Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

GABBY

This is perfect.

Everything about this is perfect.

I’m in the backyard. The crickets are chirping all around, a citronella candle blinks with fire in front of me, and Ryland’s in the house, putting Mac to bed so he can come out here and enjoy the night.

The only thing not perfect about it . . . the Bombers must win the next three games if they want to be in contention for the wild card game. It’s been a real nail-biter, but at least—despite the Bombers not making the wins happen—Bennett has been performing and had two RBIs the other night. He already has a following with the unruly fans, and I think his future with the team could be very promising. At least I hope it is.

I cross one leg over the other and lean back in my chair as I stare through the branches of the oak tree and right up to the sky, thinking about how far I’ve come. How I’ve been able to face adversity and?—

Ding.

I glance down at a text message popping up on the screen. Worried that it’s Ryland and he needs help, I open the text message.

Nathan: Gabriel Brinkman, the one and only. Why haven’t you texted me back?

My skin starts to crawl.

And just like every other time, I know what my response will be. Nothing.

So why does he keep texting?

Shouldn’t he get a clue?

And because I don’t engage in the text messages, I haven’t told anyone about them.

Not even Bennett.

Because why? I ignored, I deleted, I let it sink in for a moment that he would text me after so many years, using Bennett as an excuse to message me, and then I moved on.

But he’s back . . . again.

Ding.

Nathan: After all these years, I congratulate you and your brother on hitting the big leagues, and you can’t even take the time to text me a thank you? Is that where we really are, Gabriel?

Why is he using my real name? He knows I hate it. He knows it’s a family name I’ve always tried to disassociate from. This is him trying to poke me, to instigate, which is classic Nathan.

Ding.

Nathan: I thought that maybe after everything we’ve gone through, you’d show me the decency of responding. Check in on me like I’m checking in on you. Because there’s history between us, I thought you’d show me common courtesy to at least see how I’m doing. Guess I was wrong.

Ding.

Nathan: And this just comes back to you being the selfish one. You’ve always been selfish. It’s always about you. About what you need. Never looking to see what others need. The moment you saw that your brother was good at baseball, you used him as your meal ticket. So what now? Are you eating rich while you just ignore the people who got you there?

The people who got me there?

He can’t be serious.

My hand shakes as I hold my phone.

He got me nowhere. He did nothing to help me. If anything, he hindered me. He made me believe that I wasn’t meant to love somebody, that falling for someone would never be in the cards after what he put me through.

Ding.

Nathan: You realize that I was out there with you, right? Out there on the field, helping Bennett, teaching him. And you don’t even have the thoughtfulness to acknowledge that. But that’s how it’s always been, right? You. You. You. It might get you far, Gabriel, but you’re going to be sad and so fucking alone.

My chest grows heavy as my heart races with anger. With that feeling that Nathan instills in me. Instability. Like I’m not good enough, not perfect enough, not lovable enough. I can feel all those dark feelings coming back to me.

And . . . how dare he? Because he wasn’t there. Maybe once or twice. And he bitched the entire time. He was pissed that I spent so much time with Bennett.

Hands on my phone, I contemplate texting him back. I want so desperately to tell him he’s not right, that he’s a liar, but I feel catatonic.

Ding.

Nathan: Just remember, Gabriel, when you’re living the rich life with your brother, you had to walk over the people who cared about you to get there. You stomped their faces in the dirt, used them, and took what you needed. Enjoy the karma because it’s coming for you.

My lip trembles.

Tears form in my eyes.

And my breath becomes erratic as his words filter into my brain, trying to stick like they did many years ago. I spent so much time ridding myself of his insults, of his barbs, yet here they are, attempting to stick like glue again.

The back door to the house opens, and I barely register Ryland walking up to me with drinks and cookies until he’s right in front of me, looking me in the eyes and asking me what’s wrong.

“Gabby,” he says softly, taking my hand in his. “What’s going on?”

I can’t hold it back. The tears start to fall, and his concern grows heavier as he cups my cheek and wipes the tears away.

“Baby, tell me. Is it Bennett?” I shake my head, my teeth pulling on the bottom of my lip as I hold up my phone to him.

