Can't Fall in Love Without You (Christian Yelich)

12

Happy Opening Day!

***

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and Ivy over the past month," Christian informed Elizabeth as they sat across from each other eating dinner at his kitchen table. "I don't know how we'd function if we never met you, if you wouldn't have helped me with the car seat." God, he sounded so dependent, but he knew it was the truth. Elizabeth was now a vital part of his and Ivy's lives. It was an unintentional circumstance, but Christian was so relieved it had played out this way. So, so relieved.

Elizabeth absent-mindedly moved her food around her plate, lost in thought, not even realizing Christian was talking to her. "Elizabeth?" Christian questioned her, trying to get her attention again. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him and shook her head to snap herself out of her daze. "Oh, yeah, totally fine. Just had a bad day at work. I'm so sorry. What were you saying?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Christian asked softly. "You can talk to me about things, too, you know? This relationship works both ways."

There was no way Elizabeth was going to burden her friend with her problems. He was already drowning in his own. "Please don't worry about me." She mustered up a smile for him, but Christian didn't buy it.

He wanted her to share things with him. He wanted the friendship to work reciprocally, especially now that he could find his breath on occasion – which was largely because of her.

"I just want you to know that I'm thankful for everything that you've done for me. You're one of the busiest people I've ever met . . . One of the most ambitious . . . But you still took my baby girl for a whole weekend, so I could go on a business trip. You're really incredible. And you need to know that."

Elizabeth chewed on her lip and met his gaze. She was never the best at receiving niceties. "I'm always here to help. You know that."

"You know you need to eat, right? You were on your feet all day, and I know you don't eat much at work. Please eat. You always lecture me about it . . ."

Elizabeth continued to chew her lip. "Do you mind if I reheat this later? My stomach is a little upset . . ." She felt like she was going to vomit, gory, painful memories from earlier that day flashing before her eyes. She got to her feet to run to the bathroom, and Christian was only a step behind her.

She slammed the door – unintentionally in Christian's face, and he listened as she dry heaved into the toilet. He tried to push past the memories of Sloane's morning sickness, his first thought upon hearing his friend vomit, and focus on the ill woman in his bathroom. "Elizabeth, what can I do?" He wanted to burst into the bathroom, but that could upset her. He didn't want that. He never wanted to see Elizabeth angry at him. She kept him glued together.

"I'm okay . . . But I should go get my toothbrush," she said softly.

"I have an extra one you can have. Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah, you can come in," she murmured, her tone slightly above a whisper.

When he entered the room, she was still on her knees hugging the toilet. He advanced to the sink and prepared her new toothbrush for her – gliding the paste on the brush and running it under the cold water. He got on his knees next to her and handed it to her before running a hand soothingly up and down her back.

It took her a moment to start brushing, but, when she did, she got to her feet and stood in front of the sink. "I'll wait for you on the couch, okay?" he told her.

She nodded her head at Christian, and he made his way to his living room, lost in thought about how much he hated seeing his friend hurting. She was usually so calm and put together. It was hard to watch someone so loving and sweet suffer. He didn't know what happened at her job, but he knew it had to have been traumatic for her to show any signs of breaking. Sometimes he forgot that she probably dealt with life and death every single day. He wasn't the only person who endured pain.

When she returned, she very carefully took a seat next to him – unintentionally a little closer than usual. She didn't want to feel alone. Christian's hand instinctively covered hers once she was situated, which was shakily resting on her knee. "I'm sorry," she breathed out. "You don't need this."

"Don't you dare apologize to me for showing emotion. You have made everything better, and I should do the same for you sometimes. If you want to talk about it, I'm all yours. If you don't, I'll just sit here with you . . . Because that helps me. Just existing with you. Maybe it'll help you too."

She looked over at him. "Thank you," she muttered, still shaky, still a little scared.

"In, out. In, out," he repeated the words she shared with him a few months ago. The words that had helped him so much in their shared hallway. God, they shared a lot together.

She took his advice, and he squeezed her hand to help guide her through it. When she was done with her breaths, he let her recover in silence. He knew she'd speak when she was ready.

"TV?" she asked him with a tiny, fractured smile. "The Good Place? That show always makes me feel better."

"Anything you want, Elizabeth," he said, returning her fractured smile with a full one on his end. His large hand moved away from her smaller one to turn on the television and start an episode of the show on Hulu. As soon as he had everything going, he put the remote down and settled his hand on her back.

He soothingly rubbed circles, and the simple action made her feel like she was going to be okay. She would be. She knew that. Her pain wasn't as permanent as his. She was the lucky one.

By the time episode two began, she was feeling much better, and also surprised that Christian's hand was still on her back. She didn't say anything. The human contact was safe and warm.

She was disrupted from her thoughts by an obnoxiously loud sports advertisement that divided the episode. "Join the MLB Network for an emotional exclusive interview with the two-time National League MVP Christian Yelich, as he discusses the tragic loss of his wife, Sloane, for the first time on television. It's a can't miss." She knew that face. It was his face. She knew that story. It was his story.

"Fuck," Christian muttered. "Fuck!" He had tried to flip the television off before she saw anything, but he wasn't fast enough. He could hit a 100+ mph fastball, but God forbid he press a button quick enough under pressure.

"Christian Yelich," she said under her breath. She was unsure what to feel. She wasn't sure if she should cry. If she should congratulate him on his accomplishments. If she should hold his hand because the preview commercial was in bad taste. She had no idea what to do, how to react.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry," he started, his voice pained and frightened, but Elizabeth didn't want him to finish that train of thought.

"Don't worry about it," she whispered. "It hurts a little . . . To feel not trusted. But I get it, Christian. I'd want to be anonymous with someone too. I would have done the same thing you did with me."

"Are we okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"We're perfectly okay," she said with a slight nod. She knew her eyes were tearing up a little, but she wasn't going to let the tears flow freely. She was stronger than that.

"I can't lose you," he muttered. "I just can't."

"You won't." And he wouldn't. She wasn't going anywhere. "I could never abandon Ivy," she continued, this time giving him a little bit of a smile.

He chuckled, his hand moving to hers again. "Still friends?"

"Still friends," she confirmed.

He squeezed her hand one last time before the show restarted.

He knew how lucky he was that she stayed. He knew how lucky he was to have a friend like her.