Page 152 of Falling Like This

“Good. Listen, I’m sure you know why I’m calling. I wanted to talk to you about your status with the team next year.”

I hold Aaron tighter as he quietly says, “Okay.”

“You’re a hell of a player. You always have been. But nothing has changed with your hand, correct?”

The high school coach relayed the situation with Aaron’s hand to Coach M, trying to buy Aaron some time for it to heal.

Aaron clears his throat. “No, nothing has changed.”

The coach sighs. “Unfortunately, that being the case, I can’t offer you a pitching position with the team this coming year. Now, if you feel the therapy is helping your hand and it will improve, I can offer you a second-string spot in the outfield while you work on your hand—”

“Therapy isn’t doing much for me. It helped a bit with my strength initially, but I still can’t throw the way I need to. And to be honest, I’m not sure I could handle having it stuffed in a glove for multiple innings, either. I appreciate you trying to find a place for me, but I think it’s time for me to let this go.”

Pain is radiating off him as he says the words, and though he’s keeping a calm expression, I can see his jaw tremble. My heart aches for him. Baseball has always been the thing that grounded Aaron. Not only pitching, but being a part of the team, helping people with hitting or pitching, and being a mentor to younger players. It’s how he expresses himself. Losing it changes everything for him.

“I understand. But if at any point you change your mind, let me know. I’d be happy to find a way to keep you involved with the team.”

“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate that. Take care.”

“You too.”

They hang up and Aaron lets out a rough sigh.

Kissing his neck, I whisper, “I’m sorry, babe.”

He sniffs and my heart shatters. Aaron is passionate about four things in life. Helping others, our friends, me, and baseball. Now he’s lost one of those things.

After a few shaky breaths, he clears his throat and says, “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. And at least I found out before tonight. I can enjoy one last night of pitching and playing with my friends. Assuming my hand holds out long enough.”

“Pay attention and have Coach pull you as soon as it tightens up. That way you can remember leaving your last game on top.”

He kisses my nose. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Ace.” I pause before asking, “How do you feel about tonight?”

Tonight is not only the last game of the season for them, but also senior night, where they honor all the seniors. Before the game, there’s a banquet with the seniors and their parents, then during the game, each boy gets to pick someone special to wear their jersey and stand out on the field with them after game while they announce their stats for the season and their high school career, what they’re doing after school, and where they’re playing next year if they’re continuing on.

There’s a senior night for every sport and they’re a big deal, because typically the person who gets asked to wear a jersey is a girlfriend or a date. Not always. Sarah is wearing Joel’s, though with how they’ve been lately, it seems kind of date-ish and Mackie is wearing Miles’s. But I know for Aaron it’s a big deal thatI’mthe one wearing his. After all we’ve been through, it feels extra special that I’ll be up there with him—not as his best friend, but as his girlfriend.

He breathes out a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s bittersweet. Especially with the phone call. It feels good to be honored, and it feels like… a bookend. Now that I know I won’t be playing in college, it’s like closing this chapter.”

The sadness in his eyes makes my heart hurt. I know I shouldn’t blame myself, but a part of me always will. Not because what happened to me was my fault, but because I could’ve gone with Aaron that night. And it might’ve changed a lot of things.

“Do you want to talk about it? Not playing next year?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing really to talk about. It is what it is, and I have to figure out how to move on.”

I open my mouth and then close it again before finally saying, “Okay.”

I know I have a hard time letting people in when I’m struggling, so I’m trying not to push, but I also want him to talk to me, to let me in. We’re supposed to be doing all this together.

He clears his throat and says, “Either way, I am very excited that you’ll be up there, wearing my jersey.My name on your back. You know how I feel about that.”

Someday it’ll be my last name too, I think.

Whoa.

That’s… whoa.

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