31. Tessa
31
Tessa
S hep was gone this morning before I came out of my room and I didn’t have a chance to wish him good luck. I’m not ready to move out and give him back his space, but it’s the best choice for both of us. Hell, our friendship might be better off if we aren’t constantly in each other’s business all the time. But with his feelings for me and my feelings for Beau, it’s time. It’s been almost six months since I moved here, more than enough time to get back on my feet.
Peyton listens while munching on popcorn from the concession stand. “I have some money saved, it’s long overdue.”
“Yeah, but are you sure? Other than this one small hiccough, y'all living together has been great, right?”
“Yeah. We’re closer than ever.” I lower my voice. “Even with sleeping together.”
I sneak a glance over at Ella, but Peyton’s mom is pretending not to notice our conversation.
“Then I don’t see why you have to move out.”
“Because,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “It’s not right for me to stay there when Shep has feelings for me. That’s just torture.”
“I think he’s had feelings for you for a while, Tessa,” Ella says from her seat beside her daughter. She’s not looking at me, but shielding her eyes from the sun and squinting out over the field. “I doubt they’ll go away just because you move out.”
I sigh dramatically. “Why do I get the feeling you two want me to stay?”
“Because we do,” Peyton says simply.
I turn to glare at her. “Whose side are you?”
“Yours. Isn’t that obvious?” Ella replies.
What is it with this family and being so honest all the time? Can’t any of them tell one measly, little white lie? At least I know now where they all get it from.
Sometimes I feel closer to Ella than my own mother. It’s apparent that she cares deeply for each of her children and she’s always treated me as if I were one of her own. Whenever it felt like my parents were more concerned with the store than they were for me, I would head straight to her house. A sense of belonging was easier to come by there.
“You know, either of you could have told Beau that I was living with him.” They exchange a glance and so much is said in that single look. “What?”
“We could have, but it really wasn’t our place, honey,” Ella says.
Peyton mumbles under her breath, “Besides, what if we were secretly rooting for you and Shep?” My head whips in their direction and both look back at me with big, blue eyes and the same innocent expression. I’m too shocked to speak and Peyton rolls her eyes. “Listen, it was awful when you left. I felt bad for Beau, really, we all did. But it makes sense, you living with Shep.”
“How does that make sense?” I ask, even though I think I know where this is going.
“You don’t have to be with Beau to be in our family.” She raises her eyebrows at me like this should have occurred to me already.
“Tessa, we don’t mean to be callous, but Peyton’s right,” Ella tells me resignedly. “I want both my boys to be happy and I know it might take time to get over your feelings for Beau, but Shep may have been the better choice for you all along. You two have much more in common. Maybe it was our fault from the beginning for pairing you and Beau up.”
My mouth refuses to form words. Besides the fact that it’s weird to be talking about this with my ex-boyfriend’s mother, it feels even worse that no one’s taking Beau's side. I know how badly I treated him and they’re not holding me accountable for anything. They’re glossing over it and acting like what we had was just a pit stop on the way to me falling for Shep. As if Beau was a speed bump I couldn’t avoid.
“I mean, you are hell-bent on not staying in Pelahatchie and so is he. He likes you, you like him. I’m just saying, maybe see where it goes,” Peyton says, but all I feel is sick to my stomach.
They go back to sharing popcorn like they haven’t just rocked my world and I glance around the stadium trying to get my bearings.
Something’s wrong. The Tornadoes are all out on the grass for their pre-game warmup. Some of the players are tossing the ball back and forth, a few are stretching or chatting, but I don’t see Shep anywhere.
“I’m gonna get some air.” I rise from my seat and walk down the stairs, not bothering to wait for an answer.
The game is supposed to start in thirty minutes and he’s nowhere to be seen. I texted him earlier to say good luck and got no response. I didn’t think anything of it, but this feels weird. It’s his debut game with the Tornadoes and I can’t believe he’d miss even a second.
