If for Any Reason Page 15

  But now here they were, as if the world had thrown them back together. And he couldn’t stop thinking of how badly he wanted to touch her skin.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re up early.”

  She gave Tilly another pat. “I like to watch the sunrise.”

  He should get up early more often. “It’s pretty spectacular.”

  “Are you an early riser?”

  He stood next to her and faced the water. “Not so much anymore.”

  “Since you retired?”

  He tossed a sideways glance at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Hey, are we okay?”

  She faced him, her eyes innocent and wide. “What do you mean?”

  He looked away. “Things seem . . . strange, I guess.”

  She shrugged. “I mean, it’s weird being back here and not knowing anyone. Plus, I do stupid things like pry into your personal life and try to make you talk about baseball when you don’t want to.”

  “I told you that was no big deal.” He bent down and picked up a rock, tossed it in the ocean. “It’s just still really hard to talk about.” He could feel her eyes on him.

  “Because you didn’t want to leave?”

  Was he really going to admit it out loud? Nobody knew the details of his retirement, but there was still, even after all this time, something about Emily. In some ways, he felt like she was the person who knew him best, though she really didn’t know him at all. His eyes found the sand at his feet. “Yeah.”

  “Was it the accident?”

  “Everyone wanted me to be back—my coaches, my teammates . . . me.” Man, he hated talking about this. “I wanted it more than everyone.”

  “But you did come back,” she said, hugging her arms around herself as a breeze kicked up off the water.

  He glanced at her. “Yeah, I was the Miracle Man.”

  “It was inspiring,” she said.

  “It wasn’t real.” He threw a stick down the shore for Tilly to fetch. “I mean, yeah, I came back, but the doctor told me not to keep playing. I was so stubborn. I didn’t listen. I didn’t want anyone telling me what I could or couldn’t do.” Yep. He was saying it all out loud. “I loved that first game back—you wouldn’t believe it. The crowd went crazy when I ran on the field.”

  “I believe it,” she said. “I was there.”

  He looked at her. “What?”

  She kept her focus steady on the water. “I was there. I was one of the ones cheering.” She glanced up and found his eyes.

  “No way.” The words escaped, practically under his breath. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

  She waved him off. “Are you kidding? You were a huge star. I didn’t even know if you remembered me.”

  “Em—” What was he going to say? Truth be told, he didn’t know how he would’ve reacted if he’d seen her at a game. He wasn’t his best after the accident, not even after he became the Miracle Man. His last four years in the majors were a blur of pain and medication and physical therapy and bad moods and eventually his being let go by a team he’d dedicated his very best years to.

  He’d made his peace with all of it when he got his life back on track, when he started talking to God again. So why was the sting of it all—the shame—still so fresh, even months later? This wasn’t a side of himself he wanted to show anyone.

  He tried to remember the things he’d learned in the last year, the things Jimmy had helped him realize—that bad choices don’t make you a bad person, that God forgave him, that he still had a lot of life to lead.

  This second chance with Jolie was, as Jimmy said, a gift from God. “Don’t blow it, Mack.” It was as if the moment he put his relationship with Jolie back together, he could finally move past the rest of the pain.

  There were times he was sure he’d forgiven himself, but recently he was sure forgiveness was the last thing he deserved.

  “I wish I’d seen you, is all,” he finally said.

  “I came to a couple of your games.” She studied the water. “Had to see if you lived up to all the hype.” Finally she smiled at him.

  “And . . . ?”

  “In the first game I went to—your first one on some pre–Major League team—you hit a home run on your first at bat.” Her grin turned sheepish.

  He remembered. First at bat in the farm league and he hit one out of the park. They’d called him up to the show after that. It was one of those memories he’d let go of when he lost everything—it was too painful knowing he’d never feel that way again.

  Still, something inside him flip-flopped at the thought of her being there, seeing him at his best, before the accident stole everything from him.

  “I wish I would’ve known you were there,” he said.

  They were quiet for several seconds, pausing to watch as the sun made its way up a little higher on the horizon. Tilly had lost interest in the stick and was now out chasing the waves, then running back on shore over and over again.

  “Secret, secret,” she said.

  The words stopped time. They were kids again, sharing every thought—even the embarrassing ones, like the time he admitted he wanted to kiss her.

  That kiss had been sweet and innocent for both of them. Why couldn’t they have stopped right there, in that moment? Why did everything have to change so drastically?

  “You know how I feel about this game,” he said.

  She shrugged. “Secret, secret.”

  “Who says you get to be the asker?”

  “I made up the rules,” she said.

  “Well, why don’t we both do one to make it even?” That was fair, right? Make her squirm so he wasn’t the only one in the hot seat.

  She paused for a long moment. “You get the next turn. On another day.”

  He laughed. “I see how it is.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll think of one. What do you want to know?”

  He stood still for a solid ten seconds, eyes searching hers. “I want to know everything, Emily.”

  Her expression changed and she shifted where she stood. He shouldn’t have said that. It had made her uncomfortable. Never mind that it was true.

