14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Nolan — Then

T he infield was smooth and freshly raked, and the sharp smell of cut grass filled the air. Music drifted through the speakers, mixing with the voices of the fans piling into the stadium seats. The field lights were on, bright and blinding.

It was early February, my second semester at Arizona Canyon University, and baseball season had officially begun. It was opening weekend, the third and final game in our series against Washington. They’d won the opener and us the second, so tonight would determine who’d win the weekend series.

Tonight was my debut game.

The Arizona Rattlesnakes had nine pitchers, most of them upperclassmen. I might have been the starting pitcher in Wallowpine, but high school stats didn’t mean anything here, so I hadn’t anticipated starting this early in the season. Figured I’d have to put in my time before I earned a spot on the mound. But the coaches must’ve believed I’d done so these past few months, as they’d pulled me aside after yesterday’s win and told me I was pitching.

This was a step toward playing professional baseball. A shot to be more than a small-town prized athlete. To make everyone proud and prove they’d been right to believe in me. Right to believe I could be more than the son my mom left behind, more than the middle child who once wandered off for too long .

This was my golden opportunity.

But as I stood outside our dugout, shoulder to shoulder with my teammates as the announcer called out the lineups, I silently begged they wouldn’t call my name. Hoped the coaches realized they’d made a mistake and chose someone else.

“What’s up?” Dalton’s elbow hit mine. Before I could say something smart back, perhaps ask if he’d just realized he was on a baseball field, he murmured, “You’re all jittery. Did you drink three Monsters in the bullpen or something?”

Following his gaze, I found my fingers shaking at my side. I resisted the urge to clench my hands into a fist and instead folded my fingers up, leaving the middle one out. “I’ve been itching to do this since I woke up.”

He snorted. “Asshole.”

I smirked, almost relieved, until I heard my name called. Until, in a whirlwind of moments later, I found myself standing on the pitching mound. A baseball in my hand, smooth and untouched, ready to be thrown. My grip was firm, steady—but still I felt the ghostlike ache, the cloud lingering over me.

Mouth dry, I looked to home plate, and it didn’t matter how many times I’d pitched the sixty-feet-and-six-inch distance, it somehow transformed into the length of the Grand Canyon. It was unattainable, out of reach.

Hopeless.

This wasn’t my golden opportunity. I was a small-town wannabe, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No matter what I did, I’d always be the pathetic boy who chased after his mama when she’d deserted him. I was nothing. Nothing, nothing, noth—

“—I know it’s hard, but you can do it. Try and tell me three things you see,” a voice had quietly urged, and though it was distant, I could’ve sworn I felt a flicker of warmth beside me, felt a break in the darkness engulfing me. “I’ll do it with you, okay?”

I shook my head, willing the black dots to leave my vision as I scanned the stands. Whether it was coincidence or some invisible thread binding us, I found Indy instantly. Dad and my brothers were there too, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone but her .

Her hair was down, her curls messy in a way that was absolute perfection. She wore a maroon jersey she must’ve made, our last name, Graham, across the front of it, and my number—thirteen—was painted on her cheeks. She jumped up and down with a large foam finger on her hand, cheering like I’d won the World Series.

The folks in Wallowpine had been wrong about her. She wasn’t a gold digger. Indy was pure gold. I wanted nothing more than to go to her. To go home and numb this world out, to hide from the shadows lurking within me.

But I didn’t do that.

Instead, I mustered up a grin and winked before I stepped up to the mound. After I’d thrown my warm-up pitches, our opponents’ first batter stepped up to the plate. I took a deep breath and started my windup, reminding myself why I was doing this, why I couldn’t give up.

Indy was counting on me.

Indy

“Your voice gone yet?”

“Nope.” I stared down the six-foot-something grump before me, giving him a sweet smile. “I’ve got another nine innings in me. What about you?” Brooks’s eye twitched, and my grin widened. Just to deepen his frown, I singsonged, “Oh Brooksie Poo—”

“You sound like a cat being mauled to death.” Heat crawled up his ears, and I could tell by the way he glanced around, he was regretting waiting outside the locker room with me.

I brought my hands to my chest, feigning hurt. I’d let him pretend he hadn’t been as loud as I was—if not louder—cheering for his brother. “That’s no way to talk to your favorite sister-in-law.”

