Page 16

TUCKER

C ael and Josh wandered across the field, and I knew something had happened by the look on Cael’s face. His expression was tight, the smile brittle—secrets clearly gnawing at him. I clapped Van on the shoulder and met them in the middle, only for Josh to walk around me like I didn’t exist.

“Great,” I huffed as Cael lobbed the keys through the air at me.

He looked over my shoulder at the team and then back to me. “I tried.”

“If you can’t get him to talk, I don't know what I’m supposed to do,” I said.

“I think…” He paused, lowering his voice. “Even though he knows we're not, I’m pretty sure he’s stuck on this idea that we’re perfect. That none of us has anything to be sad or stressed about. Like, he’s having a trauma dick-measuring contest, but none of the rest of us were aware we entered.”

“Was that really the best way to describe that?” I laughed, and Cael shrugged.

“Whatever…” He laughed with me. “Maybe if he sees how imperfect we can be, he’ll open up a bit.”

“Anytime I try to explain to him, he walls up and flips out,” I admitted.

“Stop trying one-on-one,” he suggested.

“What do you mean?” I turned and started to walk with him over to the diamond.

“It’s time you share your story, big boy, and not just with Josh. With all of them.” Cael winked and backed away to start warming up before I could argue with him that it was a dumb idea.

Even more dumb than trying to figure out what Josh needed. Every time he was met with even a flicker of kindness, he pushed back, claiming he didn’t need this or that. It was infuriating, and there was little I could do to stop the outbursts.

My mind was flooded with the image of him in the lake that morning. His back was a mess of scars that ran so much deeper than I had expected. With my new perspective of his skin, I could see the trauma seeping from him, but instead of being scared of it, all I wanted to do was ask him how it had happened.

At this point, I could barely get him to tell me his middle name. He wasn’t going to trauma dump over a can of Dr. Pepper at Hilly's with me. I kicked at the dirt with my sneaker and made my way over to where they were standing, waiting for me to tell them what we were going to be doing that day. There were only a few days left at camp, and we really hadn’t gotten anywhere as a team. If we expected to go back and even compete in the exhibition game scheduled for the end of next week, we needed to start working as a team–and we needed to do it now.

“Alright, I’m going to give you a position, and you’re stuck there for the day. No arguments,” I followed up quickly as they all started to rumble and huff at the announcement. “Van, move to catcher. Todd to pitcher, Jensen to third, Cael go first. ”

I gave the last of them positions, and they moved, but not in total silence. Cael gave me a death glare as he shifted from his rooted position at shortstop, but I needed to teach Josh and Todd a lesson in cooperation, and the best place to do that was with Logan as Todd’s backup.

“Josh, shortstop.”

I watched him open his mouth to argue and then close it again when I put my arms out to welcome the fight. He shoved his hand in his glove and wandered across the field, no doubt feeling more out of place than ever.

“Arlo, hit some balls for them?” I asked, moving to second base.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He smiled and tugged off his sweater, throwing it toward Ella before swiping a bat from the dugout and warming up his arm. It was always nice to see Arlo in his element; practices gave us that sense of familiarity that we all craved now that he was a coach. I could feel the tension lifting as he stepped into the batter's box.

Todd pitched the first ball the minute Ella shouted “game on”, with the pitch soaring too high past Arlo and into the cage.

“Have you ever pitched a ball, Todd? Or are your skills limited to rifling them back to the pitcher?” Arlo grumbled as Todd reset on the mound and inhaled loudly.

“This is bullshit, Tucker. What’s the point of us being all messed up?” He complained, but he threw the ball and again it soared wide.

“Ask for instruction, Todd,” I said to his back instead of giving him a straight answer.

“Instruction?” He asked, only pausing to grunt as Van put the ball hard into the back of his mitt. “You’re fucking ten feet from me Mitchell. Soften up, man!”

“Throw a straight pitch, Todd!” Van yelled back. His arm wasn’t made for short distance throws, and he had a cannon on a bad day. I didn’t envy the sting that was no doubt spreading out like wildfire across Todd’s palm.

“Ask for help, Todd,” I said again, when the two stopped bickering.

He turned those shit-brown eyes on me and scowled, before turning to his newly appointed shortstop. “Help me,” he barked.