  “I mean, it’s been forever, so we have a lot to catch up on,” he said, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.

  “Right,” she said. “But remember, I don’t want to be nosy.”

  He grinned at her. “Yeah, right.”

  The heavy cloud of tension dissipated. The darkness gave way to the new morning sun and the moment between them passed.

  At his side, she’d gone quiet, and Hollis resisted the urge to take her hand in his, as if that could erase the line of worry across her forehead.

  She bumped into him with her shoulder. “Come on, Mack, I know you’ve got one in there.”

  He stared at the water for a long moment, then drew in a deep breath. “It wasn’t just that I retired,” he finally said. “They asked me to leave.”

  He could feel her eyes on him—attentive, curious. Would he soon see judgment there too?

  Sometimes people said it was good to say things aloud, to get them out. This wasn’t one of those times. He hated that the words hung there, tarnishing what she thought of him. He’d much rather go on being that baseball hero she’d seen hit the homer that day. The one who made a huge comeback, against all odds.

  “Was it your injuries?”

  He nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and yet, this was Emily—his Emily. If there was anyone to tell, it was her. Besides, she was pushy. No way she was going to let him turn quiet now.

  “I paid a doctor to clear me.” He cast his eyes downward again, this time because the shame of the admission was too heavy to carry.

  Emily said nothing.

  “He filled my prescriptions and kept me playing, but eventually the damage I was doing became obvious. They started cutting my playing time, little by little, until finally, one day, they said I was done. Said it was for my own safe
ty.” He found a stone by his foot, unburied it, and tossed it into the ocean. “I sort of . . . lost myself.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” she asked. “To find yourself again?”

  “I don’t really know,” he said. “I guess I came because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “I get that.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nobody knows about any of that—not even my family. The pills became more than a crutch.” He looked away. How did he admit any of this out loud? Only Jimmy knew the gruesome details of his exit from baseball.

  “I was mad, honestly. I didn’t live my life the way I should’ve, but I always believed God wanted the best for me, right? So how could he allow that accident—how could he allow me to lose everything I’d worked for, everything I loved?”

  Emily’s nod was nearly undetectable. “I’ve wondered that before too.”

  Of course she had—she’d lost her mother. By comparison, his grief over a game seemed shallow.

  “But Jimmy helped me with that,” he added quickly. “Taught me that sometimes you have to lose everything in order to figure out what’s really important. Not an easy lesson to learn. Especially because I hadn’t put any time into the things that mattered, like Jolie.”

  She was quiet for several seconds, then finally glanced his way. “I’m sorry, Hollis.”

  He shrugged as if it meant nothing, when really it meant everything. “It was stupid. I should’ve listened. I should’ve been done right after the accident instead of trying to come back and be the hero.”

  Maybe then he’d have figured out years ago what really mattered. But that’s not what he’d done. He’d been so pigheaded, so stubborn, so prideful, that he’d ignored everyone’s advice.

  And what had the extra time in the majors gotten him? A whole lot of heartache and a hip and leg that would always cause him pain.

  “So they asked you to retire?”

  He nodded, doing his best not to remember that moment. The results of his random drug test in the hand of his manager. The signed confession of the doctor who’d been fired that morning. All of it was a black mark of shame on an otherwise-shiny record.

  “I got to leave with my reputation intact, though,” he said.

  But what good was a reputation when everything that was important was gone?

  She had more questions, he could tell. But that’s not how the game worked. She wasn’t allowed to probe him—all she could do was let him talk.

  And he was done talking. “Anyway, that was a heavy way to start out the morning.”

  “Maybe, but I’m glad you told me.”

  He turned slightly to get a better view of her. “You and your stupid game.”

  Her laugh was barely audible. She faced the water and inhaled the salt air. “It sure is beautiful here.”

  He took her in, studying her profile. “Sure is.”

  When she glanced back at him and found him watching her, he imagined it was clear to her that he wasn’t talking about the sunrise.

  So many thoughts tumbled around in her head as she stood next to Hollis on the beach. They were in almost the exact same spot they’d been when he’d kissed her for the first (and only) time all those years ago, and he’d just told her something almost no one else knew.

  They’d been languishing somewhere out in the strangers-who-used-to-be-friends zone, and now she felt closer to him than she did to just about anyone else in her life.

  She wanted to ask more about Jolie. She wanted to know how a father could abandon his daughter—she wanted it out there because maybe it would put things into perspective for him all over again, but more so because it might clear up a few things for her. After all, she’d always wondered how her own father could’ve abandoned her.

  But he’d gone quiet. At least for now.

  “That lady from the arts center wants me to head up a children’s production,” she said, figuring that was a safe topic to discuss on the beach at dawn, watching the sunrise with the handsomest man she’d ever met.

  “Yeah?” He angled himself toward her. “You gonna do it?”

  She shrugged. “Should I? I mean, I didn’t come here to revive a children’s theatre.”

  “No, but you can’t hang around the house all summer.”

