Chapter 2

He entered the lobby and looked at the card in his hand. The bellman asked him if he needed assistance. So did the concierge. He finally made it to the elevator without any more distractions. There was no one in the elevator to offer him help, typical. Stretching, he pressed the button for the 12th floor. He felt the floor jump as the car began to lift him toward her room, or was that his stomach in his throat?

She paced the floor. She sat on the bed, then she stood. She walked across the room and opened the drapes, then she closed them. She passed the dresser and glanced at the mirror. She brushed her bangs out of her face and tugged on her earring. She looked at her reflection a little more carefully. Was she wearing too much makeup? She wiped the lipstick off with a tissue. There, that was better. But it didn't matter. What they had to deal with was much more important than lipstick.

He stopped in front of room 1204. He had come this far, so why not just go through with it. He had to admit that he wanted to hear her side of the story. He wanted to know why she hadn't even tried to get in touch with him for so long. Yeah, he really needed to know, even if it her reason was what he thought it was, he wanted to hear her say it. He knocked on the door with three quick raps.

She dropped the tissue. He had actually come. She had assumed that he would. She had hoped that he would. She crossed the room and opened the door. She tried to smile as she invited him in. Her initial happiness in seeing him had sense been replaced with apprehension. She had missed him so much. She hadn't wanted things to end up so badly. She couldn't have known. It wasn't her fault. She kept telling herself that, but as she stared at him again, she didn't think she could make herself believe it.

He knew she would stare, but hadn't she gotten over it by now? "So, am I not what you remembered," he smirked. He really couldn't believe that he was here. She actually looked apologetic. He suddenly felt bad about his remark. "Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to be an ass. That's not really the way we should start off the evening, huh?" He pushed the wheelchair into the hotel room. He'd had two years to deal with how things were. She'd had less than an hour.

"Kevin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, I just . . . I'm so sorry. About everything."

"No, don't worry about it, I mean, I used to be a little taller, but everything is cool. I don't even need a bicycle if I want to participate in sports requiring wheels."

"That's not funny," she said. "You shouldn't be sitting there. You should have been on that field today, or some field somewhere. And it's all my fault."

He stopped mid roll and his head jerked up to face her eyes. "What are you talking about? This isn't your fault, you aren't the one who made a really stupid choice and screwed up his own life. You didn't make me get in that car. You weren't even there."

"Yes I was." She didn't imagine that it would be time to tell all so soon, but if she didn't tell him now, she knew she probably never would. "I was home on break. You came up to me after the game and asked me to go out with you guys. I drove you there, Kevin. Don't you remember that?"

His eyes widened. He had relived that night a million times. Every detail was so sharp in his mind. She couldn't be telling him the truth, could she?

"You told me about the scholarship. I was surprised at your choice of school, but you said we should be close to one another. You said that we needed to figure out "us" and that it would be much easier if we were in the same state. Florida State and Texas were better choices for you, but you said that Tucson was much closer to Phoenix, and that's where you needed to be."

He tried desperately to remember. He could almost relive each pitch of the game.

He'd pitched a complete game shutout, his best game of the season. Andy had hit the game-winning home run. For the last out he had struck out the opposing team's best hitter on three straight fastballs. He'd just blown them by the guy. Someone said he made it up to 92 mph on the last pitch. Not bad for the last inning of the game. She had been there. He had heard her cheering in the stands. Andy said he should ask her to come out with them. He had been dating someone else, a junior, but they were far from in love.

"Bethie's waiting out there. She's just standing by the bleachers. I'll distract the flavor of the month and you go talk to the woman of your dreams," Andy had said to him. Kevin had eagerly agreed and waited for Andy's signal.

As Kevin exited the clubhouse, he saw Andy with his arm around Kevin's date leading her to the parking lot. Kevin smiled. Good old Andy knew what he wanted. He sucked in air as he approached her. God, she was beautiful. She was smiling and happy to see him, thankfully.

"Good game, Slugger," she said playfully, using one of his dad's nicknames for him. He shook his head as he continued to move closer to her. He was directly in front of her and he placed his forearms on her shoulders. She ducked under his embrace. "Not so fast, mister. I don't want these people to think I'm a floozy," she said. He laughed and then he asked her to come with them to the usual spot by the river where the party had most likely already started. She agreed to come. She said she'd go pull her car around and wait while he got his stuff together.

"Great," he said, "I'll meet you by the back clubhouse entrance."

The memories were coming more quickly now. He ran back inside and grabbed his bag, told the other guys where everyone was headed, opened the back door, and hopped in Beth's car.

"Oh, shit, that's right. I rode with you . . . " he suddenly realized. "Then, why . . . why didn't I ride home with you? Did you leave me there?"

"Yes, I did leave you. I told you, everything that happened is my fault."