Page 1 of The Way We Swing Back

Chapter 1

Iwalked into the trees until the noise of the field faded behind me. Just heat, that ridiculous smell of pine, and my jersey clinging to my back.

A branch snapped behind me. I knew he'd follow.

“Not now, Tanner,” I said. “Go be with the team.” I meant it. Whatever Tanner needed tonight, it wasn’t me. Not after making the final out—again.

“Tanner is still at the field,” said a soft voice. Mr. Quinn. Tanner, Zach, and Gavin’s dad.

I turned around to tell him to be with his sons. “I’m okay,” I choked. “I—”

He wrapped me in a hug before I could finish.

I’d told Tanner last night I wouldn’t cry if we lost. But I always did when the season ended. This time was even worse—I’d not only ended our season, but I’d done it in the state finals.

“You were great, Easton,” Mr. Quinn whispered. His arms were strong and warm, and I sank into them without thinking. He held me the way I used to wish my dad would. But showing emotion around each other hadn’t been allowed.

I finally broke out of the hug, tears still streaming down my face. I coughed, my insides trying to come out thanks to a hug I didn’t deserve.

A leaf twisted onto my shoulder as I sat under a tree, knees up, arms locked tight over them. Mr. Quinn eased beside me and put one arm around my shoulder.

My name sounded in the distance from the PA announcer. Why, I did not know or care.

Five minutes later, Gavin walked through the clearing. He tossed me my glove when he got close. “Catch?”

I nodded and stood, not trusting myself to speak.

Mr. Quinn got up as well and walked away. Hopefully, he’d go be with Tanner and Zach.

The rhythm of playing catch had always been a source of solace for me. I cocked back my arm and tossed the ball to Gavin harder than I should have, but he snatched it out of the air.

I felt a twinge in my arm, the same pain I’d played through all year, like a piece of metal had wedged somewhere between my shoulder and bicep. It no longer mattered now that the season was finished.

A pair of cleats crunching into the dirt behind me signaled that someone new had entered the area. It had to be Tanner this time—he wouldn’t stay away for longer than he already had.

I allowed myself a minute to make sure I could keep myself composed. My hands itched, but it wasn’t the type of itch you could scratch—it was the kind that made you need to move, but even movement didn’t help.

I refused to wallow in self-pity when I’d let him down. I turned.

“You good?” he asked.

The question stung, knowing how much he cared.

I spun back to Gavin, holding everything back. When I caught the ball Gavin threw, I glanced at Tanner. Not directly. Just enough to fake it. “We will be.”

It was a lie.

The bus ride home was brutal.

Coach gave his end-of-season speech, trying to find the right words for a team that had made it to the state finals but still come up short. He had to push through the end; the last words barely got out of his mouth. Guys clapped. A couple laughed too hard, as if they weren’t bothered. A few cried quietly.

I slipped out the back the second we pulled into the school parking lot. Didn’t wait for anyone. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t look for Gavin or Zach or Tanner even though I knew they were probably looking for me.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand Gavin saying “You played great” again when I knew I hadn’t. I couldn’t handle Zach slapping my shoulder and pretending that making the last out again had just been bad luck. I couldn’t face Coach, not after the look he’d given me when I’d finally rejoined the team.

Most of all, I couldn’t face Tanner making it about me when I knew how much this loss was hurting him. Just no way.

I walked home in my cleats. Why hadn’t I switched to sneakers? It didn’t matter now. Every step crunched against the sidewalk, metal on concrete echoing in the darkness, as if my failure needed an encore.