Page 97 of Running Home to You
“Trying to figure out what the hell you were thinking.” Mick sat on the edge of the bed. “Dipping out the side door? Leaving Hutch a fucking cop-out letter?”
“I’m not enough for her, Mick. You both know that.” Abby looked away at Jill’s mournful sigh. “I almost ruined everything at nationals. I’m not about to ruin her.”
“You think she deserves this though? You think we deserve it?”
Abby buried her head in her hands and sniffled. “How is she?”
“She’s Kate. She’s strong,” Jill said. “But she’s really hurt. This crushed her, Abby.”
More tears streamed. “She sent a letter.” Her voice cracked, and then the rest of her did too. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mick gripped her shoulder hard, but it was a comfort as Abby wept. Jill took her other side, with another arm to strap her in. They held her heaving body between them, fixed and wordless. It brought Abby’s fit to a simmer, and when she could breathe again, Mick spoke solemnly.
“You either get yourself together and go after her with everythingyou have.” She paused and exhaled, like it pained her to say the rest. “Or you don’t respond. Leave her be and try to find a new normal. But nothing in between.”
Abby scrubbed her cheeks. She had a last chance to decide. Only there wasn’t a decision. She wasn’t ready, didn’t have anything to give Kate, and nothing to give herself.
“Either way, you’re not getting rid of us so easily,” Jill said.
Abby lifted her head. “But what about…”
“You’re stuck with us,” Mick said. “I know whatever is happening with Hutch is complicated, but we’re not going to choose between you guys.”
“Plus, who else is going to be this baby’s hitting coach?”
Abby smiled through tears. She’d never understand why Mick, Jill, and T.K. kept her in their orbit, when they didn’t need to. Their calls, their video messages, their visits and hers, holiday plans, and baby Juniper would keep her afloat for years to come.
After their visit, she jumped back into the game. There were rumblings of a league starting in the U.S., but Abby flew to Italy. Several of her teammates from Puerto Rico played there, and while it was hardly a living wage, it kept her on the field.
She spent two seasons in Milan, playing shortstop for Bollate, knocking home runs across Europe. The Italians called herSprezzaturafor her fearless play and countless flings, and while she settled into her team and a routine, the temporary apartments and hotels left her adrift, unsettled, as much in life as at heart.
When Canada’s fledgling professional league recruited her, Abby moved to Toronto. She reasoned that it was a closer flight to Isla and Mick and Jill, even though in its meager two seasons the league only had four teams and scarce sponsorship deals. She made less money than she did in Italy. Few fans filled the stands and despite the league’s promise of publicity and new investors, bringing in players like Abby to drum up interest, none of it came to fruition.
When the season ended, she experienced the same story she’d heard from countless softball players in America and around theworld. The league folded without a warning or press conference. The front office just sent an email, asking the players to gather their things after the last game. There wasn’t enough funding, not enough fans, and no way forward. For Abby, it wasn’t the end of the road, but for many of her teammates, it was a sudden, cruel end. While they passed a few bottles of liquor back and forth in the stands, watching the sunset over the field, she wondered if this was all there was.
Isla and Luca’s wedding a month later reinforced her growing restlessness. As Abby admired her sister, dancing in the arms of her new husband, she tried to imagine it for herself but stopped short. Worse than that, as she slammed drinks, she couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who deserved to be there.
“They make quite the pair,” Audie said to her as Isla and Luca cut the cake.
Abby avoided him during the wedding. He didn’t walk Isla down the aisle, but they were cordial, shared conversation, laughter, a hug, and a dance. Abby didn’t know if she thought less of her sister or envied it.
“May I join you?” Audie nodded to a chair at the otherwise empty table.
“I guess.”
He’d aged since their last run-in. White had set in at the temples of his jet-black hair and new folds creased his cheeks. “The game strikes again,” he said, while he puffed on a cigar.
Abby furrowed her brow. “What?”
“Your sister says you and your teammate got her and Luca together, yes? The girl with the pretty eyes?” Audie asked. Abby swallowed a knot in her throat at the mention of Kate. “You don’t play softball, you don’t go to Insley, you don’t meet the girl who goes to law school, who Isla and Luca end up helping. The game. See?”
Abby swirled her scotch. “Sure.”
“You look beautiful.” Audie’s eyes, so much like her own, glinted gentler than she remembered.
“Yeah, well, Isla chose the dress.”
“I hear you are playing.”
