“Overall, I went three for four with four RBIs. I found my swing. I’m timing the pitches well and I spent all summer working on avoiding the rise. You know how much I like to chase the high ones.”
He chuckled softly, the sound paining me as much as it brought me joy. I scrunched my eyes shut, unable to accept the harsh reality of my dad’s diagnosis. It had been almost ten months since doctors had told him he had an advanced form of cancer. Ten months of miserable chemo, ten months of hushed voices and ten months of endless tears from my mom, sister and me. He coughed again, his voice softening. “I remember you struggling with the rise ball in junior high. Do you remember all of us going to the park and throwing beer caps at you?”
The memory flashed in my mind. I smiled—the family outings we’d always had were so much fun. “I remember Kenzie liked to pick up dog poop and throw it at me.”
“Good lord, your sister could be a handful.” He laughed again. “She still is, honestly.”
“Yeah? How’s the end of her last summer?” I made a mental note to call my sister. It had been a couple of weeks and while we hadn’t always been close, our dad’s diagnosis had brought us together. Kenzie had dived into job after job, never stopping because the pain hurt too much. I’d retreated into myself after the diagnosis, but I’d recently felt like my old self and although I would never return to partying my issues away, I could stand being around people again.
“Kenzie is working at the burger place every night, so your mom and I visit her. I love those damn milkshakes.”
“Yeah. They have the best.” I checked my calendar and planned a trip home. I had to live on campus year-round—baseball never really stopped. I preferred it that way, but not seeing my parents as often as I’d like sucked. “Tell Mom I love her. I just got a text from my coach.”
“Will do. Love you, son.”
“You too, Pops.” He hung up and I stared at the calendar for a full minute, trying not to do a countdown.Live every day like it’s the last.
Bullshit.
I shook my melancholy mood away and reread my coach’s text.
I need to speak to you today. Stop in.
Last year, I would’ve imagined worst-case scenarios and freaked the hell out. Now, I had more control of my emotions. We had the weekend off from summer ball after the last tournament and I planned on annoying Greta. I could stop by Coach’s office on the way to the bar she worked at. They had cheap beer and good food for a college bar. No one bothered me there, and I preferred the solitude.
A half hour later, I knocked on my coach’s door. He didn’t smile or greet me. He motioned for me to sit in the red leather chair in the middle of the room. I sat, waiting to hear what he wanted to say. He twisted the end of his mustache, not saying a word. My nerves kicked in. Was it my scholarship? He knew my family couldn’t afford it with everything going toward medical expenses.Fuck.
“Aaron,” he began. I panicked. He hadn’t called me Aaron in a year. It was always Hill or Hilly. I gripped the chair. “I don’t know how to tell you this, son.”
I waited.
I waited and prayed.
I held my breath when he sighed, his bushy obscure brows coming together. “Some girl created a fake Instagram account about athletes on campus and how they can do whatever they want. It started as an opinion piece for some righteous church group. You follow me?”
I didn’t. Not at all, but I nodded, holding on to every word he said. He swirled his computer around to show me something. “The most recent one focused on you, Aaron. She gained enough followers the past year that, apparently, she reached out and people sent her pictures of you.”
“Pictures?” I blinked. “Of me?”
“Yes. Look, it’s better if I show you.” He clicked the mouse and images of me popped up on screen. Keg stands, beer bongs, naked girls, naked girls on me, body shots, me skinny dipping, me standing next to a bong, a girl kneeling between some guy’s legs that were supposed to be mine. “This isn’t good, Aaron,” he continued, but I wasn’t capable of listening.
My future.
My everything.
I saw stars, the pictures swirling around in my head, each one worse than the others. I gripped the edge of the chair, the ringing in my ears growing louder and louder.What if I lose everything?
My stomach heaved, my instincts kicking in as I dove for the trash can. The small breakfast I’d had came up and I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth. “Would you like some water?”
“No. Tell me what this means.” A pit formed in my gut. The anxiety, the desperation to do something crazy crept up my chest. It caused me to drink. To party. To sleep with anyone. I’d learned to tame it last year, but this…this triggered it.Fuck. Fuck.
“I’m not exactly sure. I’m meeting with the athletic director and chancellor soon.” He turned the screen around, taking it out of view. “Two things before you freak out. None of these are time-stamped. You’re twenty-one now. Technically, none of it is illegal. And the second thing, the last picture.”
“That’s not me.”
He narrowed his eyes, his cheek twitching. “I know you don’t believe me. I was a party animal my freshman year. Last year, I was in the beginning. But one thing I am always aware of is phones when I’m fooling around. That is not me.”
“Do you have a birthmark or anything to prove it?”
