking hate that I have to tell her at all. If the conversation with her father had not gone the way it did tonight, I probably wouldn’t ever tell her, but she needs to know this information soon. If I don’t tell her, her father will, and no way is that happening. I’m almost tempted to tell her now and get it over with so tomorrow can hopefully be a drama-free, good day.

  “Hold it together, hotshot. Today royally sucked. It was a bad day. They happen, but it’s life. I’m allowed to feel the way I do, and you shouldn’t take it personally, Ty. It’s not a reflection on you, and not one part of it was your fault.”

  “You deserve all great days, buttercup. I just want to fix it and make it better for you, but you have to give me a chance and not shut me out.”

  “It was a craptastic day, Tyler, but it’s fine. It’s one day. A bad day isn’t a bad life. We have a million more days together to work with. As long as our good days together outweigh the bad ones, we’ll be in good shape. But you need to figure out how not to freak out when I’m having a tough day and let me deal with it. I don’t want to hide from you, but I also don’t want you handling me with kid gloves and hiding things from me. I know you have been, and I’ve been waiting patiently for you to come around. I can handle whatever life throws at us because we agreed we’re a team and are in this together. But that means no matter what’s going on with either of us, good or bad, we have to talk about it and not sweep it under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m stronger than you give me credit for, Ty. I promise I can take it.”

  Taking another deep, pained breath, I realize she’s right on all levels. It’s not fair that I try to shield her. She is strong. She’s proven that numerous times. My pulse is spinning, knowing it’s time for a chat. Charlotte means everything to me. She makes me a better person. I want to be worthy of a life with her, but I know keeping secrets isn’t going to help us.

  “I have so much more to live for because of you. I’m stronger and happier, but the goals I am working toward have changed; changes I happen to like a fuck of a lot. You’ve become my priority now. Buttercup, you’re my secret weapon. I need you. You’ve made me a better man. I never want to figure out how to survive my life without you. Yes, I’ve been keeping secrets, but only because I want to protect you from anything and everything that could hurt you or dim your smile. It was never about questioning your strength or your ability to handle the tough stuff. I know you’re strong, but, Charlotte, you’re precious to me, and it’s my job to keep you healthy and safe. But it’s possible my protective instincts could be in overdrive.” It’s past time for me to come clean.

  “I don’t like the idea of secrets between us, Ty. I hate keeping things from you, even when I do it with the intention of not adding more stress to your plate. I’m not an expert at relationships, by any means, but it scares me that we’ve both fallen into a trap by justifying this. Secrets will eventually turn into lies and do more damage if we can’t come clean to each other. I can’t live with that. We need to agree that protecting each other with secrets is not an option, and instead, we’ll accept that dealing with some things will just suck, but we’ll always have each other. What do you say we head downstairs for a cup of hot cocoa and let’s talk? I want to clear the air so we can start fresh and not be haunted by the pressure of hiding things.”

  “Charlie, I don’t like the idea of not knowing everything going on in that little head of yours,” I tell her, my voice failing to disguise the annoyance. I thought I was the holder of all the secrets. I guess I was wrong, and that’s even more concerning. I’m really fucking motivated to know what she’s been hiding.

  “Up you go, buttercup. Get your hot cocoa, and let's get to talking because no matter what happens, we will be ending this night with my cock inside you.” I know this won’t be fun, and I admit being the holder of secrets is stressful. Maybe it’s not my job to protect her from the truth so much as it is to be there to hold her and pick up the pieces when the truth hurts.

  I playfully swat her ass as she climbs off the bed with a sassy grin and squeals, running from the room and down the stairs. I follow at a much slower pace, momentarily relishing seeing Charlie’s playful smile. Even knowing it won’t last, it does bring me a fraction of hope.

  ***

  “How do you want to do this, hotshot?” she asks, walking out of the kitchen carrying a small wooden tray with a bowl of marshmallows overflowing on all sides, balanced by two huge mugs of steaming hot cocoa on each side of the bowl. Charlie gets so much joy out of silly little things that some people take for granted, especially junk food. It’s adorable and one of the first things I discovered I loved about this girl. She’s easy to please.

  Placing the tray on the coffee table in front of us, she sits down next to me and begins topping the cocoa with the sugary fluffs and stirring it in. I smirk when I hear the little moan that escapes her lips as she takes her first sip and leaves traces of the creamy froth on her top lip. I jump at the opportunity to take care of that for her and lean in for a kiss, taking more sweetness than the drink left behind on her lips.

  She pulls away. “No, sir. We’re supposed to be talking. Keep your delicious lips on your cup of cocoa until we’re done. No getting sidetracked,” she says, a flash of amusement filling her eyes.

  “I'm trying not to build a shed over this toolbox you like so much, buttercup. Your sweetness is the only treat I can afford. Don’t deprive me. It’s not fair. You can have my cup of cocoa because I just want you.” I move toward her to take more, my lips still tingling with need.

