Chapter 17

17

The sun had almost lowered completely. The mid-December air cooled off without the added heat of the sun, and it soothed the damage from the day's heat. The street lights had just turned on, only a sliver of sunlight peeking through the buildings on the horizon. The murmur of cicadas had just started to ring around us, creating a peaceful sort of tranquility.

My toes danced along the surface of the water, rippling my reflection in the river. Reece's hand rested next to mine on the wooden planks of the pier as we gazed at the buzzing city in front of us, bright lights glistening from the buildings and skyscrapers.

We had been here for almost an hour, talking mindlessly about nothing significant, dancing around whatever was weighing on Reece's mind. I didn't mind it, but I knew Reece hadn't brought me here to talk about how he had once gotten chased by a ‘big ass lizard' at the zoo when he was seven. Although the story made me laugh quite a lot, I finally decided to stop his rambling and contemplation to let it all out.

"Reece, no matter how much I love to hear about seven-year-old you running around the zoo with a lizard on your tail, I know we didn't come here to talk about that," I said, taking my feet out from the water to turn and face him. He didn't meet my eyes straight away, but when he finally did, his expression sobered, and that vulnerability was back shining in those green depths of his. The pain and sadness I had first seen on that beach at Airlie had resurfaced.

"Tell me. What's on your mind?" I asked softly.

He chuckled, but it was empty as he shook his head and looked down at his hands. "So many things."

I let the silence spread between us, waiting for him to open up. His brows pinched together as he picked at the skin around his thumbnail. I could feel the rush of emotion running through him. It emanated from him. I wanted to reach across and hold his hand to encourage him. I wanted to hold him in my arms to protect him from whatever was dragging him down, but I kept my hands tucked underneath my thighs to keep me from doing just that as he worked himself up to release the pressure on that bottle he so tightly wound closed.

"I don't know how to explain this without going from the beginning, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to go through all those memories."

His words were so soft and broken. I almost told him to forget it and that he didn't need to tell me anything he didn't want to. I couldn't handle the small break in his voice. It was like that crack had a direct connection with my heart as it broke along with his words. But before I could say that, he continued.

"But I can't deal with this weight any longer, and you're the only person I feel comfortable around. The only person I know who won't pity me or change how they act around me. I know with you, you'll just listen and be here, and that's all I need right now."

I just nodded and listened.

"Ever since I was born, I've had this huge amount of pressure mounted on my shoulders from my Dad. He expects me to be better and holds these unrealistic expectations of what I should be and what I should do.

"He used to play baseball when he was younger and he was close to going pro. There was a high probability that he would go to the States to join the MLB, he was that good. But he had to drop out and all his dreams had dissipated with one mistake. And as he reminds me constantly, I was that mistake." His voice quivered on the last word and he swallowed before continuing.

"Now, he's pushing me to fulfil those dreams and do what he couldn't. I know I'm good, but sometimes it doesn't feel like that. One little mistake is like the end of the world to him. I should do this, and I should do that. It's always the things I did wrong, never mentioning the good work I did in a game. It's so exhausting. And when I go out to have fun, I'm berated and have to run fifty laps and practice until I'm throwing up because ‘I should be focused on improving my game, not having fun'. I can never have something for myself because I'm reminded I don't deserve happiness. That's a whole other story. But it's like I only have one chance to be free of all this and that's to go pro." He continued without break.

"But I'm getting to the point where it feels worthless. Like it's something I don't want anymore. Don't get me wrong, I would love to go to the Majors. I love baseball. I've enjoyed being able to play some games in the ABL. But there's too much pressure around it that I just… sometimes I just want to give up."

Once he finished his rant, he released a long, agonising breath as he kept his eyes on his hands. I stared across the river, letting the story linger in the wind with the pain behind his every word. This anger built through me about how he was treated, and all these questions filtered through my head. I wanted to save him somehow. Protect him from all this. I wanted to scream at his dad for making him feel this way.

I wanted to ask him where his mother was in all this. It was a question I wondered a lot because he never brought her up, and I never saw her. But I kept my curiosity to myself, feeling as though it was a sensitive subject.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with that," I whispered, the wind whipping around us as if to create a curtained barrier so it was for just us to hear. I reached over to grab his clenched hands from his lap and squeezed them.

He shook his head. "Don't apologise," he whispered back, eyeing the hand I wrapped his in. Then he intertwined them together and squeezed them, the rough callous of his brushed against mine. He kept his eyes on our hands as he traced patterns with his thumb against the back of mine. I watched him, my heart aching for him as we let the silence absorb us. It seemed like that's all Reece wanted after his spiel. Someone to hold him while he laid exposed on the pier, more vulnerable than I had seen him. I shuffled closer to him and tucked my head into the crook of his neck, looking back at the river as the sun disappeared altogether behind the trees, leaving us in the dark. Reece squeezed my hand again before I felt him rest his head on top of mine, and it was like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

That was us for a while, with his thumb drawing lazy circles on mine, my foot dragging through the water, and our heads resting against each other. I tucked his admission into the depths of my heart where he had taken residence and locked it deep under the water of the river for safekeeping, letting it drown like all our other secrets.

It was a long time after that I whispered to him the words he told me in this exact spot a couple of weeks ago. "Just so you know, you can do anything you set your mind to. You are much more than the expectations held against you."

He just squeezed my hand once again, and then I felt a feather-light touch on my forehead. My stomach fluttered when I realised it was his lips.

"Thank you. For everything." His voice rumbled through the quiet bubble we created. "I don't deserve you, but I'm grateful to have you," he breathed.

I don't know how long we spent there in each other's arms, breathing in the fresh night air, but all I know is when my head finally hit my pillow, it was 11 p.m., and my heart still ached for him.