Shutout, p.16
Shutout, page 16
Easton is here, lively and a handful, Annabelle is leaving tomorrow for California, promising to come back next month with him. And I’m fearful of her future and if she’ll be lucky enough to get the transplant she needs to survive.
Even though I don’t want to be with her, I want her to be happy, she deserves nothing but the best after dealing with her health scares and me.
“You want to move him up the line batting order?” Ben asks me.
“Huh?” I peer over my shoulder.
“Henry, his hitting has really improved. Do you want to throw him up the line for the game Friday?”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
“How about Jace?”
I blink. A bead of sweat trickles down one of my temples, and I think about his future.
Young, smart, a hell of a baseball player.
It reminds me of myself on this same field, pining over Sawyer in her short shorts, subtly eye fucking me from another spot on the field. Me wanting to own her but not wanting to admit it to myself because that would mean I actually gave two shits about her.
“What do you want to do?” Ben asks again.
“Uh...what position do we have him at again?”
Ben peers down at the clipboard in my hand. “You tell me.”
Right.
I pull it up, trying to look for his name, but everything blurs together. I don’t remember where I last put him in the lineup, but I think I could move him up. I can’t remember how well he did last Friday because it feels like five years ago.
I shove the clipboard into Ben’s chest. “Your decision, man. I’ll back you up on your choice.”
Ben takes it, hooking it underneath his arm. “Didn’t go well, huh?”
“What?”
He raises a brow. “New York.”
I push out my cheek with my tongue, averting my gaze from his. “Yeah.”
“She’ll be back, Brother. Give it some time.”
“Yeah.”
“She loves you just as much as—”
“Don’t know about that, never heard it,” I retort.
A line appears on Ben’s forehead. “She’s never told you that she’s in love with you?”
“She said ‘was’ not ‘is’, big difference.”
He scoffs. “Bullshit.”
“Yeah, well...it is—whatever.” I give him a light tap on the back of his shoulder. “Do what you think is best.”
“What’s best is making sure you’re okay,” Ben voices. “I’m not worried about the lineup right now.”
“I’ll be fine, man.”
“That’s what you said before, then disappeared out of thin air.”
I fix him with a glare. “That was ten years ago, and now I have a son and an unborn child waiting for me.”
“A what now?”
Oh shit, I forgot to tell him.
“Sawyer’s pregnant.”
Ben clutches his chest. “Wait a fucking second...Sawyer’s pregnant?”
“That’s what I just said.”
He throws a punch into my arm. “What the fuck?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug, I don’t remember who knows what and who doesn’t. All I know is that my life is a rollercoaster that keeps turning upside down and twisting at every corner.
I feel like I’m going to get sick every moment of the day and night.
“She’s fucking pregnant and still wants nothing to do with me,” I convey. “I’m afraid she’s going to do something stupid.”
“Like...an abortion?” Ben whispers.
I bow my head into my chest. “Yeah.”
And that’d fucking kill me.
I’d be the next name put on the heart transplant list because Sawyer would annihilate it.
Ben shakes his head violently. “No, no, she’d never do that.”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “Rule number one, Ben, never underestimate Sawyer Boyd. Did that, learned the hard way.”
“She’d never get rid of a piece of you. She’s loved you forever.”
I’m suddenly done with this conversation. I don’t want to talk about her, tired of overthinking everything we’ve done in the past to each other and the night everything got fucked up.
I even try to keep ideas out of my head about how to off Gavin.
“I gotta go into the office,” I lie. “Be back in a few.”
Ben’s arm reaches out for me. “This is going to work out, man. Everything is going to work out.”
“Then get a heart for Annabelle because if she doesn’t get one, she’ll more than likely end up dying, leaving my son without his mother.”
I push through his arm and stride toward the school, looking for any fraction of peace I can grab on to.
Two women that I care for might just walk out of my life, each of them meaning something different to me. I have a son who will rely on me but won’t be able to function because nothing is right in my life without Sawyer in it.
I won’t get over her.
I tried that shit, it didn’t work, and I can’t accept it for anything else. I’m meant to be with her. She’s meant to be with me. We might be fucked up and have a not-so-awesome past but I can’t operate my new life without her.
Her being pregnant, our child, I want it.
I want a baby with her, I always have. I need to be there for her, I want to see her belly grow and the glow that radiates off her face. It’s something no one can take away from us, something we made together. It’d tie us to be stronger, united, I just need her to see that.
I need her to believe me.
Yanking my cell out of my back pocket, I stop walking, clicking on her name so I can text her.
Me: Bases, I don’t need you to respond, just to read this. I love you more than anything in the world, everything is falling apart around me without you here. I barely survived without you in my world, and I know I won’t make it if you never come back home. I want our baby, I want us to be a family. I want you forever. There is so much more that I—
The air is sterile and thick, making my stomach wrench with anxiety as a group of nurses scuttle by me. I repeat the room number over and over in my head, trying to bypass the incoming memories that want to surface. The beeping of machines harmony together in the most nerve-wracking sound from adjoining rooms as I clutch my hands into fists.
