Page 13 of Pitching for Keeps
"I am not?—"
"You track his statistics!"
"You almost kissed him on a pitcher's mound this morning!"
"Those high school boys don't know what they saw!"
"Tracy." Jay's voice cuts through our bickering. "Look at me."
I peek up. He's leaning forward, intense and focused.
"I still look for you," he says. "Every game. Seventh inning, I still check behind home plate, even though I know you won't be there. Last night was the first time in five years that you were actually there. And I threw twenty-one strikeouts."
"That's just?—"
"My best games have always been when you're watching. You know that."
I do. I hate that I do, but I've run the numbers.
"This is the most romantic thing I've ever seen," Sarah sighs.
"It's a disaster," I correct. "We broke up for good reasons."
"Did you though?" Greg asks. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you broke up because you were scared."
I look around the table, then at Jay, who's been nothing but kind and patient and perfect.
"I need some air," I announce, standing abruptly.
I make it to the garden before the tears start. Five years of carefully built walls crumbling because Jay still reads myarticles. He still looks for me in the seventh inning. And he signed that baseball with his college number.
"Tracy?"
Of course he followed me.
"I'm fine," I say, wiping my eyes. "Just needed a moment."
"You weren't humiliated in there. You were honest." He steps closer. "Maybe for the first time all week."
"I can't do this, Jay. We decided?—"
"You decided. You decided for both of us."
"Because it was the right thing!"
"Was it? Because I've spent five years trying to convince myself it was, and I'm thinking we were just young and scared and stupid."
He's close enough now that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes. "The Rangers called last week," he says. "They're watching my starts. Might get called up if someone goes on the IL."
My heart stops. "Jay, that's amazing."
"Is it? All I could think was that I had no one to call when I got the news."
"I can't be your good luck charm again," I whisper. "It's too much pressure."
"I don't need a good-luck charm." His hand comes up to cup my face. "I just need you."
I hiccup. Because of course I do.
