“You could never go back to work again and I wouldn’t care, Teagan. Take however long you need.”
“I enjoy working, especially with gymnastics, but thank you,” I tell him, grateful that he’s on board with the decision.
“While we’re on the topic, can I run something by you?” he asks, his tone slightly nervous, and he wrings his hands together on the table.
“Go for it,” I encourage him, curious as to what has him like this.
“I was in an accident six months before the season started.” He pauses, likely because he can see the look of shock on my face, then says, “I’m okay. It wasn’t serious. But my shoulder just hasn’t been the same since. I was cleared to play and I’m doing great, but afterward, I find recovery is taking longer than it used to. It’s probably a combination of the accident and the overuse of my shoulder as a pitcher over the years. So I’ve been thinking of maybe retiring when this season ends.”
Whoa.
I take a moment to process everything he’s told me, then say, “Thank you for sharing that with me. If that’s something you need to do for yourself, I support it fully. No judgment here.”
“I appreciate that. Can I ask you about your ret—”
He doesn’t get to finish his question because of a knock on the door, and thank goodness for that. Because I don’t want to have that conversation right now.
Quentin leaves to see who it is, and moments later, he walks into the kitchen with Ian.
My eyes nearly fall out of my head at the sight because what the hell is my brother doing here randomly? And why are he and Quentin smiling and talking like everything’s fine?
“Uhm, what is going on here?” I ask, sounding dumbfounded, because I am.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Quentin says and backs away from the kitchen, leaving just Ian and me.
“Hey, Teagan,” Ian is the first to speak, his tone quiet and unsure.
“Hi,” I respond, on edge because what the hell is going on right now?
“I’m sorry for coming over unannounced, but I needed to talk to you,” he says as he walks toward me, taking the seat that Quentin was just in.
“Ian, is everything okay?” I ask, rubbing a hand up and down my neck to alleviate the tension that’s growing there.
“Mom called me last night,” he says, making me pause my movement, my breath halted for a beat.
I haven’t heard from her in…God, was it over a year now? So hearing that she contacted my brother makes me anxious to know if I’m next. Where I used to perk up every time she would call, now I find myself not wanting to speak to her.
“What did she say?”
“She wanted to know my odds of making it to the World Series,” he tells me as he clears his throat with sadness in his eyes.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Ian,” I say, wishing I could’ve been there for him last night. I know exactly how it feels to be on the receiving endof those calls. Each one is another reminder that we’re only worthy when we’re at the highest points in our lives.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his tone soft. “I just wish you had been here. I usually brush it off, but for some reason, something about what she said set me off like never before. So much so, I got drunk last night.”
My mouth pops in shock. “Wait, what?”
“I know. I never do during the season, but I just neededsomething.I was going to call you, but it was so fresh and I didn’t want to talk,” he replies, pausing for a beat, then says, “Despite how much it sucked, it made me realize one thing. I’m tired of holding on to the hope that she might start caring about us and act like a mother. I’m done with being her shiny toy she likes to be proud of when it serves her.”
His words hit me like a brick wall and the clarity they bring me instantly. He’s right, so goddamn right. Why are we basing our hopes and dreams on a woman who doesn’t think twice about us orourhopes and dreams?
“I’m proud of you, Ian. I imagine it was painful to come to that realization, but I think it’s for the best, for both of us going forward,” I admit.
“Thanks, Jen. You are your own person. Do what you want whenever she decides to touch base with you. Just know that you have my support. Always.”
“And you’ll always have mine.”
Ian clears his throat, and this time when he speaks, he sounds remorseful.
