I don’t answer. “Do you really hate being the golden boy?”
His shoulders tense, and my mind starts playing whatever deflection he is preparing.Last night, I overreacted. I was tired. No need to worry about me. Okay?
Instead, he surprises me. “I really do. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Being on the field made me feel like nothing else in the world. I looked forward to every practice and game, even if it ended in a loss. I was happy.”
Was.
“How long have you been unhappy?”
The veins in his hand pop as he grips the bat. “I don’t know exactly. I woke up one day and didn’t feel like me anymore. Most people don’t even call me Cade now. I’m the golden boy or nothing to them.” He digs his toe into the turf. “But I also don’t know how to move away from it. I don’t know how to—”
“Just be,” I finish for him, repeating my sentiment from the player development meeting.
“Just be.”
“Seeing all those headlines must be tough.” I wince. “Do you regret what you said to Scott?”
There’s a crazed look in his eyes when they meet mine. “Not one bit,” he says, emphasizing each word. “For the first time in years, I didn’t care about the fact that I could end up on the bad side of the media, and I didn’t care about being the golden boy. You were the only thing that mattered. Not my image or baseball.You.”
“Me?” My heart leaps into my throat. I can’t wrap my head around this. “Cade—”
“I know I’m breaking rule number two, but I have to say this.Pleaselet me say this.” His stare is unyielding, and because he let me break rule three after filming, I allow it. “I had you, Shay, and it was easily the best thing to happen to me. I’m sorry for so many things. For not coming home and making you mine. For not talking to you, even though you gave me every opportunity to. For forcing you to be my agent. Workingwith you for the last month has been the lightest I’ve felt in years. Possibly ever. But I was scared to tell you the truth. So I ran.”
Part of me hoped to never learn why he didn’t choose me. But now I can’t help but ask.
“Why were you scared?”
Propping his bat against the gate, he steps closer. “Because it’s a privilege to play baseball and be loved by all. I didn’t want you to see me unhappy about something people would give anything for. That’s not who I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be golden. Not struggling.”
If there weren’t a gate between us, I’m sure I’d break rule number five and touch him, but I can’t, for a multitude of reasons.
I take the next best option and press my hand against the cool gate. The faint clang from my class ring gets his attention. Slowly, he lifts his hand to meet mine. Even with the metal between us, his warmth can be felt. It’s a loophole, but I ignore that.
“All I wanted was for you to be you.”
“I know,” he breathes, mint sharpening my senses. “You saw me for Cade. Not the golden boy or whoever people wanted me to be. And I think I’ve always known that, but at that time, I was too lost to see what was right in front of me.”
The end of us truly was that simple. Each problem was like a raindrop. One on its own wasn’t a big deal, easily brushed away. Something he likely assumed he could push through. But when the storm came day after day, the harmless drops became an overwhelming flood.
And eventually, the dam broke.
“You fought harder than I deserved,” he continues. “I pushed you away until you had no choice but to give up, and that’s never been your fault. But you were never far away.”
Before I can ask for clarification, he pulls something from his pocket with his free hand.
In his palm sit two dice.Mydice.
When my parents divorced, I was hurt. When my dad accepted a job in Philadelphia, I was gutted. The two of us were connected at the hip, and he was moving across the country. Our last night in his apartment was spent eating pizza out of old Frisbees. It was then that he pulled out his lucky dice and placed them in my palm.
“No matter where we go, look at these, and we’ll always be together.”
Cade knew that when I slipped them into his pocket the night he left for California.
“You kept them?”
“Of course I did.” He traces the edges of the smooth plastic. “They go everywhere with me. Every game, meeting, practice, trip. I’m not sure I would’ve survived without them.” Our gazes lock. “Without you.”
The thought of Cade carrying my dice after we split shocks me to my core. He didn’t just keep them.