Ryland takes it and keeps his hand in mine as he reads through the text messages.

I watch as his concerned face slowly morphs into anger. The V in his brow deepens. And then there’s the tick in his jaw.

His eyes tear away from the phone as he looks up at me. “Block his number. Right fucking now.”

He hands me my phone.

“Right now, Gabby.”

With shaky hands, I try to figure out how to do it, but my mind is flying a mile a minute, and instead of doing what I’m supposed to do, I remain still. Unmoving.

“Gabby,” he says, softer now. Tears stream down my cheeks, and he pauses for a moment to study me. Then he takes my phone for me. I watch him scroll through the messages, and he pauses again. “Wait, this isn’t the first time he contacted you. He . . . he texted you when Bennett was brought up. Why didn’t you tell me?”

My mouth’s shaking. “I . . . I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? Jesus, Gabby, this is not bothering me. This is . . . this is telling me something important. You should have blocked his number then.” When I don’t say anything, he sets my phone down and forces me to look him in the eyes. “What’s going on here? Are there feelings still there?”

“No,” I say quickly, my eyes widening as I shake my head. “No. There are zero feelings there.”

“Then why are you hanging on to this? Why are you letting him hurt you like this?”

“I . . . I don’t know. He just, he has a hold on me and not in a good way.”

Ryland calmly stands and then sits down in his chair, pulling me onto his lap. His arm loops around my back as I bring my head to his shoulder, more tears streaming down my face.

“I’m not that person he says I am. I’m not.”

“I know,” he says softly. “Everyone knows that.”

“Then why do I somewhat believe him?”

“You shouldn’t. He’s fucking with your head because he’s pathetic. He knows he fucked up, and he’s missing out on the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him. He wants to have that hold on you. That’s why he’s texting. He’s trying to take up space in your brain, and you’re letting him. You can’t, Gabby.”

“I know.” My voice is quiet, distant, my mind flying away to the days when Nathan was the one who held me. When Nathan was the one who offered me advice when I was sad, yet he wasn’t like Ryland. He didn’t put his whole heart into consoling me. He didn’t love me.

When he said those words, they were empty, but when Ryland says them, they’re full of meaning. Full of sincerity and truth.

“When I look at you, all I see is magnificence. Selflessness. Strength. And hopefully...my future.”

No, Ryland would never say things that cut me down or made me feel less.

Ryland rubs my back and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking apologize. You don’t need to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. You . . . you’re so much more than those texts. He was not part of your journey with Bennett. You did that on your own, both of you, so don’t you dare let him try to take credit for that. You hear me, Gabby? Don’t let him into your head.”

“Okay.” He kisses my forehead again as I fall silent. Unsure of where to go from here because the damage has been done—I read the words—they’re settling in, even though I know they’re not true. They’ll still sit there and fester. They’ll make me feel less than I am, less than I’ve always felt growing up. He struck a nerve. He knew what he was doing, and working through this will take an abundance of strength.

Wounds will heal, but when they’re reopened, they take longer and more effort to mend. Even at that, they’re never the same.

Nathan knew what he was doing by sending those texts. The question is, how will I rise above this? How will I not let it hurt what I have in my life now?

“Talk to me,” Ryland says, breaking through my thoughts. “What are you thinking? What are you feeling? I want you to be open with me. Tell me how I can help you.”

“Sad,” I say, honestly. “Sad that I’m letting him hurt me like this. That I’m letting these old emotions of feeling less than hurt me like they did years ago. I’m sad that I’m not strong enough to deal with my feelings and you have to coax it out of me.”

“Hey.” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for. A relationship is about helping each other, being there for one another, and offering unconditional love, even when sifting through tough things.”

“It’s a burden.”

“The fuck it is,” he says. “You are not a burden. This, what we have, is not a burden. Don’t ever think that. This is a partnership. This is what real love is about.” He lifts my chin again. “You matter so much to me, and whatever might happen to you, I want to be a part of it—the good and the bad. That’s love. What that fucker texted you? That’s nothing but a sour man trying to take someone down. He’s jealous because his life isn’t where he wants it to be. Those words are not about you. They’re a reflection of him. You, my love, are perfect.”

