29. Cleo

29

CLEO

The clatter of falling bowling pins echoed off the polished wood floors as I raised my arms. "Yes!"

The monitor overhead announced my strike with a cheerful song and a strange animation. Walking back toward my mom, I pumped my fist. "I told you this would be the winner for me."

"You were right." She chuckled as I walked back to the bench. Resuming our conversation, my mom eyed me. "Why would it be so bad to let New Winford residents know about the game? The donation could be suggested and no sponsorship would be necessary."

Crossing my arms, I shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels like my problem to solve. I'm not sure I want Cat to be involved in so much."

My mom sighed. "Because a part of you worries she won't stick around?"

"Maybe." She wasn't wrong. It was something I hadn't let myself consider. Shaking the thought, I looked up at the scoreboard to avoid her eyes. "But I'm also capable of handling it and the league always figures it out."

Mom stood up for her turn. "Wasn't your homework to worry more about the future?" Winking, she grabbed her bowling ball from the return. Without much prep, she brought the ball to her chest and started her throw. She rolled the ball right down the center of the lane.

Watching it closer, we both leaned forward to watch. As the pins fell, Mom groaned. "Boo!"

The monitor over my head displayed a 9/10. She'd have to hit a solo pin.

When she came back to the ball return, she bit the inside of her cheek. "Do you trust her with your heart?"

"Oof. I don't know if I should answer that." I confessed. In all honesty, Cat and I hadn't discussed the future much. Both of us were too afraid to touch the thing that tore us apart to begin with. But I knew we'd have to eventually.

The league's playoffs were rapidly approaching and once they finished, it would be far too cold to keep training here. Cat would likely go back to the city and I'd go back to the store and my barely-begun book.

We'd go back to our corners, letting the other go again. But that time, it would really be the last time.

"You don't have to. But if even a part of you does trust her, maybe you should let her help you." After she raised her hands in surrender, she grabbed her bowling ball and used her same form to roll the ball down the alley.

Nailing it, she hit the pin on the head and jumped with joy. "Ha!"

"Nice one, Mom." I clapped for her as I looked around the alley. It was fairly crowded, full of families taking their kids out for a Saturday evening and teenagers looking for something to do.

Mom sat down next to me and sighed. Silence passed over us for a moment before she shrugged. "You know, Dad really loved Catherine. He loved the way she treated you."

Scoffing, I shook my head. "That was before she went pro. Then she was far too busy for me."

"Is that fair?" The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Sorry, sweetie. I just know the shop was a lot for you to take on then and you couldn't go see her as much."

My face flushed but I couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or anger. Mom wasn't entirely wrong. Cat was on the road a lot and while running the shop, I could barely ever leave New Winford. And Catherine's life was changing too, spending more and more time out at bars and hanging around fans.

It was hard not to be paranoid, even if Cat never did anything wrong.

"No, I get it." I waved off her concern. "It was more complicated than I made it out to be. It was a lot."

Even then, a part of me felt like not much had changed. Sure, Cat took me on a thoughtful date – no – the most thoughtful date I'd ever been on. But one date did not a new future make.

I still ran the shop alone, Cat was going to go back to work. And then we'd be in the same position. I'd be alone in this small town, bowling every weekend with my mom and crashing Bri's romantic weekends with her girlfriend.

My throat tightened. Unless it wouldn't be the same.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" I hollered from behind my catcher's face guard as I threw the hulking softball back to Cat. I was glad to have my catcher's gear on as a cold wind blew through the open field.

Shaking her head as her leather glove closed around the ball, Cat scoffed. "You're so rude."

I rested my glove on my hip as I stood. "If you can throw this faster than 50 miles per hour, I'll eat you out for an hour."

Gawking at me, Cat's face flushed. "You're sick in the head. We don't even have a speedometer" She tossed the ball between her gloved hand and her bare palm. But I knew it was a good motivator, her face lighting up. Moving back to the mound, Cat shook her head as she got into position.

"I'll know it when I feel it." I winked.

Even from behind home plate, I could see her starting to center herself. She took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs before letting it out through her mouth.

Nodding to me, I squatted down into position and held up my glove. I'd seen that look in her eyes before, she was hungry for a win. Her eyes were on the prize. Digging my heels into the sand, I prepared for a fast pitch.

Once I was squatted, Cat started her wind-up. Her form was nearly perfect; the ball made a perfect windmill as it passed over Cat's shoulder and was swiftly brought down. When it released from her grip, a fastball came hurtling toward me.

It moved so fast that my eyes wanted to close to protect themselves. But I forced them to stay open, bringing my right hand up to reinforce the glove as the pitch made contact with the leather covering my hand.

A bright stinging radiated from the center of my gloved palm. I stood up, shaking it out as I did. "Much better."

Cat beamed with pride as they crossed the distance between us. Pulling off my glove, Cat kissed my palm and eyes it closer. A red spot grew at its center. "Did I hurt you?"

"Eh, hazards of the job." I looked up at her, my throat tightening under her emerald gaze. "You're very pretty."

Blushing, Cat stuttered. "You're… really pretty too."

Watching her eyes, I smiled. "That was a really strong pitch."

"I hate this glove." She sighed. "I wish I could find my old one."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Isn't that thing like two decades old?" All these years later, I could still picture the peeling leather of that brown glove.

With an assured nod, Cat pulled back. "Yeah, but it's easier on my hand and I can actually move it."

We walked toward the dugout, happy with our practice for the day. As we did, Cat licked her lips. "So, how's the writing?"

"Don't ask me that." I buried my face in my glove, the smell of old leather wafting into my nose. It had been a few days since I worked on what was becoming an interesting idea. But I kept getting stuck.

"Come on, just tell me something."

Reluctantly, I confessed. "It's slow. I keep feeling like it's a waste of time." Not looking up, I packed my bag and changed my shoes.

Cat scoffed. "Well, that's definitely not true. Worst case scenario, you wrote something cool for yourself. Best case, you write an award-winning bestseller. Either way, I'll buy it."

I shook my head, hiding my embarrassment. But it was sweet, and I knew it was entirely truthful. Once our stuff was packed, we made our way to the parking lot. Standing between our cars, Cat laced her fingers with mine. "You know, if it sells, you wouldn't have to worry so much about closing the shop here and there. You could go… say… to a professional softball game anywhere in the country."

Nudging her shoulder, I raised my eyebrows. "The truth comes out."

"I joke." Cat kissed my cheek. "Can I come over and make you dinner this week?"

"Please." I pressed my lips to hers. It was risky kissing in the open like this. It wouldn't be long before the paparazzi caught on to our early morning practices. But for now, it felt safe.

Cat watched me get into my car, leaning against the good of her black Mercedes. As I pulled out of the parking lot, watching her wave goodbye, I felt my heart pounding. The extra money wouldn't hurt. And maybe it could solve our problem; maybe Cat leaving town wouldn't be the end.