Page 79 of Perfect Game

Their tosses are effortless, and as they pass the ball back and forth Jake asks about Max’s arm and how his workouts and rehab starts have been going, his next – and hopefully last – one is tomorrow night. He gives Jake the usual line, the same answer I get every time we talk: his arm feels fine, he’s ready to get back to Detroit and the team, but there’s a new weariness in his eyes. The lines at the corners of his eyes that crinkle when he smiles, and I meanreallysmiles, are deeper than before. There are new circles under his eyes that I’m afraid I’m partially responsible for.

“Earlier this week there was a rumor reported by a few major outlets that you’re planning to retire at the end of this season,” Jake tosses the ball to Max a little harder than he was before, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth when he asks his question. “What do you have to say to that?”

My Maxwell smiles.

A smile that reaches his eyes and crinkles his nose.

It’s the smile when we’d sit together on the balcony and watch the sunrise. Or when we walked down to the water at low tide. That’s his goodnight kiss smile. His forehead kiss for good luck smile.

His Duckling smile.

“Jake,” Max’s eyes briefly flit to the camera and then back to his friend, “as much as I’d like to deny the rumor, it is true. This will be my last season.”

“How are you feeling about that?” Jake asks the question at the forefront of my own mind as my eyes are glued to Max on screen.

“To be honest with you Jake, I feel great about it. It wasn’t a hard choice.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because of what I have waiting for me when I get back home to Seattle. I’m going to finish out the rest of the season with Detroit, see what we can do in the next few weeks to hopefully get ourselves above five hundred before the end of the season, and then I’m going home.”

“Do you have a retirement plan?”

“That depends,” Maxwell answers with a smirk. “There’s a duckling back home, and if she decides to spread her wings, I’ll go wherever she takes me.”

Well.

That’s a little more earth shattering than I was expecting.

We’ve talked about retirement. I knew this was the plan, but I didn’t know he was ready to go to the press with it, ready to confirm the rumors we’ve all been hearing since the trade. There’s an unexpected surge of hope in my chest as the interview wraps up with a shot of Jake and Max walking together down the dugout steps toward the clubhouse. There’s a finality, but also a promise. And as August continues to slip away, that promise gets closer and closer to home.

Home.

Home hasn’t been the same in the month since Max has been gone. It’s been entirely too quiet, and the ferry rides to and from the city have been entirely too lonely even when surrounded by other people. Elise is back to school now and her nights are consumed with homework and prep for classes, and mine – when I’m home – usually end with me crashing into bed at the end of each night.

I miss him.

But I still have a job to do and so does he.

Turning out the lights in my office, I step intothe deserted hallway and find my way out to the sidewalk where Sam Henderson is waiting, as he does after every game, to walk with me to the ferry terminal for the crossing back to Bainbridge. For the half hour crossing, Sam slips into a booth and pulls an e-reader from his pocket, while I head outside to the sun deck where I used to sit with Max.

The mountains are obscured by clouds tonight, a sure sign that fall is on its way, and with it the end of the season, and as I sit on the deck and watch the city grow smaller and smaller I call Max, expecting to get his voicemail, knowing that his game has already started.

“Hey Duckling,” his voice is warm and comforting, and far too casual. “How’s it going?”

“I’m okay,” I answer, leaning back on the bench and stretching my legs out in front of me. “My favorite baseball player just announced his retirement so I’m feeling a little bit emotional tonight.”

“Don’t get attached to baseball players, Sutton,” I can hear the smile in Maxwell’s voice and it’s as if an invisible string connects my smile to his, I can’t help but grin. “The game will break your heart every time.”

“Yeah. I’m used to baseball heartbreak, but this announcement certainly doesn’t come with heartbreak.”

“No?”

“No. This announcement brought quite a bit of joy.”

“For me, too. I’m ready to come home.”

“I’m ready to have you home,” I whisper, tears sticking in my throat. “I miss you.”

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