Chapter 32

Pushing through the doors that lead to the outside patio, I'm greeted with sunshine. There's just something about the sunshine in a coastal town that hits differently. I have spent the last fifteen minutes unpacking my suitcase and arranging my room so that I don't feel like I'm living out of my bags.

Scanning the space for a seat, I spot a familiar person sitting alone at one of the metal tables. Walking up next to him, I place my hands on the empty chair across from him. "Mind if I sit here?"

Bright blue eyes find mine, and his serious ‘leave me alone' expression quickly morphs into warm and welcoming when he realizes who is bothering him. He gestures to the empty seat before speaking, "How's everything going, Chloe?"

Coach Callan Weber is nothing but intimidating. With his tan skin, piercing blue eyes, and dark—almost black—beard that is trimmed close to his face. Black ink peeks out above the neckline of his T-shirt before running down both arms and ending across his fingers. He screams rough and tough, unapproachable, but he's the farthest thing from that.

"Everything is going great. I just wanted to sit outside for a while. I love how the outside feels near the coast."

He chuckles. "I know what you mean. I grew up in a small coastal town, and I miss smelling the salt as it floats around me."

"Yes, the salt breezes through the air. It's the best. Candle companies are always trying to give you ocean breeze scents, but it's nothing like the real thing. Do you think you'll ever go back to your hometown?"

"Maybe someday. But right now my focus is on CTU. I love the culture the campus brings with it."

Callan leans back in his chair as he reaches up to remove his hat. Running his hand through his hair, which he keeps longer on the top and shorter on the sides, before returning his flat-billed hat to his head. There's a reason why Callan has been voted college baseball's sexiest coach and why he's the face of the sport. He oozes sex appeal from his chiseled jaw, model-like features, and fit muscular build which has his shirt stretching taut against his chest.

"Did you know you always wanted to coach?"

"Is this on or off the record, Ms. Mariano?" His eyes lower as he squints at me.

"Busted," I chuckle, and he returns my comment with a laugh. "Sorry, I thought I could ask you a few questions without it feeling like an interview."

"No worries. You're easy to talk to. That's what makes you a great journalist. You'll have people spilling all of their dirty secrets, and they won't even know they're being interviewed."

Blushing, I brush a loose piece of hair behind my ears. "Thank you, Coach."

"No, I wouldn't say that I always wanted to coach. Before my injury, I thought my future would revolve around playing in the majors. That at some point in my career, I'd settle down with a wife and kids before retiring from playing and picking up some kind of sports broadcasting job. But life had different plans. From the moment I went down on that ski slope, I knew my career was over. There was this overwhelming feeling that spread over my body. I decided that if I couldn't play, I'd coach. And that's what I've been doing."

"So is a wife and kids still in your future?"

"No comment," he says with a smirk. Smiling, I glance around at some of the other tables around us. Couples sit across from each other at a few tables while other tables are occupied by people working on their computers.

Returning my attention to Callan, I run through some thoughts in my head. Sitting down with him wasn't on my to-do list for the day which means my notebook with questions is currently sitting in my hotel room. I rack my brain with some things to ask him in the meantime.

"Is there anything you want your players to leave CTU with the knowledge of?"

"At the end of the day, baseball isn't everything. That might seem odd coming from a head coach at a prestigious university, but it's the truth. Life can flash before our eyes, and life-altering things can happen resulting in everything changing. The most important lesson to learn in life is how to adapt. It's okay to mourn the life you thought you'd have, but it shouldn't derail your entire future. Life is constantly evolving, and why shouldn't our dreams evolve with us? Take the time to process and say goodbye to what you thought your future would hold, but don't take too much time. Find something else that keeps you motivated. Set new goals, face new fears, but don't stop living."

Cody's dad should sit down and have a conversation with Coach. Maybe he'd get his head out of his ass and stop treating his son like a doormat.

"That's incredible advice. It not only applies to baseball, but to anyone who stares adversity in the face."

He nods before glancing down at his watch. "Exactly. I hate to cut this conversation short, but I have to get ready to head to the field for pregame press. We can sit down again and talk more, but I have a feeling you've been weaving things together over the last couple of weeks."

