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Shaking my head, I return to my shelves, glancing at my supplies and trying to force my head to go back to teacher mode. It takes great effort, but eventually the arrival of my first student clicks things back into place. I spend the class time getting the students familiar with clay and the wheel and the terminology we’ll be using, and the time passes quickly.
Almost the second the last student is gone once class is over, I grab my phone and shoot Bishop a text.
Me: Can you come by my class when you’re done with practice?
Nearly immediately, a text bubble pops up.
Bishop: I was already on my way over there *wink emoji* See you in a few
I lick my lips, pacing the room, glancing around and knowing I need to clean up but unable to force myself to do so.
I know we have to talk about this, even though I’m not sure what I’m going to say when he gets here. But when Bishop finally pushes through the door a few minutes later with a smile on his face, part of me wants to keep what I know to myself, at least for a while. Let it be a future Gabi problem.
I love that smile. I love the way he looks at me. I love every goddamn thing about this man. But I also know shelving this conversation isn’t something we can do. I love him too much to do that.
“Hey,” he says, the door shutting loudly behind him.
“Did you get released from your team?”
I blurt it out. Maybe it’s not the most eloquent way to ask, but I know if I don’t just say it, I might not, because I knew his smile would fall just like it is right now. It only dips for a moment, and then in true Bishop style, it returns quickly.
“I did.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, reaching out for my hands and taking them in his own. “I wanted everything to be set up first before I told you.”
“You wanted what to be a surprise?”
“Me staying in town. Me not going anywhere.”
I blink, that same surprise rolling through me even though Sam already told me this exact thing. Hearing it from Bishop’s mouth is completely different.
“We haven’t talked a lot about it, you know? Me leaving. It’s like, the one thing we avoid, and now it’s a non-issue.”
I shake my head and tug my hands from his. “Why are you talking about this like it’s a good thing?”
Bishop’s head jerks back. “Why would it be a bad thing?”
“Because you don’t want to be here, Bishop!” I shout. “Because you’ve been dreaming of playing baseball your entire life. Because it’s your dream!” I shake my head. “Why would you give that up?”
“I’m not…” He shakes his head then rests his hands on his hips. “I’m not giving it up, Gabi. I got released from my team. The dream is over.”
I scoff. “You’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Even I know enough about baseball to tell you nobody in their right mind would assume your dream is over because you got cut from one team. You have an entire career ahead of you. Who knows what’s going to happen?”
“I know what’s going to happen, okay? Some part of me has always known.”
He takes a breath and spins around, staring out the window before turning to look at me again.
“When I hurt my hand, it was because I ignored my instincts and my coach. I should have stopped at second. There was a base coach telling me to stop, but I ran through to third because I wanted people to see me. I wanted to be great. Not just good—great.” He licks his lips and then huffs. “And I knew. I just…knew I’d fucked it all up.”
“Lots of people get injured, Bishop. This is just fear talking. Rejection is hard, but that doesn’t mean your dream is over. You can’t just…stay here. You can’t give up.”
He shakes his head. “Why not? Why can’t I just accept that it’s over? Instead of drawing it out and getting my hopes up and then watching as it still falls apart.”
