Chapter 55
“Are you sure we are in the right place?”
Rhys did not look over at Alfie’s question. He could not have gotten that turned around. He had grown up here. At one time he’d known these streets as well as anything. Hell, he’d memorized them easier than he had multiplication tables. Or those damn prepositions from third grade.
Those had been drilled into him until he dreamed about having to recite them.
Why didn’t anything look familiar to him? It’s not like it had been that long since they’d been here. Not even four months.
He hadn’t taken the time to explore then. He’d been playing in most of the games. Other than when they’d gone to that one bar, he hadn’t ventured much beyond the hotel, the restaurant next door, and the ballfield. It had been a mistake to do it this time. So, what the hell was he doing?
He adjusted the strap of his sling without looking over at Alfie. “We should get you back to the clubhouse. You don’t want to be late for practice.” Hopefully the car hadn’t gone too far since dropping them off.
“We have some time,” Alfie said. “You were excited to show me these places. I like to see you that way.”
Rhys’s cheeks heated. Why, though? Because Alfie said he liked something about him? He was being ridiculous. Like a teenager with a crush. What was his problem? They’d seen each other naked. They’d touched each other naked. This shouldn’t make him feel more exposed.
Rhys avoided looking at Alfie as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “I’m sure it was up here.” Why couldn’t he find it?
“You said that two streets ago,” Alfie said. “Are you sure you remember the way there? We have some time, but not all day.”
“Of course I remember,” Rhys insisted. “I used to run here every day.”
Alfie glanced over at him. “I am trying to determine if you mean that literally or not.”
“Why can’t it be both?” Rhys tried to keep his voice light as he looked around.
He’d lived in this neighborhood for five years.
Not all in one place. For a year when he was ten, then a new home until just before he turned twelve.
When they couldn’t handle him, either, he was sent back to that first home for three more years.
Until… No, he was not thinking about that.
“I’m surprised the sidewalk doesn’t still have the path I trod daily.”
Alfie said something in Spanish, but Rhys didn’t have the focus to try to translate it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Alfie thought of him in another language.
Being here was hard enough, even if he had no plans of going near that house.
All he’d wanted to do was show Alfie something of where he’d grown up, even if he didn’t want to go into everything.
Apparently even that was too much.
They walked past the fire station…again. Rhys couldn’t help scanning the few people standing around out front. Looking for… No, that was ridiculous. He’d been dead for over a decade. It was pointless to search a crowd for him.
“Why do you not stop and ask them for directions?” Alfie gestured with his head toward the fire station.
“No,” Rhys said sharply. Alfie blinked at him, and Rhys drew in a careful breath.
It was not Alfie’s fault he was a mess. Most of the people he’d seen outside had been younger.
They wouldn’t remember the boy Simon Molson had sometimes brought around the station.
Still, he couldn’t do it. “I told you, I’m not lost. I’m sure it’s right up here. ”
“You could just stop and ask.”
“I do not need to stop and ask. I lived in this town for more than thirteen years. I have not forgotten my way around. I have not forgotten this town. Really, how could it ever forget me?”
Rhys could feel Alfie’s gaze on him, but he didn’t t laugh. He was even failing at making light of what had been a bad situation. Couldn’t he do anything right anymore?
“I do not understand why you have to be so stubborn.”
Rhys’s nails dug into his palm, and he forced himself to relax his hand. You are so stubborn. Why can’t you ever just listen to what we tell you? You’re driving yourself down a dark path. If you don’t get off it, you’re going to end up in Hell.
“Admit it.” Rhys forced his voice to remain light. “It’s what you love about me.”
Alfie’s hand brushed over his arm before moving away. He said something else in Spanish, and Rhys wished he’d ever been able to retain a single thing in his head. Then he could know what Alfie was saying.. Right now, he was focused on only one thing.
All he could see was a couple retail shops and some sort of specialty restaurant. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were serving. It had to be here, he knew it did. How many times had he met Simon at the station after school, and they’d walked there? Was it the next street over?
He stopped and turned in a circle. Then he dropped into a crouch. Maybe if he changed his perspective. He had been small the last time he’d been to that park. That tree… He knew that tree. He was sure…
“You boys lost?”
Rhys turned his head. The first thing he saw was Alfie’s cautious hesitation as he moved up beside Rhys.
A large brown-skinned man in a predominantly white neighborhood.
Rhys might have a lot of privilege in that respect, but he understood and moved toward Alfie.
His gaze fell on the man who approached them, and his breath strangled in his throat.
“Simon?” No, no it couldn’t be. Unless he was seeing a damn ghost.
The man narrowed his eyes then his face cleared.
“Rhys? My god… I can’t believe… The last time I saw you around here…
You must have been eight, nine, maybe. I mean, the funeral…
but before that. Simon brought you to a family picnic.
I didn’t think you still lived here. Aren’t you playing for a team in…
Pennsylvania, I thought it was. Granted that’s not that far away, but I didn’t expect to see you. ”
“I don’t.” He realized what else the man—Simon’s cousin, Rhys thought, but what was his name—said. “You’ve followed my career?”
“Of course. Simon would have been proud of what you’ve accomplished. What are you doing here anyway? Oh, you’re injured. How did that happen?”
Rhys didn’t want to talk about that. They were running out of time. He might not be able to practice, but Alfie needed to. “Where’s the park? I swore it was—”
“Gone. Town council approved that—” He waved his hand at the stores and restaurant—“to go up last year. Who cares if the Little League has to go out of town to practice and play? As long as they can bring in more money. Simon would be so disappointed. My cousin always loved watching your games over there.”
Rhys swallowed hard. His chest hurt. Like it was being ripped apart. “I should go.” He looked back at Alfie but couldn’t take the question he could see in his friend’s eyes. “We need to get you to the clubhouse. Practice soon.”
Simon’s cousin said, “Maybe you could come talk to the kids on the town’s team when you aren’t busy getting ready for a game.” His gaze fell to Rhys’s sling, as if he knew he didn’t actually have to be anywhere.
Because he was useless to the team.
Rhys shook his head and took out his phone to find an available rideshare. “We need to get going,” he said, his hand trembling. He needed to get out of here. He should have known revisiting the past was a mistake.
One he wouldn’t make again.