Page 68 of Off the Trail

“Yes, brother, thank you so much. I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport and get you to the stadium. We need help, man. Morale is at an all-time low. Our power hitters are slumping. We only made it this far in the playoffs because the other teams made some errors. But this is our series to lose. The big shots upstairs don’t know jack about motivating us.”

“And I do?”

“You kept this team going strong for twelve fucking years, man. It’s not the same without you.”

“I don’t know what I could really say.” I’ve been so far out of it I don’t even know the scores of the last few games.

“You just sprinkle some of your magic fairy dust on us, you know, that Shawn juice that gets everyone fired up.”

“Shawn juice?” I’ll have to remember that one to tell Blaze later.

“You know what I mean. Oh, this is so fucking great. The boys will be so happy to see you. We’ve missed you, brother.”

I swallow through the unexpected thickness in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“Besides, I thought you’d be happy for a reason to get out of the backwoods of Vermont.”

“Maine. It hasn’t been that bad. I even—” I’m about to say “met someone,” but Jett interrupts me.

“Gotta go. First pitch in four hours. Just get here, man.”

He hangs up before I can tell him I’ll do my best.

I’m expecting the driver to take me to the airport in Portland, but he doesn’t. Instead, we roll up to what at first I think is an empty field, until I realize the matchbox plane at the end of it is my transportation.

I try Blaze’s cell, then his number in the boathouse. It rings so long I’m about to hang up, but then he answers.

“Blaze, oh good, I have the craziest story for you.”

“Shawn? Where are you?”

“Some tiny airport. I’m flying to Hartford. My friend Jett called. He wants me to give the team a pep talk before the game tonight. If they don’t win, they’ll be eliminated.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He is a Laurels fan after all. “Well, uh, travel safe. What airport are you at?”

I read the name on the sign as we pull onto the faded tarmac. “Bletchley Memorial Field?”

“Oh. Okay.” He sounds weird, but I can’t tell if it’s just the connection, which isn’t very stable. “—let me know when you—there?”

“Sure. Will do. Sorry about running off.”

“It’s fine,” he says, but he doesn’t sound particularly convincing, and my stomach sinks. I shouldn’t be doing this. Why did I say yes? I said yes because I’ve known Jett a hell of a lot longer than I’ve known Blaze. And it’s only for a night.

“I’ll let you know my travel plans back,” I say.

“Uh-huh,” he says, as if he doesn’t expect to hear from me.

“Really, I’ll⁠—”

The call drops, and I’m being hustled out of the town car and onto the plane, ducking my head as I enter the cabin. While the pilot does the preflight checks, I try Blaze again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“No phone calls,” the copilot tells me. I set my phone to airplane mode and watch the Maine woods become a dark green carpet below as we rise into the air.

Chapter 29

Blaze

I stare at the receiver of the phone in the boathouse for a long minute after I get cut off from Shawn, then hang up and try to breathe through the swirling in my stomach. His flying out of the same airport as my parents means nothing. Overall, flying in small aircraft is safe.