I position the bag once again and add several pieces of tape. It slips from the moisture but holds long enough for me to get the wrap around it. I make several loops around his body, telling him when to lift and lower his arms just like I’ve seen Commander do a thousand times. It’s awkward. We are in each other’s personal space.
Attempting to ease the tension, I ask a question that I have been more than curious about. “Why were you giving Commander hell this weekend?”
Theo’s head raises slowly as he meets my stare. He blinks, one, two, three times, before he shrugs off my question, wincing at the motion. My brows arch in an unspoken challenge.
He frowns and then as if choosing to take the loss of the silent war waging inside his head, he says in defeat, “I want to quit baseball.”
My hands pause. Shocked at this statement, I stutter, “Why would you want to do that?” Pulling myself together, I add, “You’re in the prime of your career.”
Is he crazy?
He huffs out a laugh. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I encourage, wrapping another layer of tape over his shoulder.
He lets out an annoyed huff. And just when I think he is going to stay silent and take his secret to the grave, he speaks. “When we were kids, Anniston’s grandfather would play ball with us every evening after dinner. He was the coach for our high school baseball team,” he clarifies for me when I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
Anniston never talks about her grandparents. Her past is a mystery that I have been beyond curious about.
Theo pauses a moment, deep in thought. “Anyway, my parents weren’t around much and I stayed with Anniston and her grandparents as often as they would allow. Her grandfather, Hines, taught Anniston and me everything he knew about baseball. And we were like sponges, soaking up every bit of information. I made the baseball team that spring for our middle school. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. Had a purpose, you know?”
I give him an understanding nod, focusing on my task of wrapping his shoulder.
“I was pitching no-hitter games and breaking records left and right. Baseball came naturally to me and with Hines’ help, I was an unstoppable force.” He smiles to himself at the memory. “And that little bounding beauty of ours was in the stands every single game. Screaming my name. Screaming out plays to me.”
He chuckles to himself. “Even when parents and other visitors glared and fussed at her to shut up, she kept on rooting for me, coaching me from the stands. She never missed a game. Not even when she was sick.” He takes a deep breath. “What started out as a family ritual soon became a driving need. A need to keep a smile on her face. A need to keep her screaming for me. A need to keep her. She became my obsession,” he admits, dropping his head. “I wasn’t playing for me anymore. I was playing for her. I was playing for keeps.”
He pulls in a shuddering breath. “After Hines died, Anniston and I bonded even more over baseball. She became my mentor, my trainer, and… my love.”
Sealing the wrap on his shoulder, I let his words hang in the air between us.
His love.
I watch as he takes a moment to test out the movement in his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with my work, he hops off the table and heads to the door.
“And now?” I ask bluntly just as he crosses the threshold. I can’t help but be curious as to how this story ends.
He looks over his shoulder with a forced smile. “And now, she spends her days with you and I pitch to an empty seat.”
Fuck me.
Rubbing his shoulder, he meets my eyes. “Thanks,” he says almost sadly. “Will you bring her up?”
I nod, stunned into silence.
When he leaves, I clean up and lock the door behind me, dragging my feet back to the family room, where a sleeping Anniston is snoring softly.
I steal a minute to admire her in private before I scoop her up, cradling her small body to my chest. And with the weight of a thousand pounds of guilt, I carry the girl I love more than my next breath up the stairs and lay her down next to the man who, quite possibly, loves her more than I do.
