Chapter 25 Shane #2
When he finally speaks again, his voice is soft, an almost indiscernible tremor to it.
“I had the best upbringing. Not one complaint. Dad was the best of fathers, and having had me as young as he did, we really did end up being best friends. We did everything together. I was there for batting practice—sometimes even getting to participate—hanging out in the dugout during Spring Training. My playdates weren’t at the playground; they were in the clubhouse with other players’ kids.
I literally grew up surrounded by professional baseball players and coaches.
It wasn’t normal, but it was a fucking dream.
“And as soon as off-season hit, it was me and Dad. Those fall fairs I was talking about. Joint costumes for Halloween. Burnt turkey on Thanksgiving. Matching pajamas on Christmas and a real fucking tree. None of that fake shit. We went out and cut down our tree every year.”
The smile in his words settles over me and leaves the most forlorn ache in my chest. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to lose that. If I lost Mom? I can’t even try to think about it or I’ll start bawling.
I reach over until my fingers meet skin. I wrap my hand around his arm and squeeze. “He sounds incredible—ballplayer. Father. Person,” I whisper.
He rests his hand over mine and grips tight.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
It’s fucking shitty as all hell. I don’t think that kind of loss is something you can ever truly get over, no matter how much time passes.
I wish there was more I could do. Move closer.
Show more support. But I think those are lines we’re not supposed to cross.
I also know when I’m trying to keep my shit together, I need a little space to build my shield back up.
So I lie there and do my best to show support with the pressure of my hand and the soft brush of my thumb.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually his grip loosens, and his shaky exhale fills the hotel room. “Your turn,” he says gruffly.
A breath of air puffs between my lips. “You don’t want to hear that sob-story.”
“Try me,” he says softly. “I gave you mine after all.”
“Seriously. How much crying in bed are two men supposed to do?”
His watery chuckle echoes around us. “Fine. Give me the Cliff Notes.”
“It’s…funny in a weird way. But even though our upbringings were so different, they were the same in a lot of ways. My parents were teen parents too. My mom skipped college to take care of me and work. My father went with the goal of earning his degree to support our family. Or so he said.”
I fist the bedsheets. “While my mom was busting her ass to provide for us, he was busy looking for his better life. He ended up marrying into a rich family. Like rich-rich.” I let out a hollow laugh.
“Got his college girlfriend pregnant senior year.
And yes, you heard me right. During school, he had his college girlfriend, and on break, he had us.
I think Mom knew too. But she wanted me to have a father.
And I loved him—for the few short years he was in my life.
“He’s why I fell in love with baseball. Whenever he was home, we’d play together. And then one year, he just never came back. For the longest time, I thought baseball would bring him back to me.”
Stupid, stupid Shane. The letter I sent him burns in my brain. That boy—the one who still hopes for his father to realize the mistake he’s made—still lives inside me.
“I didn’t find out for a while, but once I was old enough, I got curious and started trying to find out information about him.
All it took was one internet search on the library computer, and I found him.
That’s how rich the family he married into is.
He’s some hotshot investment guy now. Perfect wife.
Son and daughter equally as perfect. No cute house with a white picket fence, though.
No, he’s in some ridiculously large mansion that has multiple wings.
Did we ever see a penny of any of that money?
Fuck no. So, yeah. There you have it. He left us high and dry for his better life. ”
Even in the darkness, tension radiates between us.
“That’s unbelievably fucked up,” Jed bites out. Anger hardens his words. There’s restraint in them, like he’s holding himself from storming to my father’s home.
And somehow that helps. Jed Stone Jr. is angry on my behalf.
I don’t realize I’m still gripping Jed’s arm until he gently pries my vise-like fingers off him.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
He shakes his head and gives my hand a quick squeeze before letting it slide to the mattress.
“Don’t be sorry. Just need to make sure the arm has enough blood in it to work tomorrow, you know?
” His teeth flash in the darkness, and I curse it.
Because it’s so rare to see, and I hate that I can barely appreciate it.
I let out a huff of laughter. We fall into silence and it’s…a good one this time. One full of shared understanding, of ease and comfort.
My eyes grow heavy, and a yawn slips out. Jed’s follows right after. I’ve always thought it was funny that yawns are contagious.
“You know what this means, Storm Cloud?” I ask drowsily.
“Mmm?”
“I think we just became besties.”
His chuckle is low and hazy from that almost-sleep state we’re in. “You might be on to something, Sunshine,” he murmurs.
His words drift in and out, and my eyelids drag shut. Sleep is closing in on me.
“But just so you know, Shane. You deserved better. So much fucking better.”
I let out a soft, sleepy hum. I’m almost gone when his last words slip through the fog:
“I pity him. Because he’ll never even realize what he threw away.”