Page 101 of The Echo of Regret

Surprise hits me square in the chest at his words. Part of me thinks I misheard him, considering how exasperated he always seemed with me back in the day. “I was your favorite?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t you tell a single soul I said that. I don’t want my other players to feel bad.”

“Ah, so that’s the gig. You tell all the players they’re your favorite and then swear them to secrecy.”

He grins. “That’s actually a great idea.”

I take another sip of my coffee then wrap my hands around my cup again. “Did you ever wonder if I was worth helping? I mean, did you ever think…man, this kid is just too much to deal with?”

Coach G shakes his head. “Never. I always knew you had it in you, knew you could do great things.” He shrugs, his eyes assessing. “It’s never ‘not worth it’ to give someone your time and effort, Bishop. So if you’re thinking about this…boy, the one giving you a hard time? Let me be the first to tell you: it will make a difference, I guarantee it.”

When I leave Ugly Mug a little while later—after Coach G and I do a true catching up about life and all things baseball—I find myself turning in the opposite direction of where I parked my car. I walk a few blocks over and then down the stretch of road that leads to Justin’s apartment complex.

Things between us have been less tense over the past few weeks as spring training has begun. He seems to loathe me less and listen to me more, and I appreciate that. Apparently, something I did or said on Thanksgiving actually stuck and made a difference. What it was, I can’t be sure. What I do know, I learned from Gabi back when she was dealing with the darkest of her own demons. Sometimes, it’s not about doing or saying the right thing in the right moment. It’s just about showing up, day after day, proving you care enough to be there.

I approach the first-floor unit I saw Justin enter back in November and knock a few times then tuck my hands into my pockets. Only a few beats pass before the door swings open, Justin looking at me suspiciously from inside the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

I grin. “Just wanted to stop by, make sure you guys were okay with the storm and everything.”

Before Justin can answer, I hear a woman’s voice call out, “Shut the door. It’s freezing.”

Surprisingly, instead of telling me to go away and shutting the door in my face, Justin slips his feet into a pair of boots and steps out, closing the door behind him.

“Thanks for checking in,” he tells me. “Really. I appreciate it. But we’re okay. Most of the houses on this end of the lake didn’t get hit by the power outage, so we were good.”

I nod. “Glad to hear that.” Pausing, I consider my words for a beat—the ones I planned out on my walk over—wanting to make sure I say them right. “Look, Justin…I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town for. Helping with the team, I mean, and I just wanted to let you know I have really enjoyed getting to know you a little bit.”

Justin grins. “You’re full of shit.”

I laugh, my head falling back as I do. When I look at Justin again, he’s still smiling.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You so are. I’ve annoyed the hell out of you since day one.” His smile dims slightly. “Even if it wasn’t intentional.”

Laughing again, I poke him in the chest. “Now who’s full of shit.”

“I mean it,” he tells me, his lips twisting to the side. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, I just…I don’t know.”

I shake my head. “You’re not a jerk, Justin. You’re young and you’re figuring things out. Life is hard sometimes; I don’t doubt you know that. But as you get older, you have to decide how you want to deal with your anger and your disappointment, whether you want to lash out at the people around you or let them help you.”

Justin crosses his arms and stares out at the recently-plowed parking lot behind me, the white of the snow bright enough that his eyes are narrowed.

“And I’m not just talking about baseball, either. College is around the corner, and you’re going to have at least one asshole teacher and you’ll probably date and make new friends. Decide now who you want to be then. The guy who throws his bat when he’s angry, the one who thinks he’s better than everyone else…or someone who can roll with the punches.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, long and slow, then nods. “Yeah.”

It’s all he says in response, but I’ll take it.

Justin shakes his arms out then returns his eyes to mine. “Look, I’m sure you came over to like…pep-talk me or whatever. But do you wanna come in and play FIFA or something?”

I blink, surprised by his offer. “You into soccer?”

He shrugs. “Kind of.”

“Get ready to get your ass kicked, kid.”

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