28. Boston

TWENTY-EIGHT

boston

A whirlwind of lime green flew past me in the form of a family decked out in matching vacation shirts. "On your left!" they chirped almost in unison, and I ducked out of the way. I luckily avoided a collision and reached my gate in the terminal.

I slung my duffle onto an empty chair as I sank down beside it. I relaxed for a moment, taking in the scent of overpriced airport coffee and fresh magazines. My fingers fumbled for my phone, as I waited for the alert to start boarding. The screen lit up, and I saw the notification for messages waiting in the group chat.

Parker

Boston wtf how’d you get away with ditching the lock-in?

Bailey

Not like coach can make us run laps anymore

Crew

So we didn’t have to go? Shit. My back hurts from those stupid cots.

Me

Told coach I had to be at the airport early, couldn’t risk it.

Parker

Genius

Bailey

You know what’s not genius? Me, at 6’3, trying to sleep on a 4 ft cot

Reese

There’s no way you’re 6’3

Bailey

Am too

Crew

My ass. But we love a short king.

Reese

??

Bailey

Fuck you all

My head snapped up as I realized I had missed the announcement and boarding had already begun. With a quick press of the side button, my screen went dark, and I hurried to take my seat just before we ascended into the sky. I slouched in the stiff airplane seat, my eyes tracing the rolling clouds. I closed my eyes briefly, only for the image of Chandler to float behind my eyelids. I forced them open, shaking my head.

Stepping off the plane, the airport buzzed with a tornado of people sprinting in all directions. My eyes scanned the arrivals crowd until they landed on a driver holding up an iPad with "Boston Riley" across the screen.

"Mr. Riley?" he asked as I approached.

"Call me Boston," I replied with a nod, following him to the sleek black SUV waiting outside.

"Please make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the interior where bottles of water, chips, and peanuts were neatly arranged. "Help yourself to anything."

"Thanks," I said, settling into the plush leather seat.

The city passed by in a blur as we drove to the hotel. I could imagine the possibility of living there, seeing the view everyday.

We pulled up to a hotel downtown and a doorman greeted us with a bright smile. The driver retrieved my suitcase from the trunk.

"Thank you," I said, glancing at the intimidating hotel, feeling out of place in such luxury.

"No worries, sir. I'll be back bright and early tomorrow to pick you up for your day," he assured me.

"See you then."

The comfort of the hotel bed was heaven compared to the stiff, small airplane seat. I was ready to get to bed early and let my body sink into the mattress.

Just as I lay down, my phone started to vibrate and I glanced at the screen. Reese's name flashed in bold letters. It had to be a mistake—I wondered if it could have been a butt-dial.

"Hello?" I answered, rougher than I’d intended.

"Hey," Reese's tone was casual, but there was something underneath it—something more serious.

"What's up?" The question came out hesitant.

"Can you talk for a sec?" he asked.

"I guess." My voice still carried an edge.

"I'm not calling to talk about us," he started cautiously. "I'm calling to talk about Chandler."

The mention of her name made me tense, every muscle coiling like a spring. I sat up straighter in my bed, the sheets pooling around my waist. "What about her?"

The silence between us stretched, and I could tell he was measuring his next words. My throat tightened as I waited.

"Relax," Reese said, finally. "It's about you and her."

I shifted on the bed, resting my elbows on my knees waiting for him to continue.

"Ditch the stupid meeting and take her to the ball," he continued, his words creating a mental picture of Chandler in her dress, her eyes searching through the crowd for someone to dance with. I would have killed to be the one to save her in that moment, no matter where we stood.

The ball was the next day. The thought of her going alone, or not going at all, twisted something inside me. I couldn’t even imagine thinking about her going with someone else. I didn’t even have to see her to know she’d be the most beautiful one there. I should've been the one taking her. Instead I was gone, covered in sheets way too soft for the harsh reality that I might have lost her.

