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I wasn’t ready for the blow to my chest. It’s as if the burly guy over to our right kickboxed me in the chest. The more the thought festers in my mind, the more it makes sense. He’s hated me ever since I can remember. He rode my ass more than he ever has Steve’s.
“If that’s true, then why did Mom leave me with him?”
“I assume because she had her own demons to fight.”
My mind fogs from too many entities tugging at me. I can’t think clearly. Maybe Cassie’s right and I do need to talk to a shrink.
Chapter Forty
DALTON
The waves crashto the shore, but there is an eerie stillness in the air. It feels like the moment before an impending storm where the air is charged with palpable energy. The kind of storm that leaves no one in its wake. Steve’s earlier assumption about Dad weighs heavily on my mind. I lean against the pillar under the dock with my friend Marty and try wrapping my head around everything: Cassie, baseball, Dad—if he’s even my dad. What if he’s not? Would it make a difference? I somehow think not. It may even be a relief. I was going to confront him when I got back, but I found him passed out in his recliner. It made sampling him easier though. The fucker never even moved when I swabbed him.
“You want a hit?” Marty asks, pulling out a blunt. I almost smirk. Leave it to my friend to never change.
“Sure.”I have nothing to lose.
“Have you heard anything from your coach yet?” Marty’s referring to Coach Callahan from Cessna U.
“No, but I’m sure they kicked me off the team.” Although I find the radio silence strange. I figured my old coach would’ve called by now to let me know either way. His silence is killing me slowly.
“So what now?”
“I guess I’ll become the ‘s’ in Boyd’s and sons.” If the parental testing kit I sent off comes back as a match, that is. Otherwise, who the hell knows?
Marty winces. “Isn’t there something you can do? Some open tryouts or something?”
“What’s the point? I may have had excellent stats, but my attitude kept me from getting drafted. Do you think getting kicked out of summer league improved that image?”
“That sucks, man. You don’t have an attitude. Not really.”
I laugh and take another hit before passing it back. “Yeah, but I wasn’t a team player either.” If Coach Greenburg taught me anything, it was that I certainly didn’t get along with teammates.
Laughter from a volleyball game draws our attention. It isn’t lost on me that I was standing here the first time I saw Cassie. She was a vision. I had no idea how much that girl in a French bikini would impact my life. I think back to the day I went for my run and crashed into her. Our first conversation was her scolding me. Then she got on that ridiculous bike. She was so damn cute. Her charm entranced me that day, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I glance up at the overhead boards. I miss her smile, the way she sasses back at me, and how she always sticks up for me. I miss the blissfulness on her face after she orgasms. That sight never gets old—especially the last time. Anxiety plows into my chest like a freight train thinking about our last night. Reality hits. I’m never going to see her again.
“Bro, you don’t look so well. You that worried?”
“Nah, it is what it is.” I’m fucking crushed, but as much as it kills me not to play ball, it’s nothing compared to the hurt of losing Cassie. The thought completely terrifies me. I can’t admit that to Marty though. He wouldn’t understand.
“Or does it have more to do with the girl?”
Damn observant asshole.“Nah. That’s a lost cause.”
“But you love her.”
“What do you know about love?”
“Me? Nothing, but you? You gave up everything for that girl—your college of choice, the opportunity to have a killer year, and now your baseball career. You seriously going to tell me that you don’t love her?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I do love her.”
“And you’re willing to let this setback stop you from being with her?”
“I don’t have a choice.” My pitch rises higher. I don’t mean to get mad, but what is he getting at? That I’m purposely choosing not to have Cassie in my life? I can’t be with her and she’s better off without me. Those are facts I can’t change.
“Now that’s where you’re wrong, my friend.” He takes a hit from the blunt. “You always have choices. Your choice is to give up.”
I stare out into the ocean, wondering when my friend became so philosophical. As much as I want to push back, he makes a good point. Maybe I am choosing to give up. Maybe I’m not much better than my dad, choosing the easiest path.No regrets, no remorse. Were they just words I said and only applied them to playing ball? Was I not applying them to actual life?
