Page 73 of Perfect Playbook

Baby what’s up? Should I be worried? Of course I’ll find a minute. Can I call you, too after the game?

Pastelito

It’s better we talk in person.

When I called Luis in the few minutes I have without the team around, he didn’t answer. I tried again later that night, again, no answer. My guts were already twisted with how the contract negotiations ended, and now, Luis isn’t well? I care about the man, and he means the world to Shay.

To say I didn’t play my best the second day is an understatement. Little did I know, losing a game would be the least of my troubles.

Though I wanted to race directly to Shay’s dorm, before the text exchange, I’d already planned to pick up a present for her from the jewelry shop, so as soon as the bus lands at Golden Sierra, I rush to the Main Street and with a fancy red, waxed bag in my hand, race to Shay’s dorm. I know something is wrong. Maybe this gift will cheer her up.

I bound up the stairs at Slichter Hall, my heart pounds with so many conflicting feelings. I missed Shay and am hungry for her touch. I’m worried sick that Luis didn’t answer my calls. And today, I have to deliver the news that I’m not staying in state. I’m nearly sick with it bolting up the stairs, but when I push open Shay’s door, a new shock replaces all the others.

Shay is here, and along with my girlfriend, I greet three brown cardboard moving boxes and a suitcase.

She stands abruptly from her desk chair, throws a crumpled tissue in the garbage can, and rushes to me, throwing her arms around my neck. She doesn’t say anything, face buried. I wrap my arms around her torso; her rib cage stutters, and I know she’s working hard not to stain my sweatshirt with tears.

I crush her into me tightly, wanting so badly to absorb her pain and take it away. “Shay…”

I hardly get her name out, my voice is weak seeing her like this.

She speaks into my chest, words muffled and nasal, the sound of a person who’s been crying. “Logan…”

We embrace so long I start to wonder if I’m in a dream. It’s surreal, my woman aching in my arms with these boxes all around. I don’t know which way is up. What the hell is going on?

She peels her arms from around my neck and backs away a few steps. Her eyes are bloodshot, her lips swollen, and I shatter seeing her like this. She throws her hands into her back pockets, her signature stance, but this time, she’s not sexy. It makes her look vulnerable with her heart on full display.

I put the small bag on the bed and take her hand, leading her to her roommate’s bed. The edge sags underneath our weight.

“Shay… what’s…” I can’t even finish my sentence. The words stop somewhere underneath the enormous stone in my throat.

She’s leaving college?

She starts, “I’m sorry this is a blindside but could I really have told you on the phone?”

“I’m not worried about me right now and the surprise, I’m worried about you and why you’re doing this.”

She shakes her head, and tears stream down her face. She’s trying to be brave, but whatever it is, it stabs at her over and over again right in front of me.

Finally, she clears her throat. “I need to move home and be with Dad. He’s…” She breathes as though she might hyperventilate. “He’s… I think…” She shakes her head. “Fuck, I don’t know how to say it…”

“It’s me, Shay. Just say it. Any words will do…”

“He’s thought about killing himself.”

Her words steal my breath. Imagining Luis at home in emotional agony, seeing my beautiful woman’s anguish… pain crushes my heart and turns my bones to dust. I’m overcome with helplessness. I’m speechless.

But somehow, I rub her back, manage to soothe her the best I can. “Talk to me… I’m here for you.”

She breathes deeply and tries to center herself. “One of the ranch hands called me because Dad wasn’t out, even though he was supposed to be. So I called him to see if he was sick. I called. And called. And called again, and he didn’t pick up. Fuck, Logan, I was worried sick, pacing, thinking maybe he choked on something or… then finally he called me back. We had a talk, and he said he was just down. I said:How down are you, Dad?You’ve weren’t at work.He said:I just don’t think I can do this anymore.”

If Luis’ words fracture my heart. I can only imagine how splintered her insides are. But it gets worse.

“I don’t know, Logan, I know it sounds dramatic…”

I rub her hand. “You’re not dramatic. You can talk to me straight.”

She shakes her head hard. “I just thought he’s been so depressed, and he wasn’t at work, and he says he can’t dothis anymore and avoided my calls, and my intuition just had me going to dark places…” She sucks back a sob that threatens to drown the space. “I thought about what Fiona told us, about what to say if someone says something likethat…”

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