There are cameras everywhere. Everyone wants to get a good look at the team’s new pitcher during the season opener. The fans are excited and there’s an air of optimism running through the crowd. You can feel it. Combine that with the effect of a night game and it’s like there’s an electric charge in the stadium. I feel that electricity for an entirely different reason, wondering where the hell Number 26 is. I shoot off another text to him, not even bothering to hide the worry in my tone. When he doesn’t respond in a few minutes, my feet are up and moving before I have time to think too hard about what I’m doing. All I know is I have to see for myself that he’s okay.
I push past people waiting in line for hotdogs and nachos at the concession stands, trying to find the team entrance to the locker rooms. Now that I’m up, the idiocy of my plan, or lack of one, sets in. How the hell am I going to get to Shep? What if he’s not even in the locker room? What if there is security? Of course there will be security, Tessa! It’s a major league baseball stadium, not a game of catch in the backyard.
There’s a door marked Employees Only and I’m about as close to the home team’s dugout as I can get, so this has to be my best shot. I slip inside and walk down a concrete block hallway. It’s dim, the only light coming from the overhead lights running along the ceiling every ten feet or so. I’m getting dangerously close to losing my nerve, but I run a little faster, checking every door I pass. I should have stolen a press pass or something, but I see a plaque on a door to my left that says Player Facilities. Getting warmer.
I look around before pulling it open as quietly as I can. I slip inside and shut the door with a soft click. I’ve hit the jackpot because the door to the locker rooms is right down the hall. I aim for the bright white letters and walk right into the arms of a security guard. Where the heck did this guy come from? The door is right there, if I could just get around him.
“Can I help you?” the security guard asks in an annoyed tone, crossing his burly arms over his chest.
“Uh, yeah. I was just looking for The Tornadoes locker room. But you know what? There it is!” I point behind him with a smile. “I’ll just get out of your hair.” I move to go around him and he stops me by stepping in front of me.
“No can do. Press isn’t even allowed down here. You have a pass or something?” He looks me over skeptically and raises his eyebrows.
“That would make this easier, but no. I was actually looking for Number 26, Shepherd McAbee?”
“Miss, you can’t be down here. I’ll have to escort you back to your seat.” He moves forward and takes my elbow, but I try to jerk my arm out of his grasp.
“Wait, wait, wait. I was hoping to surprise him.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, hoping he’ll take the hint. The security guard just sighs and mutters something that sounds like “damn crazy fans.” He pulls me a few feet down the hallway, but I’m not about to let all my hard work getting here go to waste. “Sir, seriously. Can you just let me through? I’m his girlfriend. I was just trying to surprise him!” I sound like a lunatic, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.
The security guard, whose name tag says Ronnie, huffs a laugh but doesn’t release his iron grip on my elbow. “Look lady, I don’t care what story you cook up. You can’t be down here.”
I take a chance, shouting for Shep in the direction of the locker room. Ronnie grunts as I try to break out of his hold until he’s forced to grab me around the waist. No sound comes from behind the door and my heart plummets, knowing I’ve made a fool of myself for nothing. I shout Shep’s name a few more times in vain and kick my legs when Ronnie lifts me bodily off the ground. My arms are pinned to my sides, completely ineffectual, as he hauls me kicking and screaming down the hallway.
All the sudden, Shep’s blonde head pops out of the doorway, his eyes locking on the altercation. When he sees the scene I’m making, he yells my name and leaps out into the hall.
“Hey man, put her down!”
“McAbee, you know this woman?” The hold on my arms loosens slightly, but Ronnie doesn’t let go.
“Yes, I know her. Now take your hands off her.” His tone is ominous and Ronnie obeys quickly, setting me back on my feet.
“Just doing my job, sir. She can’t be in the player facilities, girlfriend or not.”
“I got it, just let me talk to her for a second and then I’ll make sure she leaves.” The security guard gives us a skeptical look. “I promise I’ll walk her out myself,” Shep says roughly. Ronnie grumbles but nods and walks off down the hall. Shep watches him turn the corner then grabs my hand, pulling me into the locker room behind him.
