Page 36 of Home Safe

Chapter twenty-eight

Griffin

“ Y es! That’s the way to do it!” I yell as Adrian hollers next to me.

One of our new outfielders from the farm team managed to hit a home run, bringing in a runner on first for a two-run hit.

He’ll be a great backup player on the bench, assuming the coaching staff chooses to keep him for the season.

After his performance today, I don’t know why they wouldn’t.

As the guys run into the dugout, Adrian and I are there giving celebratory back slaps and jumping shoulder bumps.

We always make a big show of celebrating the runs and good plays during spring training games.

It’s partially to boost the morale of the players who are here working hard for their shot at the big leagues.

And also partially to distract us from the boredom of not getting to be the ones out there playing.

Adrian’s always pushing the boundaries of rambunctious behavior, hamming it up for the cameras he knows are watching.

As his best friend, I play right along with him.

He makes it easy to get swept up in the fun, and Joe never complains about the extra PR attention that comes from all of the YouTube views.

“You’re gonna need to work on your dance moves for some new celebrations this season,” Adrian tells me .

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—I have plenty of moves. You'd better focus on your baseball moves so you have something to celebrate over,” I rib him back.

Our team goes on a run in the seventh inning, stretching our lead to 9–2, which we hold through the end of the game. Spirits are high in the locker room as we recount the highlights.

“How’s the shoulder?” Adrian asks after we’ve showered and changed. It was bothering me this morning during practice after I pushed it a little too hard in the training room yesterday.

“It’s fine now,” I answer. He raises an eyebrow. “I’m serious—it really feels fine now. The trainers worked their magic, and it’s good as new.”

He gives me a hearty slap on the back, near my shoulder, as if watching to see if I’d flinch. I fake sucker punch him in the gut in response. “Watch it, Ortiz. I’ll report you to the trainers for screwing up my shoulder if it hurts again tomorrow.”

Pulling my bag out of my locker, I check my phone.

My heart plummets to my stomach when I see I have four missed calls from Danae, spread out across the past two hours.

Today was an afternoon game, which means she was calling while school was in session.

There are no texts from her explaining her reason for calling.

I break out in a cold sweat.

“Hey, I've gotta go call Danae,” I tell Adrian.

“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know yet. But she called me four times during school hours. Something must be wrong,” I reply, already walking toward the doors. “I’ll catch you at the condo.”

Once outside, I try to give a semi-sincere smile to the fans who have lingered hoping to catch sight of players as we leave.

Normally, I’d pause to sign a few autographs and take photos with kids.

Right now, talking to Danae is all I can think about.

She’s an hour ahead, so school is officially over for the day.

Quickly making it to the privacy of my rental car, I dial Danae’s number, hoping she’ll answer.

My heart sinks even further when she doesn’t.

We’d exchanged our usual morning texts today, but I was a little shorter with the conversation since I had to have the training staff look at my shoulder before practice.

Still, she’d given no indication that anything was wrong.

I dial her again, wondering if she didn’t hear it ring the first time. No answer.

ME

I saw your missed calls. What’s wrong?

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to answer. Was in the middle of a game.

After excruciating silence that stretches for what seems like an eternity (although it was likely only a minute), I decide to text Sam. She leaves tomorrow morning to come to Arizona for a few days, but she’s still in KC for the night.

ME

Have you talked to Danae today?

SAM

No, why?

ME

I don’t know. She called me four times during the game. No voicemail or text saying what’s up.

SAM

That doesn’t seem good. Have you called her back?

ME

Of course I called her back. She hasn’t answered though. It’s freaking me out.

SAM

Yeah you probably should be freaked out.

ME

Thanks. So helpful.

SAM

I’ll let you know if I hear anything. And let me know once you hear something.

I debate whether to drive to the condo Adrian and I are sharing or wait here longer to see if she’ll call back. Finally, I get a text from her.

DANAE

I’ll have to call you later after Jason is in bed.

ME

Is everything ok?

DANAE

I’ll call you later.