A sheepish grin lifts at the corner of my lips as I bring my arms out to the side, shrugging. "Guilty."

Laughing, Coach Weber slides his chair out from the table before standing to his full 6'2" frame. With a small nod, he walks away leaving me to sit alone in the South Carolina sun. Leaning my head back, I welcome the rays against my face. My skin absorbs the energy as the heat radiates, spreading warmth throughout my soul.

Yes, we have sun in Texas, but this sun just feels different. Maybe it's the refreshing aroma that when you smell it, you know you're near the sea. Or the change in humidity. Whatever it is, I welcome it like a desert cactus welcomes rain.

The sun is long gone as darkness surrounds the brightness of the stadium lights. Tonight's game was a late seven o'clock start. The guys just wrapped up the bottom of the seventh inning, and the Eagles are on top six to zero.

Cody is pitching another fantastic game. Honestly, I'm surprised he's been pitching as well as he has. I didn't see him much before the game started as he was busy with his pregame rituals, handling a few media interviews, and warming up for the game. But there was definitely a dark cloud following him around today.

I noticed it when we got off the bus to board the plane, but I didn't bring it up. I wasn't fueling the fire of whatever was sparking his poor attitude. I did spend the flight to Charleston combing my brain for any hints that I had done something wrong. When I came back with nothing, I was halfway through my book when I realized that his parents were coming to the game. He had mentioned it a while ago that they were planning on coming to South Carolina. That's the reason for the sour mood.

It was during the third inning that I noticed that his mood was starting to brighten. Maybe it had to do with the fact that his pitches were looking incredible. Ending the third inning with no hits, he found me waiting at the top of the stairs with my camera—something that I do every once in a while. Busy snapping photos, I didn't realize that Cody was making my way toward me. It wasn't until he stopped in front of my lens that I slid the camera down.

Lifting his hand in the air, Cody was waiting for me to give him a high-five. Hands smacking together, he gave me a small wink before brushing past me. And so the routine continued after every inning. He'd strike the third batter of the inning out, walk to wherever I was standing, wait for a high-five, and give me a wink before hopping down the steps that led into the dugout.

Now with only two innings to go, my anxiety is starting to rise. Cody's on his way to pitching another no-hitter—his third of the season.

There's a buzz in the dugout almost as if everyone is feeling the pressure to give Cody this win and to not cause any mistakes to jeopardize his no-hitter.

Making my way onto the field, I take advantage of the team throwing the ball around in between innings. The coaches have all been leaning against the railing in a relaxed manner. I was able to take a picture of their backs, but I knew that the picture would look really special if I was facing them. Glancing around at the guys on the field, I make sure that I'm not going to get hit with the ball before I'm quickly moving into position. Lining up the camera, I adjust the lens until I have the shot that I want. Hitting the button, I watch the shutter release before checking the picture on my screen. Happy with the shot, I glance up into the crowd.

Charleston's field isn't anywhere as big as ours, but it's still a nice facility with tan-painted brick buildings and green plastic chairs spread throughout the stadium. As I'm skimming our crowd—smaller than normal—my eyes catch on semi-familiar hazel eyes.

I have no doubt in my mind that I'm staring at Cody's father.

My breath stutters in my chest as I take in the man staring back at me. Not breaking eye contact, it's like he's sucking my soul from me. The sneer on his face is enough to make me shiver. Chills run down my spine, and I quickly stride back down into the dugout.

Not able to get the image of that man sneering at me out of my head, I make it a point to stay in the dugout and away from any camera, including the one that flashes images up to the screen in the outfield for the fans.

Thankfully, I don't have long to wait. The team pulls out a win as Cody pitches a phenomenal game. Without stepping out of the dugout, I'm able to capture the celebratory huddle from the top of the dugout steps.

My heart is bursting at the seams for Cody. I'm so proud of him for earning this accomplishment. We still have a month, if not longer, until the season ends, and there's a good chance he'll break the record for the most no-hitters thrown in a single season.

