28. Shawn
Shawn
I overslept at Blaze’s this morning and had to rush to be on time at work, so I’m wearing the same sweat-stained clothes from yesterday. I smell like Blaze’s deodorant. My ass is a little sore.
Life is good.
I guess I needed the extra sleep after the twin whammies of getting fucked for the first time and then baring my soul to the guy who fucked me.
Blaze may not have expected my declarations, but every word was true.
The life I’m building here feels right. I know I have more to figure out—like just about everything.
But I’m up for it. Especially knowing Blaze has my back.
When it’s almost time for lunch, I’m about to ask Leo if I can borrow his car to make a quick trip back to the retreat—since I didn’t sleep in the cabin last night, I don’t have my usual gourmet packed lunch.
But a panel van I’ve seen parked at the retreat makes an appearance before I can ask.
Nolan emerges, throws open the side of the van and pulls out a crate.
“You here with my order of drywall screws?” Luis asks.
“Nope. Muffins, coffee, and chipotle chicken burritos,” the chef announces, whipping a cloth off the crate to reveal his creations.
The guys descend on the food. I’m starving but hang back. “This your idea?” I ask Nolan.
He looks at me like I’m nuts, then relents and winks. “Blaze thought you might be hungry. I gather you’ve been working up an appetite.”
I make an undignified sputter, and he smirks, glancing at the crew. “All this sweaty, dirty construction work, I mean.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, that was thoughtful of him.” I grab one of the individually wrapped burritos. “Thanks for delivering.”
After absorbing the compliments from the crew, Nolan doesn’t stick around. Along with a plate of cranberry crumb muffins, he’s left some paper cups and a carafe of coffee, which I glug between bites.
Leo joins me, filling his travel mug with strong, hot coffee.
“Damn, I wonder where he gets these beans. They’re dope,” Leo says, inhaling the steam rising from his mug.
“I’ll try to find out for you.”
“Thanks, man.” Leo touches my elbow with his. “And I’ve been meaning to say thanks for joining the crew. We needed some new blood. At this rate, we’re going to be ahead of schedule in a few days.”
“Really?” It feels like we’ve been getting a lot done, but I hadn’t noticed how much.
Leo smacks his lips after taking a sip of coffee. “Yeah, man. Between the rain and losing one of our guys, Luis was worried. But then you came, and everyone’s all smiles again. You saved the day.”
His words feel good. Not unlike the team high-fiving me after hitting a dinger that drives in a couple of runs.
“Well, if I’ve been able to help, it’s all down to you being a good teacher.
I’ve learned a ton.” We clink mugs in mutual appreciation.
This is what I’m talking about. Being part of a team makes sense to me.
“So what’s the deal with you and Blaze?”
I fumble my paper cup, and some coffee sloshes over onto my thumb. Damn. I wipe my hand on my filthy jeans. “Uh. We’re friends?”
He laughs, not meanly. “Uh-huh. That’s cool.”
“We’re hanging out,” I say, which is the most vague-yet-true way to describe us I can come up with.
“Well, Blaze is a good guy,” Leo says. “We all want to see him happy.”
“Sure, of course.” Is this the warning talk? I’m glad Blaze has people who care enough to give it.
“You know his parents passed when he was young?”
“I know.” I wish I could have met them and been able to tell them what a great kid they raised.
He examines me steadily for a minute, then nods. My chest puffs out a little bit—I’ve passed some kind of test. And I can’t wait for the end of the day when I can thank Blaze personally for the food delivery.
We’ve been back at work for about an hour when a green SUV drives up to the construction site. It takes me a second to recognize Marika’s Land Rover. The woman herself gets out of the vehicle, silver hair pulled back into a loose braid.
I see Luis approach her and listen to something, then he cups his hand and calls, “Shawn. Come here.”
I can only think the worst as I bolt for the stairs and tear across the open ground to Marika. Blaze is hurt. My dad had a heart attack. Someone hit Misty with a car. My brain is spiraling out of control by the time I get to Marika’s side.
“What is it?” I demand.
“It’s not bad news,” she says right off the bat, calming me somewhat.
“There’s a driver at the lodge. He wants to take you to the airport.
Somebody named Jett has been trying to get in touch with you.
He finally reached me and told me to tell you he needs you to get to Hartford immediately.
Something about tonight’s playoff game.”
Why would Jett need me in Hartford for the playoff game? My first instinct is to brush this off and get back to work, but Jett never asks me for anything—this must be important.
When I glance at Luis, he shrugs. “It’s your call, man. We’ll survive without you. I’m a Boston fan, so I don’t really care one way or the other.”
