Page 70 of Passed Ball

"Complications with Cade's delivery, Tenley's younger brother. She had a condition called placenta percreta that caused her to hemorrhage after delivery. She was gone less than an hour after she gave birth."

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry your family had to go through that."

"It was a shock. Everyone who knew Erica loved her. Even as a kid, I knew she was special. She was the love of my brother's life and after . . . everything changed. Leo kind of disappeared, working endless hours, letting his grief take over. I let mine take over too." Even if I didn't realize it. Erica was like a big sister to me; I followed her everywhere. When she was gone, she took a piece of me with her.

His lips press into a line, and he rolls them together. "She sounds incredible. Processing a loss like that is devastating but especially when it's so sudden." There's a sadness in his voice that we share. Both of us lost someone we loved before we were ready.

"I'm not sure process is the right word for what I did." My head tips back. That year was so heavy, so painful. "I saw my brother hurting, I was hurting, and there was this sweet little girl who didn't understand any of what was happening. I didn't know how to fix it, so I threw myself into the one thing I could do: distract Tenley." My throat burns with tears fighting to escape.

"Did anyone realize what you were doing? Your parents or brother?" he asks.

"If they did, they never said anything. My brother was . . . not himself. And I think my parents thought it was my way of coping. Then my other brothers started having babies. Not to mention, my younger brothers, the twins, were four and a handful. Somehow, I became a backup guardian for all of them."

Xavier's forehead crinkles, his voice laced with soft understanding as he murmurs, "That doesn't seem fair to you."

"Nothing about it was fair. Cade never got to know his mother, my brother lost the love of his life, and Tenley . . . " My voice cracks on her name. "But yeah, I wish I'd found the courage once time passed to tell them how trapped I felt. Instead, I just ran away the first chance I got."

"You and Tenley obviously stayed close." There's a question buried in there that he doesn't fully voice.

I can't stop the smile that always comes at the mention of my niece. "Yeah. That bond is life long, I'm afraid."

"What about the rest of your family?" His brow knits.

I shrug, unsure how to put what I've always struggled with into words. "Do you think it's possible to be bitter about the circumstances and still really love them?"

"Yeah, I do." Xavier scratches his jaw and I can almost feel the heavy weight of his thoughts, even with the distance between us.

"My mom was incredible. She had terrible taste in men, but she was remarkable . . . this bright light in the world. Before she died, everything was good. After . . ." He blows out a breath. "Not so much. And I'm still mad at her for leaving me with him, but that doesn't mean I love her any less. Parents--family--aren't perfect, but sometimes we love them through that."

"Even your dad?"

He laughs, dark and bitter, a sound that shouldn't come out of the man I know. "Fuck no."

"Do you still talk to him?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"He's dead," Xavier says flatly, the weight of what that means undercut by his detached tone.

Aside from Holland, he doesn't have any family. Holland doesn't have any other family with her mother out of the picture, it's her and Xavier.

"Xavier . . ." I breathe, not sure what to say.

He shakes his head. "I hadn't talked to him since the day I graduated high school and I'm positive he was thrilled to be rid of me."

"I can't believe . . ."

"He hated me, Vi." He rolls his lips together. "He drank himself to death. After we lost her, he was never the same. He died right alongside her, even if his body was still here. In the end, I think he got exactly what he wanted."

"How did you--you're so . . ."

"Well adjusted?" he offers.

"I was going to saygood. You're a good man, Xavier. One of the best I know."

"My coaches and teammates growing up helped. They knew my dad was a piece of shit." He nods towards the phone. "That shirt you're wearing is from the club team I played for in high school. I played on a scholarship that I applied for myself because I knew I needed to get away from him, and baseball was my best shot. The owner gave me a job cleaning after practice, and later, when I got older, he let me coach the younger teams. It helped pay for new equipment and my travel. My teammates' parents were always buying me lunch at tournaments and inviting me home for dinner. I guess what I'm trying to say is I had a village that took care of me."

"I'm grateful you had them." The truth of it nearly chokes me, before I manage to add, "You really should spend more time at Double Play. They could use a role model like you."

"It's not that noble, sweetheart. I was trying to survive."

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