Page 89 of The Problem with Players

“Since when do you care about my feelings?”

“Since I decided that I don’t hate you as much anymore.”

I arched an eyebrow. “No full-core hatred?”

“Trust me, I’m as shocked as you are,” she stated. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s still hate. But the more time I’ve spent around you, the more I realized something major.”

“And what’s that?”

“We aren’t that different, you and I.”

I moved in toward her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. We both suffer from the same disorder.”

“And what disorder is that?”

“Oldest Sibling Syndrome.”

I snickered. “Is that the official medical term?”

“Sure is. Look it up on WedMD. It’s called OSS for short, though.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone to search it. Avery held her hand out toward me and stopped me. “Later. Look it up later.”

I slid the phone back into my pocket and crossed my arms over my chest. “All right, I’ll play. What are some of the symptoms of OSS?”

“Oh, there are plenty. Especially when a parental figure is missing from the equation.”

“Enlighten me.”

She swirled the bat back and forth between the palms of her hands. “Well, for starters, you are extremely reliable and find yourself responsible for your siblings. Almost as if they are your own kids, seeing how you helped raise them.”

I narrowed my brows. “Go on.”

“You are overly protective over your family and go out of your way to make sure everyone’s okay. You’re a workaholic. You put your own wants and needs on the back burner in order to make sure everyone else is good. You let your dreams sit on the sidelines if it makes sure others are happier.”

My mouth twitched a little.

She was hitting a little too close to home.

I took the bat from her and grabbed a ball from the bag. I tossed it up and swung, hitting the ball into the distance. “Go on,” I said.

She took the bat from me and stepped onto the plate. “You suffer from a hyper-independence, which seems like a good thing, but it’s not.” She tossed a ball up and knocked it out. “It’s actually a trauma response because you feel like you can’t rely on others, seeing how it was always your job to be the reliable source.”

“Too loud, Coach.”

She handed the bat back to me. We switched positions.

“You also worry about messing up and letting people down. Which is why you are so achievement-oriented,” she explained.

I hit the next ball.

She whistled low. “Nice hit.”

“Thanks.” I flicked my thumb against the bridge of my nose. “So with this OSS, what’s the treatment plan?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Still trying to figure that out myself. Because as someone suffering with OSS, I know that we hate all eyes on us, and we hate the thought of people worrying about us because it shows that we aren’t as strong as we should be, and we should always be strong.” She took the bat from meand performed another hit. “But I think it helps to struggle in numbers. Makes it a little easier to breathe.”

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