18. Chapter 18
“Wake up.” The voice was annoying and scratchy, a reminder its speaker was in charge. It was a very punchable voice, especially when the sun hadn’t yet streaked through the windows.
I rolled over on the floor, Zach’s blanket still covering me like a warm hug I had no desire to break from. I kept my eyes shut, though I knew he was watching.
“We leave in ten minutes, and you two better be in the car. I’m not doing this for myself,” Tanner said. The door shut, signaling he had left the room.
“Your brother is a dick,” I mumbled to Zach as I stood up and pulled on a clean shirt and a fresh pair of shorts.
“Yeah,” Zach said.
True to his word, Zach had made sure nothing had changed.
But the dynamics had. I still spent nearly every summer moment at the Quinns’, but I tried to make a bigger effort to at least include him; I hadn’t missed a lifting session with him in weeks, and I forced Gavin and Jake to come with us, too.
We made it to the car just in time, Gavin’s voice cracking as he greeted us. “Morning, guys!” His bright yellow Savannah Bananas shirt and powder-blue basketball shorts were another stark reminder that, like Tanner, he embodied the word go.
“Eat,” Tanner said, reaching over the center console and handing me an apple and water.
“Sir, yes, sir,” I muttered, unscrewing the cap of the water.
“You’re the one who asked me to do this,” Tanner said as he spun the wheel and backed onto the road.
“I didn’t think you’d be a drill sergeant,” I said.
He responded by looking into the rearview mirror, smiling at me, and raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” I said, “you’re right. I knew you would, but waking up at this time is insane.”
“Do you want to be trash again next year, or would you rather deal with a bit of Coach Tanner this summer?”
Zach sighed in the front seat. “If you ever call yourself Coach Tanner again, I’m done playing baseball.”
“Can you throw batting practice to us after this, Coach Tanner?” Gavin managed to spit out through fits of giggling. I lightly backhanded his shoulder and told him to can it as I bit into the tart Granny Smith.
A week ago, Tanner had moved back home for the rest of summer, opting to be around his family instead of alone in his apartment while school was out. I agreed with the choice, getting my favorite batting practice partner back. But dealing with him this early in the morning was too much.
The rest of the day sprinted by; the morning workout was similar to what Tanner had run when he’d been a senior, just with an added stop at the gym led by Zach.
After a quick nap at the Quinns’ house, we got dressed for our summer game, and Tanner drove us to the field.
I was slated to pitch for only the third time since Nate had cleared me.
“How’s the shoulder?” Tanner asked as we stood in the bullpen. He had asked Coach Berrios if he could help coach when he wasn’t at school, and Berrios had immediately accepted.
I threw a pitch to Gavin, smooth and easy, the ball sailing straight into the pocket of his glove. “Good so far,” I answered as I caught Gavin’s toss back. The air felt perfect tonight; the sun was out, and my body was moving the best it had in a year.
“Are you lying to me?” Tanner said, his eyes locked on me.
I fired another pitch to Gavin, this time with a bit more zip on it, my motion exactly where I wanted it. “Not this time.”
Tanner hovered over me as I finished my warmup. It was obvious what he was doing—he was watching my body language to see if I was still hurt. He knew me better than anyone, and there would be no hiding an injury flare-up now that he knew there was a shoulder to watch.
The first inning breezed by; I struck out two batters and got the third to roll out to Zach at short.
We put up two runs in the first (partly thanks to Gavin, Zach, and me all getting hits), so when I jogged to the mound for the second inning, I allowed myself a quick smile.
I was starting to believe this team was good again.
I attacked the first batter with a curveball—good pitch call, Gavin—then threw two fastballs in on his hands for an easy strikeout.
“Great pitch, Easton,” a voice shouted from the crowd.
His voice. I knew it before I looked over into the stands and saw him.
A beard that needed to be cut. A plain white shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, and a red Cardinals hat. My face, my eyes.
My dad.
I locked in on him, trying to convince myself this wasn’t a mirage. He stood there, tirty yards away, watching me pitch. Why? Why would he come here?
“Easton,” someone said near third base.
I looked over, and Joe flipped the ball to me. The ball hit my glove without me processing.
I stepped onto the mound and looked at Gavin, trying to prepare for the next pitch. Gavin’s signs blurred to the point that I had to step off. Sweat dripped onto my forehead and seeped into my eyes, stinging my vision even more.
“Can I get time, blue?” a voice said somewhere.
Who was that? I turned my whole body toward the sound, trying to match the voice with a name. My feet stuck in the dirt, and I nearly tripped over the rubber.
“Easton.” That voice. A good voice. A hand landed on my shoulder. “Easton, look at me.”
I did. Tanner.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Take a deep breath,” Tanner said.
I did. Slightly calmer.
“Can you keep pitching?”
Pitching. Right. That was what I needed to do. I nodded.
“You need to say you’re fine, or you’re coming out.”
“I’m fine, Tanner.” I took a breath again, regaining a sliver of a sense of my job. “Can you get him out of here?” I asked.
“Coach Berrios is already on it,” he said. “Look.”
I did. Coach Berrios had walked next to my dad. So had Mr. Quinn.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re pitching great. Keep it up.”
Tanner jogged away from me, his voice still in my head, grounding me. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, pleased to be able to see Gavin behind the plate.
The last six innings of the game blurred. I had a vague notion of scoring twice but couldn’t remember any pitch sequences. I only threw three innings and managed to get by giving up one run. All things considered, I had survived.
