Sighing, Knox comes to the side of my locker and says, “Dude, I love you, you know that, right?”
“Where’s this going? I need food, and I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“You don’t seem to have time for anything but baseball. There’s life outside of baseball.”
“Not for me.”
“What about Milly?”
“What about her?” I ask, checking my locker for anything I might be missing.
“Where are things with her? Have you answered any of the texts she’s sent you? I see them piling up on your phone.” He points to my screen where there are two text messages waiting for me.
“She’ll get the point.” I’ve closed my mind to Milly. I don’t read her texts or her emails. She has to stay nonexistent in my mind, so I have no fucking idea why she keeps contacting me.
Knox groans in frustration and says, “You’re coming home with me.”
“I’m not.”
“I already told my mom you are. Are you really going to upset Mama G after everything she’s done for you? After all the games she sat in the stands and cheered for you, all the treats she made you? Are you going to stand her up?”
For a brief moment of weakness, I let Knox’s word penetrate my emotional forcefield. Mama G has been the one and only person who shouted my name louder than anyone I knew while I was playing. She was a second mom to me during college and for the life of me, I can’t disappoint her.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Knox asks in surprise.
“Yeah, but I’m not talking about my feelings and all that bullshit. I’m training and that’s it.”
“We can make that happen.” Knox picks up my bag and his and throws his arm over my shoulder. “Texas, here we come.”
“Hey Carson, it’s me. I can’t believe the season is over. I was calling to congratulate you on an awesome start to your professional career. The Bobbies totally made a terrible decision not calling you and Knox up for the extension of their roster. They’ll regret it. Next year though, right? What are your off-season plans? Are you coming back to Chicago? Let me know if you’re in town. I’d love to see you.”
NOVEMBER
“It’s been a dream having you boys here,” Mama G says, putting biscuits, gravy, and chicken in front of us. “My house has never looked better. Seriously the paint job on the fence makes me cry every time I look at it. It’s beautiful.”
“What do you have for us to do tomorrow?” I ask, digging into my meal.
Knox and I have been doing manual labor for the past two months, and it’s given me muscles I never knew existed. The gym can do a lot, but being outside, breathing in fresh air, tossing hay into a truck, it does something to a man, gives him a clearer head, more of a purpose.
My days have been simple. Chores in the morning, practice in the afternoon, chores at night, eat, and then go to bed. Repeat. The first week, I was so exhausted, I could barely lift my body out of bed, but now, I wake up before the alarm clock and am out of bed ready to go before Knox even opens his eyes.
We’ve been helping Mama G’s neighbor with his horses and cattle on some days and others we’ve been fixing up Mama G’s house. Knox has taken some days off, complaining that he can’t keep up with me, but I have the drive to get things done, to make sure I don’t have to stop to think. Constant motion, it’s what gets me from day to day without breaking down.
“I was thinking we go into town, have an off day?”
I shake my head. “I’m good, I have to train.”
“Sweetie”—Mama G places her hand on my forearm—“you need a break.”
I can’t snap at Mama G like I snap at Knox, so I hold back the quick retort and take a deep breath. “There’s no need for me to go into town. You two go ahead though.”
“We want to treat you to lunch, show you some good barbeque. You’ve been working relentlessly.”
“It’s how I prefer it.”
“Carson, you need to—”
“Mom,” Knox says. From the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head no and she quietly backs away, keeping her opinions to herself, making me feel like complete shit.
The silence between us is usually comfortable, but right now, it’s painful, and I don’t know how to fix it other than setting my fork down and lifting to my feet.
“I’m actually feeling unwell. I’m heading upstairs. Thanks for dinner, Mama G.”
“Oh Carson, you don’t—”
She doesn’t get to finish, because I’m already up the stairs headed to the bedroom I’ve been camping out in. I flop on the bed and stare at the ceiling as my phone buzzes in my pocket. A text, most likely from Milly.
A knock on my door startles me and Knox’s voice comes from the other side. “Hey, I brought your food up here. It’s on the floor if you want it. Sorry about my mom being pushy. See you tomorrow, bud.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and listen to Knox make his way back downstairs before grabbing the food from the hallway that’s been replenished.
I don’t deserve this kind of treatment and yet, I can’t get myself to leave either. There’s nowhere to go anyway.
JANUARY
Hey Carson,
Happy New Year.
Finally heard through the grapevine that you’ve been staying with Knox in Texas. That sounds like fun. Does he live on a ranch? For some reason, I’m picturing you riding a horse and it’s hysterical in my head. Have you ridden a horse? Did you wear a cowboy hat while doing it? Please say yes.
We’re opening the new facility in a week, just in time for “spring training” and I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions. We have so many coaches lined up to train their athletes in the new cages and on the turf, we are already booked up. Don’t worry though. I saved a cage for myself.
When I was looking around the new space, it reminded me of all the good times we had in the batting cages.
I know you said we were over, that you were training and focusing on that, but it doesn’t take a long time to answer a text message. I just don’t get why you haven’t talked to me.
I don’t mean to get girly on you, but is it something I did? I hope I didn’t hurt you in any way and not even realize it.
Anyway, if you can, write me back, text me back, call me back. Any of those would work.
I miss you, Carson.
Milly.
APRIL
Milly: Saw you hit your first cycle in the minors. That’s awesome. Congrats.
Milly: Cory said you’ve moved up to Triple-A with Knox and there are rumors of you coming up to the majors this year. Is that true? If you do, let me know. I’ll drop everything to be at that game cheering for you.
Milly: Miss you, Carson.
“This is fucking bullshit,” I say, slamming my suitcase on the floor and popping open a beer before flopping down on the couch I share with Knox. “I get called up, don’t play, and then sent back down to this hellhole? What the fuck?”
“It’s how the game is played. Rivera is still viable at second on the Bobbies. They’re not about to get rid of him just yet.”