I cupped my hands around my mouth and put on my best announcer’s voice. “Tucker Moreland rounds the bases as the guys in the outfield scramble for the ball. Will he do it? Will he have his first career inside-the-park home run? Moreland rounds third as Gallo launches a rocket toward home. Will Moreland beat the throw? It’s going to be close. He slides. Safe! Safe! Safe! Moreland is safe! The crowd goes wild!”
Tucker pumped his fists in the air, making the noises of a cheering crowd. Delilah joined in and chanted his name. I ran over to him, picked him up, placed him on my shoulders, and rounded the bases again in a victory jog.
Delilah had her phone out snapping pictures of us, and I felt fuller than I had in ten years.
Chapter 15
Gunner
Rain pelted the side of my face and slid down my neck into the too-tight collar of my shirt. It was just me standing in front of the casket. I didn’t notice when the cemetery workers stepped forward and started to lower it into the ground.
My heartbeat stalled in my chest, and my breath clogged my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do this. I stood frozen as if I were under a spell. Until I heard a scream.
“Stop!” I yelled. “Stop!”
The workers didn’t stop. They kept lowering the casket as if I were invisible and they couldn’t hear my voice. I ran the few steps separating me from the mahogany casket that held my mother. I tried to lift the lid, swearing I could hear her screams and cries.
She wasn’t dead.
She couldn’t be dead.
No.
“Stop! Fucking stop! She’s alive. Can’t you hear her?” I screamed, but the casket was inching down slowly.
Blood was dripping from my fingertips as I tried to pry the rain-slicked wooden lid open with my bare hands. An animalistic roar rumbled in my chest as I gave it everything I had. I stood to tackle the workers to the ground. I’d fucking kill them if I had to. My mother wasn’t going into the ground. She was alive.
She was alive in there. I fucking knew it.
I tackled both men to the ground in one fell swoop, stood, and shook the rain from my face. The black baseball bat that I’d used last season was lying on the ground.
“Hold on, Mom,” I yelled as loudly as I could. “I’ll save you. I’ll save you.”
I kept repeating the words over and over as I picked up the baseball bat and slammed it down on the thick wood. The wood was meant to keep things out, not allow them in. I’d break through. I would. I would get to her and save her. I had to. I fucking had to.
“I’ll save you,” I kept yelling. My throat burned as if someone had dumped acid down it, but I kept yelling and repeating the same words over and over as I took my bat to the hunk of wood.
It came apart splinter by splinter. My arms were shaking and rain clouded my vision, but I didn’t stop until there was a hole. I dropped the bat and threw myself at the casket, peering through the hole.
“Mom? Mom!”
Only it wasn’t her face looking at me. It wasn’t her vibrant, alive eyes staring back at mine. Instead, it was the blank stare of my dead best friend. Declan’s blank stare.
“No,” I roared.
I popped awake, sitting up in bed. My chest was soaked with sweat, and my legs were tangled in the sheets, which had barely managed to stay on the bed. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
Early morning light shone through the blinds. I picked up my phone, glancing at the time. It was early, but too late to go back to sleep. As if I could anyway.
The thought of not being able to save my mother or Declan would haunt me, and I knew I wouldn’t be getting a decent night’s sleep for a while. I scrubbed a hand down my face and swung my legs to the side of the bed, placing my feet on the floor. I propped my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands, going through baseball stats in my head as I waited for my heart and breathing to return to normal.
Normal.
What a fucking joke. My life hadn’t been normal for ten years. And it was straying further and further away from normal. I was going to chemo with my mom today. That wasn’t fucking normal. It wasn’t normal to watch the one person you had left being hooked up to tubes that would pump poison into her body.
Poison.
Goddamn fucking poison.
My throat clogged with emotion, and the muscles in my neck tightened even more.
I stood up and walked into the en-suite bathroom and flicked on the cold water from the sink. I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror. My eyes had never looked so dark before. My dark brown hair was even messier than usual and was slicked with sweat and in knots from tossing and turning.
I planned to be at Mom’s early today to take her to chemo, but I wasn’t going to drive over there right now. I was going to run. A six-and-a-half-mile run was exactly what my body needed. My mind too. Hopefully, the echo of my feet hitting the pavement would drown out the noise in my head.
I threw some clothes into a bag, so I could shower over at her place. No point in doing it now, I would only be getting sweaty again. I dressed for a run, laced up my running shoes, and headed out the door. I stuck my earbuds in my ears and cranked the volume as loud as I could stand.
And I took off. With every thought of my mom and Declan that entered my mind, I stepped up my pace, as if I could outrun Declan’s dead eyes and the fear that I wouldn’t be able to save my mother. That I would lose her too.
The street lights lining Main Street were dimming as the sun rose higher in the sky. A few early fishermen were sitting on the far bank of the lake on the edge of town. I lifted a hand in greeting and flicked my fingers as I passed each of them. As each returned the hello, Declan’s dead eyes stared at me through theirs.
I picked up my pace again. And again, as I passed the cemetery.