I remember running in here last time, my shoulders accidentally knocking into people as I drifted around a corner to Dad’s room. Ben told me not to rush, that he was fine, but they said that about Dad too, and with the baby, I don’t want to trip and fall.
It still doesn’t stop my legs from opening their stride as I march through the ivory-colored hallway at the same hospital that—
“Sawyer!” Taylor’s voice calls out. A few nurses glance her way, obviously because she’s way too loud, and I suck in the deep breath that I feel like I’m going to need.
She smiles genuinely, which sets my body at ease a little.
“Hey Tay,” I greet as she wraps her arms around me.
“Hey, yourself, asshole. I missed you.”
I grin over her shoulder. “I missed you too.”
Ben steps out of a room to the left, grinning at me. “Hey, Boyd.”
Taylor releases me from her grip but still holds on to my arm as she moves to the side.
“Hi Ben, how is he?”
I see it, he tried his best, but I see his face drop. And my stomach goes right along with it.
“Doctors are hopeful,” he replies.
“H—hopeful?” I repeat, squeezing my hands into fists again. I glance over at Taylor. “How bad is it?”
She looks at Ben. “Well...his head is bandaged up and—”
“How bad is it?”
Ben steps forward out of my peripheral. “He had his CT scan done yesterday, there was some swelling around his brain and—”
I move toward the room, yanking my arm out of Taylor’s grasp, and rounding Ben, but he steps in front of me.
“Hold on,” he stresses, holding his hands in the air. “Let me prep you.”
I shake my head. “Nothing will ever prep me for this.”
“Sawyer.” His voice is gentle and so fucking calm that I feel panic start to creep up my spine at how cryptic it sounds. “You’re pregnant, let me give you a visual of what you’re going to be walking into. I don’t want you to fucking faint on the floor.”
Taylor’s hand finds my back as she comes to stand next to me. “It’s not like your dad.”
I jerk my attention to her. “Then how is it? Is he awake?”
“No,” Ben replies. “They put him in a coma to help the swelling, and they didn’t want to take a chance that he may stroke out or anything worse.”
“How long...how long will it take for…” I can’t finish my sentence as I grip onto Taylor’s hand.
“They don’t know, hun, they are doing everything they can,” she murmurs.
“He’s breathing on his own, but they have little oxygen tubes up his nose,” Ben voices. “It’s the only time you’ll ever see him look like an angel.”
A shutter chuckle breaks from my lips as I stare down at the white tiles on the floor with specks of brown.
I told him that I didn’t want him anymore. To go back home and leave me alone.
No, I told him to leave me the fuck alone, sounds so much nicer.
Taylor gives me a little nudge. “Did you want to sit down or go see him?”
“I want to...go see him now.”
Ben steps aside, letting Taylor lead me closer to the room where the door is slightly open. All I can see is the matching ivory wall and the soft beeping of machines.
My gut twists as my feet carry me closer. I can feel my heart thud over and over again into my rib cage as Taylor pushes the door all the way open and lets me walk ahead of her.
“I’ll be right outside with Ben,” she whispers. “Call us if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
His feet appear first, covered in a light blue blanket as my eyes roam up his body the deeper I move into the room. My eyes demand to see his face, to see what he looks like, to fucking see him so peaceful.
They find him and, Ben was right, he looks like an angel. His face is relaxed and soft, in a deep slumber while my body starts to react in the opposite direction. I start to shake the closer I get, finding his hands at his sides, a white hospital band wrapped around his wrist.
The second time our baby is near his daddy, he’s unconscious and trying to stay alive.
“Colson,” I stammer, my voice cracking on both syllables. “I’m here.”
I reach for his hand, it’s warm, and wrap my fingers around it. Tears hit my face as I attempt, with everything in me, not to lose my entire shit in this room. The annoying beeping of his machine reminds me that I’ve been here before, thinking Dad was going to recover and how wrong I was for being so stupid because I knew he wasn’t out of danger yet.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
My lips tremble violently as I squeeze his hand.
“You can’t leave me again,” I state. “You fucking promised. You said it was me and you, and the baby. And your son, he needs you too.”
I’m greeted by nothing, the nothing I knew would come. The eerie unknown of if a person can hear you or not. Or if it’s what people say to make you feel something other than misery and fear.
“I’m back home,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
More silence.
“You dumb idiot, you just had to find a way to get me back here. You didn’t have to get a line drive to the back of the head to get me here.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“You can’t afford to lose any more brain cells, Hayes.” I chuckle softly at my jab, but it quickly turns into a sob.
My body begins to quake as I place my other hand on the flat of my stomach.
I’m not alone, the baby is here to help too. I try to crack my lips into a smile but fail as I continue to look down at him. His chestnut hair is pushed back from his forehead, and he looks so small in his green hospital gown.
