33. Blaze
Blaze
I’m out in the woods all day Saturday leading some retreat guests on a long hike up the mountain.
We get back as dusk is falling. The group looks energized and happy, and I take gratification in a job well done, even if part of me wasn’t truly present today.
My mind kept looping back to Shawn. I wonder if I’ll always think of him now, no matter how far away he is. No matter if he never comes back.
There’s no way Shawn could have reached me today even if he wanted to, but I still wish I’d heard from him.
I close up the boathouse and swing by the kitchen where Nolan’s slicing some kind of squash cellophane thin. “You wanna go out again?”
He looks surprised, shakes his head. “Not tonight. Why? Your boy still not back?”
I don’t answer. “Maybe another time.”
As soon as I get back to my house and Wi-Fi, my phone dings with notifications. I whip the device out so fast Misty barks at my sudden motion.
They’re from Shawn—two texts.
From this morning: I’m staying for today’s game. Lots to tell you when I see you.
And, hours later: We won. I’ll call you.
But he didn’t. Or at least he didn’t leave a voicemail.
It’s not lost on me that he wrote “we won,” as if he’s still part of the team. Maybe he is. And it’s not like I don’t want the Laurels to win. They’re my favorite team. It just feels like it’s them or me—that’s childish, but it’s how I feel.
I hadn’t noticed Brooke eating a bowl of cereal, standing over the kitchen sink. I nudge in next to her to wash my hands. “I heard the Laurels are league champs,” she says. “Shawn must be thrilled.”
“Yeah, I guess he is.”
She glares at me. “You haven’t talked to him?”
“He said he’d call, but he hasn’t.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“What if he’s busy?”
“Then he won’t answer. But at least he’ll see you called.”
“Do I want him to see that I called?”
She looks like she’s torn between laughing and punching me in the arm. “B, just hit the button.”
I’m screwing up the courage of a kid calling his first crush when the phone rattles in my hand. Shawn’s name flashes on the screen, and I almost drop the phone but manage to answer instead.
“Hey! Hi!” I say, cringing at the artificial brightness in my voice. Out of the corner of my eye, Brooke shakes her head in silent judgment of my ineptitude.
“Blaze, hey.” Shawn’s warm voice fills my ears and relieves the tender ache in my chest. “I caught you.”
“I was about to call you.” It’s the truth, but I’m not sure it was the right thing to say when Brooke hides her mouth behind her palm. I stick my tongue out at her and turn away. She noisily retreats to her room, presumably to give her disaster of a brother privacy.
“You were? I wasn’t sure if you’d be working or what.”
“Yeah, busy day,” I say. “What’s up?” I immediately want to rip my tongue out. “I mean, exciting about the win. Congrats.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he says. “The guys are pretty pumped.”
“I imagine that’s an understatement.”
“Yeah, but it’s not over yet.”
“When’s the first championship game?”
“Friday in San Francisco.”
“Not until Friday, okay.” I’m just filling the air with words.
“Yeah. So, baseball players are all about superstition. They think that because I showed up to cheer them on, I’m their good luck charm now. And, well, they want me at that game, too.”
This is it. He’s never coming back. I can’t believe I let myself think he would for even a second. I swallow against the hot spike of loss that suddenly burns my throat. “Of course they do. You’re awesome. When are you flying out there?”
“I’m not going,” he says, sounding surprised at my question. “I have work on Monday.”
“Work? Oh, you mean at the house.” Why are we even pretending that matters? Shawn doesn’t owe me or Luis anything.
“And the bonfire thing is Friday.”
I forgot about the bonfire. I’d looked forward to spending the night with him, being one of the besotted couples who other people find annoying. “No big deal,” I hear myself say. “It’s not the same as the World Series or anything.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Listen, if it’s important that you go, you should go.”
“But—”
“Look, the lake will still be here after the Laurels win the whole thing.” I don’t expect him to come back, but the part of me that’s programmed to make other people feel better can’t be turned off, no matter how bad I’m hurting.
“Yeah?” His tone brightens, as if I’ve given him something to hope for.
“Of course. You do what you need to do.”
“Thanks, Blaze.” He sounds happy, which makes me unaccountably sad.
“Sure,” I manage to say. “Travel safe. I gotta go. Misty needs a walk.” My dog perks her ears at the sound of her name but doesn’t move from her bed.
“All right. Have a—”
I end the call before we can trade any more banal pleasantries.
Shawn was never going to stay; he was never going to make this his home.
We had fun while it lasted, and I’m just going to have to figure out how to keep moving.
I’ve had my heart broken before when my parents left me and Brooke too soon.
This is a different kind of heartbreak, but I’ll survive it, too.