Josh chuckled and looked up from the dirt with a smug smile that was only going to cause another fight, but then he opened his mouth and “move back a step and aim for Arlo’s shoulder,” came out of it.

Todd looked unimpressed that Josh hadn’t pushed back more, but turned around, stepped back on full step, and did as he was told. By some miracle, the ball whirled passed Arlo, into Van’s waiting glove.

Todd glanced back at Josh, who just put his arms out and laughed.

“Not as easy as it looks,” he muttered, dropping back into ready position, completely ignoring Todd’s fuming glare.

The game continued with Todd finding a clumsy groove that looked similar to a toddler learning how to walk for the first time. But he figured it out with a few more pointers from Josh that sounded more like mocking than helping.

Cael didn’t catch a single ball all game, and it was hilarious to watch him get worked up every time Arlo scored a run. Jensen, on the other hand, was happy at third, spouting off nonsense about enjoying the backward view of the diamond. But then again, nothing ever bothered that guy.

“How many times are we going to run this fucking play?” Cael yelled finally, snatching his mitt off in frustration.

“You’re the only person that hasn’t caught a ball,” I called out to him. “So you tell me?”

“Is that what it’ll take for you to let us free?” He asked me with a loud groan. “First base is stupid and so is your face, Tucker.”

“Kitten’s grumpy,” Arlo mocked from the batter’s box.

“Shut up, Princess.” Cael whirled on Arlo with his finger pointed and shook it. “You’re having fun because you have torture kink. This is brutal–we all know I can’t play first and it’s cruel!”

“Switch then; play outfield.” Van shrugged. “Logan can take first, his reflexes are better, and Todd can move to shortstop because Arlo never hits left field unless he has to.”

Arlo scoffed.

“Where will you go?” Cael flipped his hat backward with the brim, seemingly frustrated but definitely listening to the plan.

In fact… everyone was.

“Pitcher. Move Baker to catcher where he’s not in the way…” Josh cut in. “Put Dean at third–he’ll cover Todd in case Arlo switches hits, and fill the gaps in outfield with Jensen and Louis, Riley can play second.”

And Josh had learned everyone’s names…

“It’ll work,” Van said, surveying the field and nodding toward Josh in agreement. “Everyone switch!”

I caught Arlo’s expression as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched them all willingly switch their positions in the field.

Cael flipped me off as he wandered to right field, but I could tell he was instantly more comfortable in the position. Arlo waited until they were ready before taking a perfectly timed pitch from Van that flew over the infield heads straight toward Cael.

Todd hollered out before anyone else could. “First!”

Cael didn’t hesitate as the ball hit his glove. His fingers scooped it effortlessly from his palm and hurled it toward Josh, who was ready on base. Arlo pushed the pace, but he wasn’t fast enough. The sound of the ball kissing leather as Ella yelled Arlo out echoed almost simultaneously through the air.

It didn’t take them long to get back into the swing of things; Cael even started catching more balls. Logan’s voice carried cleanly across the bases, cutting through the noise with ease, which only meant good things for a loud stadium.

“They’re going to be ok, Tucker.” Arlo nudged me as he came to a slow stop at third. “If you can get Cael and Logan on the same page for the season…”

“We can win.” I finished his sentence with a small proud nod. He completed his circle just in time for Silas to sound the siren that told us dinner was ready. “Alright, go shower and meet for dinner.”

The guys piled off the field, chatting with each other, and I watched as Van turned to Josh. I was ready to get between them, but Van’s brows scrunched together before he asked him a question about his back foot placement on the mound.

Josh explained it to him slowly, and twice over, Van mimicking the movement in choppy steps as they walked. Even afterwards, with everyone packed into the dining hall, dinner went alright. Josh sat with us again and actually ate a full plate of pasta. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, but I was still too stressed to have an appetite, and the four small bites that hit my stomach weighed a thousand pounds.

I leaned back in my chair and watched everyone finish.

In a few days, we’d be back in Harbor—and I’d be a caged animal again. Forced to put on fake smiles that meant nothing to people who didn’t really know me. I was already over it, and the suffocating pinch of my parents' expectations for me loomed.

I could hear my mother’s voice, peaking and pulling at the back of my mind. She would want to know who I was taking to the Gala that season. Being captain had brought down so many more problems on my head than I’d expected from her. All of a sudden, the pressure of having a partner or, in her words, a girlfriend, was exponential. It had to be one the family would be proud of and that the press could gawk over as the season progressed.

