“Yes. She will.”
His mom is so protective. I think it’s the reason he was so scared of everything when he was younger. She never wanted anything bad to happen to him so she kept him in a bubble. Even though she was excessive, I found myself jealous of how much she cared about him. I wish my mom was like that.
“Why aren’t you allowed to play?”
“Because I got hurt last year, and she’s afraid I’ll hurt myself again.”
I remember seeing his arm in a sling, and I hated it. I hated how unhappy he looked around the other players. “Is your arm healed?”
“Yeah. My doctor cleared me, but it didn’t matter.”
“So you just signed her name instead?”
He shrugs. “I have to play.”
“Because of your dad,” I say, understanding him immediately. I know what fuels his love for baseball. It isn’t an unfounded obsession. It’s his only connection to his dad, and I know it isn’t something he’s talked to other people about.
He nods, whispering, “Yeah.”
“Did you tell her why you wanted to play?”
“No. I don’t think it would make a difference. Besides, how am I supposed to tell her how much I miss him when she’s so happy?”
I still can’t wrap my head around his mom getting remarried. I remember being worried about Myles when it happened, but I kept my distance.
She seems happy now, but I know she wants him to be happy too. His mom might be overbearing at times, but Iknow if he opened up to her, she’d understand. Deep down she just wants what’s best for him.
“He’s your dad. You’re allowed to miss him.”
“I mean, we have a nice house, and I’m going to a private school. I should be grateful, not complaining about what I don’t have.”
“You said it hurt when I pushed you away. Isn’t that what you’re doing to her right now? She loves you, and maybe telling her the truth will bring you closer.”
I can’t tell if he agrees or not because he takes another bite of his food. He chews, leaving a gap in our conversation.
Then he says, “If you could go back and change things, would you have talked to me?”
I think about everything he’s told me today. How much I misunderstood about the situation. How much hurt I caused him because I thought I was making the right decision when I wasn’t. I did something truly awful and he was willing to forgive me.
I let myself picture my high school years with Myles by my side, and my eyes water at what I threw away.
“I would’ve,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I’ve already lied to her so much.”
“The longer you lie, the worse it’ll be when she finds out.”
He looks at me with a timid smile. “Since when do you give advice like this?”
I laugh. “What did you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. I feel like the old you would’ve helped me come up with a plan to finish out the season instead of talking to her.”
He’s probably right. But after having my own mother treat me so badly, his relationship with his mom seems soprecious now. Her love shouldn’t be taken for granted. “I grew up.”
“I guess so,” he says. He smiles again, and I find it impossible to look away.
Is it wrong that I like this? The way it feels to talk to him like old times, before we had secrets?
