Page 61 of The Promises We Break

“What’s the deal with you guys?” Coach Raymer asks.

“Nothing.” Literally nothing. We have no deal. No relationship. Nothing. He lost those rights a long time ago. And he ruined it time and time again, every time I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“That wasn’t nothing, Burnsy,” he replies, and rightfully so.

“We haven’t been the same, sir. Since everything happened.”

“It was an accident, right?” he asks.

He doesn’t know about Henry’s engagement to my ex-fiancé. At least that wasn’t all that public because we were so young back then. It was before Henry was the star professional player he is now. So I know he’s talking about my injury.

I stare backat Henry on the pitcher’s mound. We’re up one run at the bottom of the ninth, and we can’t risk anyone else getting on base. Our Coach almost took Henry out of the game after that double, but thankfully, I just stopped Leach from coming into home base with the last hit. Now we just have one player on second and we need another out.

I eye him in a silent understanding. We both know what needs to happen. Reynolds is coming up to bat. Reynolds is calculated; he needs his pitches slow and steady. His reaction time is not as great as others, but he packs a power punch when he does nail it. I call out to Henry for a high fastball. We both know he needs to go top right because Reynolds doesn’t hug his bat close to his body as he should. A high fastball will make him swing, but he’ll miss.

I crouch down and call it out with my fingers, my mitt strategically placed exactly where I know Henry is throwing.

Henry stands tall, bringing his mitt to his pitching hand, looks over his shoulder at second base, then back to me. He shakes his headand his hand peers over his mitt, just barely enough for me to see his pointer finger and middle finger, separated, splayed over the top of the baseball.

Wait. Why is he holding it that way? That’s not his fast-pitch grip.

He lifts his leg, whipping it up quickly before circling his shoulder and ripping the ball through the air. His stance is all off.

My reaction time is slow. The ball cannons through the air between the mound and home base. It flies like lightning, and I’m still thrown off by the moments before his pitch.

Before I can register, Reynolds is swinging. The ball misses both his bat and my mitt as it soars between us, crashing into my ankle, forcing me to fall backward as my entire body explodes in pain.

“Hudson?”Coach calls me back into the room.

“Honestly, sir. I don’t know. I called a fastball. He threw a curveball. I wasn’t ready. I should have been ready.” I dip my chin, ashamed of myself, because I blame myself. I’ve always blamed myself.

“Pitchers aren’t always able to throw perfectly,” he replies.

“I know, Coach.” His reply sounds like the broken record I’ve heard from everyone over the years. Placating me and protecting him. “I just don’t know that I can trust him.”

“Trust him, or trust yourself as a catcher with him?”

“Both, sir,” I reply honestly.

He just nods.

“Great game today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And I’m excused.

I leave urgently, heading straight to my truck. The game is long over and most of the people have left the stadium. Only a few reporters linger outside. I never need to drive to the stadium, considering we all live across the street, but our tintedwindows allow us some privacy and protection as we leave the stadium. I pull out of the garage, into the street, then turn quickly into our condo garage, parking in my normal spot.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Henry being a free agent next season allows any team that can afford him to offer him a contract. I can’t imagine New York letting him go, but Henry plays hard-to-get really well, and he’ll make any team he’s considering battle it out for top dollar.

He doesn’t want to play for Seattle, and his motivation is purely to make my life hell. And I still, to this day, have no idea why my brother goes out of his way to do that.

As I exit the truck, my lungs expand fully, taking in much needed air that’s been restricted since the moment I saw Henry.

I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t see Ember sitting in her car. She must have pulled up right before me.

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