Page 87 of Fair Ball

I clamp my hands on her waist. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m not gonna do this anymore. I’m not gonna force you to deal with my shit when you have so much of your own to deal with.”

She frowns. “Stop saying that. Stop talking like you’re a burden to me. Or to anyone. I want to support you, like you support me.”

I nod, because, yes, we can do that, but then she stands up, saying, “But by you continually pretending nothing is wrong, that is a burden on you, and you won’t admit it. You want me to help you, but you won’t even tell me what you need help with. You know everything about me, and yet I still don’t know everything about you.”

I fill my cheeks with air and slowly blow it out. “What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you want me there tonight?”

“Because I didn’t want you there when I blew it all up.”

“Your family?” At my nod, she shrugs. “I read the speech. I knew what you were going to say, and I wanted to be there for you. Look at me.” She holds her arms out, allowing me time to really look. “I love you so much, Austin. You called me tonight, needing my help, and I got there as soon as I could.”

I hear her words but don’t really digest them. Not since she said… “You love me?”

She waves me off like I’m an idiot. “Yes, obviously. I love you, and I want what’s best for you. If that’s to tell your family to fuck off, I want to be by your side. But you won’t let me. You say I make you happy, but you won’t fully accept me as part of your life.”

I tug at my ear, my heart in my throat. “You love me?”

“Oh my god!” She growls and spins away from me, clenching and unclenching her fists, and I stand, reaching for her as she twists back around to ask, “What happened tonight? With your family?”

I slide my hands around her hips. “Not much. Yelled a little, almost punched my dad.”

Her eyes bulge. “I’d say that’s quite a lot, actually.”

“Some people saw, so I’ll probably hear from King about it.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Not anymore.” Not when she told me she loves me. I bend, aiming for a kiss, but she stops me with a hand on my chest. In the exact place my father dug his finger tonight.

“Why did you start that fight with your brother?”

I shake my head. “Can we talk about that later?”

“No.” She steps back away from me. I’ve seen Millie irritated or playfully annoyed, but this air of anger is new. Millie Sheehan doesn’t get mad, not really. Except she is. She’s mad at me.

“What?”

“I want to talk about it now. I’m not going to give in to you and push it off until later. I want you to tell me right now… Why? What happened between you and your brother?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.” She folds her arms, hip popped to the side, and this is the very last thing I want to do. I don’t want to rehash it. I want to forget it all happened. Especially when they don’t matter anymore.

“I don’t have a family anymore.”

She loses her bravado and steps into my space once more. “What are you talking about?”

I sweep my hand through my hair, nausea creeping back into my stomach. “I’m done with them. I’m done with them making me feel like shit. And…” I flop my hands out at my sides. “I told them I’m done, and I mean it. I don’t want…”

She hugs me, arms tight around my waist, cheek against my chest, and I set my chin on the top of her head, locking my hands at her back. But when I think she’ll say something comforting, she lifts her head and tells me, “You need therapy.”

The idea is laughable. “I don’t need therapy.”

“You said you’re done with your family, but what does that mean? Are you going no-contact with them? You’ll only see them at holidays? What⁠—”

“I don’t know, Millie.” I let go of her and lean on the railing, her questions too much. Usually, I find amusement in them, but right now, her need to understand every goddamn thing is driving me to the edge. “Stop asking me. I don’t know.”