When he shuts the door, he locks it and puts his head in his hands. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he says to me.
“Yeah, Ronnie made that pretty clear.” I linger by the door, looking at the ground and feeling pretty stupid for forcing my way in now that I’m facing Shep.
“Why are you here, Tessa?” He lifts his head and the strain around his eyes is an immediate red flag.
“Why aren’t you out on the field?” I push off the door and come closer, noting his paleness. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” he says shortly.
“Shep, you’re shaking.” I touch his shoulder and I can feel him still, trying to hide the shivers running down his body. “What is it?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see you out there and I felt like something was wrong. Clearly it is.” I level a pointed gaze at him.
“I said I’m fine. Go back out there, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. You look like a mess, just let me help.”
He whirls on me and shouts, “I am a mess, ok? I’m a fucking mess! I can’t play like this. I can’t even leave the locker room.”
Shep jerks his hands through his hair. He’s breathing too fast. I can see his chest heaving, but he’s barely letting a breath out. For someone always in control, watching him spin out is starting to scare me. I don’t know what he needs, but I need to stop the spiral or I’m going to lose it too.
On instinct, I step in front of him, halting his pacing. “Shep, look at me.” It’s a few seconds before he reluctantly does. I reach up and gently pull his hands from where they have a vice grip on the back of his neck. “Look at me and talk. Tell me what’s wrong.” He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. I lead him over to a bench and push at his shoulder until he straddles the wood. “Close your eyes and focus on breathing in and out.” I hold his hands between us, hoping it helps to ground him.
“Tessa, I can’t…” he chokes out and the sound of my name said that way shatters something. I hate feeling helpless, but I hate even more that I can’t help him.
“It’s okay, I’m here. Keep breathing.” I run my hands up and down his arms, stroking from shoulder to elbow. I’m trying to infuse him with as much serenity as I can, but I don’t feel very calm right now. Some of his shaking subsides. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
He takes a shallow breath. “I’m…uh…lightheaded.”
“Deep breaths. What else?”
“My chest feels tight.” I smooth my hands from his shoulders to his pecs.
“Here?” I ask and he nods, eyes still closed. The muscles under my hands are firm and defined and my fingers want to explore, but I reign in the urge. He relaxes under my hands and I feel his chest expand with a big, deep breath. Some color comes back into his cheeks and he puts one of his hands over one of mine, holding me there.
“Do you have a lot of panic attacks?” I ask gently.
His eyes open slowly and he looks me full in the face for a few seconds before dropping his head and nodding. “Yeah.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
He clears his throat. “It used to be just nerves and I could shake them off easily. But last season, they started getting worse. I couldn’t breathe before a big game, everything would feel tingly, then numb. But I’d play through it.”
“You mean hide it.” He nods. “And tonight was different?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t get my shit together all day. Not until now.” He reaches up and skates his thumb across my cheek and I let him. “It’s such a big game,” he says. “The season opener. What if I fail?”
“Fail who? The fans?”
“The fans, the team, the organization. I can’t let them all down.” He hangs his head.
My heart breaks open a little wider, but he looks like he’s already broken. He’s been carrying all this stress alone. Worrying for months, maybe years, that he’s going to let everyone down. Not live up to the shot he’s been given. How terrified has he been all this time having to shoulder that by himself? Not being able to tell anyone about the anxiety that’s crippling him. And I’m no better. On top of everything he’s carrying, he couldn’t talk to me about this last night because we were at each other’s throats. Guilt surges as I remember all the things we said in the bathroom. I can’t believe he’s kept it hidden for so long. But I know a thing or two about not living up to expectations.
“Shep, you’ve never let anyone down before.” I scoot closer to him on the bench. “You’re a great pitcher. You wouldn’t have been drafted if you weren’t. The Tornadoes wanted you. You’re going to go out there tonight and play a great game, just like every other time you’ve gotten on the field.”
“You make it sound so easy.” We’re so close that I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest. “What if I can’t get out of my own head?” He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, letting out a ragged sigh.