  She holds up her hand, palm facing out, to stop me from moving forward anymore, not the slightest bit intimidated by my prowl to attack. “Nope. Stand down, tiger. You want to go first?” she asks.

  I shake my head before declaring, “You first. It’s the least you can do since you’re getting treats and withholding mine.”

  The playful smile falls, and she swallows hard. Her gaze lowers in nervous acceptance. The drastic change in her mood brings my focus back to the goal at hand.

  After an extended lingering silence, her hoarse whisper breaks through. “Tonight was tough. Seeing Morgan was bad enough but hearing firsthand all the hateful things she was saying . . . hurt. I’d guessed she wasn’t remorseful about everything that happened between us, but I wasn’t prepared to have the confirmation of it slap me in the face. The reality is I’ve avoided dealing with the business of Morgan and, more importantly, my parents in the wake of everything. I thought or maybe hoped that if I ignored the situation, it would eventually work itself out or just go away. It was easier to live happily immersed in my life with you and pretend the nightmare they created for me never existed than to face it.”

  Placing her mug of cocoa on the table, she sits back, sinking into the couch and looking defeated. I take her hand and give a tender squeeze of encouragement before she continues.

  “This morning, before Sue called, I realized my parents had made another deposit into my checking account. They're still direct deposited every month as if nothing has ever happened. The thought of contacting my parents to question why they’d continue to support the daughter that they so easily tossed away panics me, so I didn’t. It’s easier to simply transfer the money to a separate savings account and go on with my life and leave the fuss of dealing with them to another day or time. But it’s still bugged me because, on top of the deposits, I learned from the registrar’s office that I have a credit balance on my tuition account. My entire education has been prepaid in
full. If my mother truly wanted to ruin me, why would she have ignored the financial aspect of my schooling? Sandra Baker knows my education is a priority for me, so I honestly expected that to be her next move in destroying my future. I was prepared to wipe out the savings I’d accrued prior to the fallout with my parents and even apply for financial aid or student loans, if necessary. I figured it was only a matter of time before she made that move to hit me where it would really hurt, but she hasn’t. I’m lost. I’ve always been able to anticipate the penalties of angering her, and right now, she hasn’t done anything as I’ve expected. It’s like knowing a snake is hiding in the garden bed on a harvesting day. I know the bite is coming, but I just don’t know when.”

  Fuck. I had no idea this was going on. Had I known this information days ago, I could’ve put the pieces of this nasty puzzle together so much sooner.

  “Charlie, babe. Why didn’t you tell me about all this?” I ask, cautiously.

  She shrugs. “You’ve been so stressed. I’ve been worried about you for weeks. Things have been crazy since the moment I walked into your life. Between dealing with my drama and getting over the heartbreak of it, I just didn’t want to pile on any more. We were new enough that I just wanted to focus on our happiness and move on. Plus, you had your own stuff to focus on. Why complicate things more? I saw you zoned out and struggling with the battles in your head. I didn’t want my stuff to be another concern. I know the weight of the draft is getting to you even though I don’t understand why you’re worried. Everyone knows you’re going to get selected by a team, but I figured you didn’t need me questioning your thought process or concerns. My job is to be here to support and love you through it.”

  And fuck again. This little confession session is turning into a big fucking mess. So many pressures and stresses could have been alleviated had we just talked sooner. I can’t believe she thinks my being selected in the draft is what’s screwing with my head. “Let me get this straight, buttercup. You think I'm stressing about the pressure of being chosen in the draft?” I ask, seriously needing her to clarify, and not sure if I should kick my own ass for her misunderstanding and devaluing herself in the equation or spank her perfect little ass for allowing herself to revert to the girl she was before.

  Charlotte Maryland Baker was strong enough to endure all the pressures of that life, including the vile shit no one should have to, but she lacked the confidence to fight against it—to fight for herself. My Charlie has all the incredible qualities of before, but she also has a backbone now. She’s confident. But sometimes, I sense the negativity and doubt bleeding in and trying to take hold. Thankfully, it usually doesn’t last long before she snaps out of it. I thought it was happening less and less as more time passes, but this makes me wonder if I missed something.

  Does she really not see that she’s more important to me than any job? I think I’ve been pretty clear about my priorities, but it seems she’s convinced herself of a lie instead. In addition, what does it say about me that her first assumption was that my own selfishness was consuming my thoughts? Maybe she still sees a part of me as the selfish, cocky bastard that most people believe me to be, the guy who only cares about a sport.

  She tilts her head in a nod, looking unsure. “I guess. I mean . . . I’m sure it’s other stuff too, but I assumed that was the primary thing.” A searing tremor of pain from the guilt I feel from her admission stabs straight through my gut. What else does she think?

  “Buttercup, that’s only half of the truth. What’s the other half?” I ask, trying to curb the frustration in my voice. I’m not willing to ignore the big picture and want everything on the table right the hell now. We can’t fix what we refuse to acknowledge.

