Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance Read online

  She looked up at me and stumbled a second later, going down hard on her hands and knees.

  I jumped to the ground and sprinted toward her, reaching her side just as she was getting to her feet again.

  “Hey,” I said, taking her by the elbow to help her up. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just embarrassed.” She adjusted her sunglasses and looked up at me. “Tyler?”

  I nodded, letting go of her arm.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m in town for Sadie’s wedding.” My heart was thumping uncomfortably hard in my chest—I’d yelled her name without being prepared to actually come face to face with her.

  “Oh. Right.” She shook her head. “I knew that.”

  I couldn’t read her expression. Christ, this was awkward.

  “Well . . .” April fidgeted for a second or two, then surprised me by laughing. “This really is not how I thought this reunion would go.”

  The sound of her laughter took me back to a different time. I relaxed slightly, widening my stance and folding my arms over my chest. I wished my shirt wasn’t so sweaty. “No?”

  “No,” she said. “I thought it would be at Sadie’s wedding. I had planned to wash my hair, put on a dress or at least some real pants, maybe wear lipstick. At the very least, I was going to remain upright.”

  I grinned. “I’m sorry if I scared you. You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. A little startled was all.” Then she opened her arms and gave me a smile, the one with the dimples that rolled time back even further. “So . . . hi.”

  At first I was too shocked to react, but eventually I recovered my senses enough to put my arms around her. “Hi.”

  She had to rise up on her toes to embrace me—I was a full foot taller than she was—and I leaned forward at the waist so she wouldn’t be pressed against my damp shirt, but damn, it felt good. So good I didn’t want to let her go right away. She even smelled nice—not exactly the same as she used to, but it reminded me of something warm and sweet, and it made me even hungrier. I allowed myself to hold her for a moment before stepping back.

  “So how are you?” she asked.

  I crossed my arms over my chest again. “I’m okay. How about you?”

  “Pretty good.” As she spoke, she pulled her ponytail out and regathered her hair in her hands. “I’m usually alone here this early in the morning, so you surprised me. How was your workout?”

  “I’m dragging a bit,” I admitted. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “Just restless, I guess.”

  Her face was the same and yet different, more mature—sharper cheekbones, soft grooves on either side of her mouth—and yet still girlish, with its freckles and dimples. The dark lenses of her sunglasses covered her eyes, and for the life of me, I couldn’t recall what color they were. Blue? Brown?

  As I watched her put her hair up again, a memory popped into my head—the night we’d had sex, I’d reached over and touched it. That was how the whole thing had gotten started, right? I’d put my hand in her hair and pulled her head toward mine. I hadn’t planned on making a move—that wasn’t the reason I’d taken a detour to the field that night—but in that moment, I’d been unable to hold back. I’d just wanted—needed—to be closer to her.

  “Josh seems like a nice guy,” she said, breaking a silence that had grown a little awkward while I was staring at her. “Have you met him yet?”

  “Yeah. Last night. I had dinner with Sadie and Josh after my flight got in.”

  “How long are you in town?”

  “Too long.” I sort of meant it as a joke, but the words came out with more bite than intended.

  “Why do you say that?”

  I shrugged and looked at my feet. “I just don’t like coming back here that much.”

  She looked genuinely confused. “But this town loves you. People are still talking about you around here.”

  My jaw clenched as I thought about rental car Steve and the kid at the restaurant last night. “Yeah. And I know what they’re saying.”

  There was an awkward pause while she groped for a polite reply. “So what are you up to these days?” she tried. “I heard you, um, retired from baseball.”

  “Retired? That’s a polite way to put it.” My words had a sharp edge to them—again, not exactly what I intended, but I hated that I was now an object of pity and scorn when I’d once been worshipped.

  She looked confused. “Is there another way to put it?”

  “How about I fell apart on the mound during what was arguably the most critical game of my career? How about I tanked my future in baseball because suddenly I couldn’t fucking remember how to throw strikes? How about I failed to prove I was as good as everybody said I was—how about I just fucking failed, period?”

  “Tyler, come on. You didn’t fail. You just—”

  “Look, I know what everybody around here thinks of me, okay? You don’t have to pretend.”

  She stuck her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “I’m not pretending anything. And the only thing I’m thinking right now is something I’ll say right to your face—you’re being a real asshole.”

  Brushing past my right shoulder, she continued power walking down the track, her arms pumping angrily. It actually reminded me of the way Sadie didn’t let me get away with shit—or maybe it was that Sadie grew up to be like April, the closest thing to a female role model my sister had in the house.

  I remained rooted in place for another minute, jaw clenched, mad at myself for being a dick to her. It wasn’t her fault I’d turned my baseball career into a dumpster fire and didn’t know what I was supposed to do with the rest of my life. And after what she’d gone through, she deserved better from me. Turning on my heel, I ran down the track until I caught up with her.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing her by the elbow.

