Page 93 of The Dating Pact

Dylan

maybe he went to the baseball field

Baseball.

Fuck.

I opened my email app to find one from the coach of the traveling team. I scanned the short paragraph. Sebastian didn’t make the team.

Chest aching, I hooked a right turn, speeding toward the community baseball fields on the west side of town. A few minutes of hoping and sweating gave way to the familiar view of the park and field, surrounded by a chain link fence.

I pulled into the empty parking lot, haphazardly throwing the car into park before scrambling out. My feet pounded against the pavement as I raced to the baseball diamond, scanning the bleachers in desperation.

And there.

There he was.

Huddled on the bench in the dugout.

My boy.

TWENTY-FIVE

JUDE

“Sebastian.”

At my voice, he startled, uncurling from his balled-up position, whipping his head in my direction, features twisting into a wounded glare.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me.

“Go away.” He swiped the backs of his hands over his cheeks in a jerky, furious motion. “Just leave me alone.”

I paused my steps toward him, words of comfort dying on my tongue. The rush of traffic from the nearby road filled my ears like a dull roar, my chest empty. It was true. Whoever said it. That kids are our hearts, walking around outside of our bodies. Because I didn’t feel mine at all.

I watched mine cry instead.

Slowly, cautiously, I crossed the final few feet and lowered myself onto the bench beside him. “Buddy, I’m sorry, but that’s not what I’m gonna do. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

He tucked his legs in again, wrapping his scrawny arms around them, hiding his face from me against his knees. Like he used to do when he was little.

“I’ve been worried all day,” I murmured, voice barely more than a rumble. “I know you’re upset, but I wish you wouldn’t have run off.”

He cocked his head, as if about to tell me off, but I didn’t let him.

“I don’t want to treat you like a little kid. You’re not a little kid. You’re mature and smart and…I would be devastated if anything ever happened to you. If you were hurt or…” I stared at the ground, where I absently dug the toe of my sneaker into the dirt. “This is my fault.”

He didn’t speak, his face hidden once again. I placed my hand on his back, and when he didn’t move away or mention it, I inched even closer to him. “I know you want me to treat you like a big kid, because you are, but it’s hard for me to accept. That’s not on you. That’s on me. You’re going into fifth grade, but it’s hard for me not to think of you as a five-year-old. As the kid who cuddled with me during movie nights and wanted to ride on my shoulders as we walked home from the school bus stop. You are my whole life, and I’m so afraid of messing up that I’m not treating you like I should. Like the caring and thoughtful ten-year-old you are, and I’m sorry.”

I saw the muscle jumping in his clenched jaw and nearly wilted at the hurt radiating off him in waves.

“Buddy, I’m so, so sorry I lied to you. I shouldn’t have. It’s not an excuse, but I want you to know that when I told you I wasn’t going on a date, I thought I was protecting you. I assumed you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He heaved out a breath, his shoulders shaking as he started to cry.

“Maybe you can’t handle it, and that’s okay, but I should have talked to you about it. I’m sorry I didn’t. I love you so much, and I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry you were blindsided this morning. I’m so sorry.”

He shuddered, and I pulled him into me, holding him tight as he cried for a long time. I suspected he had a lot to say to me but didn’t quite have the words yet, and I made a mental note to call our family therapist to get back on the schedule.

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