By the time I’d made it to Mom’s, my shirt was soaked through and my body vibrated like I’d run twelve miles instead of six. I slowly walked up her driveway on jelly legs and knocked on the door. It seemed nothing could raise my spirits.
And once again, she proved me wrong. When everything felt like it could crush me at any moment, she could always bring a smile to my face. Mom opened the door and immediately pinched her nose and waved a hand in front of it.
“Think you could shower next time?”
“I ran here.”
“Go. You’re going to make my whole house smell, and it’ll take a week before I can get the stench out.”
I laughed and bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be ten minutes.”
Chapter 16
Delilah
Grease popped from the pan of sizzling chopped bacon. A low, sultry country voice sang through the speakers of the radio, barely heard over the sounds of a busy kitchen prepping for the dinner service. My phone burned a hole in my pocket with the message I’d read over and over again but had yet to reply to.
Today was Mom’s day to pick up Tuck from school, and within a few minutes of pick-up time, she’d sent the message. I could tell from the carefully chosen words she’d been hesitant to ask, but she’d done it anyway. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Tuck had a busier social calendar than I’d ever had. Since the day at the arcade, I’d kept him close and had made up excuse after excuse to keep him home instead of going to his friends’ houses, the park, and the movies.
I didn’t want Shayla to pop up and con one of his friends’ families into thinking she had any rights to him. My knife clattered as I dropped it next to the cutting board. Sweat beaded along my brow, and my heart thundered a furious beat.
How many more excuses could I make up to keep Tuck near me and in my line of sight before he suspected something? He wanted to spend the night at his friend Calvin’s house tonight. If I said no, I knew he would start asking questions. He was smart and inquisitive, and I hardly ever denied him an opportunity to socialize. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I took it out. It was Mom. Again.
Mom: Instead of spending the night at Calvin’s, m
aybe the boys can stay with us? I’ll bribe him with candied apples. Carol said she was bringing a few crates’ worth. Save a few for us.
The tension that’d been stiffening my shoulders evaporated. My mom was a true gift. She had everyone’s back. I didn’t grow up here, but as soon as Mom had arrived in town, she’d quickly become known as the person to call. She could arrange a dinner party at the drop of a hat, lend an ear to someone in need, and change the oil in a car in just a few hours. I’m not even joking. She’d done it. She was Superwoman.
I’m not sure I could’ve survived the first few years of Tuck’s life without her. Since he was a baby, I’d leaned on my mom. She took the reins every time I was at a breaking point, but she never made me feel like I couldn’t do it. If the world had a few more Gayle Morelands, it would be a better place.
I tapped out a quick reply and tucked my phone away again. The back kitchen entrance popped open as I scrubbed my hands before returning to prepping the dinner menu. Fridays were always crazy. A live band played on the back lawn next to the faux wood dance floor we’d laid out underneath the fairy lights. The inn’s restaurant had become one of the hot spots in town for a date, family celebration, or just a good time.
On top of the crazy rush, every other Friday was a delivery day for my clients that I meal prepped for. Tonight I had to deliver to four clients. Usually, I could hire a driver, but both girls I trusted with the job were prepping for their SATs tomorrow morning. That meant I had to leave my kitchen staff after prep.
Wind gusted through one of the back doors, which was propped open by a gnome dressed in a chef’s outfit. When my parents had purchased this property, my mom had gone crazy with kitschy trinkets, including a family of gnomes dressed for different jobs. The chef gnome’s long salt-and-pepper beard covered his face except for a bulbous nose. He wore a “kiss the chef” hat, and his long, skinny legs were dressed in black and white checkered pants. He bounced around the kitchen, held open doors, and had become something of a good luck charm. The staff poked his nose before every shift.
Carol, a sweet woman Mom had taken under her wing, came through the back door. Her arms were weighed down by two wooden crates stuffed to the brim with luscious apples.
“Those are gorgeous.” I stepped forward and took the crates from Carol’s arms. She gave me a smile, and while it was warmer than the first time I’d met her, I could still see the pain and loneliness behind her eyes. I didn’t know her story and I never pried.
The Perry farm down the road had hired her a few days a week to help out with various chores, and she often brought over fruits and vegetables from their property. Sometimes she helped in my kitchen, and other times she dropped the food on the counter and ushered herself through the door as quickly as she’d come in.
I snagged a few of the apples from the top and placed them next to the backsplash, ready for whenever Mom came by to grab them. I picked up another apple and brought it to my nose and inhaled the sweet scent. “These will be great in pie, don’t you think?”
“Sure will.” Carol picked up one of the apples to smell. “I could peel some if you want.”
“That would be great.” I rubbed her shoulder with my free hand. She leaned into the touch slightly, and a ghost of a smile tipped up the edges of her mouth.
“How’s Tucker?”
My chest squeezed with anxiety. I felt as if the blade of a guillotine was hanging above my head, following me with each movement, ready to end my life as I knew it at any moment. The force of the smile I plastered on my face hurt my cheeks.
“He’s great. If you stay for dinner, which Mom would love, you’ll see him running around. He’s having a friend over tonight.”
