Page 49 of Stolen Voices

“What do you mean?” he asks, his mouth turned down in misunderstanding.

I shrug. “I don’t know. It just sounds like you don’t do this anymore.”

Eli chuckles. “No, nothing happened. We still come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My baby brother is a pitcher on the team now, so it’s a little different. My nephew tags along when he’s in town, and we take leftovers to Cameron for after the game.”

That’s right. I keep forgetting his brother is a baseball player. Eli’s used to having someone he cares about constantly in the spotlight. “That’s sweet. Did you want to be a baseball player too?”

“Nah. I never had the heart. Baseball movies? Now, those get me. I still cry when I watchField of Dreams.” Eli leans back in his chair.

As his dress shirt stretches across his chest, I imagine the buttons popping open and giving me a better view of his ripped torso.

“I’ve never seen it.” I look away, hoping my cheeks aren’t red and giving away my every lewd thought.

“That’s a travesty. We should fix that.” He takes a sip of his canned soda.

My heart races at the thought of snuggling on the couch next to Eli as we watch movies.

“What’s it about?” I ask, not wanting to make our conversation awkward, but also because I’m curious why this movie means so much to him.

“It’s about a farmer who hears a voice in his dreams that says, ‘If you build it, he will come.’. So, he builds a baseball field in the middle of his corn fields. Then, the ghosts of great baseball players that have died show up and play baseball.”

“Ghosts? Are you sure it isn’t a horror movie?” I tease.

Eli chuckles, shaking his head. “The ghosts aren’t scary. It’s all symbolism. The farmer is grieving for his father, who loved baseball. When he finishes building the field, his dad comes out to play. He gets to talk to his dad one last time and realizes that, like his dad, he’s not living his dreams. It’s a wake-up call for him to forgive his dad and move on by living a fuller life. No regrets. It’s beautifully written and directed.”

The story of this movie pierces my heart. Everything Eli just told me resonates with me, down to my soul. Losing my father has caused similar feelings of regret and dissatisfaction to haunt me.

My throat closes, and tears sting my nose. I can’t stop the tear that rolls down my cheek.

“Hey, Callie. Are you okay?”

I wipe away the tear with my fingers and smile. “Yeah. It’s just. I…” My voice cracks, and my chest tightens at the sharp pain poking my ribs.

The need to tell him is so strong that more tears fall. Maybe if I let Eli in, the weight I carry will lessen and it will be easier to tell him the full story later.

“I lost my dad,” I spit out before I lose the courage. The words taste like acid, and I would give anything for them to be untrue. To bring my dad back.

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Callie.”

“Thank you. Very few people know. It was a long time ago, but I feel his loss every day.” I twirl my thumb ring, thinking about how I lost my dad and my mom on that tragic day.

Eli gets up from his seat and takes the stool beside me. He wraps his arm around my back. I lean my temple onto his shoulder and breathe in this comforting.

“Tell me something about him.” He rubs my arm in a soothing pattern, making me feel safe.

His comforting touch tugs at something deep inside me, and it encourages me to keep going. “My dad always called me Calliope. He said my name meant ‘beautiful voice’ and shortening it was completely unacceptable. He was ridiculous.” I sniffle, remembering how I loved hearing him say my name. “But in a good way, you know? He was the best dad. Dorky but awesome.” I choke on a sob as the grief hits me. I can’t remember the last time I spoke about him to anyone, let alone cried for him.

“He sounds like my dad,” Eli says. He squeezes me to his side, and the hat on my head takes a tumble.

I bury my face in his dress shirt, breathing in his masculine aura and absorbing his calming warmth. “You must have a really great dad.”

“I do. But he also says inappropriate things sometimes,” he admits.

With a watery chuckle, I keep my face buried into his side. The last thing I want is to break the spell of this moment. “That’s kind of funny. Like, dirty jokes and stuff?”