  She jerked her arm away from me and picked up her pace. “Leave me alone, Tyler.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. You’ve done it for eighteen years, so just keep on keeping on.”

  “No. Come on. I’m sorry.” I darted ahead and jogged backward in front of her. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Okay.” She kept right on walking.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Fine.”

  “Can we stop moving please?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to talk to you.” I halted my steps and reached out, attempting to catch her by the shoulders before she crashed into me, but she barreled into my chest anyway before going down on her butt.

  “Oof!”

  Immediately I knelt down to help her up. “Sorry. I can’t seem to get anything right this morning. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She brushed some dust off the seat of her pants. “Not really sure what’s wrong with my balance today, but I’m fine.”

  I took her upper arms and looked her in the eye. “You’re totally right—I was being an asshole back there. I do that sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Because I’m not used to people being nice. Because I don’t want sympathy. Because I get really mad at myself and want to make other people mad at me too.” I shrugged, dropping my arms. “At least that’s what my therapist said. I probably shouldn’t have fired him.”

  “You fired your therapist?”

  “It was kind of mutual. I said he wasn’t helping. He said I wasn’t trying. Which I probably wasn’t.” I adjusted my cap and tried again to explain myself. “Look, being back in this town is messing with me a little bit. I had a lot of dreams when I left that have died on me—or maybe I killed them, who the hell knows—either way, it’s really hard to let them go. But that’s not your fault, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  She studied me silently for a moment. “Okay.”

  “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

  “I suppose.”<
br />
  I exhaled. “Good.”

  She opened her mouth like she had more to say, but then closed it again.

  “What?”

  “I was just going to say that letting go of the past is something I’ve struggled with too. So I get it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. And I agree, it’s painful. But you have to do it, or you’re going to remain stuck in a really unhappy place.” Then she sort of smiled. “At least, that’s what my therapist says. And we’re still together.”

  Voices carried across the field, and we both looked toward the opposite side of the track, where three other runners were stretching out.

  “I should let you get back to your workout,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  But we both stood there a moment longer, and I realized I didn’t want this to be goodbye. “Can I see you again?” I blurted, surprising myself. “Maybe for dinner or a drink or something?”

  She hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Are you busy tonight?” I frowned. “Sorry for the late notice, but I’m leaving Sunday, Sadie has me tied up with wedding stuff Friday and Saturday, so tonight is my only night off.”

  She thought for a second. “I could do tonight. I have a meeting with an engaged couple at five-thirty. Why don’t you come by the bar at the inn? I should be free by about seven.”

  “I could do that.”

  “Great, I’ll meet you there. You remember where it is?”

  I gave her my old grin. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

  She laughed. “Okay. Let me give you my number. Just text me when you’re on your way.”

  Pulling my phone from the pocket of my sweats, I listened carefully as she recited her number and added her to my contacts. “Got it. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay.” She gave me a little wave and continued down the track.

  I watched her for a minute, admiring the swing of her hips and the long ponytail, wondering if she was single. My body reacted at the thought of the curves beneath her clothing, the warm bare skin, that deep red hair hanging down her naked back.

  Not that I’d ever seen her naked—I wasn’t even sure I’d taken both of her legs out of her jeans in the back of my truck. Too bad I couldn’t get a do-over. I’d learned a few things since then.

  But as I walked back to my SUV, I scolded myself for even thinking about it.

  Hands off, Shaw, I told myself as I unlocked the driver’s side door. You’ve caused that girl enough grief. Buy her dinner, ask her how she’s been, apologize for being a dickhead eighteen-year-old who couldn’t keep it in his pants, but do not, under any circumstances, lay one finger on her, even if she is more beautiful now than she was then.

  Yet as soon as I got in the car, I brought up her name and number in my phone just so I could stare at it. Eighteen years had gone by since I’d seen her. That was a long time—half my life. Half her life.

  And it hit me.

  That baby—had it been a boy or a girl?—was just as old now as we’d been the night it was conceived.

  But like I always did when my mind started to venture into dangerous territory, I shut it down.

  What was past was past.

  Four

  April

  I finished my walk on rubbery legs.

  Thankfully, Tyler was gone by the time I looped around the track again, otherwise he’d have seen me stop, put both hands over my heart and take a few slow, deep breaths.

  My God . . . what the hell had just happened?

  I’d been thinking of him as I walked, wondering what it would be like when I first saw him again, debating what to wear, fretting about whether I should give him a hug or keep it more formal with a handshake, or maybe even just a smile. What if he was bringing a date to the wedding? Sadie had never said whether he was single or not, just that he wasn’t married and never had been.

  And all of a sudden, I’d heard his voice calling my name. When I looked up, he was there. Like a ghost from the past, he was right there. I’d been so stunned, I’d tripped over my own feet.

  Then we were face to face, he was helping me up, and my heartbeat couldn’t seem to find its normal rhythm.