Not a word out of her mouth had been about my needs.

It would kill her to know that Cael and I had gone together last year, in quiet solidarity. We told her that it was because ‘we wanted to keep our options open’ when, in reality, I just wanted to fuck Cael in the locker room showers.

He’d had other plans for the occasion.

But that’s how it had always been. Me expecting Cael to be there for me, and Cael not understanding what that meant. It was odd to think how far we’d come since that night. There were no more overdoses, but there was also no more ‘ us’ .

I sighed, heavy with the weight of it all.

“What’s up with you?” Silas leaned over the table, and it was only then that I realized I had been sitting, staring at the ceiling. Everyone had left, and the dining hall was quiet except for the players in the kitchen doing dishes.

“Nothing, just tired. The bunks aren’t exactly made for anyone of exceptional height.” I looked up at him. “You fit because you’re 5'10”.”

“First of all, I’m 6’2”, and it’s not my fault they don’t sell bunks made for overgrown children or Hulklings .” Silas sank into the chair across from me.

“You’ve had nothing but toast and three bites of pasta in—” he paused to think about it, “oh, I don’t know, six days?”

“I’ve eaten, Doc, thanks though. You don’t get a body like this from toast.” I gave him a half-hearted flex, and he scowled at me in response.

“We’re not doing this again, Tucker.” He slid his elbows against the table and stared me down with his judgmental glare.

“It’s not that,” I stopped him quickly. Fresh out of high school, coming off an impressive senior baseball season, I was distracted. So distracted that I’d lost nearly sixty pounds in my first semester at Harbor. Silas had caught it quickly, but it had taken me another forty pounds and an embarrassing collapse during a game for me to admit to it. I had dropped to one hundred and sixty pounds.

“It is that.” Silas pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head at me. “A lot is riding on your shoulders now, but if you need help, say it and I’m there.”

“I’m fine, Silas.” I pushed up from the table and inhaled slowly. “Food at camp just sucks.”

“It’s the same food as home, Tucker. Do not walk away from me,” Silas grumbled, his tone becoming increasingly annoyed with my dismissal.

I turned and looked at him from the end of the table.

“I thought we’d figured this out,” he said, standing to match my gaze. “You’ve got to prioritize yourself, Dean. Focusing too narrowly on a win is dangerous. You can’t win from a facility, and I warned you, if you couldn’t manage your eating dis—”

“It’s not a disorder, don’t say that.” I waved my hands in front of my body and stepped closer to him, lowering my voice so the guys in the kitchen couldn’t hear. “I’m not sick, it’s not that. I’m fine, I’m eating, it’s fine.”

Silas chuckled. “You’ve said that word three times in two sentences. You’re not sick, but you’re also not fine, and you’re not eating. It’s not just me that’s noticed.”

I swallowed tightly and folded my arms over my chest, ready to argue.

“Cael is a busybody. He doesn’t have problems of his own anymore, so he’s trying to dig them out—”

“It was Josh.” Silas cut me off in a quiet tone.

“What?” I scowled.

“He came to me after they got back from the city for a conversation, and he mentioned that you’d been skipping breakfast,” Silas explained. “I didn’t push for more, but the slope is slippery, and if you’re not eating breakfast…”

“I am—a piece of toast, remember ?” I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“Dean, come on.” Silas pushed, stepping toward me and running a hand through his dark hair. “The last thing I want to do is force you to get help, I’m not qualified to coach you through this, or I would. But I will not pick you up off the field again. It was scary enough the first time.”

He was right. The first time I’d collapsed because of the neglect was in the middle of a game with a stadium full of people. The lights had been so hot and the noise from the stands had made me dizzy. It was like my muscles all went slack at the same time, and everything went black before I hit the ground.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, holding my gaze for a moment. “I know that everything is messy right now. I know that your family is suffocating and the stress of taking captain has got a chokehold on you…” He paused, feeling me tense under his fingertips. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it, I know you can. I’m saying you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Two steps at a time,” I grumbled under my breath and looked down between us. “I’ll stop skipping breakfast.”

“If I don’t see you in this hall, I’ll send Arlo after you,” he threatened.

“Not funny.” I shuddered.

“Wasn’t a joke.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.