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“But you’re—”
“And I can’t even hate them for it, because they’re good people, and they love me, and I know they want the best for me. They just have this idea of what’s best that’s notmyidea of what’s best. Whenever I talk to my mom I want to scream at her, because she loves me so much but in all the wrong ways.”
The words tumble from me in a rush, akin to forcing poison out of a wound. I haven’t said all of this aloud to anyone other than Penny, and that was after several drinks.
“That would be a waste.” He reaches forward and tucks my hair behind my ears, one and then the other. He brushes his lips against mine. It’s the softest kiss we’ve ever shared, and yet I wish it would go on forever. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a teacher, but that would be a fucking waste. Your mind is incredible, Mia. It’s meant to help discover the future. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
I laugh a little wetly. “Come on.”
“I’m serious.”
I sniffle. “I thought if I could just… prove somehow that I’m meant to do this, then when I came clean, it would be okay. That’s why I’ve been working so hard to get into this study abroad program—the director of it is going to be at the symposium. But Giana got so angry when she found out. I know I have to tell them, but I’m afraid they’re not going to understand. Or even try to understand.”
“Mia.”
I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, but I blink carefully, so they don’t spill over my cheeks. “Give me a truth.”
“I think we should—”
“Give me a truth, please.” Every time I imagine the look on my mother’s face during this horrible, inevitable conversation, I want to cry. “I want one of yours.”
Something cracks in his expression.
“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t make me be vulnerable alone.”
He pulls me into a hug. I hug him back, relishing in the smell of his cologne, feeling the warmth of his body in the now chilly nighttime air. He hooks his chin over my shoulder and says into the night, quiet enough I have to work to listen, “I’m quitting baseball.”
“What?” I try to pull away, but he holds me in place. Whatever I thought he might say—maybe something about his parents, or about his past with the Callahans—wanting to quit baseball never crossed my mind.I’vethought about it for him a few times, but I wouldn’t have suggested it. “But it’s your life.”
“It was my father’s life.” He keeps whispering, as if he’s afraid of the very air around us overhearing him. “I know I have the talent, but it’s not what I want to do with my future. I can’t do it just because it’s what my father imagined for me.”
I keep my voice as soft as his. “What do you want to do instead?”
“When I graduate, I’ll have access to my inheritance.” I feel him swallow against my shoulder. “I was thinking that I’d travel. Just… experience all the places I haven’t yet. Learn to cook for real, work my way up through the ranks in the restaurant world. I could leave McKee after next semester; I have the credits. Cooking makes me happier than anything else. It’s art to me. It’s… it’s a kind of poetry. Everything you’ve said about space, I feel about food. I want to be in a kitchen, not on the baseball field. Not anymore.”
Giving up baseball—a career that will one day lead to millions of dollars and maybe even a place in history—to wash dishes in a restaurant until they decide he’s ready to prep the vegetables.
I manage to wriggle out of his arms so I can meet his gaze.
He’s biting his lip, his eyes wide with nervousness.
That’s when it hits me. No one else knows about this. I’d be willing to bet that was the first time he ever said those words aloud. The interview with Zoe Anders, the expectations from not just the baseball community, but his family and his late parents, the draft in July—it’s all pressing in, and he knows that pretty much anyone he talks to will tell him to stay the course. To forget about cooking, or travel, or anything else he might want to do, just because he’s genetically blessed the same way his father was.
I knew the moment I began to apply to college programs that I couldn’t go through with becoming a teacher. I couldn’t let myself do that just for the sake of my family. When it all comes crashing down, it will be hell, but it’ll be worth it, because I’ll have the degree that I need for my future. Even if Sebastian could play baseball professionally, he shouldn’t have to.
“You should do it.”
He blinks. He’s probably had this conversation in his head a million times—I know I did—and I’m sure that whoever he pretends to talk to doesn’t react the way I just did. I understand his worry. His family is full of athletes. James already plays his sport professionally, and Cooper is trending in that direction too. This would be a huge step in a completely different direction, and I know better than anyone how difficult that can be to reconcile.
“You’re sure?” he says.
“Yeah,” I say. “You’re incredible at cooking, and you have the passion for it. This is a good plan, Seb. I want to see you in that chef’s jacket.”
I hear the relief in his laughter loud and clear. “You’re amazing.”
“I’m just telling you the truth.”
“It was you, you know.” He presses another kiss to my lips. “You’re so focused and committed, and I realized that I wanted to feel that way too. Just not for baseball. For the thing that’s mine and mine alone. Thank you, Mia.”
