Page 80 of Running Home to You
The National Tournament:
Round One
On the flight to Colorado, she noticed a man wearing her father’s jersey. The unmistakable twelve stitched in gold with four letters above—Cruz. Only it wasn’t just her father’s name or number but hers too.
Abby considered changing her name many times and taking her mother’s, Sorrentino, instead, but blamed superstition. She’d played her first little league game with it, chosen the number with purpose in hopes she’d play like the hero who wore it—not the one who missed his court-approved visits, but the one she watched on TV. Her mother never changed the channel either, as if refusing to take that version of him away from her.
Usually, Abby ignored Audie admirers or tributes, but that day it sank invisible claws into her back. Then the plane dipped as if the sky felt it too.
Kate’s hand fluttered onto hers from the middle seat, a rarity in the last few weeks. At least since Senior Day. Still, Abby squeezed it and didn’t refuse her gaze. “It’s okay,” she said.
Kate’s chin trembled and Abby knew she’d unintentionally addressed more than just the turbulence. She’d spoken to the strain and avoidance. They were still together but suddenly too busy. Too busy for late nights or sleepovers or sex. Busier than Kate had ever beendespite classes ending and law school secured. Even kisses landed quick and flat, like an obligation.
“Are you mad at me?” Kate asked.
Abby gulped and shook her head. The last rift happened as they’d left for nationals that morning. Kate mentioned she’d found a possible place in Berkeley and that Abby should start looking too. Berkeley wasn’t yet a done deal for her, but they’d offered a partial scholarship and grad school admission as long as she bumped up her GPA with summer classes.
“Or we could save money on rent and share a place,” Abby said with a slight smile, but Kate’s face fell. “I’m kidding. Kind of…”
“No, it’s just…” Kate trailed off and her eyes shifted away like they always seemed to lately. “It’s just living together before marriage.”
“But sex is allowed?”
Abby didn’t mean to push, wasn’t necessarily ready to move in together either, but she hated the way Kate iced her out. Hated that Berkeley loomed like a separate journey rather than something they’d planned to do together. Like Kate wasn’t the only reason Abby was going.
Kate cleared her throat. “I’m going to be elbows-deep in school and you’ll have softball and if my parents visit—”
“Right.” Abby clenched her teeth at the mention of them. “Harder to hide me.”
“I’m just not ready,” Kate said before slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading downstairs.
Ready for moving in together or living in truth, Abby didn’t know. They’d hardly looked at each other on the bus or at the airport even though it hadn’t really been a fight. Even though Abby wasn’t mad about not moving in together. She was mad at how everything changed after Kate’s parents showed up. That their presence haunted them, not much different than that jersey Abby spotted on the plane.
“I’m not mad,” she said.
“Good.” Kate laced their fingers together and rested her head on her shoulder. “I really want to win this one.”
Abby pressed her cheek to the top of Kate’s head. “Me too.”
“Let’s go Abby! Vamos!”
It’d been a decade since she’d heard his voice, but Abby recognized it in her soul, permanently imprinted by a childhood she rarely recalled. The jersey on the plane no longer seemed a coincidence but a warning she ignored.
The stands rumbled with it first. She swore she heard a whisper of his name but then decided it must just be her own. Her mother named her that because they sounded alike after all—a knockoff brand of the male namesake he wanted. But then his deep voice, with that lively accent, reached her ears while she dug in at third base.
“Let’s go Abby! Vamos!”
Abby whipped around. Her skin buzzed as if lightning brewed, and then when she found him, it struck. Audie along the left field fence, raven hair slicked, linen suit and leather loafers immaculate, gold rings sparkling on his fingers. Bystanders and fans swarmed him.
“Abby.” Kate brought her back.
She barely turned around in time for the pitch or to register that it hit Mick’s glove for the third out before she was jogging off the field, her stare locked on Audie as the inning ended. He waved, his thick mustache rising in a smile, before he signed an autograph.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked.
“He’s here,” Abby said, though she imagined Kate knew too. Everyone knew as the murmurs picked up in the dugout. The dreaded word,dad,circulated around her.
Kate rubbed her back. “Just focus. It’ll be okay.”
