Page 65 of Running Home to You
“You okay?”
Kate peered into her mug as it flooded back. Her parents disavowing her. The slap. The visit from the church, old men laying hands on her head and back, so harrowing that she hoped to one day block it out entirely. They prayed over her, then commanded Satan to release her. Instead, headlights cast into the living room like a godsend. Of course, it was Abby. Abby driving hours to save her.
She did her best not to cry while she recounted it, but the tears came anyway in the safe huddle of her friends’ arms. “Why do I feel like a terrible person?”
“Because you’ve never done anything wrong. Like ever,” Jill said.
“I hurt Blake.”
Mick chuckled. “Don’t worry, he’ll marry the first born-again virgin who flashes him her tits.”
Kate laughed along through snivels. While she shared almost everything with them, she didn’t mention Abby. She didn’t confess that it wasn’t just law school that made her deny Blake’s proposal and cast her out from home.
“Have you talked to her?” she asked.
“Abby? Passed her on the way in.” Mick narrowed her gaze at Kate. “She slept on the couch and sent us up before she left.”
“She ran out so fast yesterday, I was worried she might crash my car,” Jill said. “That’s got to be a record. To Deer Park and back in the snow in twelve hours?”
Mick rubbed Kate’s back. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from Cruz. Especially when it comes to you.”
Kate dragged through the next weeks in a daze. She went on longer, desperate morning runs, and buried herself in school. She half expected her parents to call and apologize. When that didn’t happen, she contemplated calling and apologizing to them instead. She floated the idea to Mick, who threatened to snap her phone in half.
Collegiate Athletes for Christ offered far less sympathy. It took less than forty-eight hours for news of her heartless treatment of Blake to reach the church group. Kate thought she might take refuge among them, might find healing, maybe even understanding if she shared her troubles, but instead she encountered disdain.
There weren’t sides, but if there were—and there most certainly were—everyone was on Blake’s. She’d always known if they broke up, it would be that way. Blake was a campus favorite, a near celebrity after the draft, and while no longer at Insley, he was still revered by friends and teammates. A few peers patted her shoulder, but even they seemed baffled by her choice. The others glared, murmured, sneered like she’d become less-than overnight. She skipped the next Bible study and ignored calls from her group leader when she missed the one after that too.
She still attended church on Sundays, but her neck burned at the sermons. She swore the pastor chose readings of damnation for her specifically. When she prayed, she didn’t ask for anything, not even forgiveness; she just repeated,I’m sorry.
And then there was Abby. Or, more accurately, a lack of her. Kate couldn’t pinpoint who started the avoidance, but just like the other times they ventured too close, a painful distance stretched between. Abby didn’t stop by the house. No more study sessions either. Kate didn’t text or call, unsure of how to move forward. She still loved Abby, but by no fault of her own, she represented the bomb that upturned Kate’s life. Now, she didn’t know if she was brave enough to build anew in the ruins, to pick up the coals and risk getting burned by what she burned down everything else for.
They only came together on the field, but then that changed too. With Abby playing third base instead of second, they no longer turned two. It was as if the game itself sensed their rift. Kate resigned herself to the changes until Abby started warming up with Jenna Crosby at practice.
“We’re supposed to be partners,” Kate said.
Abby shrugged as she whipped a ball to Jenna. “I don’t think Whit cares anymore. We probably could’ve ended that a while ago.”
“Right.” Kate nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Her focus drifted to Abby at practice, just like in the early days, overcome by the fierceness with which she played, her passion and raw talent. Third base required one crash for bunts and slap hits, and Abby charged as if she always played there, never fearing that a batter might pull back and hit a line drive at her, risking an inch closer like she enjoyed the gamble. While Kate observed her from shortstop, she willed her to look. To glance over her shoulder. To give her a flash of those dimples. It never came.
“We should study,” Kate said to her in the dugout afterward. “For midterms.”
“I’m good.” Abby zipped up her bat bag and peeled out.
Kate’s mouth dropped. “Hey!” She followed her, ignoring Jill’s and Mick’s confused glances. “Hold on a minute.”
Abby didn’t stop, so Kate ran her down.
“You’re giving me the cold shoulder now?” she asked.
“Just returning the favor.”
“I haven’t been giving you the cold shoulder.” Kate frowned. “I’ve just needed some time after everything.”
“I know.” Abby’s face slackened, her dark gaze lightening to a wave of amber.
