Page 95 of The Echo of Regret

But the thing that surprises me the most is the relief. I’m kind of relieved that I’m no longer facing a reality where I’m leaving at an undetermined time in the next two months. There’s no stress about needing to get settled back into that apartment I got with a few other players, no worry about what the next step is or whether I’ll recover fully from my injury.

Instead, I get to just…let it all go. Let it go and stay here.

I mean, I love Cedar Point. I’ve always thought I’d come back. Sure, this might be earlier than I ever imagined, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the best of it, can’t find happiness here, enjoy a life with Gabi and my family and the familiarity of a town I love. Not everyone gets to live their dream, and getting a single game in Triple-A is more than some people ever get.

The guys are shouting out at the cold and scrambling up from the water back onto the dock after only a few seconds, and Rush and I laugh.

“Hey, any idea how long you’ll be helping out with the team?” he asks me then, almost like he can hear my thoughts. “I gotta sort out the stipend with HR, and it helps if I have an end date.”

Licking my lips, I nod. “How would you feel if I helped the whole season?”

I can feel Rush looking at me, so when I turn his way, I’m not surprised to find his eyes watching me with confusion. His brow’s furrowed and his nose is wrinkled.

“Don’t you have to head back to Oregon?”

Lifting my coffee to my lips, I shake my head then take a sip. “I got released. So…” I shrug. “I’ll be sticking around town. For good.”

The silence is heavy, but the sound of the team still shouting and clamoring as they dry off in the parking lot and pull their clothes back on is enough to cut through it.

“That was fucking freezing!”

My eyes scan the group as they jog toward us.

“Hey, language,” I call out, not sure who said it but reprimanding them just the same.

The guys swarm the truck, and Rush and I jump off the dropped tailgate, bringing forward the carafe of hot chocolate and cups, as well as the no-longer-warm muffins, courtesy of Patty Mitchell. They ravage the goods, most of them fairly quiet and still shivering a bit, their skin still not fully dry after the polar plunge.

“Alright, guys, get home safe. Make sure you take a warm shower or sit by a fire,” Rush says a few minutes later. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the weight room. 2:30 sharp.”

A few groans and a few whoops sound out, some very different reactions to the start of the new semester. Then the group begins to disperse, heading toward waiting parents or hopping into vehicles with the older teammates who can drive.

Rush and I clean up the mess in the bed of his truck then load into the cab, each of us blowing hot air on our fingers and holding them up to the vents once he’s cranked the heat. We head out of the lot, heading toward my parents’ house.

Well…I guess it’s my house again, too.

“So what’s this about getting released?” Rush asks, almost the minute we’re on the road. “You just got signed. Isn’t that a little fast?”

Shaking my head, I let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, it’s fast, but…who knows what the deal is. The team just decided they don’t have room for me on their roster,” I say, looking out the window at the light dusting of snow we got a few days ago that’s still stuck to the ground. “So…my career is probably over.”

It’s unlike me to be so sour, and I think Rush can feel that, because he immediately scoffs.

“What? Nah, man. You’ll find another team, I’m sure.”

I shake my head, still looking out at the passing scenery, the negative voice inside me becoming uncharacteristically vocal. “I think I’m done, man. I think I got my one shot, my one game. That’s it.”

We’re both quiet after that, the drive to my parents’ house a short one. We’ve stopped in the drive when I speak again, trying to be the optimist everyone knows me to be.

“It’s for the best, though, you know? I get to stay here, be with Gabi.” I shake my head. “I don’t want us to fall apart again, and maybe…maybe this is how we make it work.”

There’s a voice inside of me saying I’m not giving us enough credit. Reminding me that we’ve grown, that we’re different people now than we were when we were young and unsure.

Rush lets out a sigh, and I shove open the cab door and hop to the ground.

“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

He looks at me for a long minute and then nods. “See you tomorrow.”

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