Dad looked small too. He made fun of it, stating that out of all the fashion designers in the world, no one could come up with a better design or, at least, pattern for hospital gowns.
I don’t know how long I stand next to his bed, chastising and demanding that he open his eyes when Taylor comes into the room.
“Hey, babe, let’s just go get something to eat real quick. The nurse wants to do a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Well, check his machines and—”
“You need to eat,” Ben chants. “My niece or nephew won’t be starving in there.”
“Right?” Taylor joins in as she guides me out of the room. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t know but—wait, I didn’t get to—”
“We’ll come back,” she promises. “We’re not leaving yet.”
I’m forced into eating a salad and a piece of carrot cake from the cafeteria downstairs while Taylor and Ben talk about the big game on Friday. They made the playoffs, and Ben is worried that the boys will be shaken up over Colson’s injury.
“I’ll help,” I chime in, cutting Ben off mid-sentence. “You can’t run that team alone.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Coach Anderson did.”
“And Anderson let you boys get away with everything,” I retort with a straight face as he cracks a grin.
He lifts a shoulder. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll need...something to do while he’s laying there.”
Taylor nods next to me . “I think that’d be a great idea, she has the experience.”
“Right,” Ben says. “But, uh, you should know who hit Colson with the line drive before you go out there.”
I bounce my leg on my toes. “Who?”
Ben hesitates, so Taylor says, “Jace.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.
That kid has the power of God in his swings. I’ve seen him play at practice, he’s Colson a decade later minus the cocky ass attitude.
“He didn’t mean to,” Ben babbles. “The kid feels awful about it.”
I pick at a crouton on my plate. “I’m sure he does.”
“Do you still want to do it?”
“Yeah,” I voice.
“And another thing,” Taylor puts in.
I roll my eyes. “Oh geezus, are you serious?”
“You’ll know about this sooner than later, and we want you to be ready.” I glance up at her, waiting for her to speak again. “Annabelle is on the list for a heart transplant and, from what I understand, if she doesn’t get one soon, she’ll die.”
My body tenses, guilt strickening it.
She showed up for a reason. A driven reason because she needed to make sure her son was taken care of if things took a turn for the worst.
It doesn’t give her the right to touch him, to mesh her lips into his like Colson is hers because he’s fucking not.
He’s mine.
Always has been, always fucking will be.
And while I know that, always known that, I still let my grief and selfishness get in the way. As he lays in a hospital bed, the last words he heard from me were that I didn’t want him around.
I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t trust him.
For him to go home and figure out what he needed to do. When all he wanted was me back, traveled to come see me, and I pushed him away.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth about being ready. I wanted Colson for a good chunk of my life. Nothing would change that.
Nothing should change that, but my feelings got in the way, and I was plagued by memories of our teenage selves. The agony of Dad being gone. This town holds nothing but bad memories and tears that fell on a daily basis.
And I can’t believe I’m back here.
But I couldn’t leave Colson alone, and it was bound to happen anyway.
“She was here earlier,” Ben tells me. “With his boy, Easton.”
My lips curve into a smile.
Easton, like the baseball bats.
“I’m glad,” I say. “Colson needs everyone around.”
We finish up our meal, I pick at mine mostly, and we head back upstairs to Colson’s room, where I’m left alone with him.
I hold his hand, talk to him about how much I hated New York and that I was sorry that he wasted the trip. That for once in his life, he was right, and that I was glad he’d never remember this because I would deny it.
When visiting hours are over, Taylor comes to get me. I kiss his forehead, letting my lips linger there and hoping that something in his body triggers my presence. That I’m the princess in a storybook that will kiss him awake and we’ll live happily ever after.
Because we have to.
I won’t survive without him.
Taylor drives me back to my apartment, and I wave goodbye to her, making it look as though I’m going to go inside. The moment she turns the corner, I get into my car and make my way to Colson’s house.
I can’t be alone.
I need something about Colson to be near me.
I find his hidden key easy enough since he already told me a million times where he’d kept it and step inside. It’s exactly how it looked the day I stormed out. A few magazines are on his coffee table, a mug of a few days’ old coffee.
Needing something to do, I wash the mug and a few dishes in his sink. I do his laundry, mop the kitchen floors, and just keep finding things to do so that when he does wake up, he’ll come home with to clean house.
When he comes home.
Because he fucking will.
I demand it.
God took away one person I loved this year, there won’t be a second.
Stepping into his bedroom, one side of the bed is rumpled with blankets. I inhale a deep lungful of breath, feeling his aura everywhere. I feel at peace, a sudden sense of tranquility fills me.
I pull a shirt out of his drawer and take off my clothes, pulling his over my head. I rub my belly as I sit on his side of the bed, getting comfortable against his pillows.
Glancing over, a picture frame sits along his bedside—of us.
Ten years ago us.