The guys all scramble into the dugout, heading straight for where the bat bags are kept. They're ready to pack up and head back to the hotel, no doubt exhausted from the day. The once quiet dugout is now thumping with an exciting energy that drums through the air. It's contagious, and the smile that breaks free across my face is unavoidable.

Cody's eyes find mine through the crowd, and the wink he gives me makes my panties wet. He's going to want to celebrate tonight, and there's nothing I'd like more than to be tangled in the sheets with the man who stole my heart.

Leaning against the opposite wall out of the way of the guys gathering their things, I wait until everyone is ready to leave the dugout. Coach Weber likes for the team to arrive and exit together. He says it makes the team look more serious, and I agree. There's nothing like a pack of athletes trudging through the stands with their metal cleats clanking against the concrete. They're like a pack of wolves hunting down their prey with determined energy and stoic faces.

Weber gives everyone twenty to thirty minutes after an away game before they have to report to the bus. This way everyone has a chance to meet up with anyone they know who came to watch the game, mingle with fans, or just a chance to unwind after a game.

The team makes their way out of the dugout as I slide in with the coaches and other members of the staff. We walk across the dirt path that leads to the gated steps up to the main level of the stadium. Keeping my focus on the person in front of me, I don't allow my eyes to stray. However, there's the niggling feeling deep in my soul that feels like eyes are burrowing into my skin.

Don't look up. Don't look up.

Once we reach the main level, most of the guys split up. Cody is one of them. Our eyes meet in the briefest of moments, but his hardened face has me walking right past him. I don't get too far before Ty sidles up beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He smells of sweat and grass stains from the diving catch he made late in the game behind third base. "Hey, Chloe girl."

Looking up at Ty, I give him a small smile. "Good game out there."

"Thanks! What'd you think about that diving catch in the eighth? I did that one for you."

I roll my eyes because no, he did not do that for me. "Uh-huh. I was so impressed."

"Impressed enough to leave Jacobs behind and take a ride on the Billings train?"

A laugh bursts from deep inside. Looking around ahead of us, I see Niko and Hudson waiting off to the side. I have a feeling these boys are distracting me from the mood Cody is in and the man who caused the mood.

"Oh my gosh, Ty," I say through laughter, hitting his stomach with my hand that isn't pressed against his side.

"Chloe?" a soft voice calls from behind us, interrupting our laughter.

The laughter slips away as Ty's and my heads turn toward each other. Brows quirked as confusion mars our faces. Looking over my shoulder, I'm doused in cold water as the feeling of paralysis shocks me still.

Her honey-blonde hair. The same as mine.

Her petite frame. The same as mine.

Her slightly upturned and slender nose. The same as mine.

I'm standing in the presence of the woman I thought I'd never see again.

"M-mo-mom?" As the words leave my lips, Ty's grip tightens as he pulls me in closer to him almost like a shield protecting me from a fire-breathing dragon. And she might as well be. Because the woman staring back at me, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, is definitely the villain in my story.

Bringing her trembling hand up to her mouth to cover the gasp. "Oh my god, it is you."

My eyes bug out of my head as the overwhelming feeling to pass out washes over me. I can feel my knees buckle as Ty's grip is the only thing keeping me standing.

"Breathe," he whispers against my head. And I try to do just that as my mouth flounders, my mind forgetting every word in the English language.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" I stammer the words out as my skill of speaking is clearly gone.

She steps forward, and I flinch at her movement like a scared deer who has just come face to face with a hunter. Camilla pauses. She has the decency to look hurt. As if.

"Mom." I turn my head as a guy approaches her. Dressed in a Charleston baseball uniform, he looks to be a little younger than me. My eyes track the movement from where the guy approaches my mom. I watch as her face morphs into a proud smile as she stares at the guy drawing near us.

I'm so goddamn confused.

My eyes flash back to the boy and over his shoulder I see two more kids following with an older guy holding the hand of a young girl. She couldn't be more than eight years old. Both look at each other smiling and giggling as they have no idea what shitstorm they are about to enter.

