#nymphwriter

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! @harringrove-relay-race

To Catch My Falling Heart

Please look forward to the amazingly talented work from the next contributor, [@bigdumbbambieyes].

"I'm sorry..." But what did Steve's feelings about Billy have to do with him? Why would he apologize for the way another man felt?

"I'm sorry you couldn't make him comfortable enough around you that he felt safe enough to drop his guard. I'm sorry that you couldn't listen to his unfiltered laugh or hear his real voice and see him in a vulnerable light. I'm sorry you couldn't show him how much you supposedly cared in order to see his raw self." Eddie stared into the softer chocolate irises. He watched them fill with tears as they widened in shock.

He imagined them both playing catch; his dad teaching him how to pitch and being there for his first game. The hug he would receive for gaining his first homerun. Them having a love for a sport like all of the other kids. Instead, he got purple wrists and ball-shaped bruises. And a feeling so much stronger than hate over a game cause it was easier than despising his father. He gave up on the Angels a moment he would never forget from the now small scars on his inner wrist. He vowed to never even watch a baseball game again after that night.

Now he stares out the open front door. Staring into the front yard in disbelief. Susan had a big grin on her face as she looked on at Max, throwing a softball to Neil. Her aim was off, legs too far apart and throwing with her wrist, not her whole arm. Billy held his breath as he watched Neil step towards the redhead. His eyes stayed on the male as he waited. Waited for the smack the harsh grab. Instead, Neil leaned down a gentle touch to her arm as he instructed her what to do. Fixing her stance with no harsh push or words. Susan grinned wide further as Billy’s lungs clenched around his heart. Max nodded as Neil jogged back across the yard, punching his mitt to show he was ready. Max rounded her arm, throwing with her all. Susan cheered first as the ball hit directly in the center of the mitt. Max jumped a victory shout.

“ATTA GIRL. YOU GOT IT!” Neil congratulated giving her a high five. The image was so familiar that it was one Billy had dreamed about, one he had seen in every source of media of how a father was. How a family was. He stepped back, shutting the door from the picturesque moment. He pushed the door, keeping the sound to a minimum to not interrupt.

“CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT!?” Billy choked at the memory of his father’s cacophonous tone filled his ears. His legs tinged in pain from the thought of the forced miles he had to run. His shoulders burned from the constant swings of his bat. 75 swings every day before his tears made it hard for him to see. His knees buckles as he remembered those months of pain of his dreams being crushed just for Maxine. Just for his father to be a dad for someone else.

"Can I rely on you?" The sweet feeble voice sent a chill down the male's broad back. He wiped his slick hands across his slacks ruining the expensive material. He tried to ease his racing heart. It had been so long since he last heard the woman's voice. He last saw her at his son's birth, now eighteen years ago. Taking a silent deep breath he nodded; his body moving before his mouth.

"Yes ma'am. We will see that he is comfortable and has whatever he needs during his stay." His voice stayed clear and sure as he spoke. Glancing up at his wife, she tilted her head in concern as she read him. He normally looked this distressed when on the phone with his mother but this had an underlying scent of fear to it. She swallowed as she deduced who was on the phone. His mother's best friend, Miss Ines-Gabriela, or as her husband called her Zia. After almost twenty years of marriage, she still didn't know the woman's last name.

"Thank you, deary. I want the best for my mijo. You are as perfect as your mother has said. We are so proud of you pequeno." A blush flooded his cheeks at the old nickname. Business was over.

"Grazzi, Zia." The smile that erupted on his face was heard in his voice. Hanging up the phone after fifteen minutes of questions about his and his family's health. He sighed chuckling at the phone. He would have much work to do on his trip home.

"Dear?" Turning to his wife he couldn't stop the slight burn to the corner of his mouth as he smiled harder. She was clean no longer sporting the soaked poncho or filthy gloves. Looking behind her he noticed the now clean room. Not a sign of their former activities besides the body lying still on the table.

"We have to return quickly." HE winced at the sight of fear that flooded her eyes.

"Is Steve?"

"He's ok, mi cori. Gilly is coming over for some personal business. Zia doesn't want him sleeping in his van." Removing his bloddy gloves he cupped her face laying a kiss atop her head as she kissed his palm. She gasped at the last part turning quickly as she gathered her things.

"Absolutely not. He can not sleep in that old thing. I'll ring Harrien, and tell her to have the guest room ready for his arrival. You'll need to warn Jim and get the cabin prepped for him."