He raised a dark brow. “You’re my only sister-in-law.”

I shrugged, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Wayne, my father-in-law, watching us with quiet amusement. “Still your favorite. ”

Brooks shook his head, and I smiled to myself, noting the small grin behind his beard. He’d never admit it, but he was happy to see me. Almost as excited as I had been when Nolan’s family walked into the stands.

Nolan had been up most of the night before, tossing and turning with nerves. I’d stayed up with him, assuring him he was capable. Despite his abilities, he’d always lacked confidence, and it had only worsened the past five months. It didn’t seem to matter how well he did; he resented himself for not being more. This wasn’t new to me—I knew the loneliest parts of him well—but it didn’t make it any easier. It was agonizing to watch someone I loved more than anything struggle to find his footing every day.

But I’d done my best to keep it hidden, to be a steady support for him. It wasn’t until Nolan was on the field and I was alone in the stands that the gravity of my own nerves hit me.

I wanted him to perform well, not because it placed value on his worth, but because I feared what would happen if he didn’t. My stomach had been in knots and I was on the verge of vomiting when I noticed Nolan’s family walking up the stairs and into the stands. The stadium was packed to the brim with fans, but I had spotted them easily. They stood out like sore thumbs, not only because of their worn-down Wranglers and boots, but something about their presence felt like a warm hug.

It was a relief to have them beside me those nine innings. Nolan had played well, even gotten himself out of a bind in the third inning when the bases were loaded, managing to close it out with no runs scored.

“Don’t listen to him.” Wayne leaned against the locker room building, arms crossed over his chest as we waited for the team to finish up their after-game meeting. “Nolan loves the attention you give him. He looked like a peacock strutting out there.”

I smiled, not denying or agreeing with him. “Don’t worry, Brooks, you’ll find someone. There has to be at least one woman in the world who speaks caveman. ”

I waited for him to shoot something back, but it was Levi, the youngest Graham, who said, “I told Dad if a girl ever likes Brooks again, we should tie her up in the basement so she can’t run away from him.”

Brooks and I shared a look, my lungs burning as I held in my laugh. At thirteen, Levi had entered the awkward gangly stage between child and teenager and sometimes said the most bizarre things. “Dammit, Levi,” Wayne whisper-hissed, “I told you to stop saying that. We are not tying anyone up in our basement, regardless of how desperate Brooks is.”

Brooks winked at Levi. “You’re the best brother I could ask for.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Wayne groaned, smacking Brooks in the head with his ball cap. “Levi, repeat after me: I will not tie anyone up in the basement.”

Brooks and I shared a laugh as Wayne made Levi repeat it three times, just in time for the team to start trickling out of the locker room. Their jerseys were maroon, and their pants were white, splotched with grass stains and red dirt. They wore grins, no doubt thrilled to have won their first weekend series. Nolan was no different, smiling wide. He’d pitched five innings before his coach relieved him with another pitcher, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind he’d contributed to this win.

Well, except in one mind.

I waved to Nolan’s friend Dalton, congratulating him on the win as I lingered back, letting Nolan catch up with his dad and brothers. We hadn’t seen them since Christmas, and I knew he missed them. My insides throbbed, thoughts of my own family coming to mind. I’d invited them to the game—but my parents were busy with the diner, and Auburn was in Texas, wrapped up in her boyfriend, so I wasn’t surprised they hadn’t come. But I wished they had, wished they supported me as deeply as Nolan’s family did him.

Nolan turned to me, and I shoved those feelings away, reminding myself to be grateful Mom answered when I called now. I pressed up on my toes, slinging my arms around his neck, and said what I’d said after every game for years. “You sure you’re not wearing butt pads? Because no one’s ass should look that fine.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, a silent reminder I didn’t care about baseball—I cared about him. He held my gaze, and I could see the silent battle there. He was overanalyzing and criticizing himself for any minor error he might’ve made. But you wouldn’t have known it when he said, “I could say the same about you, peaches.”

He squeezed my ass, and I scrambled out of his hold with a laugh, aware we had an audience. We’d traumatized poor Levi enough when he’d hidden in Nolan’s closet once. He was ten at the time, and in a phase where he loved scaring people. Except it was him who screamed when he popped out and found his brother with his hands down my top. Somehow we’d convinced him he was counting my freckles, but their dad hadn’t bought it and had us keep the bedroom door wide open from then on.

