10. Evan #3
The silence of the room wrapped around him, a suffocating pressure he hadn’t felt since his first week in the minors, when he’d realized he was truly on his own and alone.
Back then, he’d trained himself to believe that the solitude meant control.
He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head drop forward, the muscles at the base of his skull tightening painfully.
His heart kept knocking around in his chest like it wanted to escape, and his brain kept bouncing between the raw edges of the conversation he’d just had and the memories it had unearthed without permission.
Evan’s breath caught in his throat, just enough to make it hard to swallow.
This is why he didn’t take space the way Eleanor recommended.
This is why he didn’t let himself slow down.
Stillness meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering.
And remembering meant…pain. He tilted his head back against the door, stared up at the bland beige ceiling, and forced himself to inhale.
He needed to get out of his head, needed noise.
Needed something that wasn’t the echo of CJ’s voice, or the apology that had cracked open parts of him he thought he’d buried, or the memory of that stupid night on the baseball field when everything had gone to hell.
Any other time, he would have found someone to distract him and get him out of his head without it having to mean anything.
A few drinks, a crowded room, and enough noise to drown out his thoughts for a couple of hours.
It wasn’t a solution, but it was a familiar escape route.
Evan couldn’t think of a single reason to sit alone in this room with his thoughts. He reached blindly for his bag, fingers fumbling with the zipper before he found his phone buried beneath his wallet and a spare pair of batting gloves. The shaking in his hands annoyed him.
He used his finger to unlock the screen and opened a browser instead of the hookup app his thumb automatically drifted toward.
The search bar stared at him, and he slowly typed gay bars near Surprise, AZ.
The results appeared almost immediately.
There were a handful of places in Phoenix, which was farther than he wanted to go, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice.
He picked one at random and swiped through photos of crowded rooms filled with strangers.
Men laughing over drinks and groups gathered around high-top tables.
People who might not know him beyond whatever name he gave them.
People who didn’t know his story, or college, or how CJ’s apology still echoed inside his chest.
Exactly what he wanted.
Evan pulled up the address and plugged it into his maps, then shoved his phone into his pocket and pushed himself to his feet.
He didn’t let himself think because thinking would unravel him.
Thinking would put CJ’s face right back at the center of his mind, and would make him question why a conversation in a motel courtyard had managed to crack open wounds he’d spent the last seven years convincing himself had healed.
No, tonight he needed noise, a crowded room, and a beer. Maybe three.
He grabbed his wallet, straightened his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and sprayed some cologne, though it didn’t really matter. He was just going to feel nothing for a while, and maybe that would be enough. He opened his door and walked straight into CJ.
Literally.
CJ jerked back, startled, one hand coming up instinctively as if to catch Evan’s arm. He didn’t touch him, but the space between them narrowed to a breath. CJ’s eyes swept over him, confused, something that looked like concern flickering there before he blinked it away.
“Evan? You okay?” he asked, his voice low and uncertain in a way that didn’t fit the man Evan was trying so hard not to think about.
Everything inside Evan stalled and his stomach tightened uncomfortably.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but the timing felt conspicuous.
CJ had apologized less than half an hour ago.
They’d cracked open seven years’ worth of silence, and now he was heading to a gay bar because he couldn’t bear the thought of spending the evening alone in his head, two doors down from CJ.
CJ looked genuinely worried, and that just made everything worse.
“Yeah,” Evan said. The lie tasted sour in the back of his throat. “Just…heading out.”
“Where?” CJ asked, and Evan saw him wince. He clearly hadn’t meant to ask, but the question pissed Evan off anyway.
His jaw clenched. “Doesn’t matter.”
CJ’s eyes swept over him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, and something unspoken tightened CJ’s expression. It wasn’t judgment or jealousy, but a quiet understanding. A quiet hurt.
CJ probably assumed Evan was looking for a distraction. Evan looked away and scrubbed a hand over his face, irritated with himself for caring what CJ might think in the first place.
“Have a good night,” Evan said, forcing the words out and stepping past CJ.
He hurried toward the parking lot without looking back, then slid behind the wheel of his SUV and pulled the door shut with a dull, hollow echo.
He sat there for a moment, breath held tight in his chest, the address of the bar glowing on his phone.
He let out a slow breath, pressed the start button a little harder than necessary, shifted into gear, and drove out of the lot.