Page 40 of The Way We Swing Back

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.

Chapter 19

Dad didn’t try showing up again to another game. Maybe he couldn’t figure out our schedule, or maybe Coach Berrios and Mr. Quinn had scared him away; I didn’t care the reason. Every inning, though, I scanned the crowd before the first pitch to see if he’d come. More than once, I thought I saw him in the stands—whether a mirage or a memory, I wasn’t sure.

Summer continued like last, except Tanner turned into an actual coach rather than just a field general. What a weird dynamic that was, my kind-of-but-not-really ex now trying to help me with my fielding. It was almost as weird as when he’d been my double-play partner.

Practice had been over for an hour now; the sun was setting behind the pine trees as Zach, Tanner, and I splashed around in the pool, and country music blasted from Zach’s phone on the deck.

“Gavvvvvvviiiiinn,” I yelled as the fifteen-year-old walked onto the porch. Seemingly overnight, he’d started to grow, as if a beanstalk. He resembled a beanstalk, too, with how lanky and skinny he’d become, and especially with the grass-colored swim trunks he wore, which now barely covered his thighs.

“Eeeeastonnn,” he said, his voice cracking as he jumped in with us. The second he hit the water, Tanner and I swam to the edge and got out, ignoring his pleas to stay put. Sure, we had planned the exit to coincide with him getting home, but it was more so because we needed to talk with his parents. Annoying him was a bonus.

My body shivered as we toweled off; even though it was midsummer, I was never colder than when I exited a pool, water dripping everywhere.

“Mom,” Tanner yelled as we entered the kitchen.

“Jesus, Tanner, I’m right here,” his mom said from beside the sink.

“Language, Mother,” he said, trying to mimic her tone.

She stared at him; I wasn’t sure what was stronger, her glare or the smell of dish detergent filling the room.

“Can Easton and I take Gavin to his showcase this weekend? We don’t have any games,” Tanner said as we sat at the table in the middle of the room. He spoke with more confidence than when he had asked two years ago, no stumble in his voice.

Mr. Quinn walked in as Tanner asked the question. His wife looked over, and a conversation commenced between their eyes.

“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea...” she said, her voice trailing off. She tossed aside the towel she’d been holding, and crumbs spilled onto the floor.

Tanner looked at me with the same confusion I felt. We’d figured this was a cinch; we had taken Gavin out of town two years prior with no issues, and now Tanner was in college.

“Why not?” he said.

“Well,” his mom started, “we’re not sure if we’re fine with you two sharing a hotel room with no supervision.”

The words landed wrong. I gripped the edge of the chair, my fingers pushing into the cushion.

“Why not?” Tanner asked again, his voice rising. His body straightened and his face turned stern as he looked at his mom.

“Well, it’s because,” she started, then glanced at me.

“So, this is because I’m gay?” Tanner said incredulously.

“Yes,” she said, glancing at me a second time. I looked away, not wanting to make eye contact. Did she suspect what we had done together so many times under her roof?