Page 51 of Fair Ball

“I could give two shits about my job, Millie. Not where you’re concerned.”

People think Austin Ashwood is complicated. They’re afraid of him, of his intensity, but he’s not all that hard to figure out. He’s a man who’s been deeply hurt—although he won’t tell me about what. A man who tries to be good to the people around him—which I think goes unnoticed for the most part. And he is first and foremost protective. I suspect Austin allows very few people to know him, and although I wouldn’t dare assume I know him the best, I think he wants me to.

He is trying to let me in.

And because he has opened himself up to me, he will protect me. Protect what we have. Protect this precious space building between us.

I believe that if I asked him to come home right this minute, he would.

But I don’t. Instead, I relay to him all the information Dr. Parangi gave us, and somewhere along the line, I allow myself to cry to him. I am honest about my fears, of not only losing my last parent but of what I will do without her. Of how I am going to pay for this nightmare. Because not only is it painful to grieve her, it is expensive. Insurance doesn’t cover all of it, and the future will involve changing our house to suit her needs, home care nurses, and…a funeral.

I tell Austin that I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry at the world, at her body for failing, at my body for surviving. I’m devastated that I will be an orphan. I’m sad Noah won’t have her in his life as he grows, and I worry I won’t be enough for him. I confess that even though I dread the day my mom is gone from this world, I almost want it to happen faster. To get it over with, for all of us. So she doesn’t have to live with this horrible sickness every day, and so I can begin to piece my life back together again.

God, again. “I don’t know if I can do it,” I tell him. “Losing my dad was so hard, but this…this is so much worse, and I don’t know.” I wipe at my nose, my throat raw and scratchy. “I’m scared, Austin.”

“It’s okay to be scared, but I want you to know that I’ll be here. When you’re afraid, you can come to me. I want you to come to me. I won’t leave you alone in this.”

I sniffle and hiccup, let out a great big sob, one that I’ve kept under wraps all day. I heave and moan and release all the terrible noises that have been trapped under my ribs. I let it all go as he listens from one thousand miles away, and when I finally quiet, he tells me, “I’m here, as long as you want me to be.”

So I turn off my light and burrow under the covers. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Good.” Something rustles on his end. Maybe he’s in bed too. “Do you want to talk, or do you want to be quiet?”

“You talk.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.”

He inhales deeply and then says, “First up to bat is Jesus Cabrera. He’s right-handed and likes a fastball. I’ll be throwing him sliders tomorrow. Next is Chris Henson, left-handed, and can’t stay off the high ones…”

He goes through the entire Miami lineup, and with his low, soothing voice, I’m close to falling asleep. He asks, “You still with me, Mills?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What else can I do?”

“Win. My mom will be watching tomorrow.”

“I can do that for her. But what do you want?”

I yawn, tucking my hand under my pillow. “I want you to stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep.”

“Was planning on it.”

I smile to myself, at my prince of baseball, and as he fills me in on Love Is Blind: Mexico, I do eventually fall asleep.

A few hours later, my mom wears Austin’s jersey as she watches him pitch. The Thunder win four to zero.

And the following day, as I know the team is traveling from Miami to Pittsburgh, my mother receives a typewritten letter that makes her gasp. I read over her shoulder, the words blurring together in disbelief.

Because her medical bills will be paid for. In full.

By the Santiago-Cruz Ashwood Endowment.

CHAPTER 15

AUSTIN