Page 96 of Sliding Into Love
Isaac’s dark eyes were wide.
“Wow,” Isaac said. “And Lawrence thought you’d be…like that?”
“I guess,” Ethan answered. “I used to watch old replays of his games to analyze his playing style, but I think Lawrence misinterpreted it. I think he thought I wanted the power and notoriety, instead of trying to learn the way he played. And then when I got angry over him treating me like shit, his reaction was to kick me out. When I was eighteen, he threw me out on the street after a bad practice, and I was so broken down that Marshall finally got to me. He’d been skulking around, scouting me for a while. When Lawrence kicked me out, Marshall took me in and got me tryouts at colleges. Then once he was sure I was good enough, he started pressuring me to go into the Majors. That was the only time I stood up to him, and I paid for it. Once he signed me on with the Hawks, he started in with the same shit Lawrence did. Crazy training, ranting and raving about legacies, always telling me I’d never be good enough to live up to any of the other players in my family.”
“And Jimmy and Laura let him treat you that way?”
“I don’t think they knew. They were both so busy, always traveling when I was younger, and when I gained more attention, I lashed out at them for only paying attention when I was playing well. Then Lawrence offered to coach me, and they shipped me off. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, so I did whatever he said to do. And then with Marshall, it was more of the same, but by then, it was all I’d known for so long, I let it happen. Thought it was what I deserved.”
“Ethan,” Isaac said, not angrily, but not weakly. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.”
Ethan’s shoulders pulled in further.
“I didn’t think anyone would care.”
“If I had known…” Isaac let the words trail off.
“Well, it’s better now anyway.” Ethan wasn't sure why he’d shared so much, but Isaac at least looked like he felt better.
But Ethan was…unsettled, off-kilter.
The team was scheduled to fly out the next day, so he headed home to Ivy, exhausted. They fell into bed after dinner, and for once, they went straight to sleep, Ethan wrapped around Ivy.
Ethan jerked upright,drenched in sweat, with Ivy smoothing her hands over his upper body.
“Ethan. Ethan? Breathe. It was a nightmare.”
Her soft voice was a balm after the rough rawness of the dream.
“I’m here, it’s okay.” She was still touching him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as close as possible.
Inhale, exhale.
Ethan curled himself around her, still struggling to breathe and calm himself. Shudders wracked his body, and he buried his face in her hair.
When Ethan’s mind finally returned to the present, the tension in his body released enough for him to fall back against the pillows, pulling Ivy against him on his way. For once, she was the one who was warm while he shivered, and he pulled her closer, needing to touch her, to be sure she was real.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ivy asked, threading her fingers through his where they rested on her shoulder.
“I talked to Isaac today.” And he told her all of it, the memories he’d dredged up about his uncle and Marshall and everything else.
It was the first time he’d said it all out loud. How he’d let himself be used, how he’d treated his teammates.
“I think,” Ivy paused to look him in the eyes, and Ethan knew what was coming, “I think you should tell your parents.
His free hand slid through his hair, catching in the knots made by his tossing and turning.
He sighed. “You’re probably right.” His eyes squeezed shut at having to deal with it, talk about it allagain. “But then I’m done with it, okay? It hasn’t bothered me since…” and he trailed off.
But she knew.
She pressed a kiss into the skin of his chest, and they drifted back to sleep, tangled together.
Ethan woke abruptly the next morning, the stark reality of playing in the World Series finally settling over him. Ever since he was little, he’d dreamed about the World Series, before he’d truly known what it meant for a team. And even if his priorities had shifted, Ethan couldn’t help but be excited. He dragged his free hand over his face and lamented the lack of feeling in his other hand. Ivy had wrapped herself around his arm and leg in the night, and he was loath to move her, particularly since it was unlikely they'd get to sleep together again until the series was over. He ran through his mental checklist for what he'd need to bring and groaned at the thought of putting on a suit for the press conference. Ivy huffed in her sleep, burying her face in his shoulder against the light peeking through her curtains.
Her arm stretched across his torso, and he held her small hand in his, tracing her fingertips with his thumb, pondering-
Ivy sat bolt upright.
