33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

Indy — Then

T here was a ticking time bomb beneath me.

But I was pretending it wasn’t there. I was oblivious to the world shaking beneath my feet, blissfully unaware one little misstep would send everything crumbling down. Everything was great.

Splendid. Perfect. Fantastic.

I rested my forehead against the cool porcelain, breathing in and out through my nose as I tried to ease my twisting gut. There was a tap on the bathroom door, and I sat up, blinking through the moisture in my eyes. I hadn’t thrown up, but I flushed the toilet before I stood, washing my hands at the sink. I glanced in the mirror, not surprised with what I found. My cheeks were flushed, my skin pale, and there were deep bags beneath my eyes.

It was game day.

We were halfway through the season, and it felt like everything had changed. Before, I’d lie awake on the eve of games, assuring Nolan how much I believed in him.

Now I’d lie awake and stare at the glowing stars on the ceiling, fearing how much longer until their light flickered out and fell .

I splashed cold water on my face before grabbing a Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, hoping it would ease my period cramps. They’d never hurt this bad before, but my period had been a few weeks late before I started this morning. Plus, my stomach always seemed to hurt on game day, so I’d bet my nerves were making it worse.

There was a tap on the bathroom door again. “Indy?”

I combed my fingers through my curls, frowning at the mess, then dabbed concealer beneath my eyes and blush on my cheeks, hoping it would bring some life to my face before I opened the door.

Nolan leaned against the wall across from the bathroom, his hands tucked in the pockets of his joggers. He wore his ball cap and warm-up jersey, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you walking to the field, or did you need me to drive you?” I asked.

“I don’t mind walking.”

There was alcohol on his breath. Always .

I smiled and slipped past him and reached into my purse, handing him a pack of gum.

“Thank you.” He put a piece in his mouth, stuffing the box into his bag. Before I could tell him good luck, he asked, “You’re coming to the game, right?”

It was a home game, and I was off today—where else would I be? “Of course,” I assured him anyway. It wasn’t until later, but Nolan was leaving now to warm up with the team. “I’ll head that way in a little bit.”

“So, I had an idea—” He cleared his throat, and I didn’t miss the hue of red skirting up his neck. “Would you want to go dancing? With me?”

My mouth parted. We hadn’t gone dancing in months. I’d gone a few times on my own, but I’d eventually stopped. It wasn’t as freeing anymore when it felt like each step could be my last. “You want to go dancing?”

“Yeah.” He gave me a breathless smile. “I found this line dancing place downtown. We could go tomorrow?”

I nodded, trying to keep the hope within me at bay. Nolan must’ve sensed the change in me, or felt as I did, as he put a hand on my hip and pulled me to him. His arms banded tightly around my shoulders, and mine his waist. I pressed deeper into his frame, his comfort a second home. Neither of us voiced it, but I imagined we were silently assuring one another of the same thing: We’ll be okay. We’re going to get through this. I’m not letting go.

Later, when I lay on the bathroom floor, I tried telling myself those very words. Willed myself to believe them as I curled my knees to my chest, my back aching. But no matter how I tried, there was no denying the absence of strong arms and warmth around me, no denying how very alone I was.

Everything was not fine.

Nolan

I craned my neck back, arm pressed against the dugout fence as I scanned the stadium stands, searching for Indy. It was the bottom of the fourth inning, meaning it was our team’s chance to score. I didn’t play offense—I had a pinch hitter—so typically I’d spend our at bats on the bench, resting my arm.

But Indy wasn’t here.

“Have you seen Indy?” I asked Dalton, hoping he’d spotted her and she’d only gone off to the concession stand or something.

“Yeah. She’s in my bed, right where I left her—ouch!” He gave me a wide-eyed look and brought his hand to his chest, his skin red from where I’d squeezed it. “What the hell, man?”

“Did you see her or not?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on her.” He shook his head, his attention on the game as he murmured, “Why do you reek like beer?”

I cursed under my breath, glancing over my shoulder to ensure no one had heard him. Indy was right. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t drinking during games or how I tried to hide it; I was going to get caught. But it was hard to quit when I felt like it was working, relaxing my mind enough to let me play ball.

