61
ETHAN
The sensation of being back in a dugout, players squeezing by, patting each other on the ass or fist-bumping as they walk by brings back core memories that leave nothing but a smile on my face and the entirety of my soul full.
I never got the chance to come to spring training, as a player or spectator, so all of this is overwhelming in the best way.
But as I walk toward the head coach of the Seattle Smashers, a step behind Hudson, my throat constricts and it feels more like sandpaper than an esophagus.
He’s known to be a complete hardass. Tough on his players but will fight harder than anyone for each and every one of them.
“Don’t let him intimidate you, he’s a straight shooter but a big softie.” I don’t have time to respond before Hudson is calling for his attention. “Coach Raymer, this is Ethan Russo, the guy I told you about.”
Holy shit, Hudson Byrnes has talked aboutme…to the head Coach of the Smashers.
My blood pressure goes through the roof and I can feel my heart beating behind my eyeballs. How I manage to hold outmy hand and give him a normal shake, as I tell him it’s great to meet him, is beyond me.
“Hudson tells me you’re a baseball encyclopedia?” he asks, I think, but I’m not sure I’m supposed to answer.
“I—I?—”
For being referenced as an encyclopedia I sure have a lack of vocabulary.
“He’s a wealth of knowledge, knows more than anyone I’ve ever met. I think John should give him a run.” Hudson speaks for me.
What’s a run? What the hell does that mean?
“My Head Analyst just told me he’s retiring next year. I’ve had a few people in mind for his replacement but,” he places his hands on his hips like he’s trying to make his point clear, “I took a chance on Hudson here and he says I should take a chance on you.”
My jaw drops as my head swivels toward Hudson. Is he serious? Was that another question or do I just keep my mouth shut. Hudson’s lopsided grin and raised eyebrows as he nods, silently urging me to reply tells me he’s not joking.
Is this really happening? I run my hand over the back of my neck and grip hard. Jesus, this is a dream. This has to be a dream.
“I—” I’m cut off by Coach again but I don’t care, it’s better he talks than me because I have no idea what nonsense will fly out of my mouth.
“If you’re open to it, you’ll shadow him for ninety days. We’ll hire you as our Assistant Analyst this year and if John gives you the green light, you’ll replace him as Head Analyst next year.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, I’m more than up for it,” I reply with more confidence than I feel.
“Great.” He pats me on the shoulder with his left hand and holds out his right for a gentleman’s shake.
I slide my scarred hand into his and he peers down at it, turning our shake to the side as he inspects the top of my hand.
“I read up on you, even saw some old clips of when you played. It’s a shame what happened. You had a bright future.” I give him a tight-lipped smile because he’s right. I did. But something tells me this new one might be even better.
62
DANE
“Hey Dandelion.” My voice is shaky, a mix of restrained tears and nerves bubbling up in my throat.
I crouch down, picking off stray pieces of grass as I wipe my hand over the top of the grey headstone clearing off the excess grime.
It’s been a long time, too long, since I’ve visited. Not because I haven’t wanted to or don’t think about Celeste. Being tied down with a job for an entire school year and the addition of Hannah and Ethan moving in with me, life has been busy. Absolutely amazing, but busier.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” My squat turns into a seat as I plop down in the grass next to the front of her tombstone.
The last time I visited was before the school year started, but after Paris. I was still confused about my feelings on Ethan and Hannah then. I felt more heartbreak than happiness at the time with how they left and, frankly speaking, I never thought I’d see them again.