I glance back at Leo and Rafi and Cord. They’re looking on impassively. I’d be a dick to leave them, but there are only a few more hours in the work week. And the Laurels were my team first.
“See you Monday?”
Luis shrugs again. “We’ll be here.”
“See you Monday,” I say again, with more confidence. But as I gather my gear and get into the passenger seat of the Land Rover, I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
Marika keeps her eyes on the road as we curve around the lake, past Blaze’s house all the way to the lodge. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Jett’s a good friend and he’s level-headed,” I say. “He wouldn’t send up a signal if it wasn’t urgent.”
“What about—” She cuts herself off.
“Blaze? He’ll understand,” I say. “Is he working right now?”
“He’s on the lake.”
I’m upset I won’t be able to say goodbye. But I’ll be back.
“Will you tell him why I had to go? I’ll call him later.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder if she thinks I’m an asshole. “Please, Marika.”
“Sure, Shawn.”
A town car similar to the one I arrived in idles in front of the lodge, the driver pacing in front of the vehicle. He goes on high alert when he sees us. “Shawn Camden?”
“Yep.”
He opens the rear passenger door for me. “We better hurry.”
“Don’t speed,” Marika scolds the man.
“Wait, I need to grab some stuff.” And maybe Blaze is back, and I can talk to him in person.
“No time,” the driver barks. “You got ID?”
“Yeah, but—”
“That’s all you’ll need.”
I do have my phone with me, which I’ve been using at work as a calculator and a level, and my wallet, and my warm layers, so I guess I’m prepared to be whisked off to the airport. I can buy whatever else I need along the way. I get in the backseat, Marika watching us as we drive away.
When we hit Laketon and I get cell service again, I immediately call Jett. He picks up on the third ring. “Shawn, my man, you coming?”
“Apparently.” It’s all been so fast I haven’t really thought this through.
“Yes, brother, thank you so much. I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport and get you to the stadium.
We need help, man. Morale is at an all-time low.
Our power hitters are slumping. We only made it this far in the playoffs because the other teams made some errors.
But this is our series to lose. The big shots upstairs don’t know jack about motivating us. ”
“And I do?”
“You kept this team going strong for twelve fucking years, man. It’s not the same without you.”
“I don’t know what I could really say.” I’ve been so far out of it I don’t even know the scores of the last few games.
“You just sprinkle some of your magic fairy dust on us, you know, that Shawn juice that gets everyone fired up.”
“Shawn juice?” I’ll have to remember that one to tell Blaze later.
“You know what I mean. Oh, this is so fucking great. The boys will be so happy to see you. We’ve missed you, brother.”
I swallow through the unexpected thickness in my throat. “Yeah, well.”
“Besides, I thought you’d be happy for a reason to get out of the backwoods of Vermont.”
“Maine. It hasn’t been that bad. I even—” I’m about to say “met someone,” but Jett interrupts me.
“Gotta go. First pitch in four hours. Just get here, man.”
He hangs up before I can tell him I’ll do my best.
I’m expecting the driver to take me to the airport in Portland, but he doesn’t. Instead, we roll up to what at first I think is an empty field, until I realize the matchbox plane at the end of it is my transportation.
I try Blaze’s cell, then his number in the boathouse. It rings so long I’m about to hang up, but then he answers.
“Blaze, oh good, I have the craziest story for you.”
“Shawn? Where are you?”
“Some tiny airport. I’m flying to Hartford. My friend Jett called. He wants me to give the team a pep talk before the game tonight. If they don’t win, they’ll be eliminated.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says. He is a Laurels fan after all. “Well, uh, travel safe. What airport are you at?”
I read the name on the sign as we pull onto the faded tarmac. “Bletchley Memorial Field?”
“Oh. Okay.” He sounds weird, but I can’t tell if it’s just the connection, which isn’t very stable. “—let me know when you—there?”
“Sure. Will do. Sorry about running off.”
“It’s fine,” he says, but he doesn’t sound particularly convincing, and my stomach sinks. I shouldn’t be doing this. Why did I say yes? I said yes because I’ve known Jett a hell of a lot longer than I’ve known Blaze. And it’s only for a night.
“I’ll let you know my travel plans back,” I say.
“Uh-huh,” he says, as if he doesn’t expect to hear from me.
“Really, I’ll—”
The call drops, and I’m being hustled out of the town car and onto the plane, ducking my head as I enter the cabin. While the pilot does the preflight checks, I try Blaze again, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“No phone calls,” the copilot tells me. I set my phone to airplane mode and watch the Maine woods become a dark green carpet below as we rise into the air.