I stroke his hair and pull him in for a hug because there’s nothing else I can offer. I didn’t realize how much I’d been longing for his forgiveness until he hugs me back. It feels good to be the person he needs.
“Please don’t move out,” he whispers against my shoulder.
“Shep,” I draw out his name. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to stay.”
He pulls back to look me in the eye. “I promise I’ll go out there if you promise to stay.”
“Don’t you think that would be too hard?”
“It would be harder to lose my best friend.”
“Rip my heart out, why don’t you?” I tease. “Come on.” I pull him up off the bench with me and smile. “You’ve got a game to pitch.”
He scoffs. “Screw it.”
“Tell you what.” I pause. “ Win the game and I’ll stay.”
“Yeah?” He asks like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“Yeah.” I nod. “You’re going to be great, I know it. I’m just giving you a little incentive.”
Desire and determination are plain on his devastatingly handsome face and for just a second, I can see it. What we could be if Beau hadn’t shown up yesterday. If Shep had told him like he was supposed to, maybe we could be kissing it all better. We could take it slow and become exactly what Peyton and Ella want. We could do this for real, I think.
But that’s not how it happened.
His eyes are clear now. “How could I not win with my good luck charm out there?” We both know it’s a thank you and it’s for more than just agreeing to keep living with him. I nod and he takes my hand, leading me out of the locker room and back up to the stadium. We part ways at the tunnel that will take him to the field. Too soon he’s pulling away and jogging out onto the grass. I smile as I watch Number 26 go, knowing the Tornadoes will win tonight’s game.
He’s good. He’s really good. I haven’t seen him play since Beau and I’s visit and I forgot how he moves. He’s all grace and calm athleticism, reading the field like he was born to do it. I remember loving to watch him play, falling in love with baseball because of his talent.
He glances up every now and then like he’s checking to make sure I’m still in my seat. The barest tilt of his lips could be taken for so many other things, but I know him. A warm, comforting feeling floods my body at the thought that he wants me to stay with him. And it feels so good to be warm after all of yesterday’s emotions. His secret smile feels like the sun on my face after a month of rain. It feels good to be needed. I settle back into my seat.
In the time that we’ve lived together, we’ve become such good friends. My best friend, he’d said . But I’ve never once suspected that he had a problem with anxiety. He hides everything so well. I can’t imagine the immense amount of pressure he’s under to perform and I know it’s only going to get worse the longer the season goes on. I just wish he’d have let me in sooner.
They’ve made a big deal of him tonight, flashing his picture and number on the screens. The commentators have been giving out little bits of info about his life, where he went to school, what his draft number was. The Tornadoes are proud to have him as their new pitcher and they’re trying to get the fans just as invested. I get it, I know it’s part of the theatrics of the game, but it has to be hard for him with all that attention directed his way.
There’s no trace of the panic I witnessed earlier, thank God. He’s fighting hard to win this game and the conflict makes my heart ache for him. Having his dream realized means he also has to have the spotlight on him twenty-four seven. He was there for me when no one else was and I mean to repay that kindness. I’m going to find a way to help him and maybe help myself in the process.
Five innings pass and we’re at the top of the ninth. The crowd’s getting antsy. Shep’s team has a one-point lead and they’ve been going head-to-head each inning, chasing that point. My toes haven’t stopped bouncing. My fingers are on my lips as I pant. The crowd has been high energy all night, but right now, all the Tornadoes’ fans, including Peyton and Ella, are holding their breath.
The Lions have one more batter and the bases are loaded. Shep’s alone on the mound, staring down Craig Drummond. I sit forward, elbows on my knees, and wait with the rest of the stadium. Shep gets into position and throws his last pitch. He’s struck Drummond out twice and he’s hoping for a third time.
There’s a loud crack as the ball connects perfectly with Drummond’s bat and flies into the air. The runners take off like they’ve been shot out of a cannon and two Lions pass home plate before the Tornadoes can get the ball back. It’s not much, but the Tornadoes will have to play hard to earn that point.