Chapter 3
Dylan
The commentators’ voices were the only sounds in the room. I stared at the TV above the fireplace until the letters blurred together on the screen.
It felt as though the air had been punched out of me. I’d spent years picturing the day I’d get a phone call from a team, my family would cheer, and my name would be announced on ESPN. Instead, I had nothing but a pit of disappointment settling deep in my gut.
Jase didn’t look like he was doing much better. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he rubbed his temples. We were best friends, as close as actual brothers, but we handled our stress differently. Jase withdrew and didn’t say much, while I tended to lash out.
Eventually, the quiet got to me, and I blurted, “That’s it? What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
Logically, I knew what our options were.
We could try to find teams willing to sign us, or we could go back to school.
But what leverage did we have in negotiations if no one had wanted us in the first place?
And going back to school to face the pitying looks from our coaches and teammates, especially from the couple of players who had been picked up, didn’t sound any better.
Chase let out a breath. “You don’t have to decide anything right this second. Take tonight to process, and then you can figure out your next steps.”
“What’s another day going to change?” I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “We still failed at making our dreams come true.”
Dad sat a little straighter in his chair. “I know you’re upset, but beating yourself up won’t help.”
“I’m not beating myself up,” I shot back. “I just don’t get it. We did everything right and worked our asses off.”
“Did you, though?” Chase asked, forcing everyone to look at him.
I clenched my jaw. “Of course we did.”
Dad leaned forward. “You’re both great ballplayers. No one could deny that, but did you push harder than everyone else fighting for the same dream?”
“There’s a difference between doing what is asked of you at practice and in games and taking the initiative to do more,” Chase added.
I didn’t want to admit they might’ve had a point, so I got to my feet. “I’m going upstairs.”
No one followed me, and I was grateful for that.
When I reached the room I was staying in, I shut the door and leaned against it for a second, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
Playing in the major leagues had been all I wanted for as long as I could remember, and now that teams weren’t fighting for me, it felt as if someone had ripped a piece of my heart out.
I strode over to the bed and stretched out on top of the navy comforter. I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at nothing, until a knock came at the door.
“Yeah?” I called out.
The door opened, and Jase stepped in, closing it behind him. His expression mirrored mine, filled with disappointment.
“They’re right, you know,” he said quietly.
I let out a dry laugh. “About what?”
He shrugged. “If we’re honest, how many times did we skip early workouts because we didn’t need them, or cut short a batting practice session because we were already swinging well?”
I pushed up on my elbows. “You’re saying we were lazy?”
“I’m saying we coasted when we should’ve been grinding,” he replied, moving farther into the room. “We’re both lucky to have been born with natural talent, but maybe that made us too comfortable.”
Deep down, I knew he was right. We’d been good, but we’d done only the bare minimum to keep our starting positions.
I sat on the edge of the mattress. “So what do we do now? Go back to school and just hope it’s different next summer after we graduate?”
He shook his head. “We don’t hope. We make it different.”
I was quiet for a second, then nodded. “Guess that means no more half-assing it.”
“No more skipping cage time,” he added.
“No more blowing off morning cardio.”
He grinned. “And no more partying.”
That got a small chuckle out of me. “All right. Deal. We’ll hold each other accountable too.”
Jase held out his fist, and I bumped mine against his. “Next year, we’ll give them a reason to regret not drafting us.”
“Fuck yeah.”
A couple of days later, Jase and I rolled our suitcases down the hall of our LA apartment. Mrs. Cohen’s Yorkie barked on the other side of her door as we passed by. We hadn’t talked much on the flight home. Being skipped over in the draft still stung, but we had a plan.
Unlocking the door, I pushed it open, expecting to find a silent, empty living room. Instead, the sound of female chatter filled the space.
“What the hell?” Jase muttered.
“Language, Jase Matthewson,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.
I blinked. “Jamie?”
We rounded the corner and saw Jamie standing at the counter, a mixing bowl in front of her. At the island, Cammie sat on a stool, scrolling through her phone and sipping a blended coffee drink.
“Surprise!” Jamie smiled.
Jase walked over and wrapped his arms around his mom. “Not that we mind, but what are you doing here?”
“Mom was worried you guys would be too busy wallowing to go grocery shopping,” Cammie replied without looking up.
Jamie shot her a look, then turned back to us. “We brought you some food, cleaned the kitchen, and I left a few meals in the freezer.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.” I gently pulled her away from Jase and hugged her.
