18. Freya

Iclap my hands together impatiently, looking left and right again in case I missed him. Jackson was supposed to be meeting me here today — right now in fact — so we could go for a walk together. It's been ages since we did that, and I was looking forward to spending a little quiet time with him.

My shifts haven't lined up very well with hanging out with Jackson lately, and that on top of feeling bad for not spending as much time with Matt as I should have done recently, Jackson and I have only seen each other on a handful of days over the last two weeks.

I mean, it's been good to spend that time with him, even when he's being awkward and weird and says the wrong things because he doesn't seem to have a single shred of emotional literacy in his body. All those things kind of add to his charm. It's usually not hard to tell when he's gone and embarrassed himself.

Besides, he's usually so thoughtful in his actions that I can that I can get over clumsy words and emotional fumbles. Just because the way I express emotion is through words, doesn't mean he has to be the same. I understand all that.

And when I'm in his arms, so close to his frankly amazing body, and losing my mind with the endless pleasure that he gives me, or doubling over laughing until it hurts because of his jokes and stupid stories, or letting him take me out for dinner and other things and not even batting an eye at the price, I know he cares. If he didn't, he wouldn't do all that stuff. He would have let me go a long time ago.

Doesn't stop how guilty I feel that he pays for everything, though, but he refuses to let it be any other way. I accused him of being too chivalrous the other day, and he just shrugged it off, telling me he would do exactly the same for any of his friends. And I believe that. He's so generous and giving, and he never expects anything in return.

And that's what makes it so frustrating and weird that he hasn't texted me to tell me that he'll be late.

It's not that I mind him being late. Shit happens to everyone — there's no use holding that against him. But it's the way that we specifically chose today to hang out because I don't have to work and we could spend all day together. And here he is nowhere to be seen, and not even a word to say where he is.

I pull out my phone, half-hoping for a notification but not really surprised when there isn't one.

This is so stupid. It's not like we're actually dating, not in the true sense of the word. And sure, I've spent more time with Jackson over the last couple of months than I have with anyone apart from Matt and my colleagues. And, worse than that, he's made me feel really special. But none of that has meant we're dating. That's an intense word.

And he cares. I know he does, and that's what makes it so annoying when he goes and does this. We might not be dating, but the way he makes me feel is very real. And now I'm standing here like an idiot. Feeling like I'm about to get a broken heart.

I shoot him another text, not even that worried about sounding pushy. Part of me feels like I should feel bad for being angry with him, because what if he's been delayed for reasons totally beyond his control? What if he's run into someone else and been knocked in the head and is unconscious in some hospital somewhere? What if he got killed by accident? Anything could have happened — and I'll never know, because I'm not even that important to him.

He could have been hit by a car or be passed-out in the street somewhere, hemorrhaging, and I'm here thinking bad thoughts about him.

Why won't he just reply?

It seems to take hours, but at long, long last, I spot a figure in the distance and Jackson comes bounding over, grinning like a lunatic. "I'm so sorry," he says, sweeping me up into his arms. The shock of him doing that in broad daylight startles me into silence. I'm so surprised, I can barely even hug him back.

He doesn't seem to notice, though. "I was just on the phone to Doctor Minogue, and guess what she said! She says that I should be okay to go back and start playing again! Like, as soon as tomorrow!"

"Wow, Jackson," I stammer as his words sink in. "That's really great." I squeeze him tightly, my arms remembering how to move. This is everything he's wanted for as long as I've known him.

"I know! I'm so relieved. We only have a couple of weeks before playoffs, and they're really going to need me if we're going to get to the World Series."

"I'm sure you will," I say, a lump forming in my throat.

But before I can ask him another question, he launches into telling me all about how excited he is to start training again, when he's going to go down to the pitch, and how he's been thinking up new plays in his mind for last few weeks while he's been out of action. I barely even get a word in.

And sure, it's nice to see him so excited about something. God knows this isn't a normal amount of emotion for him to be showing, and I'm happy for him. But this is turning into quite a different walk from the one I was expecting.

I try to focus on how nice it is to be here with him instead of really listening. He's happy, and that makes me happy.

Tentatively, I reach out to take his hand, and he doesn't even really seem to notice. Usually he reacts awkwardly, like he's got no idea how to handle real affection. But today, here he is, just letting me slip my hand into his and squeezing my fingers.

