Page 113 of The Path to Loving Him
For me, we’ve skirted around sensitive topics my whole life.
We’ve never really gone into detail what our dad did to me . . . did to our family. And Gabby, she so easily speaks of baggage and what a bad childhood could do to someone. It’s perplexing.
I don’t know what to say, so I reply with a simple, “Okay.”
Thankfully, there is a knock on her door, and our sandwiches have arrived. The reprieve I needed.
“So did you play ball?” I ask Gabby as I wipe my mouth and set my napkin down on my finished deli paper.
“I did,” she says. “I didn’t get to play it like Bennett, though.” She pops a cut-up strawberry in her mouth. I grabbed them from her fridge when the sandwiches arrived.
“What do you mean?”
She wipes her fingers on a napkin and says, “Didn’t have anyone to take me to practices and games.” She shrugs as if it was no big deal. “I practiced, though, with Bennett. We’d watch and read everything we could about baseball, and I made sure Bennett found a way to and from games and practices.”
“Wow,” I say, not knowing any of that. “So you never really got to play the game?”
“A little here and there, but not like you and Bennett. But I never had to play the game to love it. I enjoy playing catch, hitting the ball off the tee, getting grounders, simple things like that, which practice the skills of baseball.”
“What’s your favorite part of the game?”
“Defense,” she answers. “I love everything about it. Bennett and I would go back and forth between who got grounders. We even had a pitchback at one point, and we’d rotate, one right after the other, throwing the ball and catching it from the pitchback. There’s something about not knowing where the ball will end up, only for you to find it in your glove from the effort you put behind in retrieving it. I love it.”
I slowly nod my head. “I, uh, I love offense.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Yeah, I love the intricacies of it. How one minor glitch in your swing could cause a month-long slump. I love problem-solving and adjusting the swing to get out of that slump. And I love that the swing isn’t the same for everyone. What might work for some doesn’t work for others. Plus, the sound of the ball hitting the bat is probably the best sound ever.”
She smiles. “Not better than the ball hitting the glove.”
“Looks like we might need to test that out at some point, play some catch and hit some balls.”
“Are you suggesting that we play baseball together?”
I gesture to her legs and say, “When your legs are better of course.”
“Of course.” She leans back on the couch and looks over at me. “You realize we make a pretty good match on the field. You with offense, me with defense. Not that I’m going to suggest anything because you’re the head coach, but that can work to our advantage.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I thought of that.”
“And did you know that David actually asked me that question in my interview? He asked what I liked coaching best, and I said defense. Maybe he knew you were an offense coach and thought we would make a great pair.”
I give her adon’t fuck with melook, which makes her laugh. “Do not give that man credit.”
“I mean, you have to give him a little bit of credit.” She shifts to turn toward me more, and I can tell it’s uncomfortable for her. “You have gotten off a few times since he made such a solid choice in picking your coaching staff.”
“Pretty sure his intention in picking you wasn’t so I could get off.”
“Just a supreme benefit.”
“That we’re not partaking in anymore,” I remind her.
“Of course. Never again. It was fun creating orgasms with you while it lasted, but from here on out, no more extremely satisfying and mind-blowing pleasure.”
My mouth goes dry as I catch the grin on her lips. “If you’re trying to make this . . . hard, keep talking like that.”
Her grin grows. “Trust me, I know how to make it hard. I don’t need advice.”