  She squints her eyes accusingly, and with an annoyance-filled tone, she replies, “That’s it, Tyler. That’s what I’ve been hiding. I get that you’re annoyed that I’ve kept secrets, but let's not forget you’ve been keeping secrets too; that you’ve yet to disclose, I must add. I’d strongly suggest you withhold your pissed-off badass attitude since soon enough I’ll have my own chance to respond to the crap you’ve been keeping from me. Be careful. You’re setting a precedent.”

  “Charlotte, I hope you’re kidding right now. This is so much more than just keeping a couple of secrets, and you know it. The fact that you actually believe that getting selected in the draft has been my biggest concern really fucking worries me. I’ll admit I’ve been feeling like I’m under the gun and tried to shield you from that, but keep in mind a big part of my keeping you in the dark was because I was planning a surprise for you. I’m sorry if I’m not handling this news well, but I’m trying to figure out how we’ve screwed up our ability to communicate. I know you realize how much you mean to me, but I worry that somewhere in that head of yours, you go back to that place you were in before and the doubt starts to sneaks back in and take root. I do feel guilty and responsible for adding to some of your heartache. Have I done a shitty job of showing you how much you mean to me, buttercup?” I ask, begging for the information to help me understand because, with these secrets between us, this feels like the biggest deal of them all. The other shit going on affects things around us, but it’s all on the outside of us. I thought we were more solid, but our inability to communicate is a huge deal. How could I have been so wrong, and I’m just as much, if not more, to blame?

  “It’s not like you’ve been forthcoming with information, Tyler. I’ve tried to talk to you, but you’ve just brushed it off. I gave you time and space, thinking you’d come around, but you haven’t. Don’t fault me for inaccurately reading your mind when I asked questions you refused to answer. That’s not fair, and you know it,” she says, stretching her legs to press her body back, leaning into the armrest of the couch farthest from me and outside touching distance.

  “I realize you’re not a mind reader, Charlie. Some of that time you may have seen me in a zone could very well have been happy moments in my head. Maybe I was planning what I’d say to really convince you to take my name? I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that. I wanted it to be special and not just something you agreed to under duress from a withheld orgasm. In reality, our commitment to one another is solid, but I needed that ring on your finger where it belonged to be sure. My own insecurity was eating at me, but shit happens, and we both know that. I’m not ashamed to admit I was anxious something would happen to get in the way of my plan. I want to believe that’s normal, but nothing about the way you make me feel is normal for me. What concerns me is that you might not understand your problems are mine too. I’m not sure you trust me enough to help carry the weight of those without feeling like a burden. But then I also worry that you misplace my priorities. So I have some things I think we should address right now before we move on.”

  Looking directly at me, she swallows hard. I can see that her guard was definitely up. “Then get started, Tyler. Say whatever is on your mind.” This isn’t going well. Let’s hope, by the end of this night, we’re able to turn things around and move forward stronger.

  “One. Charlotte Maryland Baker, I love you. If there was only one thing I could be sure you knew to be fact in the depths of your soul, it would be that. You are my number one priority always. Nothing will ever matter more than you do. You need to know that, but more importantly, you need to remind yourself that you’re my number one if those negative thoughts slip in. And let me know because I’ll help chase them away with you. It’s important, buttercup,” I tell her, pausing to make sure she lets that sink in before I proceed. She hesitates to respond and only nods her head slightly. I can tell her composure is fragile.

  When I think she’s ready, I continue. “Two. Baseball is now and will always be a job for me. I like it, and I’m excited about any chance I might get, but it’s a job with some unknowns I can honestly say I’m not comfortable with since it might require some unwanted physical distance between us. I don’t fucking like the idea of distance from you, and it’s bothered me. I like waking up with
you every day, and I don’t want to miss our mornings. We’re getting married, and I want nothing more than a life with you. The last thing we need and I want to consider is having miles between us while we sleep in separate beds. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that fear was distracting me, but it’s been hard to think about much less talk through.” I see her guard begin to fall. She loosens her posture as she listens, and the start of a little smile is tucked in the corner of her lips.

  “Ty, baseball will be your career, but it’s also your dream job. There’s going to be highs and lows in any job, no matter how much you love it. We both knew going into this that we’d have to spend plenty of nights apart. It’s something we’ll learn to deal with for as long as you’re living this dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve, but we won’t break. We also know baseball isn’t forever. I can’t travel to all the away games every season, but I want to be with you when I can. Eventually, our lives could change, though, and we’ll want to readjust our priorities. But I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, even while we’re apart. If your responsibilities to the team have you on the road and little responsibilities we may someday create keep me home, I’ll always be waiting with open arms for you to come through the door, hotshot. And we’ll be cheering you on from afar in the meantime.”

  I close my eyes, firmly painting the images of Charlie swollen with our little responsibility. I open my eyes, feeling the couch dip as she slides closer and thank fuck right into my lap. That’s my girl. “I’ll always be counting the seconds to get home to you, Charlie, and any little responsibilities that might be there with you.” At that moment, I think loved her a little more even though I didn’t understand how it was possible.