Page 114 of The Plan

He has a small smirk on his face. “But you just did?” I squint my eyes at him.

“I knew papers would need to be signed, and your agent, maybe even lawyers, would need to be involved. It’s the Major League, not the Little League. You can’t just quit over the phone. The gesture was cute—I get it, point proven. Now answer before he actually kicks you off his team.”

He smiles at me and then answers the phone. “Sorry about that, Coach. I was trying to win back the love of my life.” He winks at me, and I fake a gag. He starts to laugh and then immediately turns serious as his coach tells him something.

“No, Coach.” His coach yells something I can’t make out. “Yes, Coach… Of course, my apologies… I understand.” My eyes slightly widen because that sounded serious. He ends the call, and I quickly ask what he said. “I’m suspended from playing until further notice, and he took away my title as team captain.”

He sounds like he’s trying to mask the disappointment in his voice, and I feel horrible for letting him go through with that. “I thought baseball was your life.” I remember him once saying that.

“I thought I already told you I love you more than life.”

I let out a sigh and walk over to sit on a chair at his kitchen island. “This doesn’t change anything, Sire.” When I look over at him, hurt is written all over his face, and I want to take it back, but it’s true. We can’t just get back together.

“So you’re not going to give us another chance? You said you’ll sleep on it.” He sounds so disappointed, like a kid having their candy taken away, but Ididsay I’d sleep on it…

“I know, but it just feels weird if we just got back together.”

“Why?”Because I’m a horrible person. I shake my head of my thoughts, but I feel like shit. He didn’t even fucking do anything to me, and I used his addiction against him? There's a special place in hell for people like me.

Sire tilts my chin up and looks between my eyes. “What’s wrong?” I move my chin from his grasp, and he takes a seat in front of me. I look down at my hands and play with my ring, and I’m grateful that he gives me a second to collect my thoughts.

“I’m sure you want an explanation or apology—”

“No explanation you give will excuse what you did. You used my addiction against me for the sake of your revenge.” He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to be angry at him for not letting me explain, but I can’t be mad. Not when my explanation isn’t good enough.

“I saw you in the parking lot. I didn’t see you actually take the drugs, but the blood in your nose and your eyes were a dead giveaway.” He looks down like he’s disappointed in himself or ashamed.

“I outed you to your coach out of anger. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I wanted to take away the future I thought you used me for.” He doesn’t look up at me, but I go on.

“I don’t have a better explanation or reason, but I wish I did. I know I can’t go back and change things, but I wish I wasn’t so spiteful because the second I saw how much I hurt you, I wanted to tell them it was a lie.”

“It wasn’t, though.” His eyes finally meet mine, and he looks the same as he did four years ago. Hurt. “It wasn’t a lie, and I needed to be outed because if you didn’t try to throw my life away, with how fast I was spiraling, I definitely would have.”

“That still doesn’t make it right, and I amsosorry, Sire,” I say it because I am, and I know he needs to hear it right now, but also because I’ve been wanting to apologize the minute I told his coaches he was an addict.

“Yeah, me too, for not trying harder to explain. After I came out of rehab, I should have gone to you in Maryland and made amends, but I didn’t because I knew you’d keep hurting if I let you believe I was using you. I wanted you to be in as much pain as I was in after you told them about my addiction, and that's part of the reason I didn’t explain when you first came back.”

“I could’ve ended our arguing the minute I saw you at that doctor's appointment, but when my eyes landed on you, my anger came rushing back as I remembered what you did.”

“Sire—”

“Don’t.” His tone is soft as he cuts me off from apologizing. I know I don’t deserve it, but God, I want him to forgive me.

“I’m sorry I let you walk away that night.”

My eyes cut to his, and when I see the guilt on his face, I shake my head, but he goes on anyway. “I’m so sorry for the crash, Vid.” He squeezes his eyes shut like the thought of it physically hurts him.

I rise from my seat, stepping between his legs, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I hug him.Reallyhug him. His arms immediately go around my waist, and he’s clinging onto me like he’s been deprived of my touch.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper against his hair, and I feel him shaking his head.

“It was.”

“It wasn’t,” I say in disbelief because I can’t believe he’s really been blaming himself for my miscarriage all this time. I pull back a bit and hold his face between my hands. “You weren’t the one who was drunk driving and ran me off the road.” He pulls me in closer, resting our foreheads against each other.

“You were the one that dragged me out of my car and ran to the hospital with me in your arms.”

His eyes meet mine, and he musters a small smile. “It was only like three or four blocks away.”

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