After seeing a few articles after the finals, I haven’t seen anything else, but I don’t follow anything that has to do with sports. With a surge of curiosity, I grab the phone. It will only take a few seconds to check and see what Gerald is talking about, but the phone vibrates, and it’s Colt.
It’s not a FaceTime. He hasn’t done much of those when he calls. I still do when I call him.
“Champion,” I say, forcing a smile when I say his nickname.
“Hey.” There’s no joy or playfulness in his voice. “The surgery is scheduled for Friday. It’s typically outpatient, but they’re keeping me overnight. Physical therapy will start a week or so later. I was thinkin’, there’s no need for you to come out here since I’ll be focused on gettin' better. Evan’s at baseball camp, so he’s gone all day, and Mama’s got her charities and church. Maybe when I start to feel a little better, I’ll come see you in Atlanta.”
Maybe. All I hear is ‘I don’t want you here.’
“So, you don’t want me to come at all? Is that what you’re saying?” I ask.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here. It just doesn’t make sense for you to come now.”
“I thought the point was to be there for you, Colt. I don’t need you to hold my hand and dote on me. I’m coming there foryou. That’s the fucking point,” I yell, so frustrated by him that I don’t know what else to do.
“Don’t yell at me, Victoria. I’m already going through enough of my own shit.” I arch an eyebrow. This is the first time I’ve ever heard him cuss. He clears his throat and says, “stuff. I’m going through my own stuff.”
“I want to go through it with you,” I tell him. “Let me help you. Why are you pushing me away?”
“Why are you making this about you? It’s about me. It’s my knee! It’s my career, and I need to deal with it my way. I don’t need you here feelin’ sorry for me and givin’ me those pitiful looks.” I can feel the color on my cheeks, and for a second I second guess myself and wonder if I’ve made this entire thing about me. Then I realize, I haven’t. Wanting to be there for someone you care about is not the same as making it about you.
“I’ve done no such thing,” I snap. “All I want to do is be there foryou.”
“Well, I don’t need that right now! I want to do this alone!” His accent gets thicker with each angry word. I pull the phone away from my ear and put it down. My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. Tears won’t fix anything. I learned that when I was nine.
“This is the last fucking time you will yell at me. And if you don’t want me there, fine. I’ve never needed to beg anyone to spend time with me, and I’m not going to force myself on you.” I don’t yell. I manage to calm my racing heart and speak clearly.
“Is that a threat, Victoria?”
“A threat? What the fuck are you talking about?” I raise my voice again. It’s almost like he’s goading me into losing my temper.
“And that’s another thing. You have a foul mouth.”
“Yup. I have a foul fucking mouth. What the fuck are you going to do about it?” I taunt.
“It’s embarrassin’,” he says. The words come out like a frustrated sigh.
“Well, don’t worry about me embarrassing you, Colt. I’ll keep my uncultured New York attitude as far away as possible.” Stunned by the turn of events, I end the call. He calls right back, but I don’t answer. I turn off the phone, leave it on the table and walk into my lonely bedroom. It’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week. I climb into bed and close my eyes.
I wake up hours later, groggy and confused. The memories of the events that took place come back and I sigh and roll to my side. Minutes later, because my bladder demands it, I get up and use the bathroom. When I retrieve my phone from the table and turn it on, I have six voicemails, all from Colt.
“Darlin’, I’m sorry—” I delete each voicemail without listening to them. I fix myself an early dinner of salmon and a small salad, but Jerry’s taunts from earlier come to mind. I pick up the phone and open Twitter. I put #coltchastain in the search and my heart goes cold.
Right there on the screen is Colt and another woman. I know who she is. It’s Robin Chase, Kelsey Chastain’s sister. She’s tall like Kelsey, with long dark hair that reaches the middle of her back. The picture is of their profiles, and it looks like she’s looking into his eyes. It’s the way he’s looking down at her that has my heart constricting. He’s smiling, and his eyes are soft and full of the mischief that I thought was reserved only for me. His hair is still a disaster of curls, and he has a full beard now, but his eyes are still the same. He’s giving my look to another woman. A woman who probably still wants to take her sister’s place in his life.
I scroll downward, and there are more. They’re wearing different clothes, so it’s not the same day. He has something wrapped around his knee, and in one picture, she has her arm wrapped around his. I leave the app and slam my phone down so hard, I’m afraid I break it.
It rings, and it’s Colt. I don’t answer, and I delete his voicemail instead of listening to it.
FORTY
“When is Vickie getting here?”Evan asks. “She was supposed to be here by now. And I want her to come to see me play baseball, and I want her to fight Jack.” I type out another text apologizing and put down my phone.
“Why would she fight Jack?” I ask, confused.
“She said she would fight any kid who picks on me, and Jack is a jerk.” He makes a face, and I hold back my laughter. That sounds like Vickie, always protecting those she cares about. My phone rings and my glimmer of hope is dashed. It’s Coach.
I pick up and we talk for less than a minute about the surgery, PT, and the pre-season training schedule. I assure him I’ll be ready to go, and I hope that’s true. The swelling has lessened, but it’s still there. And it hurts to the touch, but I don’t care about that right now.