  And . . . I’d laughed. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was panic, but suddenly the situation struck me as funny, and I’d laughed. And he’d grinned. Then it was almost as if no time had passed at all. It had felt natural to hug him. Good, in fact. Like finding a missing puzzle piece and snapping it into place.

  I circled the track a few more times, going over it again and again. Picturing his face. Recalling the solid feel of his arms around me.

  Of course, he was still gorgeous. Maybe he had the tiniest hint of gray in his scruff and a slightly broader torso, but he was just as tall, dark, and handsome as he’d been in high school.

  But there was something different in his eyes now—I could see it. Back then, he was all lethal intensity when he was on the mound, and all cocky strut when he was off it. Today I saw something else—vulnerability. It was hidden behind some gruff attitude and dickhead bluster, but I saw it. And I knew a little about what he’d gone through the past few years—everyone did. He wasn’t wrong about that.

  It got to me . . . I knew what it was like to feel as if you’d been put to the test and failed. I knew what it was like to feel haunted by the past. I knew what it was like to be afraid of people judging you. And I wanted him to know I was still his friend. He hadn’t failed me.

  Also? I was damn proud of myself. I’d handled seeing him again even better than I’d expected, and I was actually looking forward to seeing him tonight. After a few minutes of stretching on the grass, I got in my car and drove home, windows down, radio up, a smile on my face.

  I was bursting to tell someone what happened, so as soon as I got to Cloverleigh, I went right to Chloe’s new office and knocked on her open door.

  She looked up from unpacking a cardboard box on her desk. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

  I shut the door behind me and leaned back against it, breathless. “I saw him.”

  “Who?” She looked confused.

  “Tyler!”

  Her jaw dropped. “What? Where? When?”

  “This morning. Six a.m. The high school track. I was walking. He was running the bleachers.” My words tumbled out in a rush.

  “And?”

  “And he said hello.”

  “And?”

  “I said hello back. We hugged. It was awkward for a minute, but then it was just . . .” I paused for some air. “Nice.”

  Chloe gasped. “Really? It was nice?”

  “Really. He asked if I wanted to have dinner later, and I said yes.”

  My sister looked me over with a shrewd eye and nodded. “Well, that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “The Beyoncé hair.”

  “What Beyoncé hair?” I asked, touching the soft waves cascading over one shoulder. As if I hadn’t left my hair down today on purpose instead of pulling it back like I usually did at work. As if I hadn’t tried on and discarded ten different outfits before leaving the house. As if I hadn’t put a pair of sexy heels in my shoulder bag.

  But she couldn’t even see them!

  She eyeballed me for another moment and then sniffed. “Are you wearing perfume?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop it. It’s not like that.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “No way I can stop now. And you’re the one who came rushing in here to announce your dinner date.”

  “It’s not a date! And I came rushing in here because I was proud of how well I handled seeing him again, thank you very much. I wanted to share it with you.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m proud of you too,” she said, her tone softer. “I don’t mean to tease. Although I am a little shocked.”

  “Same.” I shook my head. “I was standing there looking at him, thinking he should feel like a total stranger, but he didn’t.”

  “Well, you went through
something pretty major together.” Chloe took a framed photo of herself and Oliver as kids from the box and set it on a shelf. “Even though you haven’t stayed in close touch, that kind of thing is always going to bind you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So did the whole . . .” Turning toward me, she touched her stomach. “Baby thing come up at all?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “We only chatted for a few minutes.”

  “About what?”

  “Different things. He actually got a little testy when the subject of baseball came up. He’s definitely aware that people around here remember the way he was, and he’s embarrassed that his career didn’t turn out the way he planned.”

  Chloe winced. “Yeah, that documentary was pretty brutal. I haven’t seen the whole thing, but I’ve heard Noah and Mack discussing it. Mack played with him in high school, I guess.”

  “That’s right, I forgot that. Mack was two years ahead of us, but Tyler was so good he played varsity all four years.”

  “So he won’t even talk about baseball now?”

  “I don’t really know. He just said he knows what people think of him, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like it.”

  “Well, who would?”

  I bit my lip. “I have this feeling he’s kind of . . . lonely.”

  “Really?” Chloe blinked in surprise. “A guy like that? Former MLB player? Plenty of money? I assume he still has his looks.”

  “He still has his looks, that’s for sure.” I recalled the dark eyes and broad shoulders, the chiseled jaw and full lips. “But he’s lost some of his old swagger.”

  Chloe snorted. “From what I remember, he had some to spare.”

  I laughed. “True. But he’s older now, and he’s been through a lot. He’s lost his dad, his career, saw his childhood dream go up in smoke . . . that had to be painful.”

  “I love that you’re thinking of his feelings, when seeing him again had to be so tough for you.” Chloe shook her head and smiled.

  “I did better than I thought I would,” I admitted, proud of myself all over again. “And you know, it really wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. Maybe because our history wasn’t painful in a romantic way—it’s not like he betrayed me or something.”