“You’re a brave soul,” I said. “Do you see lots of difficult things?”
Macey shrugged like she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it, but I could tell she did. I could tell her eyes lit up as she spoke of that part of her life. “Eagle River isn’t an enormous district, so most of the stuff is pretty mild,” she said. “But occasionally, we get some really good stuff. And if Denver needs more hands, we’ll ride with them. Much more action there, if you ask me, but I still wouldn’t want to be there seeing that every day.”
I pursed my lips and nodded at her, impressed and admiring Macey Britton more with each passing second. She was bright. She was fearless. She was a healer.
“Very few can do what you do,” I said, and Macey flushed crimson again. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks,” she said with a forced smile, and I couldn’t pinpoint her tone of voice. Doubt? Insecurity? All of the above?
“Truly.” I leaned back in the chair and studied Macey, scanning the lines on her face for a story I was desperate to learn. Why did I care so much? I didn’t know. It had been a long time since I’d carried about anything or anyone that wasn’t baseball. “Give yourself some credit, Britton. You are a badass.”
“That’s quite the compliment coming from the self-proclaimed King Badass,” Macey said with a teasing grin that made my fingers tremble with desperation for her. I swallowed the forming lump in my throat and pretended to scoff.
“Baseball is easy,” I said. “Well, maybe not easy, but nothing like going to school full time and working as an EMT, anyway.”
“We do what we must, right?” Macey said, but there was an unmistakable sadness inside her voice when she said this, as if she were genuinely exhausted.
“We should only do what we’re capable of,” I corrected her. “Burnout is a thing. Sometimes people like us merely forget to stop and smell the metaphorical roses. But we should. There is more to life than success. First, there’s happiness. And rest.”
“What is it they say,” mused Macey. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
“Ah,” I said with a knowing nod of my head. “You’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“One of those strive-for-greatness people,” I told her. “Big dreams, big career, big life. You’ll run yourself into the ground before you ever think about slowing down, and by the time you have it, you will have already died for it.”
“Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you’re not like that, too?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing with disbelief. “You’re a college athlete whose livelihood depends on how you act, play, and live. You know the game, Jayce. We both do and know what it takes to survive in this world, toexcel.”
“I guess the difference is I’m not willing to die for baseball.” I leaned back in the chair, my eyes scanning Macey’s face with nothing but genuine curiosity. Everything she said, everything she did, enthralled me. Intrigued me. I actually cared about what she had to say; it looked like she felt the same. “Do you sincerely believe that playing baseball is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life?”
“I have to assume that most college athletes who are on full-ride scholarships enjoy the game enough to stay,” she said with a shrug. “Otherwise, they’d find other ways to pay for school.”
“Baseball is just a perk,” I told her, lacing my hands over my stomach. “I like to play, and I like not having student loan debt. What happens after college is completely up in the air.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s so.”
“If that’s the case, Jayce, what is it you really want to do?” asked Macey, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table between us. “If you could never play baseball again, what would make you equally happy?”
“Math,” I said with a shrug, and Macey’s brow furrowed.
“Math?”
“That’s what I said.”
She nodded, sitting back in her chair and tapping her bottom lip with her index finger. “Math,” she repeated. “Who on earth actuallylikesmath?”
“Well, I do, for one.”
“And you’re, like, good at it?”
I laughed, drawing a frown from Macey. “I’m good enough,” I told her. “You’ve never bothered to ask what I intend to major in.”
“Oh, you mean it’s not baseball?” she teased.
“No, it’s not baseball.”
