My shoulder throbs. I haven’t felt it hurt like this in a while. It’s a little disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s from therapy. That Houston pushed me too far. That it’ll go away in the morning. There’s relief in that. There would be more relief in knowing my fucking heart won’t feel like this when I wake up.
The cake still sits on the table. Her pink mug, the one I bought just for her, sits by the sink. Both make a small smile play on my lips, even though I feel hollow.
Flipping off the coffee maker, I grab my phone from where it sits next to the cake and hold it. Finishing the beer and tossing it towards the trash, I watch it bounce off the lip and hit the floor.
I don’t even care.
Scrolling until I find the name in my Emergency Contacts, I place the call. It rings a few times and I almost hang up when she answers.
“Well, if it isn’t my long lost baby boy!” my mother trills on her end. “Can you hold on just a second, Lincoln?”
“Yeah.”
I listen to her talk to someone and recognize Paulina’s voice. She’s one of my mother’s oldest friends, one that Barrett used to bang off and on. Ford maybe too. Soon, she’s back.
“I’m sorry about that. We were wrapping up the plans for a coat drive for our women’s club.”
“How’s that going?”
“Good. There are so many needy families this year. The requests were double what they were last year. It’s so incredibly sad.”
“Can I send a check or something?”
“Such a sweet boy,” Mom gushes. “Why don’t you come down this winter and help us with a fundraiser. Maybe we could do a food drive. Put some baskets together for needy families for Christmas. With your name attached to it, I bet we could stock some pantries for the winter.”
“I’d love to. Tell me when and I’m there.”
She pauses and I hear a quick breath. “Linc, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t sound like yourself. There have been no jokes, no cracks, no baseball analogies, and we’ve talked for two whole minutes.”
I chuckle, but even that sounds sad. “I don’t feel like myself either.”
“Is it your shoulder?”
“Well, it’s hurting like hell.”
“Watch your language.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I sigh. “I go in for a battery of tests in the morning. Then I meet with the GM and team docs and things after Thanksgiving to see what they have to say.”
“It’s going to work out.”
“Yeah.” I place my elbows on the counter and sigh again.
“Give me one moment,” she says. “Paulina! Just one more thing . . .”
I wonder what Dani is doing. If she’s okay. If she misses me half as much as I miss her.
How can she do this? How can she just write this off like it’s nothing? This is something. Something possibly great and she knows it. Why wouldn’t she want this? I look down at my abs.
“Okay, honey. I’m so sorry,” Mom says, coming back to the line. “Now tell me what’s really wrong.”
“I just did.”
“No, you just lied to your mother.”
Chuckling, I stand up and walk around the island. “I met a girl.”
“That’s great!”
“She hates me.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Mom laughs. “No one could hate you, Lincoln.”
“Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate me, but she doesn’t want me.”
“Do you know why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
I head to the sink and pick up her cup. The paintbrushes remind me of how I finagled my way back into her office to paint with Rocky. Out of all the contents of this house, this cup is the only thing that I feel a connection to. That feels dumb.
“Lincoln?”
“She has this hang-up with me because her family are complete dicks. Sorry, Mom,” I apologize for the language before she can call me out on it. “Her dad was an athlete and kind of ruined their family, I think. I’m losing her and it’s nothing I did. Nothing I am, other than exactly what I am.”
“That’s tough.”
“You think? She likes being with me, likes me doing little things to try to make her like me, yet she panics about it. She flipped out on me today because I tried to take care of her. How do you get around that?” I ask. “How can I fix her not wanting who I am as an athlete and not wanting me to, you know, love her? Not saying I do, but you know.”
I know my mother is smiling. She’s probably standing in her massive dining room with her diamond-laden finger sitting right on her heart. I said the L-word. She’s a sucker for that stuff.
“I don’t mean I love her,” I clarify. “Don’t go planning weddings and stuff.”
She laughs. “I won’t.”
“This is why I don’t date seriously. It’s too much of a headache.”
“You don’t date seriously, Linc, because you haven’t found a woman that makes you want to see her every day. No offense, but you don’t typically choose women that have much to offer you.
“Oh, they offer me—”
“Lincoln Harrison Landry, don’t you even go there with me!” she nearly yells over me. “I do not want to hear about your escapades. Save that for your brothers.”
I can’t help but laugh, and before long, she’s laughing too.
“I think she’s scared,” Mom reasons. “From what you told me, she doesn’t have a safety net to fall on. She’s probably learned to be her own protection system. Think about it. You are handsome and smart and wealthy and talented . . .”
“Keep going,” I grin.
“You are a prize, honey. And she knows that. Think about this from her perspective: she is alone in the world. She finally breaks and lets you in and then something happens and it doesn’t work out.”
“But that’s true of any relationship. Not just with me.”
“True, but you’re an athlete. Like her dad. It’s human nature to stay away from things that remind us of other things that have hurt us.”
I hate when she makes sense. “So that leaves me shit out of luck?”
“That’s a disgusting choice of words.”
Ignoring her, I press forward. “So I’m supposed to just suck it up because her dad ruined her life? That’s not fair, Mom. I don’t accept that.”
“Then don’t,” she says softly. “You just struck out. What do you do when you strikeout in a game?”
“I hit a homerun at the next at-bat.”
“That’s right,” she sings. “Just be patient with her. Pretend like the pitcher is a little off his game and you have no idea what’s coming down the pike.”
“The pipe, Mom. What’s coming down the pipe.”
“Whatever,” she laughs. “You get the picture. Now, tell me when you’ll be home.”
“I have the assessment in the morning. I’m supposed to leave the day after.”
“I can’t wait to see you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“You too.”
Placing the cup back on the counter, I walk across the room. When I get to the doorway, I stop and look at it sitting on the counter over my shoulder.
Batter up.
Me: Hey.
It takes more than a minute for her to respond, every second feeling like a year. When I hear the ping announcing a message, I can’t swipe fast enough.
Dani :Hi.
Me: How are you?
Dani: Good. In the bathtub.
Me: Are you fucking with me?
Very slowly, a picture loads on my screen of one bent knee in a pool of bubbles. A wine glass is on the ledge, along with a row of little candles.
Me: You better be alone.
Dani: Of course.