"She’s not going because she wants to be there with you." He seemed genuine which caught me off guard. But I still couldn’t trust him and he didn’t understand how big this meeting was for me. I wasn’t like him—no one handed me opportunities.

"What is this?" I snapped, my pulse quickening with the rush of adrenaline. "Another plan you and your dad have to sabotage me again?"

The accusation hung in the air, and silence followed—a heavy, expectant pause. I waited for whatever sharp remark he was about to toss back at me.

But instead of anger, there was only the exhale of a sigh before he spoke. "Despite what you might think, my dad and I are not the same person," he said, pausing before continuing. "You were right about him—he was keeping shit from me. And I… I should have been more open to hearing you out."

He had thoroughly shocked me with that response, and I let out a breath, the tension in my shoulders easing ever so slightly.

"Thank you," I said softly, feeling a genuine shift between us for the first time. "I shouldn’t have blamed you for anything he’s done—I know you’re not him."

"Riley," Reese said smugly, "If you're about to apologize and say you love me, I might actually puke."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Not a chance," I shot back, grateful for the brief break from all the seriousness.

"Anyway," he continued, letting out a sigh, "there will be more chances and other opportunities. Who knows how many chances you’ll get with Chandler? So find a way to get back before the ball."

I closed my eyes, the weight of his words settling around me.

"It’s not that simple," I explained, knowing I wouldn’t be able to make that happen.

"You’ll find a way," Reese said, and I could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Don’t be stupid. Just get back here and get the girl."

"Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," I said with a small chuckle betraying my amazement.

"Yeah, me either," Reese replied, before I heard Bailey yell his name in the background. "I should probably take it all back, but you’re lucky I have to go. Remember what I said, Riley."

"Bye," I said, then ended the call.

In the quiet that followed, Reese's advice weighed heavy on my mind. I was highly aware of the pulse in my veins, the dull ache in my chest where something vital strained against my ribcage. Chandler, the ball, my future—all of it hung in the balance. But I’d already made my choice. I was here, and I couldn’t turn back.

Sunlight pried my eyes open before the alarm could. Once it went off, I bolted to get myself ready.

I showered and threw on a crisp button-up, then stepped into dress pants. I adjusted my collar with an air of finality. It was showtime. I had to play the part—tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, hoping they’d like me.

With a last look around the room, I grabbed my essentials and headed downstairs where reality—and my driver—awaited.

"Good morning, sir," the driver said kindly as I slid into the backseat. "You ready for a big day ahead?"

"Yes, sir," I managed, my nerves starting to get to me. The car moved smoothly, parting through the morning commotion, and soon the Wrigley Field loomed before us.

Wrigleyville was full of life—restaurants and shops were filled with people inside and out. We passed it all, slipping into a private entrance that granted us access inside the field.

"Here we are," the driver announced, bringing the car to a graceful halt.

I stepped out to a welcome committee dressed in blue and red—the team colors. The coach was there—I remembered shaking his hand at one of our games—alongside the assistant manager and several other staff members.

"Big day planned for you, man," Coach Colin greeted me, extending his hand.

"Can't wait," I responded, shaking his hand firmly. But then, caught in such a big moment, I saw her—Chandler—flash before my eyes. Her image clung to me like a stubborn shadow as I tried to anchor myself in the GM's words. Nodding along, I pushed thoughts of her away with all the strength I could muster.

They ushered me through the halls. Fluorescent lights overhead punctuating all of our movements. The smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon drew us into an area laid out with a catered breakfast. People were spread around and introductions followed as we settled at a large conference table.

"So tell us all about yourself," The GM prompted, all eyes turning my way.

Who am I? I wondered silently, feeling suddenly small. My gaze swept over the expectant faces and I couldn’t shove away what I was feeling any longer. I was an idiot. That's what I was. I finally had a good thing—the girl I’d always wanted—and I’d just let her go.

A profound thought struck me as I sat there, unable to speak. What the fuck was baseball without someone to share it with?

