Page 118 of The Future Play

“Seriously, get out of my office,” Marc says to Corey as I walk down the hall.

It makes me smile. I miss my friends. I’ve gotten good at burying that feeling deep down and leaning into the introvert side of me, but I was lucky to play AAA close to home and have them close. They’re all pains in my ass, but I miss having them right there. Though I consider texting Aaron and asking if he’ll come down for a game—come see if he notices any issues—I don’t do it.

This is mine to fix, and I need to get used to that.

One game at a time, so let’s try to make this one a good one.

I wantto throw something other than a baseball right now.

I started the game out strong. Only a couple of hits over the first two innings. Then a run got through in the third, and another in the fourth. Now we have a runner on third, two outs, and a full count. I’m dangerously close to walking this batterbecause of how badly I’m pitching. My first two throws were strikes, but after that I couldn’t throw anything but perfect pitches to foul off or horrifically bad balls. I almost hit the guy with the last one.

Marc stands in front of me, staring at me after giving me a speech to get me out of my head.

“You want to stay? Or do you want me to pull you?”

I swallow and take a deep breath. We’re still up by one. I only need one more strike.

“No. I can handle it.”

He nods. “I know you can. Close it out.”

He smacks me on the shoulder and jogs back to the dugout.

After a moment, I get ready and throw the next pitch. Another. Fucking. Foul.

Breathe.

I force myself not to look over at the family area since Amanda won’t be there.

It’s okay. I’ve got this.

My catcher signals for the throw, and I prep my favorite pitch. Two-seam fastball. It’s perfectly thrown, and for a second, relief floods me as I watch it fly toward the plate.

Then it connects with the bat to a deafening crack, and I watch as it soars over my head and over the back fence for a home run, taking the score from us leading 3-2 to them leading 4-3.

“You’ve gotta let it go,”Beau says. “We won the game.”

“No thanks to me.”

Our reliever came in and closed that shit out strong. We won 7-4. But not because of anything I did. And because I didn’t go back in for the sixth after things turned around and we started getting our bats going, the reliever was credited with the save. Notmuch stings more than that. I’d rather lose and know the loss was shared than feel like I was the worst member of my team for the night.

“All right. You want to stay and work on some stuff? You said that’s what you did with your friends, right? If you want to stick around, I’ll try to help,” Corey says, though he sounds like it’s physically painful for him to offer.

“It’s not a bad idea, but don’t overwork your arm,” Marc says.

“Anybody else? Daily?” Corey asks.

Ryan looks at him. “Can’t. Beau and I are headed to the gala.” He looks at me. “Shouldn’t you be too?”

I glance at the clock. “We got done a little early. I should have forty-five minutes or an hour if I push it to work on stuff.”

“All right, I’ll meet you out there,” Corey says.

A couple of other guys volunteer to stay, and I let myself have a spark of hope that maybe this will help.

Amanda

“It isan honor to have you all here tonight supporting us and the incredible trans community.” I clap loudly as Alannah speaks. “We also want to say thank you to all the staff here tonight, to Paige, who did so much leg work to make this possible, and Amanda for stepping in and making sure everything about tonight has been flawless.” She meets my eyes and raises her glass. I raise mine in response, and as she finishes speaking, pride rushes through me.

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