Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

34. Brooke

Chapter 34

Brooke

T he weight of the afternoon’s events hung tense in the air even hours after Liam blew out that door. His words echoed in my mind, each syllable a dagger tearing through the fragile tissue of my heart.

He had walked out on me, on us, because it scared him when he’d already lost so much. And maybe I was a fool to think I could just decide to be different, like that would change things for me. Maybe I was stupid to believe he could decide to change things for himself.

Liam was scared, but Jesus—so was I. Falling for Liam meant I had to believe he wanted me— me. He wasn’t playing a joke, feeding his ego, or enacting some fucked up revenge. I had to trust him after a lifetime of guarding my heart against the vulnerability of loving him. I had to believe I was enough for it. And I did—god, I did .

Until he walked out that door.

I wasn’t enough to stay for.

For the first hour, I considered looking for him. Fat raindrops hit the windows, and it was dark and cold. When he ran out, he didn’t have a jacket.

But he could have come back, and he didn’t. Wherever he went, he wanted space and distance from me.

My body ached as I hauled myself up from the couch, giving up the idea that he would walk through the door embarrassed and with an apology.

The cruelty of it. We spent years feuding under the banner of hurt feelings, neither believing we were good enough. Now he shoved me away because he claimed I was too good for him? And his solution was… what? To encourage me to settle with someone else?

And it hurt. It really, really hurt. Terrible and awful and stinging. The raw burn of rejection felt akin to peeling off my flesh, exposing the muscle and tendons and sinew of my existence. An ache that pulsed in the marrow of my bones as I craved the relief of his comfort and affection. The man who held the knife that carved me up was the one I wanted to soothe the wounds.

Maybe Liam was right, and I should settle with someone who didn’t make me feel this way. Because it was pretty fucking awful.

With a heavy sigh, I headed to my bedroom. The rumpled sheets proved that he’d been with me just the night before. The quiet room reminded me that he wouldn’t be there again.

I sniffled, pathetically shuffling to his room. It smelled like him. I would sleep in there. Just for tonight.

With a neatly made bed, his room was tidy and organized. Contrary to my frequent claims otherwise, Liam wasn’t a pig. Maybe if I hadn’t called him one so often, he would have stayed.

I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed, my body both exhausted and wired. With another sigh, I retrieved my phone and charger from my room—the nightlight, too.

Then I returned to his room. Still empty of him.

Do not break down. Tears blurred my eyesight. Too late.

I bent to plug the cord into the socket beside his nightstand when something caught my attention. A box wrapped in silver paper lay beneath the bed. Did it belong to him?

Tough shit. You don’t live here anymore. Communal property, right? I’m sure there was a law about it or something.

Curiosity piqued, and I reached for it. No bigger than a brick, whoever wrapped the box used blue painter’s tape on the glittery paper. My breath caught when I flipped it around to search for a tag.

There was no tag but written in black Sharpie was my name.

To: Brooke

From: The Maiden Mounter

I sniffled and laughed, amused and horrified in equal measure. Taking a seat on his bed, I stared at the gift and considered opening it. It was for me, clearly. But he hadn’t given it to me.

A more dignified woman would grapple with the decision to open it, but forget dignity. I wanted to know.

My fingers tore into the paper with no shame as my heart pounded in my chest. Blood rushed to my ears as I opened it. Inside lay an old baseball, its leather worn and weathered with age, and a note—Liam’s handwriting.

My throat tightened as I read it.

Happiest of birthdays, Brooke. Or it is for me, anyway. Stick with me, okay? I know baseball isn’t a big deal, and an actual baseball doesn’t seem like it should be, but I saved this one because it’s special to me. This was the ball I pitched in my first no-hitter college game. Well, the last ball of that game, but let’s not get technical (even though you love your technicalities, it will ruin the purpose of this story).

I walked off that field feeling like the king of the fucking world. It was the first feeling of a real win I’d ever had in my entire life. I kept it because I never wanted to forget that feeling—it was incredible.

After my injury, I almost threw this ball away. It hurt to look at. I didn’t think I’d ever have that feeling again, Brooke, and I didn’t until you kissed me. That’s when I felt it, but even better, bigger. And now I want to give you this because I don’t need it anymore. When I want to remember I’m the king of the fucking world, I’ll just kiss you.

Love,

Liam

Wet drops fell onto the box in my lap, and I realized they were my tears. I wiped them away and clutched the baseball to my chest. Liam thought he lost everything, that he was a mess, and that he wasn’t enough to be loved. But he failed to remember one important piece of information.

I wanted the win, and I refused to forfeit my feelings so he could strike out.