  “Why not?” she asked, not letting on that she knew he was right. She was so bored already.

  “You’d just be in the way.”

  She laughed and gave him a shove. “I’ll have you know I took set-building classes in college.”

  “Oh, really? I bet those safety goggles were good and sexy.”

  She laughed again. “I was actually pretty terrible at it. I just wanted to be onstage.”

  A thoughtful look washed across his face. “I wish I could’ve seen you onstage. I bet you were amazing.”

  She tossed him a glance. “Hardly, but I really did love it for a while.”

  “You don’t anymore?” His eyes were so earnest.

  “That’s a secret for another day, Mr. McGuire.”

  He lifted his chin in mock surprise. “Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be.”

  She smiled. For a split second, it felt like old times. Maybe old times weren’t all bad.

  “Come have coffee with me,” he said. “Mom will force-feed you waffles and Dad will bore you with the latest news from Wall Street.”

  She studied Hollis for a few long seconds and realized that if she went with him, her heart would be in danger.

  Protect your heart.

  “Thanks for the invitation, but I should head in,” she said. “Get ready for the crew.”

  He gave her one quick nod and did a poor job of hiding his disappointment.

  He’s just a friend, Emily told herself, though a small part of her chose not to listen. The sensible part of her, which didn’t often have a say, stepped up and put that small part in its place.

  There were far too many question marks where Hollis McGuire was concerned, and while she wanted to, Emily didn’t have it in her to hunt down the answers to them all. She was better off keeping their relationship cordial and friendly but emotionally uncomplicated. It’s what her mom’s letters had said to do—to keep her heart safe. So far that advice had served her well—why mess that up now?

  Never mind that his story had tugged at the knot inside her.

  None of that mattered. She had a job to do: a house renovation to oversee and a property to unload.

  And then she could finally—finally—get on with her life.

  CHAPTER 21

  A FEW HOURS LATER, and only moments before Jack was supposed to arrive with his crew to get started working on phase one of the home renovation, there was an exuberant knock on the sliding-glass door that led to Emily’s patio.

  She glanced up from where she stood in the kitchen, pouring herself a third cup of coffee, and saw Jolie’s face grinning back at her. She waved the girl in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jolie rushed over to where Emily stood.

  “Tell you what?” Emily stuck the creamer back in the refrigerator.

  “Wait, can I have some?”

  “Coffee?” Emily stood with the refrigerator door still open, watching Jolie. “No.”

  “Why not? Uncle Hayes lets me.”

  “Does your dad know about that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like he’d care.”

  Emily closed the refrigerator door and moved back to the kitchen island, opposite where Jolie stood. “You’re pretty mad at him, huh?”

  Jolie shrugged. “No, I don’t really care if he wants me or not.”

  Emily could remember saying the same thing. She saw now that it was a defense mechanism—pretending it didn’t matter that her dad didn’t want her was easier than admitting there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to have a complete family unit.

  The unwanted thought startled her. She wasn’t pretending when she said it didn’t matter whether or not her dad wanted her. She’d decided
a long time ago it absolutely did not matter.

  So why now, looking at Jolie, did that seem to have changed?

  “You know, in some ways, you’re pretty lucky.” Emily took a box of donuts she’d picked up from a new-to-her place called Wicked Island Bakery and set it on the counter between them.

  “Why, because my dad’s loaded?”

  Emily laughed. “No, because he’s here.” She opened the box of donuts and inhaled the sweet, sugary smell of fried dough.

  Jolie’s frown deepened. “Here on the island?”

  “Here, with you. I’d give anything to have that with my dad.” Emily pushed the donuts toward Jolie, whose eyes lit up.

  “I can have one?”

  “Of course.”

  Jolie reached in the box and took a donut, then looked at Emily. “Is your dad dead?” She took a bite of the pastry, then licked the ends of her fingers.

  Once again it struck Emily how refreshing it was to talk to someone who said exactly what they were thinking. She hoped age didn’t change that about Hollis’s daughter, though in her experience, adults weren’t usually so forthcoming. “I don’t know. I never knew him.”

  Jolie’s face softened and she stopped chewing. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily.” Again, nothing but sincerity flickered in Jolie’s eyes.

  The knock at the door drew Emily’s attention. She set her coffee mug back down and started toward the entryway. “You never told me what you were so excited about when you first walked in.”

  “Oh!” Jolie hopped off the stool and followed her. “That you’re directing the children’s show at the arts center.”

  Emily spun around. “Who told you that?”

  “GrandNan,” Jolie said matter-of-factly. “She has friends who know everything about everything—Grandpa called them ‘busybodies’—and I guess one of them told her we’re getting the kids’ show back and it’s all because of you!” Jolie’s grin could’ve lit up a moonless night.

  “JoJo,” Emily said, “nothing’s been decided for sure.”

  Her face fell. “Really? Because I texted my mom to ask if they’d let me stay longer so I can audition. I told her we had a real-life Broadway director and everything.”