“Not exactly.” He grins wryly. “Their coach bailed on them. Something about unforeseen family commitments… Sounds like a bunch of crap, if you ask me. My guess is, the dude realized he was about to take on twenty-five hyperactive six-year-olds who’ve never held a bat before and got cold feet.”
“Can’t exactly blame him…”
“Guess not.” Chris shrugs. “Still, it sucks for the kids. They were excited to learn.”
“Can’t they find a backup coach? It’s tee-ball, not Red Sox spring training. I’m sure almost anyone could teach them the basics.”
“Glad you feel that way.” His grin widens. “Since I told them we’d do it.”
“We? As in you and me?”
“Yep.”
“Tomlinson,” I growl. “You can’t be serious.”
“I swear on Ted Williams.” He laughs. “After you called me last night and asked to meet, the idea hit me like a bolt of lightning! I hung up with you and called the league. They were thrilled to have two former varsity players at their disposal. Of course, at this point, they probably would’ve been thrilled to have just aboutanyonewilling to wear a whistle and wrangle wild youths...”
My mouth opens.
Shuts.
Opens again.
No words come out.
“Before you say no, promise me you’ll at least consider it,” Chris continues in a rush. “It’s only a couple days a week. Think of the kids! They’ll be devastated if the camp is cancelled.”
My eyes swing around the empty field. In some ways, even now, even after everything… this dirt triangle feels more like home to me than any other place on earth. I’ve spent more cumulative hours of my existence standing on a pitching mound, hurling fastballs, than I have doing any other activity besides the autonomous ones, like breathing or sleeping. Being here again, inhaling that unique perfume of leather and wood and grass and chewing tobacco that permeates the air at every stadium in America, rattles my senses awake. Calls back a million memories. All the joy and sweat and blood and tears, all the tough-to-swallow losses and hard-fought victories. Every moment with my teammates — fighting and laughing and bickering and bonding.
Amazing how something like a scent can trigger flashbacks to things you thought you’d buried forever, six feet under in a cedar casket. I remember the first time I ever stepped foot on a diamond. I couldn’t wait to get back out there the minute practice ended. I saved every penny of my measly allowance for months until I was finally able to purchase a glove of my own. And once I brought it home from the sporting goods store, once it wasmine, I’d refused to take it off — except to eat and occasionally bathe — until Jaxon started to notice my attachment and I realized it was far safer off my hand than on it.
He’s always had a nasty habit of destroying the things he covets.
“Look, if you really don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. I can do it on my own. But… You’re the best player I’ve ever known, Reyes,” Chris says, calling my attention back to him. He’s standing by home plate with a bat slung across his shoulders, hands dangling over either end. “I know you can’t pitch anymore. Not like you used to. But it’d be a shame to let all that talent go to waste, in my humble opinion. Especially when you could share it with some kids who probably need a bit of inspiration.”
“I’m not exactly a motivational speaker. Kinda doubt I’m cut out for coaching.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Half the time, Coach Hamm used to let you lead our warm-ups and drills during practice back at Exeter.” He stares at me, a pleading look on his face. “Come on, Reyes.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Fine? As in, you’ll do it?!”
“I’ll do it.”
“Fuck yeah!” Chris grins, drops the bat, and hauls me into a back-slapping hug. “Thanks, man. Knew I could count on you.”
Some of my assurance wavers at the thought of anyone counting on me. It’s been a long, long time since someone did. But I shake off the self-doubt and, with a grin that feels out of place on my face, push my way out of Tomlinson’s arms. “All right, all right. I agreed to be your co-coach, not to give you one of my kidneys. Don’t go overboard.”
“Oh, admit it. You’re excited too, Reyes.”
I roll my eyes. “Now that you’ve effectively conned me into a coaching position, can we please get back to important things? I asked you to meet me for a reason.”
“Right. The mysterious favor.” He shoots me a curious look. “What is it?”
I reach up to run my hand through my hair, a nervous habit, and am startled to find there’s no hair to run through. My arm drops uselessly back to my side. “It’s my brother.”
“Jaxon?”