Page 84 of The Way We Swing Back

Tanner first. He stood back, a half step behind Coach Berrios. He wanted to join in, but thought his job as an assistant coach wasn’t to celebrate.

Fuck that.

I wrapped him in a hug. His arms hesitated before wrapping around me as well, his hands beating on my back like a drum.

“We fucking did it, Tanner. We got the ring!” I pushed him away, barely able to look away from his face. That nose, the huge ears, the hair he had grown out to his shoulders under his hat.

Coach Berrios got to me next with a handshake. “Thank you, Easton,” he said. Tears formed in his eyes.

“Third time’s the charm, huh?” I asked. The relief of finally getting these two what they wanted gave me a sense of pure pride I hadn’t known I was capable of having.

Finally, I turned my ears back on, and I heard the roar of the crowd that was still on its feet. The sun finally came out from behind the clouds and hit my face, as if it knew we had won.

We shook hands with the opposing team, and their coach even congratulated me on how well I’d pitched. He said it was the best game he’d ever seen from a high school pitcher.

We stood on the third base line as the announcer congratulated our opponents, and they received their silver medals. This was so much sweeter than hearing our names first, like we had two years prior. Gavin’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as the names blared, and Zach swayed slightly by my side.

Finally, we were up.

The announcer went name by name through our team as Coach placed the medals around our necks. We’d be getting rings at some point, but I wasn’t sure when. This was enough for now.

When we finished getting our jewelry, the team jogged back to the dugout. I went up to Coach Berrios and asked him for one of the extra medals. The crowd had started to go quiet, but someone was still missing something around his neck.

“Tanner,” I said.

“Sup, East.”

I threw the medal over his head, making sure it fit tight. I pounded his chest, hoping he’d fully grasp what I was about to say. “I couldn’t get you this when we played together, but you earned this as much as all of us. You pushed us in every workout, just like you did when you were in school. Zach, Gavin, and I wouldn’t be the players we are without you.

“You’re going to sit here and think you didn’t earn this or that it doesn’t matter as much because you did it as a coach and not a player. But this medal should mean as much to you as the one we didn’t win two years ago.”

“Thanks, East,” he said, his smile finally getting to his eyes.

I wrapped my arm over his shoulder and headed toward the crowd. Even in a sea of red shirts, I locked eyes with Nate, who I had no idea was coming. He lifted his hat toward me, and when he did, I pounded on my right shoulder twice before pointing at him. My shoulder—the one he’d rebuilt—had just gone twenty-one up, twenty-one down in the state finals.

Tanner and I made our way to the edge of the stands, where his parents stood beaming.

Mrs. Quinn wrapped me in a hug as soon as we got close enough. “Good game, sweetheart.”

At the same time, Mr. Quinn shook hands with his oldest son. “Congrats, Coach.”

“Thank you so much,” I said when Mrs. Quinn released me. I was hoping they knew I didn’t just mean the congratulations, but everything. The house. The family. The chores. Everything.

Zach joined us shortly after, followed by Gavin, who wrapped his arm over my shoulder. “That was the coolest thing ever. Never watched anything like it, a freaking perfect game. And we won, unlike Tanner’s team.”

“Hey there,” Tanner said, tapping Gavin lightly on the shoulder.

“What do you mean, 'watched’?" I said. “Like you didn’t just call the best game of your life.”

“You know what? You’re right. I did,” Gavin said.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Zach said.

When Mr. Quinn was finally able to get a word in, he asked, “So, how does this feel?”

I looked around. This crowd. This town. This family. Tanner.

“We’re good,” I said.