My love.

It’s two words, but they’re words I’ve never heard before.

Words I’ve never been called before.

Yet they send a thrill through me.

A happy, gleeful, cheerful thrill.

Because . . . he’s right. Everything Ryland’s saying is right. I can’t let Nathan’s words get me down because they’re not about me. They’re a reflection of him.

I nod. “You’re right, they’re a reflection of him, not me.”

“Keep saying that to yourself over and over again. Anytime you think about what he’s said, keep that thought in your mind. It’s a reflection of him, not you.”

I tip my head back, and I press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Gabby. This is why I’m here. I’m here to love you, protect you, and make sure no one even comes close to hurting you or anyone close to you.” He brings our foreheads together. “You’re mine, Gabby. And I plan on keeping it that way. I plan on keeping that mind clear. I plan on making sure every goddamn day that you know you’re worth and how special you are.”

I’m his.

He’s my shield.

He’s my strength.

He’s the confidence and the reassurance I need in my life that I am the woman I’ve become on my own.

I cup his cheek, my nose rubbing against his. “I love you, Ryland.”

“I love you , Gabby.”

Gabby: He’s it. He’s the one I’m marrying.

Bower: You’re just now figuring that out?

Gabby: It was confirmed last night.

Bower: Last night, huh? *wiggles eyebrows*

Gabby: Nothing like that.

Bower: What happened?

Gabby: Can’t tell you because I know you’ll tell Bennett, and Bennett doesn’t need to know with the Bombers coming up on their last few games that they need to win.

Bower: I swear I won’t tell him.

Gabby: Promise?

Bower: Promise.

Gabby: I’m counting on you.

Bower: I promise, Gabby. My loyalty belongs to you first and foremost.

Gabby: Okay . . . well, Nathan texted me last night.

Bower: WHAT?

Gabby: It wasn’t the first time. He’s texted me a few times, but more came through when Bennett was called up. I’ve just ignored them for obvious reasons. Well, he didn’t like that and thought it was me snubbing him. He proceeded to say some awful things. But I don’t want to get into that. I’m moving past his words and focusing on what Ryland said to me last night and the love he showed me.

Bower: Okay, let me take a few deep breaths for a second. Deep breaths. In and out. Okay, settled. Not happy to hear Nathan texted you, but happy that Ryland was there for you.

Gabby: He was, Bower. And it just solidifies he’s the one. I’m all in.

Bower: Well, I’m glad you’re seeing it, because I saw it at the game. You are made for each other.

Gabby: We are.

Bower: Can I just ask one thing about Nathan?

Gabby: Yes.

Bower: Did you at least block his number?

Gabby: Yes. Ryland did it for me last night.

Bower: Good, because you don’t need that toxic behavior back in your life.

Gabby: Ryland said the same thing.

Bower: He’s a smart one.

Gabby: Very smart. And handsome and loving and so sexy in a baseball hat, with the best forearms ever. And he’s sweet and cares about his niece, and . . . I love him so much.

Bower: Wow, way to make a girl incredibly jealous. If I didn’t love you myself, I might hate you LOL.

Gabby: I wouldn’t even be mad at you. I realize how annoying I seem.

Bower: Not annoying. You’re just in love, and that’s something to be celebrated.

Gabby: Well . . . we celebrated that love last night.

Bower: Hey-o! Tell me more about that. Where did you do it? Did he spank you? Use another toy? Did he call you dirty things while he thrust into you? Possibly choke you?

Gabby: You really need to put those books down.

Bower: NEVER!

“Come on, come on,” I say, hands clutched, watching the game play out in front of me. The Bombers are down by two. It’s the bottom of the ninth, they have two outs, and Bennett is on second with the tying run at the plate.

They must win this game to head to the wild card game. If they don’t, the season’s over.

Ryland rubs his hand over my thigh on the edge of the couch with me while Mac is already upstairs, asleep.

“Just a little poke somewhere. Bennett’s fast. We could score,” I say as the pitch is thrown, and it’s a ball.