Four kids? Four fucking kids are making their way to my mother.

"Good game, honey," my mother greets the boy who wraps her in a hug.

"Mom, Jessi won't share her MMs," a younger boy whines as he makes his way up to them.

My mo—Camilla's eyes move past her children and find mine. I can't quite decipher the look in her eyes. Embarrassment? Pride? But the one thing I can read is how nervous she is.

"I never thought I'd run into you at a ballpark."

Scoffing, I step away from Ty who reluctantly lets me out from under his arm. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch as Niko and Hudson move toward us from where they were standing. "You clearly had no intention of running into me ever."

"Now wait—" she starts to protest, but I whip my hand in the air, cutting her off.

"You have four fucking kids!" I grit the words out, and they taste bitter on my tongue.

"Chloe Mariano, don't you dare speak to me that way." By now, the older man and young girl have joined. They look like one big happy, albeit confused, family. Nausea roils through my stomach with the overwhelming feeling of getting sick.

"You gave up the right to scold me when you abandoned me"

Hurt flashes over her features as her—husband?—slides in between her and her son, the baseball player. Her shoulders soften at his touch, and it makes me sick to watch her with her replacement family.

"Chloe, this is Heath, Maddox, Jessica, and Bria." She introduces me to her new family. I give a tight-lipped smile because what the hell else am I supposed to do when meeting my siblings I never knew about? She looks up at the guy next to her, and a dreamy smile lights up her face. "And this is my husband Charlie. Charlie and I met a couple of years after I—after I left—"

"Abandoned," I grumble.

"Heath is his son from his first marriage. Maddox and Jessi are ten, and Bria is eight." She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. "Would you like to get dinner with us?"

My jaw practically hits the ground. "Get dinner with you? What, like we're some kind of happy family?"

"Yeah, I'd like for my kids to meet their big sister."

"You've had fifteen years for your replacement family to meet your original daughter. The daughter you neglected and forgot about. The daughter who spent her whole childhood waiting for her mother to come back. The daughter who has never felt like enough in this world because if her own mother couldn't love her, why would anyone else?"

I don't recognize the woman spewing these words. All I know is that I'm pissed. I'm hurt. I'm devastated to see that I was right all along.

I wasn't good enough.

I wasn't good enough for her to stay. For her to love. For her to introduce to her kids.

A tight ball is forming in my chest as a burning sensation seeps into my eyes. I can feel the tears threatening and the sobs wanting to erupt. But I refuse to cry in front of this woman. I refuse to let her see how much she's cut me.

With one last look at the woman who birthed me, I will my feet to move. Taking off in a jog, I run past groups of people as my eyes scan the crowd looking for my favorite pair of hazel eyes. Tears burn and blur my vision. I see them up ahead, and I slow my pace to a walk. I've already caused enough of a scene, I don't need to run up on my boyfriend and his parents whom I've never met before.

I'm almost past a few lingering bystanders when more words slice through my body.

"Jesus, she's nothing. Nothing more than someone to help release the stress of the game. She's not the type you marry, so get off my back about it. I've told you that I don't have time for distractions, and I refuse to let a girl get in the way of my game."

Just a distraction?

Someone to help release the stress of the game?

She's not the type you marry?

Bile rises in my throat, and I turn around to see Ty standing right behind me. By the look on his face and his clenched jaw, it's obvious he heard everything I just did.

Walking straight into his arms, I let him lead me out of the stadium through a different entrance. Reaching into his pocket, he thumbs out something on his phone.

A few seconds pass, and he's leading us toward a line of cars. I spot the Uber and climb in the backseat next to him.

"What do you need from me?"

"Nothing. I just want to go home."

Ty pulls me into his side, and I rest my head against his shoulder. Digging out my cell phone, I pull up my dad's number.

After a few rings, he answers. The sound of his voice causes the floodgates to open. "Daddy?"

"Amore Mia, what happened?" concern is evident in his voice, and I fight the sobs so he can hear me.

"I need a flight home."

"Give me five minutes."

And with that, he hung up the phone, and I let my emotions win.