“You did it—you pitched your first college game.” I grabbed his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” He didn’t respond, and I could feel quiet panic bubbling within me. Determined to keep him afloat, I set my disappointment aside and turned to his family instead. “I have to go to work soon, but you guys are coming over, right?”

“They can’t,” Nolan cut in and I shot him a glance, confused. I assumed by his brothers’ wary looks, they shared the same confusion. He forced a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to, but you’ve got a drive ahead of you. Even if you leave now, you’re not getting home until after midnight. And Levi has school, and you have the shop to open—”

“I’m well aware, but thank you for reminding me of my schedule.” Wayne chuckled, his tone easy and laid-back. “But I wouldn’t mind staying and seeing Eugene again. Heard all about the eye patch you kids made your cat. You got time for a quick dinner before your shift, Indy? It’s been a while since we’ve been together as a family.”

“I’ve got time—”

“I’m tired,” Nolan pressed, ignoring me when I squeezed his hand. I understood his disappointment, but I didn’t want him to go home alone. “I’ve got a shit ton of homework to get done and an English test to prep for.”

“I can help you study,” Brooks offered. “You sometimes seem to forget it, but I’m not even an hour from you—I can stay as late as you need. ”

He was right. While Wayne and Levi still lived in Wallowpine, Brooks didn’t. He was in the city too, wrapping up his bachelor’s degree at another local university. They’d hung out a few times, but I wasn’t surprised when Nolan shook his head. “I’m good. I’m going to get through it as fast as I can and then pass out.”

“Alright,” Wayne told him, and I swallowed thickly, not missing the way Levi’s shoulders sunk when he realized they were already going home. “I’m proud of you, Nolan. Win or lose. Give me a call if you change your mind, and we’ll drive back no matter the time.”

Nolan hugged the three of them goodbye, and after he promised Levi he’d play Minecraft with him soon, they started toward the parking lot. I waited until they were out of earshot before I said, “I can do your homework for you if you want to go with them.”

“No.”

His gaze wasn’t on me but the field. And for the first time, I thought I might resent it. “I know you’re beating yourself up, but your family loves you. That doesn’t change because you threw a few less-than-ideal pitches.”

“I walked five batters. Five, Indy.” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “I haven’t done that since junior high.”

“Everyone has bad games, and that’s not even what this was. You played amazing.” I felt my stomach twist as I tasted the words about to leave my mouth. “But if it’s going to affect you this way, then maybe we need to make some changes.”

He tensed, and I wished I could take the words back. We weren’t shy with one another, nor did we live behind rose-colored glasses. But this . . . this was harder. “I am not quitting.”

“I didn’t say that,” I explained, hating that he’d jumped to the worst-case scenario. “But what you’re doing isn’t working. This dream is not worth what you’re putting yourself through. You aren’t sleeping, Nolan. You can’t relax. You’re constantly anxious, even more than before—”

“Drop it.” His voice was low, and he carefully eyed those around us. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let me worry about baseball. ”

I staggered back a step, though regret immediately filled Nolan’s eyes. Our relationship was anything but perfect, but no matter our struggles, he’d never dismissed me so naturally. But I didn’t scare easily, and he’d have to try harder than that to push me away.

“Okay.” I let out a heavy breath, steeling my shoulders. Later, when he was in a better mindset, I’d tell him how he’d hurt me. It would only make things worse if I started a fight with him now. “I better get to work . . . I can’t miss again.”

As much as I didn’t want Nolan to be home alone, I couldn’t call in if I wanted to keep my job. I’d already done so three times this month, on top of being late for a handful of shifts. “Why don’t you come with me?” I offered. “We can make you a little setup in the booth. You’ll have an endless supply of coffee . . .”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist in silent apology. “I’m just gonna go home and crash.”

I blinked past the burning in my eyes. “Can I drive the truck to the diner? Unless you’ll be awake to pick me up when my shift ends?”

His throat bobbed, and he avoided my gaze as he reached into his pocket and handed me his keys. He left a swift kiss on my cheek before I walked away. I managed a few steps before I glanced over my shoulder—he was already walking in the direction of our apartment.

It felt like he was walking away from me.