For a second, I almost feel like we could be any other real couple wandering around, happy together as we enjoy the sunshine and trees in the park. And in a way that is what we're doing. I'm just also getting the baseball monologue at the same time.

I shouldn't be grumpy with him about it. He's worked hard to get here, and I'm proud of him.

I guess I just wish he had stopped for a second to ask how I am.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" I ask in a vain attempt to change the subject.

"Well, we'll have practice in the evening. But I was thinking about going to the field a few hours earlier, just so I can get some extra time in," he says, still lost in his bubble.

"Oh," I say, not even bothering to hide my disappointment.

"Well, actually, now I think about it, maybe I should go in the morning instead. Because a couple of the guys usually go to the field in the morning on practice days to talk over tactics and stuff, and I also really want to meet with the manager because I want to make sure I'm going to be in the starting lineup when we play against the Peacocks. We've only ever beaten them a handful of times, and if we want any chance of getting through, we absolutely have to make sure we win against them."

"Oh," I say again, nausea rising in my throat.

"Yeah, that's a great idea actually. Thanks!" he says, as if I've actually added something to the conversation. "I'll go in the morning. I'll speak to the manager, and I'll do some personal practice. Really ease myself back in and feel great about it all. Then I'll go for lunch at the bagel shop near the field. Do you know it? It's really good."

"Um, where is it?" I ask, even though I know I have no idea where it is.

"Like two blocks from the field. You should try it sometime. I think they make their own cream cheese, or something like that anyway, because whatever they do to it, it tastes phenomenal."

I take a hard breath and put my nurse face back on. "Don't you think maybe you should keep resting a little bit as well?"

That earns me the blankest stare I've ever seen from him. "I've rested enough these past few weeks. Why do I need to do any more resting?"

"Well, you don't want to overexert yourself," I say mildly. I don't want to snap, but I do think he's rushing things.

"True, but I also need to get back into the swing of it quickly. So, I'll take it easy, but I'll still go. I have to start practice again."

"Right," I say, sighing in disappointment. It's stupid to be disappointed because I haven't even told him what I'm disappointed about, but I guess if he's going to be so busy playing baseball, he's hardly going to have time to hang out with me.

And here I was just about starting to think we meant something.

He moves on to talking about stats and figures that I stopped comprehending a long time ago, so I just nod supportively, trying to focus on being with him, on being happy with him. With his smile and his hand in mine. With the way we're here together and he's happy.

I just wish he was happy to see me.

I shouldn't begrudge him this. It's not nice of me to be bitter, especially if I won't say it. Not that he'd give me chance to say anything at all right now. And I am happy for him. Really.

If I think it one more time, I'll believe it.

We're still good. He's here with me, and he's excited, and soon it will all go back to usual with us.

Too soon we complete our circuit of the park, and finally, finally, Jackson turns to look at me and sees me like I'm a real person. He grins. "Hey, why don't we meet for lunch tomorrow? You booked the day off, right?"

I nod grimly and he continues. "I should have an hour or so between being at the club in the morning and being at practice in the afternoon, but lunch would be cool. I've missed you lately."

For as much as I've wanted to hear those words, my smile doesn't get any stronger. "Jackson, I can't," I say, gritting my teeth against the disappointment that I know is going to follow.

"Oh," he says sadly. "You do have a day off, right? I didn't get that wrong?"

"Yes, but the reason I booked that day off months and months ago is because tomorrow's Matt's birthday, and I wanted to do something special for him."

"Oh," says Jackson again, and that yawning gulf that I've felt opening up between us lately grows just a little wider.

"But if you can do dinner later in the week, I'd like that," I say, trying my best to make it up to him.

He shrugs. "I should have time. You know, with all this training, it's going to be super weird to not see you all the time."

That's the most self-aware thing he's said all day. I can't help but let out a chuckle. "Yeah," I say quietly. "I'll miss it."

"Me too."

Slowly, gently he leans down to kiss me, lips warm and soft against mine, giving me that show of affection again, the one that means I can't quite give up on him. I know he cares about me. I just worry that the differences between us are too great.

Despite the fact that I think I might love him, there's no way he could ever love me more than baseball.

We release the embrace reluctantly, his hands lingering on my shoulders as we part. Somehow, this feels like a goodbye.

"I'll see you around, Freya," he says, and with that he turns and saunters off, leaving me standing alone in the park, not sure what to feel at all.