It’s not guilt.
It’ssave me.
“I had a terrible game, Scot, and I got mad, and Agent’s really worried I just screwed up the whole Tide deal. I threw a bat! I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together, but a whole section of fans booed when I hit that pop fly, and I just … I couldn’t take it.”
“Youhaveto take it. That’s what you’re paid for! You promised you’d get help to control this!”
“I know, but every time I tried to work up the nerve to make an appointment with a therapist, I could hear my dad laughing at me. Mocking me for being so weak,” he says, his chin quivering. “I couldn’t do it.”
“What happened?” I ask, trying not to sob, although my chest is heaving.
“Agent grabbed me before I even made it down the tunnel,” Jake says, his brow threaded tight. “He told me this isn’t working. That everyone still sees me as a liability. That if I keep losing it on the field, I’m done.”
I close my eyes.
“I told him I was trying. I told him I’d handle it. But he said I had to change the conversation. That if they’re going to talk about me, it needs to be about something softer. Something redeemable.”
“Jake—”
“I pushed back,” he insists quickly. “Twice. I told him we had a plan. But then he said …” His voice cracks. “He said he was worried about me. That he’s proud of how hard I’ve been working. That I deserve to have the world see me the way the people who care about me see me. And I … I panicked.”
I listen as the last piece falls into place.
His agent gave him a script.
He didn’t want to follow it.
But when he stood in front of the cameras, when a reporter who always gets under his skin pressed him, he folded.
He hinted that he might propose to me.
The truth arrives with such painful slowness, I feel like I’m being dipped in hot water, not realizing until too late that it’s boiling.
“I’m done,” I say, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel.
“No! I need you!”
“You’re never going to let me go.” No tears fall—this betrayal is too intense for tears. “I’m out. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep giving up my life to help you live yours.”
He looks like he’s about to fall to his knees and beg, but when he reaches out to grab my hands, I take a step back. Anyone who wants to can see us, but I don’t care. I can’t care about anything anymore.
I take another backward step. “I’m done.”
“Scot, please,” he pleads in a low voice, looking at the fans like he’s worried I’m going to make a scene. I don’t know if I am or not. I can’t think. Can barely breathe.
I keep walking backward, away from the fans toward the parking lot. “It’s not five days anymore, Jake. It’s tomorrow. If you don’t do it, I will.”
“Scot!”
“Don’t follow me, Jake.”
I stride through the lot, fumbling in my bag for my keys, when I remember I didn’t drive.
But I can’t turn back now. I keep walking away from him through the empty parking lot away from the van that will take the team to the hotel, but I don’t care. I can’t go back there.
After a dozen more yards, I look around.
I’m standing in the middle of the lot with nowhere to go when headlights sweep across me.
