“I do trust you.” It’s a lie, but keeping the two of us on an even keel for tonight’s game is more important than how I feel right now.
“Then stop calling pitches you know I’m not throwing.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw as I try not to lose it. “I just want to set you up.”
“Well, don’t. I’ll be focusing on what I think is best. After all, it’s pitchers that win championships. That’s where this team should be headed this season. Only I can ensure our victory.”
The silence stretches between us because I honestly don’t know what else to say to this jerk. I’ve never been so disrespected in all my years of baseball. My fingers twitch as I use every mental technique I’ve learned over the years to stay put.
A car door slams down the row, and Tenny lets out his traditional pre-game whoop. “Are we ready for a great day of baseball?”
Aaron swings his duffel onto his shoulder, his gaze locked on me. “I am.”
I don’t budge as he moves toward the stadium, Tenny slapping his back on the way.
“T-man, you coming?”
“Be there in a sec.” I lift my phone out of my pocket. “I need to make a quick call.”
Pressing it against my ear, I listen to the ambient sounds of the ballpark prepping for this evening’s game. I’m on my fourth box-breath when my phone pings against my head.
Kenzie
You did great tonight! I’m so proud of you!
A laugh rumbles up my chest. Kenzie’s unexpected text is like a beam of sunshine piercing through the maelstrom of emotions still threatening to poison my game.
I push the call button as a wild smile overtakes my face.
“What?” she answers, startled. “Um, hi. I thought you’d already given up access to your phone.”
“No, not until four.”
“Oh.” It sounds like she’s outside, probablyweeding.
I imagine Kenzie with her hair tied back, dirt under her nails, picking pesky nutrient hogs from her garden beds. Since her parents are organic farmers, Kenzie doesn’t use any weed killer. She likes to use a spray bottle of dish soap to keep pests away but has to remove weeds by hand.
“I appreciate your message, but what if I hadn’t had a good game?”
Kenzie makes a littlepsshsound over the phone. “Trevor, it’s you. You always have a good game.”
The burst of gratitude is so overwhelming that I almost stagger back a step. My palm presses over my breastbone as Kenzie’s words ground me. I hadn’t known how much I needed someone in my corner, someone who truly believed in me. Reason dictates that I should be able to look at my player stats, at the career I’ve built, and know my worth, but even with doing the mental work over the years, that little boy who was never enough will always be a part of me.
Kenzie bursts into a boisterous laugh before I can tell her how much her unwavering faith means to me.
“What is it?” I ask, the remnants of frustration and anxiety sliding away like soap bubbles down the drain.
“I just realized that we both prefer to have our knees in the dirt.”
My chuckle feels light, effortless. Everything with Kenzie has always been effortless.
She tuts. “You were all worried last night, but we’re more alike than you think.”
“I was,” I admit, my tone deepening. “I’m not anymore.”
It seems foolish to worry when the undeniable truth is that Kenzie is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Like she said last night, she’s capable of making her own choices. If I happen to be one of them, I should spend my energy counting my lucky stars and showing Kenzie how much she means to me instead of fearing some negative future that may never come.
Kai hops down from his lifted truck, raising his eyebrows at me.
