Page 48 of Moonshot

Michael York

12:55 p.m.

Mick: I’m sorry. Really sorry. Can we talk?

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Ava

I pull up to the little league field, wondering if I’m early. I’ve been a hot mess ever since receiving that text from Michael.

Michael York

12:55 p.m.

Mick: I’m sorry. Really sorry. Can we talk?

Recalling the feeling of my heart racing and my limbs trembling as I read the short line over and over, I lie my head back against the headrest and try to take a few calming breaths. I don’t know why I’m so nervous? I did nothing wrong. I’m certainly not going to beg for him to try again or accept some lame excuse for the way he treated me. Wiping my hands atop my slacks, I continue my internal dialogue.He’s the one who should be nervous.

I’m glad I held back after receiving that text and didn’t blast him for all I was feeling since being so rejected. He was equally as short and to the point, asking if we could meet here to talk. At least I could put an end to all of the questions.

After lamenting about recent events one too many times, I decide to get out and stretch my legs. Walking around to the back of my vehicle, I bend and stretch my back and quads after assuring there’s still no sight of Michael’s car. Hopefully, it’ll help the butterflies in my stomach to walk around a bit.

I convinced myself to come here if nothing more than to take one more thing off of my plate at work. Meeting with him outside of the office will allow me to address this and put it behind us, so there isn’t another unprofessional occurrence at my job. While I’m still terribly hurt by the way he ended things, we do have to work together. It’ll at least give me some closure, so it won’t be so hard to handle his visits.

Knowing full well this was a convenient excuse, as I was anxious to see him if nothing more than to see if the electricity between us was all in my head. I couldn’t have imagined that. Could I? Just to see his facial expression and to try and get a read on him when he had nothing to hide behind. No phone screens, just us.

I’d told Joanie I had an appointment today, so I’d need to leave the office at lunch. Up until my interview recently, I’ve rarely taken time off during the workday. However, as I’m on the hunt for gainful employment elsewhere, it shouldn’t matter anyway.

Continuing to pace up and down the small grassy area in front of my car, I see a small blue Honda Accord pull into the parking lot and turn toward my car. Hmm, that’s odd. Beyond the fact this isn’t a large silver Ford Explorer, I notice the driver is clearly not Mick. Maybe they came here to take a walk on their lunch break.

A beautiful dark-haired teen exits her car and walks in my direction. “Hi. Are you Ava?”

“Yes.” Stunned and immediately curious by this change of events, I take her in. She’s fit, about five foot six, with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. She’s very pretty. Her skin is radiant with little makeup, and her eyes appear bright and hopeful. She does seem a bit timid as she stops in front of me. I relax my stance as I try to continue our conversation without coming off as rude. It’s not her fault I’m anxiously awaiting an uncomfortable conversation with my most recent player. But how does this girl know my name? “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“No. Please forgive me for the ruse. I was the one who text you. Not my brother. I overheard him talking to my mom the other day, and I knew I had to do something. Is it okay if we sit and talk for a minute?” I watch as she points to the dugout. Nodding, I follow her. Still trying to absorb everything she’s just said, I try to remain calm until she can explain what she overheard. And why she’s here and not him.

“I’m Emmaleigh, by the way,” she adds.

“I figured as much. Your brother adores you.” Giving her a small smile, I like being able to put a face to the stories. Even if it has to be under these painful circumstances. “He bought us matching baseball shirts,” I blurt before I can think better of it. The immediate reminder of my loss practically slaps me in the face, making me wince.

Sitting down on the bench, Emmaleigh rotates toward me. “The other day, I came home from school and saw Mick’s car in the drive. I was so excited because I don’t get to see him as often as I used to. Between my busy social calendar and his traveling and little league… well, it’s just not like it used to be. Anyway, the last time he’d been at the house, he’d gone on and on about this special girl he’d met, and I was almost giddy thinking he’d brought her, well, you, home for a visit. I practically ran to the door to see.”

Watching this vivacious teenage girl describe this makes me sad it couldn’t have happened the way she imagined. I bite my lip, trying to prevent my emotions from joining this story hour.

“But instead of meeting you, I managed to come to the hallway just outside of the kitchen as my mom slammed her hand down on the table and began lecturing Mick for the way he’d walked away from you without talking to you about it. She was so upset with him.” She stops momentarily as if replaying the scene in her mind. “I can’t remember her ever yelling at him. He was so unlike the other teen boys I knew when we were growing up. He’s always been respectful, kind. He’s helped me, so she didn’t have so much on her plate. Never went to parties. Instead, he stayed at home with me and my mom and dad. It was a bit jarring seeing her scold him.” Emmaleigh reaches for a large splintered piece of wood that’s separated from the rest of the bench we’re seated on.

Suddenly, she seems so young, like a child who’s had to cancel her birthday party on account of being ill. “When he said you two were over, I was so heartbroken for him. I’d never seen him so happy. All of us… so happy he was finally getting a shot at a happily ever after. He’d been strong for so long after losing baseball. And that stuff with Paula.” She wipes away a stray tear, and suddenly, my heart feels like this fragmented piece of lumber where we’re sitting. Sometimes you can’t see past your own grief to know how much the people around you are hurting.

“I don’t know how much Mick told you, but he’s been burned terribly before. So terribly, you’re the first girl he’s dated since Paula.”

I look at her with a blank stare, trying to put these pieces together.

She takes a decidedly deep breath before diving into what I assume is the painful truth behind Michael’s absence. “Mick dated the same girl all through high school and into college. I don’t know anything about her because I was too young at that point to remember such things. I get most of my intel from Mom.” She giggles. “But the awful wench tore his heart out. When he lost his baseball scholarship because of his shoulder, she left him for one of his teammates. The worst part, he found out by accident. He stumbled on them together. They’d been posting pics on Facebook and Insta as a couple behind his back. Like it was too much trouble to be bothered to tell him.”

My hand flies to my chest as if needing the pressure to soothe the worsening crevice there by this news. My poor, beautiful man.

“When he confronted her about it, she acted like it was no big deal. Paula and Michael had been together for five years, and yet he said she simply shrugged it off like it was no big deal to her that she’d moved on.” Emmaleigh used her fingers to make air quotes as she sneered the words, ‘no big deal.’ “She acted like he was the person in the wrong for having the nerve to ask her about it.”

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