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He looked across to his mom. The woman who had failed him in so many ways.

He was a long way from forgiveness, but in this moment he wondered if he would have connected with Rae on the same level if he hadn't been so lonely.

If her bright, sunny persona would have attracted him so much if he hadn't been starving for some light in his life.

Would he have valued her friendship as much?

Would he have allowed himself to see what kind of person she was if he hadn't needed a friend back then?

Clearing his throat again he asked, "So… when did you decide to get sober?"

Molly smiled, eyes tearing up again, and she wiped away the tears before they could fall onto her cheeks. She stood up and gestured toward the hall. "Come on, I have something to show you."

There were three doors down the hallway and Molly pushed open the door that led to Quinn's old bedroom.

The last time he had been in this room was to pack the rest of his things after coming home for a couple of weeks during the summer before his sophomore year of college.

The paint on the walls had been peeling, the carpet was worn and scratchy, and the furniture was all second-hand from Goodwill or Salvation Army.

He'd still had a twin bed even though he'd outgrown it in high school- his feet would just hang off the end.

His wooden ceiling fan was old and squeaked, and there had been a Detroit Tigers poster on the wall his bed was pushed against.

Despite the changes to the rest of the house, Quinn still found himself expecting to see the exact same space he'd left behind. Untouched. It would make sense that his mom would have ignored his room just as much as she had seemed to ignore his own existence.

He was wrong.

The bedroom had not only been repainted, it had new floors and new furniture.

Even the window he'd snuck in and out of so many times looked new.

But the thing that really caught his attention was the long wall that had once sported his only piece of personal touch.

In place of the Tigers poster, the wall now featured a poster of him in his white and blue LA uniform, along with all of his jerseys.

His number seven Traverse City Trojans jersey, the number twenty-one he'd worn for the Arizona Sun Devils, and his number twelves for both Atlanta, whom he'd been drafted by right out of college, and of course his current team in Los Angeles.

On the adjacent wall, his varsity jacket had been placed in a shadow box along with local newspaper clippings featuring the Trojans baseball team.

The headlines announced their two consecutive state championship wins, another announced a no-hitter that Quinn had pitched his senior year, and the last one featured a front-page picture of him at the end of a good swing, a cocky grin across his face as he watched the ball fly over the fence.

He remembered that game. It had been during his sophomore year and he was fully aware of the college recruiters in the stands.

He'd hit four home runs in just that game and had pitched another no-hitter.

The next day his coach had called him out of class and into his office to play him messages from the recruiters wanting to set up meetings with him.

Molly was pulling down what looked like a photo album off of a bookcase he'd certainly never had when he was a kid.

She set the album on top of the new full-sized bed and opened it.

The front page was a school picture of Quinn, probably ten or eleven years old, then began a chronological collection of his baseball career and successes.

Little league pictures, photos from the local ballpark that Mr. DeRose had taken and had developed for him.

He put his hand on one of the pages, wanting to look more closely at the photograph.

It was after one of the many neighborhood games they'd put together- and won.

Chris, Jett, and Tyler were in the picture cheering.

Quinn had a baseball bat slung over his shoulder and his other arm was around Rae's waist. As usual, she'd been wearing one of Quinn's hats, and a black skort with white stripes on the side.

She was pumping her fist in the air and cheering along with the boys. But Quinn was smiling at her.

Rae tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she leaned over the photo, a smile spreading across her face.

She looked up at Quinn who was watching her, as he'd apparently always done, and there was the same twinkle in her eyes now as there had been the previous night before she'd kissed him on the baseball field.

If she hadn't believed what he'd said last night about falling for her so long ago, he was sure she knew now.

"We should make a copy of this picture and put it next to your jersey at the bar," Rae said.

"I like that idea." Quinn smiled back at her.

He liked the idea of people knowing this was where he'd started, and these were the people who'd gotten him where he was.

He didn't even mind the thought of other women seeing he was clearly taken and had been for the last fifteen years.

And probably would be for the next fifteen. ..or fifty.

They continued to flip through the pages of the photo album, through middle and high school team pictures and onto more newspaper and magazine clippings during his college and Major League career.

"You came home one night from a game," Molly began, "in high school.

You were so excited. You'd even brought friends with you, which you never did.

And you certainly never used the front door.

" She glanced for a moment from Quinn to the window and back.

"You boys were going on about college and recruiters and scholarships, and one of them said that you would definitely be getting a full ride offer from somewhere, if not multiple schools.

And then you had made a comment about if you didn't get a scholarship to play ball, you probably wouldn't go to college.

That you'd have to rely on… 'pity scholarships', I think you called them, for people who were never meant to go to college. "

That sounded like something he would've said.

Quinn heard Rae's scoff and looked up from the album. "What?"

She was looking at him with disbelief. "Quinn," she shook her head, "you always thought you were less than or unworthy of college.

You were always making snide comments about how people like you weren't supposed to go to college or do great things.

Like you were completely incapable of any achievement off the ball diamond.

Which, by the way, was and still is complete bullshit. "

"I really don't have any achievements outside of baseball," Quinn stated.

"Seriously?" Rae's eyebrows shot up. "Do you realize how many people grow up like you and become psychopaths?

Your achievements go way beyond the field.

" She gestured around the room. "Yeah, you're an amazing ball player, but how many people on your team had to overcome everything you did?

You were never willing to accept that your life couldn't be everything you wanted and then some.