The quiet at the Quinns’ house after the game freaked me out nearly as much as my dad appearing. We sat in the basement, uniforms still on, the smell of sweat and Icy Hot hanging over us, avoiding the words nobody wanted to say.
Zach typed on his phone, his legs hanging over the edge of the couch, his eyes darting between the screen and me. I’d never directly told him what had happened with Mom and Dad, but I was pretty sure Gavin or Tanner had.
Gavin didn’t know what had happened at the field, but he read the room enough not to say anything.
He hadn’t heard my dad say my name like everyone else but knew I’d been frazzled.
He’d tried talking to me between innings, and I’d brushed him off; I couldn’t remember my words to him, but he’d walked away.
Tanner had forced me to grab a controller, and the vibrations stabilized me in the basement as we played a game I didn’t care about.
“Pizza is here,” Mr. Quinn said as he and his wife joined us. The smell of pepperoni distracted me, but that lasted all of one bite.
“Easton, can you come upstairs when you’re done so we can talk?” Mrs. Quinn asked.
Why would I want to do that? I took a sip of water, trying to figure out how to say that politely.
“Can we just stay here to talk?” Tanner jumped in.
“This was going to be a talk for the three of us,” Mr. Quinn said.
“He doesn’t need to talk about this alone,” Tanner said. “He’s going to tell us what happened, anyway.”
“Exactly,” I voiced with more force than I meant. “Sorry. I mean... can they all be here, too?” I looked at Gavin, who was nodding. Tanner and Zach had sat up, too.
The parents looked at each other, and Mrs. Quinn nodded. I sighed quietly, thankful the boys would be around.
They walked in front of the couches and switched off the TV. They started talking as if reading off a script they had written upstairs before approaching me. Their words were picked too carefully, as if they were afraid if they hit the wrong beat, I’d shatter right in front of them.
“How are you feeling about what happened today?” Mr. Quinn asked.
Oh. A feelings talk. I wasn’t sure if that was what I’d expected, but I started to wish I hadn’t agreed to the boys staying.
“I’m fine, I think,” I lied.
“Did you know he was out of jail?” Tanner asked.
“No idea.” An actual truth.
“Right. Well, we kind of saw this coming whenever he got out. We talked to Berry about it, and he’s known to be on the lookout as well,” Mr. Quinn said.
He looked at his wife, then back at me. “We want you to stay here for now. We’ll talk to your grandparents, but your dad showing up at a game makes us very nervous.
You’ll be able to stay as long as you want and always have somebody around you. ”
“I can handle him,” I said. Too quickly.
“It’s not about handling him, sweetie,” Mrs. Quinn said. “We just... don’t want you to be alone.”
“Dude, this would be cool,” Gavin said. “You can stay in my room!”
Zach snorted from his seat.
Gavin was right, though. It would be cool. I basically lived here in the summer anyway, and it’d be nice to know I could almost call this place home. I glanced at Zach, now knowing my being here more would affect him.
“I appreciate you guys offering. Really. But I need to help at my grandparents’ house.” Back to lying.
All the Quinns made side eyes at each other, communicating without talking. Tanner looked at his mom, Zach at his dad. Gavin tried to join in, desperately attempting to find my eyes, knowing if he succeeded, I’d do whatever he asked.
“Fine. It’s your decision, Easton,” Mr. Quinn said finally. “But you’re staying here tonight until we get a chance to talk to your grandparents.”
“I already planned on it,” I said.
“Good. Eat up and don’t stay up too late,” he said.
Gavin, Zach, Tanner, and I stayed up for the next couple of hours. They were cool enough not to bring up my dad again, instead opting to act as if nothing had happened. Time passed at a crawl, but not as slowly as if I had gone to my house.
I had an urge to run home and take a drink. There hadn’t been a day I’d needed one more. My fingers shook, desperate to get ahold of alcohol, and my lips dried like I hadn’t been chugging water for hours. But I didn’t have an escape route from this house. Not tonight.
Mercifully, the night came to a close when Gavin said he was going to bed.
“I’m going to head up, too,” Zach said.
This could have left me and Tanner alone, a repeat of so many times before. Part of me wanted to see where it would lead, and my mind flashed to the memories of being alone with him in this basement: our bodies entangled, the entire world disappearing, the two of us the only things that mattered.
But he had Calvin. And I had a mind that refused to cross the line of friendship.
“I’ll follow you guys up,” I said.
The house had the late-night quiet that I hated. Gavin should have been laughing, or Tanner talking, or Zach grunting.
When we entered Zach’s room, I nearly walked into a futon that hadn’t been there this morning.
“Thanks for bringing that in, Zach,” I said, grabbing the blanket that sat bundled on the ground from where I had slept last night.
“Not me, dude,” he said, crawling under his covers and rolling away from me. “Night, bro.”
“Good night, Zach,” I said.
If Zach hadn’t brought in the futon... it had to have been Tanner. He’d seen me sleeping on the floor this morning and dragged the futon from his room for me, knowing I hadn’t slept with him in months.
I hadn’t lied last year, the day before the state final, when I’d told Tanner I wished I could be better for him and that he was better than me and many times more so. First the sliding mitt, now the futon.
I curled up, the new bed creaking under me, thinking of the offer I’d gotten tonight, wishing someday I could actually be part of this family. I wished I could be not just a guest on a futon but the fourth brother.
Instead, I was just the kid they tried to protect.