Chapter 35

Iawoke the next day, immediately grabbing my phone to check my email. But like I already knew, the results weren't in yet. I tossed my phone down and climbed out of bed. I moved to my dresser, pulling open the top drawer.

I reached inside and pulled out a baseball, twisting it in my hand and reading the message: Go Out With Me. I closed my eyes and thought back to the moment Crew sent the little leaguer over to me. And, though I'd never admit it to him, it was adorable. No one had ever gone to such lengths to get my attention.

I reached back in the drawer and pulled out the other ball. I turned it in my palm and read the message: Don't Move. I closed my eyes and thought back to our night on the baseball field. Him thinking I wouldn't know how to play was hysterical. I'd grown up around baseball. How could he ever think he'd be able to teach me how to play the game?

I placed the balls back in the drawer—my own pieces of Crew—before I flopped back down on my bed. I grabbed my phone and opened a blank note and began to type:

Blissful, Beloved, Beautiful…

Baseball is.

Boastful, Bold, Brave…

Baseball players are.

Strong, Strategic, Showoffs…

Shortstops are.

Courageous, Captivating, Caring…

Crew is.

I opened my texts and typed: I think I owe you a poem. Then, I pasted the poem in and sent it to Crew.

I waited for what felt like forever. And then the bouncing dots appeared. I love it.

* * *

"I think you need to be optimistic," Blythe said. "But know that things might not end the way you want them to."

I nodded, playing with the mini magnetics in my hand. She was not telling me something I didn't already know.

"Now, where are you at with your father?" she asked. "He met you at the café and he took the test. Did you appreciate that?"

I shrugged.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive him?" she asked.

"No."

"Can I ask why not?"

"Because I'll never be able to forget what he did."

"I didn't say you need to forget it," she said. "I asked if you'll be able to forgive him."

"Isn't it the same thing?" I asked.

"Forgetting means not remembering something. Forgiving means sparing yourself the emotional burden of something painful. It means releasing it from your body, your mind, your soul. Don't you want to release the anger you feel?"

"I smashed a ton of stuff," I explained.

"That's a momentary release of anger. The anger you're holding onto toward your father is within you. It's going to take more than just smashing things to release it."

"So what else can I do?"

"Well, for your own well-being, I think you need to start forgiving him," she said.

* * *

I sat on the beach the next day in a hoodie and cutoffs. Today was another overcast day, and the wind had begun to pick up. Since August was winding down, the hot days of summer were too. It was hard to believe so much had happened this summer. Over the span of a few months, I'd left for Europe but ended up back on the Cape—a place I never planned to return to again. But, strangely, it turned out to be the one place where I was meant to be.

My phone pinged, and an email alert appeared on the screen. I knew right away it was from the lab. Before I opened the email, I texted Crew to come over.

I stared at the email preview, but I couldn't bring myself to open it.

It was a crazy thing to know my fate would be determined by a single email. Right now, I still had hope. Once I saw the results, that feeling would all be gone, and it would be replaced by one of two emotions: elation or despair.

Unable to wait any longer, I clicked on the email and opened the pdf entitled DNA Test Results. There were three columns of numbers: the first was a bunch of letters and numbers; the second was titled child with a line of numbers beneath it; the third was titled alleged father with another line of numbers beneath it. I had no idea what it all meant, but down below was a box entitled interpretation.

I made it bigger, reading the interpretation. "The alleged father…" I swallowed hard. "…is excluded as the biological father of the tested child…"

I couldn't even finish reading it because tears welled in my eyes. I fell back on the sand and squealed as a rush of emotions flooded me. Relief filled my mind, happiness swelled in my chest, and excitement overflowed in my heart.

Knowing Crew would be there soon, I stood up and jogged to the house. I entered the kitchen through the patio door and stopped short. My father sat at the island. I don't know what came over me—maybe Blythe's words or maybe the results on my phone—but I stepped up beside him.

He jumped, startled by my presence. "I didn't see you there."

"I forgive you," I said, a huge weight lifting from my shoulders once the words left my lips.

"You do?" he asked.

"I don't want to carry this hate in me anymore."

"I'm glad," he said.

"I want to trust people again and not expect the worst from everyone. I hated baseball players because of you."

"Not all ball players are untrustworthy."

I knew that. Crew taught me.

"So, what does this mean for us?" he asked.

"It means, I want Mom to be happy. I want you to go your separate ways for good. You're not the man she married, and I think you know that. She doesn't deserve to be in a marriage where she can't trust her husband."

"You're right."

"We're gonna be okay," I assured him.

"You and Mom or you and me?" he asked.

"Mom and I will definitely be okay. You and me will take some time. I need to get used to the idea that you're not the man I thought you were. Maybe that's on me. But it's gonna take time to get used to the man you are."

He nodded, as if what I'd said made sense to him. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"It was never about me." I turned away from him, knowing I'd been as honest as I could, and my snarky-ness was bound to rear its ugly head if I didn't walk away.

I hurried upstairs and entered my empty room. I sat on my bed with my phone in my hand and my heartbeat racing.

"Did you read it yet?" Crew asked as he entered my room.

I kept a straight face and nodded.

"What'd it say?"

I called up the pdf and tossed him my phone.

He caught it and stared down at the screen. I fought to conceal my smile as he read the news I already knew. When his eyes lifted to mine, a huge smile spread across his face. I stood up, and he wrapped me in his arms, squeezing me like I'd disappear if he didn't. "Thank God," he said, pressing kisses all over my head. "Thank God," he kept repeating.

"It's real," I said.

He pulled back so he could see my face. "It's always been real."

Stupid tears pricked my eyes again.

"I love you so damn much," he said before his lips crashed to mine, kissing me the way I needed to be kissed—with so much love and relief. We had a future. Crew picked me up and carried me to my bed, lowering me to it without stopping kissing me.

I eventually needed to catch my breath, so I pulled back leaving us both gasping for air. "I never thought we'd get to do that again," I said.

"Careful. I might start thinking you only want me for one thing," he said.

"Oh, that's one of the things I want you for," I said.

He pressed a trail of kisses down my neck.

"What do you want me for?" I asked.

"Well, more poetry for starters."

I arched my neck, giving him better access.

"And, I want you at my games in a pink wig so I can see you at all times."

I laughed.

"And, I want you beside me when I find out if I make it to the big leagues next summer," he said, nibbling my ear.

"When you make it," I said. "Not if."

"You're my lucky charm," he said. "And I don't think I can be without you."

I rolled my eyes. "You're such a liar."

He pulled back and met my eyes. "I won't lie to you, Peyton. Not ever. You never have to worry about that."

A tear slipped down my cheek, the emotional day definitely catching up with me.

"And, I'll never hurt you." He patted his hand to his heart. "You worked your way in here the second you threw that chair off the balcony, and there's no going back from that."

My heart was a jackhammer in my chest.

"I've been on the receiving end of your hate, indifference, and love," he continued. "I'll take love any day of the week."

I tipped my head. "Love? Did I say love?"

He leaned forward and whispered, "I know you love me."

I stifled a smile. "You sure you're ready for all of me—the good, the bad, and the crazy?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

I stared into his blue eyes, positive I could get lost in them forever.

"Are we gonna tell your dad?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nope. We're gonna head downstairs, and we're gonna make out in front of him."

Crew laughed. "I think that's an awesome plan. The problem is, tonight, the only plan I have involves you, me, and this bed. Scaring the shit out of your father's gonna have to wait." And then he kissed me. And, he didn't stop kissing me. Or loving me. Or telling me what I wanted to hear…the truth. The good, the bad, and the ugly truth.

And I loved him for it.