Page 52 of The Way We Swing Back

“We’re done talking about this. The bucket is full; I’ll throw to one of you. Who’s next?”

I grabbed my bat and stepped into the box. Gavin used to tell me everything. The dumb ideas, the gross milestones, every half-formed thought that sprinted in and out of his head. This he’d kept a secret for weeks—which meant that maybe it was real.

He took his place behind the screen, taller than me now. The kid who’d puked at his first workout was gone. Maybe if he was keeping things from me, he wouldn’t need me much longer.

“Ready, short stuff?”

Or maybe he just didn’t need how we used to be. He still wanted me in the box, hitting like always. He’d just turned into a peer somewhere along the way.

Chapter 23

Isat in the living room in Mr. Quinn’s recliner. I wasn’t supposed to be in it, but it was the most comfortable seat in the house. Zach and Gavin were a little too scared of him still, but what was he going to do to me? Make me wash extra dishes again?

Impractical Jokers played on the TV; Sal had lost, and Gavin hadn’t stopped laughing the entire show. This was probably my favorite part of living here. We could sit and hang out as if we were siblings.

I’d always wanted a younger brother; I’d begged Mom for years, and she’d always refused. Looking back, she was right—bringing another child into the world with Dad would have been an awful idea.

I took a bite of the banana in my hand; the squishiness melted weirdly on my tongue. The taste of bananas was phenomenal; the texture, not as much. I debated grabbing an apple instead, as I heard a car pull into the driveway. Weird. The parents weren’t expected home until after dinner, and we hadn’t ordered pizza yet.

A fist pounded on the door, and Gavin and I instantly placed our pointer fingers on our noses; the house rule stated the last person to touch their nose after a knock had to answer the door.

“Y’all suck,” Zach said as he stood and walked toward the banging, which hadn’t stopped.

My phone buzzed against my thigh; I picked it up and looked at what seemed to be a spam text before twirling it in my palm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Zach yelled. I jumped out of my seat, my eyes snapping to the door. Zach’s body blocked the frame.

Gavin jogged over before I started moving, but his body froze mid-skip, shoulders tightening at whoever stood behind Zach.

Zach shoved Gavin away with his left hand without moving from in front of the door. “Go to your room. Call Dad and tell him to get home now.”

Gavin ran by me in a blur, not looking at me as I walked toward the commotion.

“I just came to see my son.”

Him.

My knees buckled, ready to crumble. My phone tumbled across the floor after falling from my hand. How had he found me? Why was he here?

“You don’t get to see him. You don’t get to come to this house. Leave.”

“Let me see Easton.”

“Not happening. If you come near him again, I swear I’ll grab the first bat I can and put you in the hospital. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“I just want to see my kid.”

“He’s not your kid anymore,” Zach said. He swung the door shut and locked it before running toward the back door and locking that one, too.

I still hadn’t moved. The house closed around me. I needed air. I needed to go outside.

But he hovered outside. I couldn’t go there. I sat on the ground instead, the carpet brushing against the hair on my legs. There was more pounding on the front door; I felt the vibration in my chest. With each bang on the door, I remembered a different time I’d gotten hit by Dad.

Zach’s voice came from somewhere nearby, but I couldn’t see him.

A bottle of water appeared.

“Drink,” someone said.