Page 33 of Running Home to You
“What the fuck?” Abby whispered.
Before she could investigate, her gut churned, her mouth salivated, and her throat filled with bile. She crawled to the toilet, threw her head into the bowl, and puked. Not long after the initial heave, a hand rubbed her back. She cringed at Kate’s comfort, which, despite little memory of the night before, she knew she didn’t deserve.
“Just go,” Abby said between retching.
But the hand didn’t leave. She tried to recall the night. She remembered going to a bar and slamming shots. She didn’t know how she got home.
T.K. bulldozed in. “Oh my God, gross.”
“Get out.” Abby coughed.
“I have to do my skincare routine,” she said.
Kate sighed, still rubbing Abby’s back. “Can it wait?”
“I need to start now if I’m going to be on time. Who knows how long she’s going to be doing this.”
“T.K., you better be joking.” Abby groaned.
“I can’t pitch if my pores are clogged. It’s not my fault you got hammered last night.”
She, of course, expected no less from T.K., who started every week with a fresh manicure, accessorized her game day braids with matching bows, and dyed her hair a new color every few months. It was currently gothic black and down to her waist.
“Jesus, can we stop yelling? We all slept like shit.” Mick snatched her toothbrush from the counter.
“I think I’m dying.” Abby flushed the toilet and rested her head on her forearms.
“We need to pull it together,” Mick said. “Someone wake up Shupe and I’ll throw Cruz in the shower.”
“No, just leave me.” Abby moaned as Mick and Kate yanked her to her feet. “I can’t play. Tell Whit I’m sick.”
“Oh no, you’re playing. I don’t care if you puke all game.” Mick confronted her like a vengeful parent. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Abby turned her cheek as the catcher buffaloed into her space. “Back off, Mick.”
“No, dude. You can’t keep doing shit like this.” Mick glanced at Kate. “Do you know how bad you scared her?”
“Mick, it’s fine,” Kate said.
“No, it’s not. You scared all of us.” Mick clutched Abby’s shirt when she tried to slink away. “We can’t cover like that for you again. Do you understand? We won’t.”
Abby dropped her head. “I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Say it to Hutch.”
She dragged her eyes up to Kate’s. Abby hated herself for disappointing and scaring her, then receiving her goodwill when she wasn’t deserving. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
She frowned, but nodded. “It’s okay.”
“We care about you. All of us. Don’t forget it, idiot.” Mick patted Abby’s cheek, somewhere between a slap and caress. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”
Abby showered off the bar stench, hurled again, and somehow scraped together her uniform. At breakfast, she cautiously sipped water, plagued with regret as Kate, Mick, and Jill gazed over with bags beneath their eyes.
For as long as she could remember, Abby had acted only at her own behest. Growing up with her mother required early self-reliance. She never worried about the consequences for others. She assumed the group helped her after the hazing incident simply to cover their own asses. But last night, they didn’t have to cover for her. They could’ve easily gotten her kicked off the team, Kate could’ve taken shortstop, and they would’ve been done with her. Instead, they saved her. And maybe all along, bringing them into her life was how the game was saving her too.
Granted, as she battled a hangover beneath the Phoenix sun, Abbythought the game might kill her instead. She dragged through warm-ups with a migraine. When she missed more than one ball, Coach Whitley took notice.
“You okay, Cruz?” she asked.
