Page 40 of Rain Delay

“Have you ever actually apologized to her about everything? Or are you waiting for her to say something?”

Well, shit. There was this deep sense of guilt and shame that flooded through my body as I thought about her question.

I don’t know how to approach the conversation of introducing an apology. I know Eliana is owed one. It’s one of the many things I owe her, and it needed to be sooner rather than later.

My face flushed with humiliation and anger. Anger with myself that it took talking to my sister about all of this to realize that I need to give Eliana the explanation she rightfully deserves.

“I haven’t really figured out how I want to talk to her about everything,” I admit to her. “I don’t know if she would want to have that conversation with me.”

Willa shot me a cold look. “Wyatt. You can’t be serious right now.”

“What?”

“If she’s like any girl yearning for an ex, she’s waiting for you to have that conversation with her. She’s not going to be the one to start it. She’s waiting for you to man up and start the conversation yourself.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re the one that broke up with her; it’s only right that you’re the one that initiates the apology conversation.”

I hold those words with me for a moment as I look at my sister. I knew what she was saying was coming from a good place in her heart; it scared me even thinking about having that conversation.

“You don’t get a lot of second chances like that, Wyatt. As I said, take it as a sign.”

* * *

WHENEVER WE WERE BACK IN PHILLY, I always had to say hi to the staff and some players I went through the minor league system with.

It’s always bittersweet; this is where I got my start. This was the team that was willing to give some college kid a chance at playing professional ball.

And now, I’m back here for another series, but Eliana is here with me — What the plan should’ve been all along.

We always talked about how we were going to build our life here. How our future was going to be so amazing with her working in sports media, and me living my dream as a professional baseball player. She even looked into transferring her schooling to be online so she could be here with me.

The first time I took a trip out here before starting with the team, we argued over the distance and how she was willing to make it work. How I was scared of what it would do to us. It was just foreshadowing for things to come just months later.

The city also felt haunting to me. While it brought me the beginning of my professional career, it also brought me life-altering decisions I knew I would never be able to reverse no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that I could.

When I got to the field, I saw Eliana already out there getting some videos. I hadn’t really talked to her in a couple of days. Just said simple things that could be handled over text.

I walked over to her, watching as she lowered her camera to meet my gaze. “Hi.”

She glanced down at the shot she took and then looked back at me. “Hi there,” she said.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, trying to read her expression but can’t seem to figure her out.

“I’m fine? Why?”

“I just…I, uh, I didn’t know how you would feel about coming here,” I say.

Eliana huffs out a laugh. “Coming to Philly? I’m fine. No hard feelings here.” She set her camera down, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Why? Did you think I didn’t want to be here?”

I nod, pausing for a beat. “I didn’t think you’d be too thrilled to be traveling here with me.”

It finally clicks with her, and all she does is let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, that’s what you’re referring to? Please, Wyatt, I’m not mad at the location. I think my anger is aimed towards a person that decided to come to this place five years ago.”

Ouch.

“Got it.” I give a short nod. “I gotta go take batting practice..” I lie. I already fucking took batting practice, but I needed some sort of excuse to get myself out of this conversation.

Eliana doesn’t say anything and goes back to her phone.

I put my bat over my shoulder before walking back to the dugout.