I have no secondary cues to go off of—no facial expressions, no body language, no tone of voice—only the written words of her text. But I don’t need any secondary information to sense the disappointment, the hurt behind Danae’s message.

Clearly, something is wrong . And I wasn’t available when she needed me.

This scenario is my worst nightmare, precisely because it’s her worst nightmare.

The number one fear she vocalized about our relationship is playing out in real time, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.

I can’t have my cell phone in the dugout.

And even if I could, I can’t up and leave in the middle of a game.

I certainly can’t hop on an airplane back to Kansas before spring training ends.

Is this going to be the straw that breaks everything apart for Danae? Is she going to realize she can’t be with a professional athlete? Can’t be with me ? This is who I am—what if that’s not enough for her? Too much for her?

I text Sam to let her know that Danae’s going to call me tonight. Then I head to the condo to pace my room for the next three hours.

I stare at Danae’s tear-streaked cheeks on my phone screen, wishing I could be there in person to take her into my arms. To kiss the tears away.

She filled me in on everything she talked about with Jason’s new therapist, and it’s no wonder she tried to call four times. It’s a lot of information to process—a heavy load to carry. I hate that I wasn’t available to help her carry it right away.

In all of our conversations over the past few days, Danae never mentioned that they were going to meet with this therapist for the first time.

Apparently, she wanted to fill me in afterward, thinking that she could handle it on her own without burdening me.

I wish I had known that she was walking into this, so I could have tried to think of a way to support her.

I know that therapy sessions with Sam and Ian weren’t easy experiences for my parents.

Her screen tips to the ceiling briefly while I hear the sound of her blowing her nose. Danae didn’t want to video call, probably for this reason, but I insisted I wanted to be able to see her face. When she picks it back up, she leans her head against the pillows on her bed, looking exhausted.

More than exhausted. Utterly defeated.

I want to crawl through the phone screen and lay down next to her, wrap my body around hers. Protect her from the heaviness. Hold her so she knows she’s not alone in this.

But I can’t. I won’t see her for almost three more weeks.

I can see in her eyes the shadow of what she hasn’t openly addressed yet. The disappointment of me not answering the phone when she'd tried to call after meeting with the therapist. I decide I should be the one to face it head-on.

“I know it had to feel extremely frustrating that I couldn’t answer when you called today. I’m sorry that you felt alone coming out of such a hard meeting,” I say.

I know I hit the mark when fresh tears well up in her eyes. Even through the video, I can see the quiver of her chin as she fights against the emotions. She presses her thumb and a finger to her eyes, then wipes her cheeks .

“You had a game. I looked it up. I know that’s why you didn’t answer,” she says, voice small. “You’re doing your job.”

I can see her fighting to maintain her composure. Fighting to rationalize away the frustration and even anger. It’s written all over her face, her demeanor.

“I really hate this, babe,” I say. I’d hoped the term of endearment might reel her in to me a little bit, but her eyes bounce away from the screen to the ceiling.

“I wish I could be there to hold you right now. To help you navigate this with Jason,” I say. “You have to know I would be there in a millisecond if I could.”

Danae purses her lips. “Yeah, well, you can’t.

” Her chin quivers again. “And it’s his birthday in a couple of days, and I already know that’s going to be a whole minefield of potential explosions for him.

Especially with—” she breaks off, wiping her eyes again before exhaling deeply.

“Especially with you not being here. He got too used to having you around. It’s been hard for him to not see you. ”

I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart manages to sink even deeper. Below ground level. “Danae, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this.”

She shrugs and sits forward on the bed, as though trying to brush this off and pull herself together.

“There’s no fixing it. It’s not your fault—this is your job. There’s nothing you can do about it. This is what it is,” she says, tone resigned.

“Danae,” I say with an edge of pleading.

Her eyes aren’t meeting mine through the screen.

“Please look at me.” She sighs but moves her phone to make eye contact.

“Please stay with me. We need to figure out some ways to cope with situations like this. We will figure it out. Please don’t give up on us. ”