Her joyful scream rang in my ear, and I had to pull my phone away. I knew I needed to squash this real fast, or she’d start asking questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Look, Mom, we’re boarding the plane. I need to get off the phone. I’ve rented a car, and I’ll see you at the house this evening.”
“Oh… but, Owen, rememb—”
I cut her off by ending the call. It was rude as hell, but I didn’t want to think about staying at the house I grew up in. I never understood why she didn’t want to sell it, take the money, and run. I sent her a hefty part of my contract payouts every year, but she still stayed in the house that was our own personal nightmare.
Slouching down in my seat, I gripped the phone in my hand as if I could inflict the same pain on the inanimate object that I felt as a child. But unlike my asshole of a father, I had never been violent. My vision was turning red, but I knew not to let the anger overpower me.
Suddenly, the plane’s movements jarred me upright. It was taxiing down the runway, and I was too lost in my own thoughts to notice.
One flight attendant, an attractive woman with her dark hair pinned in a twist at the back of her head, stopped at my row.
“Sir, please buckle your safety belt before takeoff,” she said with a wink, then she continued down the row.
As I blindly clicked the ends of the belt together, I wondered what she’d look like with mussed hair after being fucked senseless.
Shifting in my seat, I pulled my cap lower over my face, shielding my eyes, and tilted my head as far back as I could with the seats upright. I’d never been one to hide… until now.
By the time the plane jostled as it touched down, I realized I slept through the entire flight. I must have been more tired than I thought. Glancing down at my hand, I noticed I was still gripping my phone tightly. Tilting my head from side to side, the ache radiated down my arms. Sitting in one position for six hours was never good for my muscles. I usually needed to meet with the team’s physical therapist after a long flight whenever we traveled for games.
“Sir, do you need any assistance?” the same brunette from before asked. This time, I pulled my hat into its right position and pinned her with my eyes. The steely-blue color usually worked their magic with very little effort from me. And by the way her cheeks reddened, it seemed they hadn’t lost their touch. Even after two years and a six-month engagement with Vanessa, I knew I still held some physical appeal to women.
I’d never been much of a playboy prior to meeting Vanessa, but maybe this was my chance to explore that life. Though I always pictured myself settled down with a family at a young age. I envisioned my own brood traveling with me to games and cheering for me in the stands.
As I continued to stare at the flight attendant, she leaned in and, without missing a beat, unlatched my belt for me, letting her fingers linger around my crotch area for a beat.
“I have a two-day layover in Nashville,” she whispered.
Just as I was about to respond, because I was definitely interested in what she was offering, the little boy seated diagonally from me enthusiastically peered over the top of his seat. His finger pointed in my direction as he turned toward a woman in the seat next to him.
“Mom!” I heard him say not so subtly, “That is Owen Ramsey, the shortstop for the Coyotes. I told you!”
“Oh,” the flight attendant leaning toward me purred, and I watched as dollar signs appeared in her eyes and her entire demeanor change. I assumed when I checked in that they knew I was on this flight, but I supposed my name was fairly common. It was when a baseball fan recognized me that everyone changed.
“Sorry,” I said as I stood up and brushed past her, already gripping the handle of my carry-on from the upper storage area. “I have somewhere to be. Appreciate the offer.” I brushed past her, using my free hand to reach into my pocket.
The dense cardstock felt like a million tons when I placed it in my palm. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that he recognized me, but I enjoyed the solitude for the last six hours.
“Here, kid.” Holding out the signed baseball card from the stack I always kept in my pocket for young fans, I smiled warmly. He was awestruck as he took the card with a shaking hand and whispered his thanks. Continuing down the aisle, my mood sullied further as I rented a car and stored my luggage and bats inside the trunk.
Ashfield was not a place I desired to go, but I knew it was time. I’d been avoiding some things for too long, and my therapist thought, after the implosion of my engagement, that this was a good time to get closure on my past.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for the closure yet, because it was far too easy to just stay angry.
An hour later, the green sign posted alongside the highway directed me toward the small town of Ashfield, an idyllic small town nestled in the valley of the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. I’d been excited when my father moved us here when I was six, buying a huge plot of land he intended on farming. It wasn’t until I learned his goal had been to hide us away that the town started to feel more like a jail cell than a wide-open space.
Just like the last time I’d been home, my pulse raced, and my fingers tightened around the steering wheel. The car crested the hill, giving the perfect view of the picturesque town below. Despite the misgivings of small-town living, the town was bustling. More people had moved to town, and businesses were flourishing. At least, that’s what my mom told me whenever I let her ramble about the town during our brief chats.
I hesitated at the top of the hill. Did I want to subject myself to the townspeople? These were men and women who watched me grow up, watched my life upend, and watched me leave at the first chance I got. But they also cheered me on at every game and chipped in at the farm whenever my dad’s wild ideas failed. And I had friends here at one point. Guys I used to play ball with. Girls I dated and kissed under the bleachers.
I hoped they’d forgotten me.
It was easy enough to slip in and out when I was here for the wedding. I barely stayed for an hour, before I high-tailed it out of town when Mom and I received the news we’d been waiting for. The news that finally closed an open circuit in my life that kept buzzing in the back of my head.
The longer I sat here looking down into the valley, the smaller I felt. My breaths came in short pants until I felt like I was having a full-blown panic attack. Something I hadn’t experienced since I was in high school. Prom night, to be exact. Not even a cheating fiancée could trigger that reaction in me.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat in the idling car, allowing the blackness to creep in, but a screeching noise from off in the distance brought my gaze up to the rearview mirror. Behind me, a tractor that spanned the entire width of the road was slowly approaching. It was a common scenario living in a farming town.
Somehow, it made me chuckle out of my panic, as I recalled the time my buddies and I stole a tractor from the old Marshall dairy farm and rode it through town. Finally, I put my foot on the gas and proceeded toward Ashfield.
Everything glistened before me, the sunrays ricocheting off the windows, making the road light up with little prisms of color from some of the stained glass. If there was one thing Ashfield did well, it was taking the nature around it and highlighting it.
As the front bumper of the rental car passed the first street sign decorated with flowers and a flag, I released a breath I’d been unconsciously holding. The brick buildings were all familiar but foreign at the same time. The signs had been changed since I left after high school. I paid little attention when I was here for the wedding. Red-eye flights had a way of doing that. The awnings changed. The businesses updated. But all of it felt the same. The same places that kicked me out at closing. The same places that told me they were calling the sheriff if I didn’t stop hanging out in the alleyways. The same places that called me whenever my father was too far gone and needed a ride home, even though I had a test at school the next day.
It's all the same.
But a flash of pale-blonde hair crossing the street brought me back into the now. And my entire demeanor changed. Now, I was on the hunt for her. For a second, my guard dropped, and I watched the lithe female dart across the road into the grocery store—Chuck’s. It had been there forever.
I made an impromptu stop and pulled up beside her beat-up sedan in the store parking lot. The clock on the generic dashboard of my rental showed 4:30 p.m. Without hesitation, I turned off the engine, stepped out of the car, and made my way toward the entrance.
Casually, I started in the bakery area, grabbing a box of my mom’s favorite cookies along the way. Figured I wouldn’t show up at the house empty-handed.
Continuing around the store, I peered down each aisle, tugging the brim of my baseball cap lower to shield my face whenever I caught someone’s attention.
By the time I reached the other end of the store, I started to believe I must have been seeing things. My little nemesis was nowhere to be found.
About ready to give up, I stepped toward the registers, only to collide with someone. I knew her scent immediately, the same combination it had always been. A mix of vanilla and hay.
