Goodbye, Easton.
Goodbye, Paulie.
My throat closes over, and a fierce burn floods my eyes. My gaze catches on the storage room, and I practically dive inside and snap the door shut. My back hits it, and I crumple to the ground, burying my head in my knees.
Fuck.
I drive the heels of my palms into my eyes, like that small act could push back the wave of emotion about to crush me. This is exactly why you don’t get attached. I’ve just been told I’m an amazing ballplayer. Even if there won’t be room for me here, another team will want me. I’ll get my shot at The Show. That’s the dream, and it’s going to happen. But the dream is dulled, because I want to be walking onto the field in that big league stadium with Nebs and Winters by my side.
Now, I won’t even be playing minor league ball with them. I’m heading to Portland, Maine, where the Double-A team is, while they head to Providence, Rhode Island with the Clippers.
A numb resignation seeps through me, and I stare unseeing at my hands. My bracelets waver in and out of focus. I spin the faded blue beaded one. Something in my chest softens. One thing that will always be a constant in my life is Mom.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to her with the news. My phone rings not even thirty seconds later.
“Hey, Mom.” I wince at the roughness of my voice.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
I wrinkle my nose against the sting trying to build again. “It’s fine. Part of the game.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You’re the best player on that team. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother.”
“You are definitely saying that because you’re my mother.”
“Well, yes. But when you play, it’s like art, Shaney. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to see greatness in the making, and I’m one of those lucky ones, because you are greatness, baby.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Can you manage to squeeze in dinner tonight?”
I’m local, and my mom’s house is about thirty minutes from our training center.
“Might be a little late. I have a scrimmage.”
“You know I’d do dinner at midnight if it means I get to see my boy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Perfect. I better get going then. I have a macaroni salad to make.”
I perk up. My mom makes a fucking mean mac salad. “And those Revel Bars?”
“Ask and you shall receive.”
“You’re like my favorite mom ever.”
She snorts on the other side of the line. “All right, see you later, favorite son.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, baby.”
I pop to standing and wipe the drying tears from my cheeks. I blow out a breath and shake out my arms. It sucks, but it’s fine. Just have to keep playing hard. Eventually, I’ll end up where I’m supposed to be.
Easton and Paulie’s faces come rushing forward, and my stomach seizes again.
It’s funny. I’ve always been so nervous about getting close to someone just to have them realize I’m not worth their time. I finally found people who do think I’m worth it, and the world is taking them away from me.