“Two and two,” Ryland says. “He has to protect.”

Bennett takes a big lead off second. No one’s covering the bag as the other team doesn’t seem to care, so on the next pitch, Bennett takes off toward third, and I hold my breath as the pitch is called a ball, and Bennett is called safe at third after the throw.

I leap off the sofa and silently cheer, not wanting to wake Mac. Ryland joins me in standing, and he puts his arm around me.

“Fuck, that was close. Too close to take as a ball.”

“Agreed,” I say. “I think everyone’s asses were shriveled in the dugout.”

The pitcher sets his hands, looks over at Bennett, and then kicks his leg up and throws the ball. The batter, Henson, connects with the ball, sailing it toward left center.

The cameraman tracks the ball, following it toward the fence, and just when I think there’s a possibility it might go over the fence, the center fielder leaps out of nowhere, sticks his glove out, and cones the ball with the tip of his glove, ending the game in the blink of an eye.

All hope falls as I stare at the TV, not quite believing it.

“How the fuck did he catch that?” Ryland asks, his hands on his head.

“I can’t believe it.” I slowly sit down in disbelief. “I for sure thought they were going to score.”

Ryland joins me. “Me too.”

The camera pans to the Bombers dugout, where Bennett’s removing his helmet and sitting on the bench, staring out at the field. A sad look crosses his features, but also a look of determination. I know that look better than anyone.

No way will he let this sit in his memory as the last moment he’s on this field.

He’s coming back next year, and he’s coming back stronger.

That one tick in his jaw, that’s all I need to know.

“What is it?” Ryland asks as I feel his eyes on me.

“This isn’t over for Bennett. He’s going to come back with a vengeance.” I lean back on the sofa. “This is just the beginning.”

“It is,” Ryland says. “This is the start of a very successful career. If I know anyone is going to make it, it will be him.”

“He is.” I turn to Ryland and say, “Can I ask you a favor?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Please don’t feel obligated because Bennett and I can make it work, but do you think I could give Bennett the apartment for the fall, and I could possibly stay?—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“You’re asking to stay with me, right?”

“I am, but I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know I spend a lot of nights here, but?—”

“Yes, Gabby. You don’t need to explain. The answer is yes.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Are you kidding me? I attempt to find a reason to get you to stay here every night. Now, I won’t need a reason.”

“As if you need a reason.” I smile up at him. “I think I fell asleep on the couch the other night on purpose, just to have you carry me up to your bed.”

He smirks. “I fucking knew it.”

That makes me laugh. “You did not know it.”

“Oh, I knew it.”

I shake my head at him. “You are such a liar. You had no idea I was faking it.”

“Yes, I did because the moment I got you in my bed, you were very lively.”

“Your erection aroused me from a deep slumber.”

He lets out a deep laugh. “Wow, I didn’t know my penis had such powers.”

“Oh, it does. It has wonderful powers. Orgasm-inducing powers. The kind of powers only found in one in every hundred thousand penises.”

“One in one hundred thousand, huh?” He pats his crotch. “Good job, my man.”

“Oh my God.” I laugh as he tackles me to the sofa and slides his hands up my shirt right to my bare breasts.

I sigh and spread my legs, making room for his large body.

He starts laying down kisses along my neck all the way up to the sensitive part of my ear, a place that he knows will turn me on just as fast as kissing my inner thigh.

“So you’re officially moving in with me?” He kisses along my jaw as I start pulling on his shirt to take it off.

“Depends,” I say as he helps me take off his shirt, only to remove mine as well. I watch his eyes take in my bare chest, and I swear the look of awe will never get old.

Ever.

“Depends on what?” he asks as he places his hands on my shorts and drags those off me as well, leaving me completely bare to him.

“On how many times you make me come tonight.”

His eyebrow quirks up in the cutest way ever. “Is that a goddamn challenge?”

“It is.”

“Then consider yourself fucked because you’re getting no sleep tonight.” He moves his head between my legs, and all I can do is smile as I run my fingers through his hair, knowing I’m about to have the night of my life.