Page 46 of Blind Date with a #FORMERPLAYER
“And I can’t be the only open one in our relationship. It’s lonely and it’s hard for me too.”
Nodding, I tell her, “You’re right and I’m sorry. I knew it as soon as you walked away, but I’m ready now.”
She gives me a look, letting me know she’s not sure if she should believe me, but my past is my only reason to hold back while everything else is screaming at me to give her my trust. “What are you saying, Levi?”
“I’m saying that I like you, Layla,” I confess, my voice cracking on her name as if I were a teenage boy. “You’re nothing like any other woman,” I insist, desperate for her to see the truth in my eyes. “And I want to spend more time with you, for as long as you’ll let me.”
Gulping, she nods, holding my gaze. “Okay. I like you, too, Levi, but I’m not someone who can just date someone halfway. It’s part of the reason why I questioned it when they put the two of us together on a blind date. Their success rate is hit or miss, so I wouldn’t be surprised, but I really do like you.”
I laugh. “They’re batting average may be low, but I think with me and you, they hit this one out of the park.”
She snorts, her head falling back as she bursts out laughing. “Now that was the line of a player.”
Although it may have sounded like a line, it’s true, but I don’t bother repeating myself. Instead, I emphasize, “Former player.”
She smiles, squeezing my heart. “Okay, Levi. But I need you to know, the moment I feel like you’re keeping something from me or you don’t talk to me, that’s when I have the urge to walk away. My father was a man who held onto secrets like it was his duty. He built an armor around him, isolating himself, his family be damned. I refuse to ever live like that again for anyone, especially a man.”
“Got it.” Reaching for her hand, I thread my fingers through hers. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
She nods. “It’s a nice night.”
We stroll through town, my nerves haywire. Taking a turn, we approach the baseball fields at the edge of town. “My brother used to play Little League here. Thinking of where he is now, it’s surreal.”
“Believe it or not, I never played Little League,” I admit.
She gasps. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. My dad wanted me to play football. He said baseball was for pussies.”
Her eyes flare. “That’s not true.”
“I know, but as a kid…” I trail off, shrugging. Stepping forward, I drop her hand and lean against the chain link fence, looking out at the worn paint of the diamond on the dirt.
Her hand falls to my back in support, but she remains silent, waiting for me to continue. “I would sneak out to the fields and play with my friends, lying about where I’d been. Eventually, he caught on. I’ll never forget the second I knew it was over. He showed up at the fields and glared at me. I was pitching and pretended like I didn’t see him. Focusing on the game, I kept throwing, striking out everyone. The pride I felt barely lasted a moment. By the time my teammates were slapping me on the back, I wanted to run. I trudged towards him, feeling like I was marching to a death sentence. He stood with his arms crossed next to the dugout, glaring at every one of my friends that walked by him as if it was their fault I was there.”
I shake my head, disgusted at the memory running through my mind. “As soon as I was within reach, he grabbed my pitching arm and dragged me home, dislocating my shoulder in the process.” Layla’s soft gasp rings in my ears. “He beat the shit out of me that night.”
Layla slides her hand down my back and around my waist, her other hand mirroring the movements. Her head falls to my back, her body pressing in close as she squeezes me. “I’m so sorry, Levi,” she says, her voice barely audible.
“He never laid a hand on me again.”
“Once is too many times,” she whispers so quietly, I almost don’t hear.
Ignoring her comment, I push forward, or I’ll never finish. “After that, my aunt and uncle helped me pay for my baseball camps and training far away from my dad, so anytime I was on break, I was nowhere near home and he could pretend like I didn’t exist. They never knew the entire truth, but they suspected, especially when I begged them to help me get as far away from home as possible.” I exhale harshly, my breath heavy, weighted with my confession,needing to look at the positive. “I entered the combine straight out of college. Luckily, I got picked up and I haven’t looked back.”
“What about your mom?” she asks, making me flinch. It doesn’t matter that I knew the question was coming.
“She helped me heal and then she buried her head in the sand.”
“Levi,” she whimpers, her voice full of empathy.
Turning around to face her, I lean against the fence and hold her in my arms. Tears ripple down her cheeks. Reaching up, I gently wipe them away with my thumbs. “Please, don’t cry for me, Layla. I’m one of the lucky ones. I got away.”
My words only make her cry harder. Pulling her to my chest, I press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling her sweet scent. As she catches her breath, she rasps, “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry to bring it up.”
Sliding my fingers underneath her chin, I tip it up until she meets my gaze. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Now you know why I don’t talk about it, but it also feels good to share it with someone. No one but my family knows the truth.”
Taking a deep breath, she slides her hand up to my jaw, holding my gaze. “It means a lot to me for you to trust me with this.” Pushing up on her tiptoes, she nudges my head towards hers and sweeps her lips across mine.