I swallowed hard, trying to force my focus back to the pivotal crossroads that could lead to my future. This was the chance I had worked for, sweated for, bled for. But as the silence stretched on, realization struck hard. Yes, this was an opportunity that could make all my dreams come true. But the undeniable truth was that I should have fought harder for her. Baseball was my dream, but Chandler... She was my heart. And in a moment of piercing clarity, I realized the choice wasn't really a choice at all.

I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. My palms were slick against the polished wooden table, my heart pounding louder than I ever thought possible. "Baseball... it's been my life," I began, forcing the words out. "But if there's one thing I've learned, it’s that your passion means nothing if you have no one to share it with. It means nothing without a home. And she... she's my home." The confession hung in the air, as I took in my own words.

"Thank you," I continued, "for everything you've done, for bringing me here." Around me, the coaches and staff looked back at me in confusion and concern. But none of it mattered. "You probably won't consider me after this, but if you do, I will never let you down again." I paused, a lump forming in my throat. "And I'm sorry, but there's somewhere I need to be. I hope you all understand."

The room fell silent, thick with unspoken questions and judgments. The coach's stern eyes watched me as he rubbed his chin—thinking about what I had just said, no doubt. But no words came from him; he simply waited, as if anticipating my next move.

It was the assistant coach who finally broke the stillness, standing up with an ease that seemed out of place. "Son," he said, his voice begging me to reconsider. "I can tell you that you don't want to throw this opportunity away. Is there anything we can do to get you to stay?"

"No," I affirmed. "There isn't."

"Then I guess you've made the decision for us," he said with a note of finality.

I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me and sealing away the future I would have once done anything for. There was a possibility this didn't just ruin this opportunity, but could ruin my reputation across the board. But she mattered more than any of that. I had to get to her. I had to make things right.

The driver was waiting in the lobby, his expression curious as I panted out instructions. "Hotel. Then airport. It's urgent."

"Right away, sir," he said, and we were off.

In the backseat, my fingers fumbled over my phone, checking flight times, searching for the fastest way back to her, back to everything that mattered. Back home.

I fired off a text to Bailey.

Me

Need a favor

Bailey

Don’t you still owe me from the last favor?

Me

I need another. It’s important.

Bailey

I’m listening

Me

Can you get Chandler to the ball? Make sure she goes. I’m going to do my best to try to make it there and surprise her.

Bailey

Maybe I have a date

Me

Do you?

Bailey

No. I had two dates until about two hours ago. They found out about each other and decided to go together instead

…Without me

Me

Perfect

Bailey

Fine but you owe me double. Guess I can manage showing up with a baddie on my arm.

Me

Touch her and I’ll kill you

Bailey

Relax man I got it

Sinking back into the seat, I allowed myself to finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

The plane's tires screeched against the tarmac, jolting me from my restless thoughts. Around me, passengers rustled in their seats and the cabin filled with the clatter of opening overhead compartments.

"Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been turned off," the flight attendant directed through the intercom.

Her words did little to keep me in line. I stood up, ignoring the sideways glances as I edged into the aisle. The wait seemed endless, a barricade between me and the girl I desperately needed to get to. I checked the time on my phone with nervous energy, knowing the ball was about to start. My fingers drummed against the handle of my carry-on bag. Every second felt like an eternity.

I finally began to move, each step towards the exit a step towards hope. Each moment bringing me closer to seeing the girl I loved, the one who’d been right in front of me all this time. I may have been a dumbass when it came to her, but I was hoping from this moment on I could get it right, or keep trying to make things right as long as she’d let me.

"Thank you," I whispered to the flight attendant as I stepped off the plane, sprinting through the airport terminal. Urgency propelled me forward until I finally reached my truck.

"Come on, come on," I said to no one, jamming the key into the ignition. Tires screeched against asphalt as I peeled out of the parking lot, hoping traffic on the way would be kind to me just this once.