I stop before another fan and put my hand out for whatever it is they want me to sign—ball, hat, what have you.
Except nothing comes.
I look up?—
And my world slams to a stop.
My pulse lurches.
The calls and shouts from the fans vanish as I’m swallowed by roaring silence.
All I can register is a set of familiar hazel eyes.
The kid laughs uneasily. “Shane Michaels?”
I don’t respond. I can’t. He looks just like him. Hewould, wouldn’t he? Not only was I denied his presence, I got none of his looks either.
“I take it this means you know who I am?” he says hesitantly.
I’m frozen. Everything in my body has stopped working. My chest burns. And just like that, it all comes rushing back. Catch in the dirt drive outside our house. Piggyback rides to the empty field down the lane. The first time I hit a ball without a tee. It’s fuzzy and distant, but it’s still there.
Something nudges my shoulder. I turn and blink slowly up at a pair of scrutinizing dark eyes shadowed by a brow that’s scowling more severely than usual.
“Hurry it up, Michaels. The skipper said he wanted to see us in his office after the game.”
“Ah… Right. Skipper. Sure.”
I move away toward the clubhouse in a daze?—
“Wait! Shane!”
I halt, but don’t turn around.
“Could we talk?”
My fists ball, and it’s a struggle to draw in air. Jed’s stare burns into my skin, but I can’t move or speak.
“Please. Even just a minute of your time.”
“Meet me by the player’s exit,” I say to the ground. Then I walk numbly toward the clubhouse.
As soon as we’re inside and safe from view, I’m spun and pushed into the wall. Jed’s stare scours my face. “What was that, Sun—” His whisper cuts off, and he curses. “What was that, Michaels?”
I try to push by him, but he presses me back. “You said the skipper…”
“I fucking made it up to get you away from that guy.” His body ripples with tension, and my gaze catches on hishand at his side. It flexes. Twitches toward me. Retreats. “Shane.”
My attention snaps to him.
“Who the hell was that?”
I swallow hard. “That was my half-brother.”
Jed and Idon’t exchange any other words. He seems to understand I’m locked inside my head right now. It’s an escape room challenge, and I’m failing.
I skip my cool-down, which probably isn’t smart, and take the quickest shower known to man. My anxiety is eating me from the inside out, and I need to know what the hell he’s doing here.Could we talk?I have zero ideas on what he could possibly want to talk to me about.
God, seeing him? It was like being knocked flat out. Before my mind put all his features together, before I recognized the telltale signs of youth, all I saw was my father. It was like setting eyes on an apparition.