I understood he was disappointed. He was hurting. But didn’t he know I felt everything he did? His disappointment was mine. His anger, his sorrow. His dreams—they were mine. I was living for Nolan, for us. But sometimes . . . it felt like I was alone in that.

I stepped into the parking lot, finding Wayne leaning against his son’s truck. It was our only vehicle, and since the restaurant was within walking distance for me or Nolan picked me up—with exceptions like tonight—Wayne was probably waiting for him. But I realized differently when I closed the distance between us and he asked for the second time tonight, “How’s our boy doing, Indy?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, my heart aching as I saw the concern in his eyes, heard it in his voice. Before I could open my mouth, I was reminded of the promise I’d made to Nolan, long before our marriage vows. Maybe I was desperate to keep it, or I was in denial as much as Nolan was, but I assured him, “He’s doing good.”

It was the same thing I’d told myself through the years, even more so the past five months. The same lie I convinced myself was true when I walked in our apartment later that night. The lights were off, nothing more than the glowing stars on the ceiling and the low light of the small television in the corner to see by. But I didn’t need to see to smell the stench of beer.

My stomach sank. The last time he’d drunk had been when he’d injured his pitching arm senior year. That had been a year ago, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d failed him by going to work. Nolan was underage, and I could count the number of times I’d seen him drink on one hand, but each time I prayed to never see it again. He wasn’t an addict, nor was he a mean drunk . . . He was heartbreaking.

I clicked on a lamp, sighing as I found Nolan sprawled out on the floor beside our bed. Empty bottles were scattered throughout the room, but I smiled at the sight of Eugene cradled against his chest. After picking up, I grabbed a warm washrag and settled on the floor beside him, easing his head onto my lap.

“Mom?”

I swallowed, feeling like my gut was in my throat. “No, baby. It’s just me.”

“Peaches.” I relished the way he said it with such relief and adoration, even more so when he hooked his arms around my thighs. “I was hoping it was you. I thought I lost you.”

I smoothed his hair off his forehead. “Never.”

“Promise? I need you for life.”

“Promise.”

He hummed, seemingly pleased. I leaned back against the bed, running my fingers through his hair. It was silent for a long while, and I was debating whether I should change him out of his uniform when he murmured, “I don’t like drinking. ”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because it was getting too hard to smile.”

“You don’t have to smile all the time,” I whispered, surprised when I looked down to find him watching me. I held his jaw, hoping this would be the time he believed me. “I love the man who takes off his mask and lets me in. I have a feeling the rest of the world would too.”

He closed his eyes. “They’ll leave.”

I sighed, knowing nothing I could say right now would ease that fear. It could take years to unwind the damage already done. “The right ones won’t.”

“Mom did.”

“Because she’s not the right one.”

It was quiet, but I heard the sound of a seven-year-old boy’s heart breaking regardless. “Do you think I did something wrong?”

“Never.” I hated the familiarity of this conversation, how many times we’d walked this road. I couldn’t imagine how often Nolan thought of it, questioning why his mom left. Wondering what he could’ve done to stop her from leaving. There was nothing he could’ve done. Not now, nor then.

But I doubted he’d ever believe me.

“I’m sorry for being an ass to you at the field.” He nuzzled deeper into me. “I lashed out at you, and I can’t be doing that. You deserve more, and I promise I’m going to give it to you.”

“I can handle all of you. I’m not made of glass—”

“I’m so afraid I’m going to lose everything, peaches. Every day, I’m scared I’m going to wake up and life will catch up with me and take it all away. I can’t lose—”

“You’re not going to. I won’t let that happen, and neither will you.”

“Promise?”

I let out a shaky breath, and as I stared down at my husband, I thought of a moment from a lifetime ago. We were fifteen at the time. I’d known him my entire life, but it had felt like I was meeting him for the first time. He wasn’t grinning, nor was there a fleck of joy in his eyes. Instead, loneliness had rippled through him, paired with alcohol on his breath. I imagined his reasoning for drinking then was similar to what it was now—it was too hard to smile. Too hard to pretend he wasn’t fighting a silent battle alone. It had been dark and cold, the forest branches creaking in a way that had me wanting to run away. But I saw something there, something worth holding on to. So I stayed where I was, stayed with him.

“We’re a team, Nolan. I’m not going anywhere.”