Chapter 16

I trudged home,my shoes scraping against the pavement with each weary step. It felt like I had been walking for hours, even though the ball field was only a mile from Boston's cabin. I knew that fight with Boston and Reese probably had everything to do with me, but I wasn't ready to face Boston, so I walked slowly to have some time alone with my thoughts.

When I finally arrived, I found Parker and Boston's gear strewn across the front porch. Their grass-stained uniforms laid over the railing, baseball bags were tossed on the floor, and their gloves sat on the patio bench.

With a sigh, I sank into the bench and picked up Boston's mitt, running my fingers over the worn leather. As I did, my eyes widened, and I froze in place when I noticed a faded friendship bracelet tied into the stitching on the inside of the mitt, its threads loose and frayed. I recognized the bracelet instantly. I had given it to Boston years ago when we were just kids—the first time we had ever met.

My mind started racing, and my heart suddenly pounded. Boston had kept it all this time? I had assumed he would have lost it years ago. I mean, I was five years old, but clearly, it still meant something to him.

What does this mean? The faded bracelet consumed my thoughts. Then I heard the front door open and the porch lights turned on. I quickly tucked away the mitt as Boston and Parker stepped onto the porch. "There you are. Where have you been?" Parker asked, eyeing me skeptically.

"I wanted to walk home, needed the fresh air," I said with a shrug, trying to sound casual.

Boston gave me a long look before giving me a faint smile and rummaging through his equipment. Then he took his mitt and quickly shoved it below a pile of items.

"So," I began hesitantly, "what happened tonight?"

"Boston almost beat Reese's ass, that's what." Parker smirked, as he began to pick up his items to take them inside. Then he shut the door behind him—leaving me alone with Boston.

Boston sat down next to me and let out a long sigh. "It was all on me," he confessed, running a hand through his wavy hair. "I just let stress get the best of me. I never would have forgiven myself if they lost."

"Boston," I said firmly, gripping his hand for emphasis, "Being on this team could lead you somewhere big. You can't let anything get in the way of that. I don't know how many times I've heard you say that you're going to use baseball to give your mom a better life. You talked about it since we were kids."

His jaw clenched, and I could see the weight of my words sinking in. He nodded slightly, knowing that I was right. We sat there silently, hands still intertwined for a moment before he spoke. "I know, it won't happen again. I was just off today." He squeezed my hand reassuringly before letting go.

"Anyway, I gotta go take a shower." He grimaced, realizing how sweaty he still was from the game. With a small smile and a wink, he turned and walked toward the front door.

Just as his hand touched the doorknob, I found my voice.

"Hey, Boston?"

He paused and turned back to look at me. Even with the porch light's dim glow, I could still make out the curiosity in his eyes.

"Was it because of me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you get into it with Reese because of me?"

I knew him well enough to know that even if it was, Boston would never say it. He was too humble—not ever the type of person to blame someone else for his actions.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, where I saw something flicker behind those cautious blue depths. Then, almost effortlessly, he shook his head.

"No," he lied. "It wasn't about you."

The air seemed to grow heavy with his denial, and I found myself searching his face for the truth that I felt certain was being withheld as I waited for him to break the silence.

"This shit with me and Reese goes way back, you know that. To the very first summer I started coming here for baseball. It's just the way we are," he added, but the tightness in his voice, the way his gaze couldn't quite meet mine, told me all I needed to know. I didn't believe him—not for a second.

"Okay, Boston."

I watched him go and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Part of me wanted to stop him again, to ask about the bracelet that was now tugging at my heart. I wanted to ask him why he kept it for so long, why it was in his glove, but something held me back. Maybe it was fear of what the answers might be if he actually opened up to me—or the uncertainty of things changing. What if it didn't mean anything, and he kept it because I was like a little sister to him? That might hurt more than anything else.

Instead, I stayed silent like a coward, as the darkness began to consume me. The shadows grew longer, wrapping around me like a cold blanket. I hugged my knees to my chest, lost in thought.

Have Boston's feelings toward me changed? And if they did, what would that mean? I had never thought about the possibility of us becoming something—mostly, because I didn't think he'd ever see me in that way. I mean, he was my first crush, and I adored him—it's Boston, how could I not? But I was probably overthinking all of this. Boston was still the same person he'd always been. I was just jumping to conclusions. Still, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him in a new light. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, things felt different between us now.