Page 119 of Never Will I Ever

Damnit.

“Okay, thanks,” I reply, and with a long sigh, I grab my bag and set out on a scavenger hunt. Luck seems to be on my side, at the very least, because the second I’m through the tunnel that leads into our dugout, there it is, sitting on the bench against the backwall.

Annoyed with myself, I grab it and start back the way I came, only for movement on the field to catch my eye. Specifically, someone in street clothes standing out on the pitcher’s mound.

What the hell?

I’m about to call out to whoever it is—threaten to call security or something if they don’t get lost—but as he turns enough for me to catch his profile, recognition slams into me like a freight train.

Avery.

My stomach clenches at the sight of him standing alone on the mound; a place I’ve seen him many times before but somehow is so unfamiliar now.

Instinct calls for me to go, slip out the way I came unnoticed and forget I saw him. My brain agrees, logically knowing that nothing good can come from an interaction.

But, damn, my heart won’t fucking listen.

The stupid thing is shouting at me to remember what Keene said a few days ago, pleading for me to get my head outta my ass and go to him.

Clearing my throat, I force myself to speak.

“Hard to believe they’d let you within a hundred yards of this place.”

His body stiffens at the sound of my voice, and he slowly turns to face me.

He looks good. Better than anyone should dare when they’re in the presence of the person whose heart they pulverized beyond recognition. His blond hair is swept back off his forehead, looking as if it were recently cut, and he’s wearing the same gray Foltyn Baseball hoodie he’d spent most of the summer in. Pairing it with some dark-wash jeans that cling to his muscular thighs, and he’s the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Kaleb. Hi.”

Jaw locked, I offer him a small nod in greeting.

We stare at each other, the ten feet separating us feeling more like a thousand miles, and it has my heart aching in my chest. Squeezing painfully behind my ribs. Pleading for me to close the distance and finally have him in my arms again.

But I don’t move.

I don’t speak either, despite wanting to ask him what the hell he’s doing here, standing on the field, with no one around. After the weeks I’ve endured without him, I suspect that’s not the question that would come out. Or maybe it’s the worry that my emotions will betray me, cracking and breaking every word as it leaves my lips.

Wariness paints Avery’s expression as he looks at me before he glances away and offers the most ridiculous opening line I’ve ever heard.

“How are you?”

A disbelieving laugh leaves me, and I shake my head.

How the hell do I even answer that?

Part of me wants to stick it to him by saying I’ve been great. Yet the majority of me wants him to know just how fucking miserable I’ve been because of him.Withouthim.

“I really…” My voice sounds grated and raw, just like I feared, and I clear my throat again. “I’m not interested in doing small-talk with you, Avery.”

“Kaleb—”

I shake my head, cutting him off with a sharp, “No.”

There’s no part of me that wants to do this; wants to stand here and pretend that I’m okay or happy or anything other than heartbroken by his betrayal. Because that’s what it was—a betrayal of himself, and of me—when he decided to walk away.

He made the choice then, and it’s the same one I make now.

Tears of longing and heartache threaten to spill over, but Iblink them back as I turn toward the dugout. My feet carry me away from him, my heart screaming at me to go back and hear him out, but I don’t listen to it. The last time I did, it ended up shattered on the floor beneath his feet.

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