Page 18 of The Way We Swing Back

“We already talked about this. Yes,” I said, throwing on my boxers before stepping from behind the curtain.

Gavin looked up. “Zach said I should switch to boxers, but he’s dumb. What do you think?”

“Dude. I’m not sure there’s anything I care less about than what underwear you wear,” I said, slipping on my sweatpants as quickly as possible. “Wear what’s comfortable.”

“Okay, perfect. Tighty-whities are more aerodynamic, anyway, so I’ll stick to those. You can look it up,” Gavin said, following me back to Tanner’s room.

I grabbed a shirt from my bag while Gavin stood less than five feet away from me. “Gavin. Can you give me, like, even a little room to breathe?”

A smile spread across his face as soon as my shirt passed my eyes. He stepped closer to me, the mischief in his eyes. “Why? Am I annoying you?”

“Yes. Yes, you are,” I said.

“What are you going to do about it?” he said, his giggles vibrating his entire body.

I playfully shoved him away from me, hoping that would end it. But Gavin didn’t have an off switch. He came back at me, trying to put me in a headlock.

“I’m gonna hurt you, kid,” I laughed, lightly shoving him off me again.

Then I saw him fall.

His foot had stepped awkwardly on my bag, and his body fell to the ground. He threw his hands out to save his body, and I heard it before I processed what was happening—the snap of a bone.

Gavin started screaming as he grabbed his left wrist. I swore it had changed shape.

“Oh, fuck,” I yelled, frozen in place.

“Easton,” Gavin said, tears already falling from his eyes, “I hurt my wrist.”

My mind was in a panic. How had I hurt Gavin, of all people? Mr. Quinn would kill me when he found out. Mrs. Quinn would never let me back in this house.

Focus, Easton. Deal with the fallout later.

Gavin needs ice. Right. Get him downstairs.

“Downstairs, dude,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady for him, but my mind was going to break at any second.

I picked him up and wrapped my arm around his body. Quiet sobs came from the kid as I escorted him down the stairs.

“Sit at the table,” I instructed. I opened the fridge, taking a second to let the breeze overtake me, which accomplished nothing.

Okay. Ice on a towel. Get him to hold it.

Perfect, done.

Now what?

My hands were shaking as I went through the options as fast as my mind would let me. Gavin needed to get to a hospital. Like, now. But the Quinns were over an hour away, and I couldn’t drive. Neither could my grandparents.

Coach Berrios.

I dialed his number, Gavin continuing to try not to cry but failing miserably.

“What’s up, Easton?”

“Coach, I messed up. Can you come pick me and Gavin up at his house and take him to the hospital? His wrist looks broken.”

“What the hell is going on, Easton?”