43. Kyle

Five days, six hours, and ten minutes. It felt like longer. It felt like a part of me had died. I had come to spring training. I worked out. I practiced batting. I did sprints. I did the work. Because my team depended on me, and because I didn’t lose. My right side, the responsible side, was here, working hard. But the left side, the fun side of me, had disappeared when Harper left.

I studied the bottle of beer I wasn’t drinking while I sat at the table on the patio. I’d rented a house down in Clearwater, just like I’d done every year. And I let the guys come over and hang at the pool, like always. But I hardly talked.

A chair scraped against the cement, and then Asher dropped into the seat next to me.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“I feel that.” He sighed. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything else, and when he did, it was the last thing I expected. “I’m not telling anyone else, but it seems like maybe your misery needs some company, so I’m going to lay it out. Zara asked for a separation.”

That penetrated my haze. Heart dropping, I snapped my head around and assessed him. “Fuck.”

He nodded, his eyes downcast.

“You okay?”

“Not at all. I’m just trying to get through these next few weeks so I can get home and fix this shit.”

I felt that. I didn’t have the first clue how to fix things with Harper, but that didn’t mean I was giving up. No, it meant that I’d have to try harder, figure out a new plan. Because other than that first text conversation after she left, she hadn’t responded to a single message.

“What happened with you and Harper?”

I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “I was hiding something.”

Beside me, he choked on his beer. “Like another chick?” he asked, eyes wide, when he recovered.

“No.” I spat the word out. “It’s about my family. She found out and feels like I was lying. That’s a hot button for her, so she won’t talk to me.”

With a thoughtful nod, he took a long swig of his beer.

“What happened with Zara?”

Huffing, he set his bottle down on the glass tabletop a bit too forcefully. “I don’t have any idea, man. She thinks I don’t act like I want to be married anymore and that a separation will make me happy or some bullshit like that.” He scowled. “Didn’t seem to care that the only thing I want is her.”

“I feel that.” Sighing, I picked at the label on my bottle. “I know I’m miserable company, but if you need to talk…”

He lifted his chin and surveyed the guys horsing around in the pool. “Thanks.”

My phone buzzed on the table, and when my mother’s name flashed on the screen, my stomach sank. I’d ignored her calls for days, but I couldn’t keep it up forever. Honestly, I was surprised she hadn’t flown out to yank on my ear and yell at me already.

“I gotta get this.”

Standing, I picked up the device. Then I headed inside so I could talk to her in private.

“Hey, Mama,” I said when I’d pulled the sliding door shut behind me.

“About damn time.”

Sighing, I leaned onto the white marble counters. “I’m going to start this out simple. If you say one bad word about Harper Wallace, I will hang up, and I won’t answer again. Ever.” It wasn’t a statement I made or took lightly. But I meant it. Cutting my family off, especially my mother, would suck, but I wouldn’t stand by and let them utter even a single bad word about the woman I loved.

“I have nothing negative to say about your girlfriend.”

I coughed out a humorless laugh. “I’d love it if she’d accept that title, but she broke up with me, Mama.”

“That situation has been nothing but drama for decades.” She sighed, making the line between us crackle.

Surprise had me straightening. That wasn’t exactly the response I expected from her.

“Secrets, all of them, cause nothing but problems. And like I promised Bill, I’m done with them.” The click of her nails tapping, probably on her kitchen countertop, echoed through the phone. “Susan told me about James’s affair before I even started dating Bill. Maybe this is a PSA about falling in love with your best friend’s family member. Clearly, you and I have that in common.”

She and Aunt Susan had been friends since JJ and I were in second grade, but my mom hadn’t married Bill until I was twelve.

“Little late, Mama.”

“I was pretty sure of that by Christmas.”

My breath caught, and I spun and leaned against the cabinets for support. “What?”

“I know my son. You were moony after someone at Christmas. Always on your phone, pouting like you wanted to be somewhere else. And I don’t know how Aunt Susan didn’t recognize those kids on your Instagram. Even though you didn’t show their faces, the resemblance to JJ, Danielle, and the grandkids was obvious.”

I swallowed. Guess I wasn’t as clever as I thought.

“However, telling us might have helped.”

My heart clenched. “There is an annoying echo in my life,” I muttered, bringing a hand to my hair. Before I could rake my fingers through it, though, I pulled back. I’d adjusted to the short cut, and so had fans. But every time I touched it, I was reminded of what I’d lost.

“I didn’t call to lecture,” my mom went on. “Actually, the opposite. I thought I’d share a little with you. Some things you may not know.” She sighed. “When Bill found out that I knew about Harper and hadn’t told him, he was upset. Things weren’t great between us for a while after that.”

“You knew about Harper.” I scowled, not that my mom could see me. I thought she’d found out at the reading of the will, just like my stepfather had.

She sighed. “I found out about Harper when you and JJ were nine or ten. Harper’s mother had asked for money. Susan and James had fought about it. And she came to my door, crying. But it wasn’t my secret to tell. Even to Bill. However, when everything blew up at the meeting last March, I assured Bill that Harper Wallace was, in fact, James’s daughter and that James had been well aware of her existence.”

That took a second to process. “Oh.”

“Bill thought Harper had to be making the story up, because he couldn’t imagine his brother keeping something like that from him. He was crushed that your uncle never confided in him. The idea that I didn’t either was a betrayal, and it took a bit for us to get past.”

“But you did?” I asked, filled with a little flicker of hope for the first time in days.

“The thing about commitment is that you’re choosing to get past it. Whatever the it is. Relationships are full of good times and bad.” She took a deep breath. “Trust me, there are tons of bad ones. Fights, misunderstandings, hurt feelings. Times when it seems like she’s choosing other priorities over you. It’s not all roses, son. But,” she said, her tone going softer, “when you choose to stay, choose to work through the bad moments, that’s when it lasts. Bill has shown me that over the years.”

I glanced down at the tattoo on my left arm. Balance. The good and the bad. That was what she was talking about. Along with the amazing part of loving someone came the hard parts too. The hurt. The arguments. But the couples that made it did so because they chose balance. They chose to enjoy the good times and work through the bad. Because, in the end, they did it all together. I could keep showing Harper that I’d choose her. That wasn’t a problem. But I didn’t know how to make her want to choose me.