Do you realize how rare that is? Do you know how many people would have used the cards they were dealt as an excuse to never amount to anything? "

Quinn swallowed, searching Rae's eyes as he tried to figure out what to say.

He wasn't used to praise outside of the ball field.

Well, okay, or the bedroom. Being acknowledged for his character was entirely new territory.

"Rae, I can throw a ball and swing a bat.

It's not like I'm a doctor or anything."

Rae shook her head with an incredulous smirk. "Yeah, becoming a doctor is pretty easy when you're funded by a miniature French empire." Quinn looked back at her, unconvinced, so she pressed on, "Quinn, if I'd had half your ambition I could be the princess of my own damn nation by now."

Quinn shrugged. "You'd hate being called princess though. "

"Queen, then," Rae rolled her eyes. "Do you get what I'm saying though? Everything you have was earned. By you. No one else got you there."

"Your family paid for me to be on teams," Quinn said with another shrug. She didn't seem to realize how much she had actually done for him .

"Yeah, they could've paid for every kid in Traverse City to play, but you're still the one who got yourself where you are," said Rae.

"She's right," Molly piped in. "I know I didn't do...anything to help make your life easier. What you've done with your life was all because of who you are and the choices you made."

Quinn sort of understood what they were saying but couldn't help focusing on the way Rae's family had supported him. Paid his team fees. Bought him decent equipment. Housed him, fed him, clothed him when he'd outgrown everything he owned in one summer.

"When I heard you boys talking about scholarships," Molly said, "I knew you played ball, but I didn't realize you were so good.

I didn't know you were taking yourself somewhere with your talent.

I saw the newspapers after that game you all talked about and couldn't believe my son was going somewhere.

Every other parent in town knew how talented you were, and I'd been such a horrible mother I didn't even know how remarkable my own son was. "

"You never said anything." Quinn looked at his mom uncertainly. This was the most she had ever said to him, he was sure of it. But she'd noticed him. She'd been interested to know about his talent, and maybe was even proud of him. But she hadn't spoken up.

Molly sighed, "I went on sort of a self-pity bender."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked down curiously at her. "Just the one?"

"No, I suppose not," Molly said. "I realized how much I had failed. And if you were leaving it was too late to fix it, so it didn't matter."

"I was leaving for college. If I'd known you wanted to fix things…

" Quinn trailed off. If he'd thought his mom wanted to fix things and get so ber, what would he have done?

Would he have even believed her? Would he have been able to focus at all at school, constantly wondering about his mom's inevitable relapse from hundreds of miles away?

Another image popped into his head: Red and blue flashing lights, the old Toyota Corolla crashed nose-first into a big oak tree, his mom being pulled out by paramedics through the window. Feeling completely numb as he watched it all unfold, standing above the ditch in a tux and black Chuck Taylors.

Not how most high school seniors spend their prom night.

He'd had to call Rae and tell her he wouldn't make it to the dance, but that she should go and have fun. It had felt like a sign. He'd finally gotten the balls to ask her to one of the dances, she'd said yes, and he'd come across the accident on the way to pick her up.

Of course Rae came to the hospital instead and spent the night in the waiting room with him. They hadn't even spoken to each other. She'd just shown up in her prom dress looking like a dream come to life, given him a hug, and sat with him all night.

"Is that why you were so drunk when you crashed the car?" Quinn asked, "Because you were upset that you'd failed me?"

Molly nodded, chewing her lip.

"Did you know that was my prom night?" Quinn wasn't looking at anyone now, just staring out the window wondering how differently that night could have gone if she'd just said something.

"I didn't," Molly said. "At least, not until you came into my room in a tux."

Anger was bubbling at the surface again.

He hadn't cared much that he'd missed his own prom.

What made him mad was that it had ruined Rae's, too.

She had been looking forward to it and had seemed genuinely excited when Quinn had finally asked her to go with him.

Rae must have sensed his change of tone or registered his expression, because she reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, leaning into him.

Her weight pressing into his calmed him instantly.

"I suppose surviving that accident gave me a new perspective," said Molly. "I figured if it wasn't too late to keep disappointing you, by ruining your prom night or a number of other things, then it wasn't too late to try to do better."

They spent at least another hour looking through the photo album, bringing it out to the living room.

They talked about the first time Molly really tried to give up her vices.

She started with the drugs, and instantly knew she would need help.

She went to a support group and looked into all of her options, found out all about the detox phase, relapses, and what to expect.

She admitted that the first several meetings scared the crap out of her, and she nearly gave up right then.

But then she'd turn the TV on to a baseball game when she got home and had to constantly remind herself why she was going through it.

After four years, she had made some progress, though not as much as she would have liked in that time.

But when Sandra had visited the first time, explaining that Quinn had hired her, it renewed her ambition to try harder, knowing that he was still trying to take care of her.

She said it felt like he was rooting for her from a distance.

It wasn't easy and it didn't happen all at once, but now she had three years and five months of complete sobriety to be proud of.

When Quinn and Rae got ready to leave, he felt the knot in his chest that he'd kept with him at all times loosen just a little bit more.

The first time he'd been here he needed to get all his emotions out there, all that pain off his chest. With Rae, he felt stronger and braver, like he could ask his mom the hard questions and hear the answers without losing his head.

There was an awkward moment before he and Rae left when he felt like his mom was going in for a hug. They'd covered a lot of ground, but he couldn't quite get there yet. He put a hand on her shoulder instead and told her he'd be back soon, then walked out the door with Rae's hand in his.