My dad had proved himself where it really mattered—as a dad.

On his own, with two children. Working his fingers to the bone. Making sure we were housed and fed and clothed, and beyond that, loved. I’d always felt loved. It had given me the confidence to chase my dreams.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Holy shit! You’re right, Coach. He did prove himself when and where and how it mattered most.”

Virgil said nothing, but he nodded. Closed his eyes.

“It’s not just about the ballfield. It’s not about strikeouts or home runs or the speed of a fastball. In the end, it’s about who’s there for you, and why. Through the highs and lows, the wins and the losses. It’s about the people who love and support you through anything because of who you are, not what you do. It’s about family.”

Virgil began to snore.

I stood up. “Sorry, Coach. I have to go.”

On my way down the hall, I nearly crashed into David, who was carrying a cardboard cup of coffee. “Hey,” he said. “Did he insult you?”

“No, just the opposite. He gave me the best advice he’s ever given me!” I shouted as I raced for the elevator.

David laughed. “Well, good!”

I punched the down button until the doors opened, barreled into the elevator, and hit L.

As it began to descend, I prayed that who I was would be enough to make up for what I’d done.

Twenty-Five

April

At my next therapy appointment, I told Prisha about everything. By the time I got to the end, I was pretty sure she was going to need to call her own therapist.

“Well. That is a lot to handle in a very short amount of time,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“Better,” I said. It had been ten days since Tyler had left my house, and I’d managed to get through yesterday without any tears. That was better, right?

“Are you really? Or are you saying that to please me?”

I winced. “Probably a little of both. I’m still really sad, to be honest. I know he was only here a short time, but we came so far so fast—at least it felt like it to me. We were so open with each other, and it just felt so right. When he said he wanted to move here, I guess I got carried away. I envisioned this whole future for us.”

“It’s natural to be excited about a new relationship.”

“Yeah, but in my case I definitely stopped listening to anything I didn’t want to hear. He was up front right from the start that he didn’t want a serious relationship. He never lied to me. He just sort of . . .” I shrugged as Tyler’s words echoed through my head. “Led me to believe he was ready for something he wasn’t.”

Prisha nodded.

“And I’ve been so hard on myself, wondering how I could have gotten him so wrong. But the thing is . . . I know what I felt. I know we had that connection. And I know we could have been good together if he could get over his fear.”

“What’s he afraid of?”

I’d thought this through a million times. “What it comes down to, I think, is that he grew up believing baseball was all he had to offer the world. And when he suddenly couldn’t offer it anymore, he shut down. He couldn’t forgive himself. It’s like he believes deep down he needs to be punished for failing the game or his fans or his father—even the media! He hates the headlines and the speculation about him, but the reason it bothers him so much is that he believes it. So he’s afraid to let himself be happy. Find love. Find acceptance. He doesn’t think he deserves it. And I couldn’t convince him otherwise.”

“April, it wasn’t your job to convince him otherwise. He has to reach that place on his own.”

“I know.” I felt a deluge of tears coming. “I just wanted to be able to help.”

“Of course. You care for him.”

I nodded, fighting the sob trying to get out. “And it’s hard for me to accept that he’s gone, but I have to.”

Prisha waited for me to compose myself, nudging the tissue box closer to me. I thanked her, took a few deep breaths, and blew my nose. “Sorry. I’m okay. I think.”

Smiling sympathetically, she checked her notes. “Tell me how things are moving along with your biological son.”

“Chip.” My stomach jumped, and I put a hand over it. “We’re meeting on Saturday at his house. Three o’clock.”

“Are you scared? Excited? All of the above?”

“All of the above, definitely,” I said, laughing nervously. “But I have realistic expectations. I know that meeting him might not provide immediate relief from all my adoption guilt or solve all my intimacy issues, but I’m hoping that over time, knowing him is part of my journey to being happy.”

She smiled. “I have a feeling you’re going to meet those expectations, and then some. You should be very proud of yourself, April. You’ve shown a lot of courage and strength. You took exactly the kind of risk that’s necessary for real intimacy, and I think you experienced it, even if it didn’t end the way you’d hoped.”

I sniffed and smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth the risk?”

I was tempted to say no. To say I wished Tyler Shaw had never set foot back in this town. To say I’d have been better off if I could just erase the last month from my life. But deep down, I didn’t feel that way.

He might have let me down hard, but Tyler Shaw had shown me I was capable of letting someone in.

“Yes,” I said. “It was worth the risk.”

I walked out of Prisha’s office feeling a little better. She always asked the tough questions and could sometimes make harsh observations when I was trying to avoid something, but she gave beautiful compliments too. She strengthened my courage, my confidence, and my compassion.

And in the next five minutes, I’d need all three.

Because when I pulled up at home, sitting there on my front porch was none other than Tyler Shaw.

I knew it was him right away. Besides the ridiculously tall and commanding body, who else put those butterflies in my belly? Made my breath get stuck in my lungs? Set my pulse on high alert? He watched me put the car in park and came to open the driver’s side door.

My heart was hammering away, and I was almost afraid to stand up for fear my legs would buckle. But then I remembered what Prisha had said. I could do this.

I got out of the car and looked up at him. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses for once. Or a hat. I could see his eyes and his expression clearly, and he looked . . . happy?

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He pushed the car door shut behind me. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please, April.” He went to take my hand, but I pulled it away. “Sorry. I get it—I won’t touch you, I promise. I just want to talk.”

“About what?” I said. “You made your point ten days ago. I heard it loud and clear when you walked out the door.”

He nodded. “I know. But I think I was wrong.”

My eyebrows jerked up. “You think?” Immediately I started walking toward my front door.