As if he’s reading my thoughts he says, “It’s not just her smile, either. She’s back on a horse, too. Hell, she’s back. I don’t want to lose her again or see you break her.”
He doesn’t say, “like you did before,” but I get the point, and the implication hits me like a two-by-four. “That’s the last thing I want to do,” I tell him, my legs suddenly weak. My head falls back against the Jeep and what feels like the weight of the world presses down on my shoulders.
Cade studies me for a beat, then pushes away from the door and adjusts his hat. “Good,” he says. “Then I guess we’re on the same page.” Glancing back at the main house he asks, “You coming inside?”
I swallow past the lump of terror in my throat and shake my head. “Nah. I better get going. Need to clear my head, you know?”
Cade nods slowly and taps the hood of my Jeep. “See you around, Justin.”
SATURDAY, JUNE 7TH
Freedom!
?Senior Year
JUSTIN
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY BASEBALL FIELD 12:42 P.M.
“Damn, it’s good to have you back, kid.” Carlos falls onto the open spot of the bench next to me and smiles his cornball grin. “Playing without you sucks, straight up, so don’t even think about using that big old head of yours to stop a run today, you hear me?”
“I hear you, dumbass.”
I elbow him in the ribs, but really, I’m stoked to be back.
It’s not the first championship game we’ve played together, but it could be the last if I decide not to go to A&M. I don’t want to forget a single second. Not the sun’s scorching rays seeping through my cap, or the sting of sunblock in my eyes. The smell of dirt, grass, and hotdogs—a scent combination forever linked with Fairfield—and the crazy cheers of our frenzied home crowd.
The only thing missing today? Peyton screaming insults after a bad call.
I understand why she’s not here. Today’s the exhibition ride at the Round Rock rodeo and that’s where she should be. If I’m honest, as much as I love this game, I can’t help wishing that’s where I was, too.
Out of habit, I glance at her usual spot in the stands, and spy my father seated there instead.
“Holy shit.”
I blink, unable to believe my eyes, but he’s here. He made it. He actually got off his ass and came out to a game. Of course, my brother is here, seated on Rosalyn’s lap, but I never would’ve expected my dad to show. A well of emotion builds in my chest, surprise and happiness, even affection… an emotion made even more pathetic once I notice who’s sitting beside him. The area scout for the Toronto team that’s been showing so much interest.
“Got a bird in the stands?” Alan Richard teases, taking a load off on my other side. He’s a former Fairfield player now in the pros, and Coach asked him to come out today for inspiration. He lifts his chin toward the bleachers. “You’re staring awfully hard over there. Either it’s a chick or someone who owes you money.”
“My dad,” I reply, watching as Carlos does a double-take in my peripheral. “Chatting up a Toronto scout.”
“Ah.” Alan nods sagely. “I heard you got a lot of buzz going. You shouldn’t be too shocked to see a scout hanging around.”
“Not shocked at all.” My voice is tight, even I can hear it. “Just… an observation.”
Despite what I said, it sort of is hard to believe that I have this much attention on me. I mean, I’m grateful. Having options is amazing, and I’m in a position every player wants to be in. But I can’t help feeling annoyed.
“Can I ask you something?” When he looks at me, giving me the go-ahead, I say, “You ever have any regrets about your choice?”
Alan sits back and sighs. “No. I weighed every option I had, thought it through, and in the end, chose the best path for me. There’s no right or wrong answer here. It’s about following what your gut tells you. For me, it was a farm team, working my way up. I got damn lucky. I have friends who are still back there.” He takes off his cap, shoves his hair back, and then replaces it. “What about you? Where’s your head on the whole thing right now?”
I shrug. “Torn, I guess. With the draft, I know about the shitty salary after the signing bonus, but I have a trust fund from my grandparents, so I’m not sweating that. It’s not really about the money for me.”
“So what is it about?”
I plant my cleat in the dirt, unsure how to answer that. Honestly, it’s about tons of things. Making Coach proud and not disappointing my teammates. Wondering if Peyton and I have what it takes to last. It’s deciding between getting an education now, or striking while the iron’s hot, and hell, it’s even about my dad, and what he’s always expected from me. No way am I pouring all that shit on Alan.
So, Carlos answers for me. “It’s about a girl.”