“Yes, I did,” her voice softened. “You two had a rough week. Food and family help.”
I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed there.
Jamie wasn’t technically my mom. She’d divorced Chase before I’d ever met the Matthewsons, but she’d always treated me like one of her own.
My birth mom was toxic as hell, and I hadn’t spoken to her in a few years.
It didn’t matter much to me because Jamie stepped up and filled the void my mother had left behind.
“Thanks.” Jase grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “But honestly, we’re okay, and we have a plan.”
Jamie raised a brow. “You do?”
I sat at the counter next to Cammie. “We’re going to finish out summer ball strong, then go back to school next month and put in the work every day we should have already been doing. No shortcuts.”
Jamie nodded. “That sounds great.”
Cammie hopped off the stool and grabbed a cookie from the batch I’d somehow missed earlier. “Now she can stop texting Dad every five minutes to make sure you weren’t spiraling.”
“Cammie,” she warned.
“What? It’s true.” She grinned around a bite of what looked like my favorite peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie.
Jamie ignored her and went back to mixing whatever she’d been preparing when we arrived. “Well, you know I’ll always be there to cheer you on.”
Knowing we had our parents’ support meant everything to me, and I genuinely believed things would work out as they should.
Four Months Later
Music pumped through the speakers, and the smell of cheap beer and too much body spray overwhelmed me. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving break, and we’d been invited to a party at a frat house that a couple of our teammates belonged to.
Jase and I had stuck to the plan we’d made back in Portland.
Every day since then, we’d been focused and working hard—no longer getting by on skill alone.
I could confidently say it had paid off too.
I was stronger, faster, and sharper than ever.
More than that, I wasn’t the same guy who used to live for nights like this.
Someone shoved a red plastic cup into my hand before I even took two steps inside.
“Drink up, Statler! You’ve been MIA since school started,” one of the juniors on the team yelled over the music, then handed another cup to Jase.
What he said wasn’t exactly true. Jase and I had gone to a couple of parties, but we always left before things got too wild.
I smiled at him and lifted the drink in thanks. I still enjoyed the occasional beer, but the days of downing as many shots as possible were long behind me.
“Dude, this stuff tastes like shit.” Jase wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Who actually wants to drink warm beer?”
“It’s a frat house, not a brewery. You get what you pay for.”
“I didn’t pay for shit,” he grumbled.
“Exactly.” I chuckled.
Across the room, some of our teammates had started a beer pong tournament. At one point, I’d been the reigning champion, but I was more than willing to let someone else take the crown.
Jase elbowed me. “You realize we used to think this was the highlight of every weekend?”
I smirked. “Now it’s a good meal and eight hours of sleep.”
“Damn, we’re boring.”
“Probably.” I shrugged. “But if everything goes according to plan, it will all have been worth it.”
Just then, a couple of ladies from the volleyball team wandered over. One of them—Katie, maybe—stood next to me and trailed her hand down my arm.
“You two finally decided to hang out again?” she wondered. “We were starting to think you’d joined a monastery or something.”
Jase barked out a laugh. “Nah, just been busy with baseball.”
“Gotta stay focused,” I added.
She leaned in a little closer. “Well, don’t you think you need a little reward for all that hard work?”
I flashed her a grin, not wanting to embarrass her by turning her down. “Tempting offer, but I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
She pouted playfully. “Come on, one late-night out won’t kill you.”
“You’re probably right.” I tilted my cup toward her. “But it’ll mess with my swing, and I have to make sure my stats impress the scouts.”
“You two really did turn into old men.” With those parting words, she spun on her heel and walked away.
Once she was out of earshot, Jase arched a brow. “She was practically offering herself on a silver platter, and you still said no?”
I shrugged and tried to sound casual. “Just wasn’t interested.”
“Bullshit,” he argued. “I haven’t seen you with anyone since Cape Cod.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex … I just hadn’t. Not since the threesome with Faye. Every time a chance came up, I told myself I needed to stay focused on baseball, but deep down, that wasn’t the whole truth. No one interested me the way she had.
I downed the last of my beer. “You’re one to talk. When’s the last time you got laid?”
I wasn’t the only one stuck on the woman who’d made it clear our night together had been a one-time hookup. I’d caught Jase scrolling through her social media accounts plenty of times.
His shoulders shook. “So we’re both just pathetic?”
“Nah.” I tossed my empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Just found something we both want.”
Too bad the feeling didn’t appear mutual.