Except it wasn’t doing shit for me now.

I leaned over the dugout fence and scanned the stands beside right field, just as a voice boomed through the dugout. “Graham!” Coach Whitmore was across the dugout, spit flying from his mouth. “You got somewhere else you want to be?”

I cleared my throat, hopping down from the fence. “No, sir.”

“Then sit your ass down”—he pointed at the bench—“and keep your head in the game. If you’d rather be somewhere else, you’re welcome to walk out.”

Time seemed to still, and a hand nudged my shoulder, probably one of my teammates telling me to sit down. I held Coach Whitmore’s gaze, not out of disrespect, but because I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here.

Because baseball, everything I was working for . . . none of it mattered without Indy.

And I didn’t know where she was.

I sat down and focused on the game, leaving every bit of myself on the field, all while promising myself Indy hadn’t left me.

But had I given her any reason to stay?

That question haunted me throughout the game, worsening when Coach relieved me with a different pitcher after I’d thrown six innings. If my arm was tired, I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it. Nor did I feel the win when the final scoreboard read four-three and my teammates celebrated around me.

Indy hadn’t shown.

Knowing I’d suffer the consequences in the morning, I told the trainer I had a family emergency and dipped out of our post-game recovery session. My arm could fall off for all I cared. Maybe I was overreacting, but Indy didn’t just not show up. She’d always shown up for me.

Even when I’d least expected anyone to find me.

I ran through campus, regretting leaving my phone at home. I hadn’t wanted to be distracted. My head pounded with pressure, but I ignored it and climbed our complex’s steps two at a time, not stopping until I was outside our apartment door. Fingers shaking, it took me two tries to get the key in and the door open.

The apartment was dark, and I flicked on the light switch, relieved to find Indy on the bed .

The feeling was short-lived. Her back trembled with each breath. Was she sick? She’d told me she was on her period, but it didn’t usually knock her down like this. I racked my brain, trying to remember how she’d been this morning. I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember.

My throat swelled. I walked to the bed, heavy with guilt, and scooped Eugene up from where he lay behind her and stole his spot, faintly registering Indy was lying on a towel.

“Hey.” Her voice was throaty, as though I’d woken her up. “How’d the game go? Do you still have the best ass?”

I let out a half-hearted chuckle, noticing the heating pad and pain relievers on the bedside table. “Are you sick?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffled, still facing away from me. “I’m sorry, I promise I tried to make it. But everything hurts , and nothing I do is helping.”

“Okay, what’s going on? Tell me what hurts.”

“I think—” Her shoulders shuddered, her voice choppy. “I don’t think I am, but I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s what this is, but I didn’t know. I swear.”

Her head shook back and forth, as though she was in denial, quietly crying as she curled her legs tighter to her chest. Panic raced through me. I was desperate to comfort her but didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t making sense, and I didn’t want to hurt her more.

Shit. I should’ve come home sooner. I slid my arms between her and the bed, her skin slick against mine, and scooped her up.

“W-what are you doing?”

My gaze snagged on the towel, and I blinked hard before folding it in on itself. Voice steady, I said, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“What?” she protested, her frame tensing in my arms as I grabbed my truck keys off the counter. “You can’t drive. You promised me you wouldn’t when you drink—”

“I’m fine,” I pressed, ignoring the shame coating my skin. Later, I’d let myself drown in how I’d failed Indy, but right now I had to stay afloat. “My last drink was before the game—I can barely feel it now. There’s an emergency room just a couple blocks away. ”

I braced myself for her to argue and tell me she could drive, or at least walk on her own, but she stayed quiet. After getting her into the passenger seat of my truck, I jogged to the driver’s side and hopped in, revving the engine to life.

Starting down the road, I stole a glance at Indy. Her frame was rigid, her hands clenched on her lap. I planned to reach for her, to hold her and assure her everything was okay. But before I could, there was a siren and a flash of blue-and-red lights. Indy shuddered a sob, and when she met my gaze, I could’ve sworn I saw something in her flicker out.

What had I done?