Free LATCH by LK Collins

back to the table and takes a sip of orange juice before proceeding. “My head coach called me last night and said I needed to report to practice today.”
    “You should’ve gone in a long time ago, especially if your job means that much to you,” I respond.
    “I know, but the thought of leaving you here alone and us on bad terms worried me. I cannot bear the thought of you turning to another man.”
    “So you’re just being nice to me so I don’t mess around again?”
    “No, Abby, dammit, don’t you see that I’m trying here? I want to make our marriage work.”
    Hearing him say those words with tears in his eyes, I am stunned. This is the man that I fell in love with. How he got so lost along the way is beyond me.
    “Just because we had a meal together and you agreed to not drink doesn’t mean that everything is just going to go back to normal. I need to know that you aren’t going to cheat on me when you’re on the road.”
    “I told you I won’t. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, some that I cannot change. Going forward, I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”
    “I really hope you do.”
    “I will.”
    “What have you even said to your coaches about being away?”
    “That I was sick with the flu, and after I pushed it, they wanted to send a team doctor here, but I declined. They sniffed out my BS and now I have to go and see if I even have a future with this team.”
    “Of course you’ll have a future with them. They would be stupid to let you go.”
    “Not if they see how fucked up my hand is. I punched it through that cabinet and still have glass in it. I don’t know if I can still throw a ball. If I get caught lying, they can cut me. I got to thinking about losing my job and you yesterday, and I lost it. I drank so much that I don’t know what happened.”
    From the time Darrell was ten, everyone kissed his ass, just because he is a phenom throwing a baseball. I don’t think anyone has ever told him no or denied him anything. So I can see the fear that he is facing at the thought of losing his career. But I’m not buying that he is really invested in making things with us work. Both of us let go of any chance at our marriage surviving a long time ago.

Knocking on my grandmother’s door, it is barely light out, but she’s an early riser. As she answers with alarm written across her face, she asks me, “What’s the matter?”
    “It’s a long story,” I tell her, running my hand up the back of my neck.
    “Come in,” she says, worried, stepping aside for me. “Do you want coffee?” she asks, hugging me as she closes the door behind us.
    “Please.” I follow her to the kitchen, where I lean on the island watching her pour us each a cup.
    “Your cream is in the fridge, dear. Could you grab it please?”
    I hand it to her and she says, “Is it that girl, Abby, we talked about?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What happened?”
    I take the cup of coffee from her, and try to think where to start.
    “Come on, you didn’t come here at 5:40 in the morning to sit in silence.”
    “I saw her last night.”
    “How did that go?”
    “I thought it went well. We talked a little bit and she stayed the night. But when I woke up, I found this.” I hand her the note that Abby wrote to me and watch her expression change as she reads it. She’s feeling my pain just as much as I am.
    “Latch, I’m sorry.”
    “Me too.”
    “Can I be blunt?”
    “Of course,” I tell her, needing that from her. It’s why I am here, after all.
    “What did you think she would be thinking inside? You yourself told me that you feared finding a woman who would accept the work you do.”
    “I don’t know what I was expecting from her, but she didn’t even tell me that this is how she was feeling. I mean, I’d quit my job had I known. That’s how much she means to me.”
    “Would you?”
    “I would,” I respond honestly.
    “Then tell her that.”
    “I tried to call her, but she’s not answering