Page 8 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners
“Get your usual. You talked about it in the car the whole way here,” T.K. gripes from his seat.
“Yes, for me,” I say as I look up at Betty. “Can I have a cup of Earl Grey tea before that?” I need the boost of caffeine; I already feel so cold.
“I guess I’ll do that.” Brea finally decides. As soon as Betty walks away with our menus, knowing we don’t need them, she reaches across the table and takes my hands in hers. “What’s going on, Alex? You were crying on the phone.”
I shift in the booth seat, and my eyes bounce around, not wanting to tell her any part of it, even the ones I can, but I need someone to vent to.
My silence stretches, and Brea poses another question. “How did the retirement party go? T.K. and I decided to stay in.”
“Good.” That’s all I can say.
“Did you see him?” She doesn’t have to say his name.
I look at her and lose the battle with my emotions. I start shaking, and tears roll down my face.
“You should have seen him. He was dressed all in black. So, freaking sexy. He was seated right next to me. Every time I’d reach for something?—.”
“Oh my god, you slept with him,” Brea exclaims loudly in the quiet space.
“Yuck,” T.K. grumbles. “No details, please.”
I’ve known T.K. for a very long time, and the fact that he trusted me when I first became an agent still shocks me. He had someone else before me who was doing him no good, and he came to see me. I explained that I was new, but I would work hard to give him the best representation. Through our relationship, we’ve both made a lot of money, which has helped advance my career. Getting my sister the job with the Settlers as their social media manager was a great idea until T.K. fell for her, but I still don’t regret it. They are both happily married and expecting a child.
“Silence over there,” Brea orders him, and he sits up like he’s about to come toward us. “Please,” she says, and he settles back in.
I can’t deny my sister’s question. I want to, but I can’t.
“Oh my god, you really did. Are you getting back together? How did he apologize? Did you?” The questions come quickfire.
“We can’t, and we didn’t even really talk.” Fumbling for words, I search for an explanation as Betty walks over with my tea and sets it down.
We were here just the other day, and things were so different. I was nervous about seeing Brayden then; now I’m broken, and I wish I’d never gone to that dinner. But then, I wouldn’t have had him again, even for just that short time. I want to regret it, though I probably wouldn't, if not for my shattered heart.
“We can’t get back together. Never,” I reiterate.
Betty returns before I take the first sip. She sets Brea’s order in front of her, a loaded cookies and cream milkshake with a sour cream donut on the rim. Mine is next: a boysenberry milkshake with chocolate chips mixed in and an old-fashioned blueberry donut on the rim as well. It’s their signature touch.
Both of us look at our orders, and something inside me settles. I needed this—this small bit of normal in my life of chaos.
As soon as Betty moves away, Brea starts in on me. “Why not? There is no reason why two consenting adults can’t be together.” She knows I broke up with him; she doesn’t know why.
“We can’t. I can’t do that to either of our careers. It has to be this way. It was for the best back then and still is. I won’t ruin us.”
“Bullshit,” T.K. says from his table. My eyes shoot to him.
“I can’t. They said that it had to be done for him to become a more focused player. Look at everything he’s accomplished now.”
“Murray still would have done all that, but as a better man and player.” T.K. moves toward our table, bringing his water along. My sister scoots in next to him, and he throws an arm over her to pull her even closer. I watch as he leans down to kiss the top of her head. The tears continue to run down my face, and Betty walks over with napkins, patting my shoulder.
“I can never go there. I did it for us. I had to.”
“Whoever convinced you that it would be better for you to break up with Murray was lying to you. He was a much better player with you than he’s been without you. I played with him before and against him after; I would know. He’s become all machine. He used to enjoy the game, but now it’s only about money and winning. He gets easily upset and would rather walk away than shake another player’s hand. He would tell an opposing playergood catchor some shit like that. Now he just tells them to fuck off. He doesn’t play as well as he did before. He has no heart now.” T.K. thumps his chest, and I recall Coach Winters’ words that Brayden lost his heart.
I stop crying, and my eyes flare wide. “What? I wasn’t his heart. He played before me.”
“He did play before you, and he was good. But when you broke up with him, it destroyed both of you. You may not have been his heart, but you certainly broke it. Murray could have the best season of his life if you’d just give him a chance. A manwithhis woman is better than a man regretting the decisions he madeabouthis woman.” T.K. looks down at my sister, and the love he has for her is crystal clear.
“I can’t. I just can’t. I won’t ruin us.”