“Maybe…maybe I will stay for dinner.”
I knocked my shoulder into hers as I watched her wash her hands. “That would be great. We love having you here.”
“If you ever need someone to watch Tuck, I’d be happy to. I have a lot of free time.” She grabbed a knife from the block and began peeling. I watched the long, curled ribbon of apple flesh fall. “You know we have a peeler?”
“I like this better. It’s soothing, don’t you think?”
“Carol, you just may take the spot as my favorite person. First, you offer to watch Tuck if I ever need it, and now you find peace when peeling apples.”
Carol chuckled and picked up the next apple. “I’ll leave you to it,” I said before walking back to my station. On a night like this one, every minute counted.
Chapter 17
Gunner
Throughout the drive home I glanced at Mom every ten seconds. I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I simply imagined that she looked worse after the chemo. It was as if those few hours had taken even more years off her life, taken pounds from her body, and added gray to her hair. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers were numb from lack of blood flow by the time we pulled up to her house.
I threw open the door, scrambled out without closing it, and jogged around the car to help her out of the passenger’s seat. I grabbed her bag, which carried enough magazines for a month, from her lap and hooked it over my shoulder before reaching in to help her stand.
She slapped my hands away. “Gunner, honey. I’m okay. I can get out of the car by myself.”
“I want to help.”
I heard the frantic sound of my own voice in my ears. Her eyes met mine, and even though I towered over her at six-foot-five, all of a sudden, I felt like I was a second-grade kid, with skinned knees and elbows from trying to slide to third base on rough, gravelly dirt. Second or third grade was the last time I’d looked up at her before I surpassed her in height, and right in this moment, I was that kid again. She’d taken care of every scrape and broken bone, and she’d sat at my side as they peeled the burned skin from my body. She sat there, ignoring the smell of her son’s burned flesh. She sat there, even though I was being ravaged on the inside and outside with pain.
She fucking sat there with me. She carried my baseball equipment countless times. She brought my glove to me when I’d left it in the car before school. She helped me get dressed when I could barely move after the fire. She sat there while I went through gruesome rehab to get back on the field, because getting back on the field was the only way to ensure that my best friend hadn’t died in vain. She sat there. Hours and hours. She sat there and helped.
I could carry a fucking bag for her. And I would sit through every chemo treatment with her. I’d be there.
I needed to be there. I needed to be here in Hawk Valley, permanently. Fuck. I needed to call Zeke and make sure he knew that I would accept nothing other than the Austin Rattlers with a no-trade clause.
She brought her hand up to the side of my face and cupped my cheek. “I did something right with you. I’m okay,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes and shook away the dream from that morning, when I’d heard her screaming from a coffin.
“You’ve done everything for me my whole life. Let me repay that now.”
She patted my cheek, dipped down to grab her purse from the floorboard, and dug inside it for her house keys. Once she’d pulled them out, she handed them to me and in a dry, sarcastic tone said, “Please, son of mine, open the door because I couldn’t possibly turn a key in my state.”
“Do you need me to carry you?” I asked deadpan.
She tried to swat the back of my head, but I moved out of her way. I winked and said, “Tall people perks.”
“Oh, hush. Let’s get inside.”
We walked inside the house, and I started arranging everything she would need. She sat on her small loveseat in her tiny living room in front of her small TV. I shook my head. I could never live here, just based on the TV alone.
When my contract with the Rattlers was settled and I started to look for a place, the first things on my list would be a TV that took up an entire wall and a couch that could swallow me whole.
Outside, gravel crunched underneath tire
s. I set down the pills I was doling out on a napkin and pulled back the curtain above the sink.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked Mom. I looked over my shoulder at her. Her head was tilted, with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. She’d done a better job hiding her fatigue in the car than I’d thought. I could see the exhaustion setting in in her features; she was unable to hide it anymore. “Are you feeling okay?”
“A little queasy and a little tired. Nothing out of the ordinary, just par for the course.”
“Hit on the diamond.” I was never sure if what I said made sense, but when I could, I used baseball metaphors.
Someone knocked at the door. I took two long strides to the door and opened it, blocking the entrance with my body. I knew my mom. She wouldn’t want many people to see how tired she looked right now.
The honey-colored eyes and pink pillowy lips I’d been fantasizing about greeted me. Delilah and I had almost kissed before she got the emergency call about Tuck, and the next time I’d seen her, Tuck had been with us. We hadn’t gotten that close since that afternoon, but I’d been daydreaming about what it would be like to take her mouth and explore all of it. I wondered if her skin would feel as soft as it looked. Would my calloused hands send goosebumps across her flesh?
I breathed in deeply, unable to look anywhere but at her face. She’d entrapped me in her stare, and a part of me wondered if she was just a figment of my imagination, to ease a hard day.
The twitch of her lips distracted me from her eyes and brought my gaze to her mouth. And then lower. She was holding three trays of food.
“Shit,” I mumbled and reached forward to grab the trays from her arms. “Sorry. Come in.”
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