“Really?”
Coach Brophy laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. He almost didn’t call Tom back because you were so strong.”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t really, except Tom was their best hitter. If the scout wasn’t sure about him that meant no one else would be there.
“Don’t be. He’s one of the pickiest scouts I know. Likes to know anyone he recommends really has a chance. Impressing him will go a long way to making it high enough to matter.”
“Wow.”
“Exactly. Can you be at the field at nine-thirty tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“See if Luke will catch for you. Having someone you’re comfortable with helps.”
“He said he would if I got the call.”
Brophy laughed softly. “No surprise there. All right Coury, get some rest and come ready to show your stuff.”
“I will. Thanks, Coach.”
“You bet.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket and held his hand there for a few seconds before he looked up. He should have been bouncing with excitement, but he had a mess to deal with.
“Was that him?” Liam asked.
Coury nodded. “He wants to see me pitch tomorrow morning.”
“Who does?” Beckett asked. His tone was softer, but still angry.
“Scout for the Braves.”
“See?” He pointed to Liam first, then shifted to Coury. “I told you not to do this. You know you’re leaving. Why couldn’t you hit on someone else?”
“Liam and I talked. He knew the deal.”
“Whatever.” He held up his hands. “Just get the fuck out.”
Coury flinched like Beckett had slapped him. It wasn’t a surprise. He knew his best friend better than anyone. Loyalty mattered. It was what brought him around when Coury told him he was bisexual. He’d told Beckett himself.
Not telling him this had been a mistake.
“I said get out.”
He ignored Beckett and looked at Liam. Their gazes met and Coury saw the hurt. It had finally hit home that Coury was leaving.
Bowing his head, he walked past the brothers, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his coat, and left. Raised voices rushed at him, but no one came after him. Liam let him leave without a word.
Coury got it. He was leaving. Better to let him go than lose his brother, too. That was what he’d want Liam to do.
But it still shredded his heart.
* * *
Liam
“What did I tell you?” Beckett shouted. “I told you he was leaving.”
“I know that.” Clearly, he hadn’t realized how much it would hurt when the dream became real.
“And you did it anyway.” He snatched his bag from the floor and headed for the stairs. “Next time don’t ask me for advice if you’re just going to ignore me.”
“Right, because Beckett is always right. Just because you’ve had a string of girlfriends who never stick around doesn’t give you a PhD in relationships.”
He stormed past Pop and out to the back patio. Thankfully he’d left a pair of sneakers by the door, or he’d have had to walk on the freezing concrete in socks.
The night went tits up in a heartbeat. If only Beckett hadn’t been early.
He shook his head. It wouldn’t have mattered when or how Beckett had learned the truth. His reaction to Coury would have been the same.
Liam walked into the screened-in porch, looking for a place to sit. The gloves he and Coury had used to play catch the week before were still on the rack along the side wall. Baseball. Fucking baseball. Why couldn’t Coury have been good at something that didn’t require moving to east bumfuck? Or get a job that wasn’t in the last bastion of unofficially, officially sanctioned homophobia?
He ran his hand along the worn leather of Pop’s fifty-year-old glove. No. It wasn’t baseball, it was Liam. He’d wanted his teenage dream so badly, he’d ignored the warning flares fired in front of him.
The back door opened, and Pop slowly walked over.
“You okay?” He rubbed Liam’s back gently.
He shook his head. “No. I just hurt him.”
“How so?”
“When Becks told him to go, he looked to me and I didn’t say anything.” He should have at least chased after him, to tell him . . . something.
“Why not?”
“This is his dream.” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have pushed him.”
“Coury’s a big boy. You didn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.”
“I know, but I told him I understood the risk. I didn’t. Even with all the shit Beckett brought, did you see the look on his face when he got the call?”
“It’s a powerful dream. I lived it. No matter how small the chance is that you’ll make the major league, it’s hard to turn it down if you get the offer.”
He knew that in his head. To get this far defied the odds. Coury would be a fool to give it up.
“He’s good, isn’t he?”
Pop stopped rubbing and made Liam face him. “Yes, he’s good.”
“Good enough to have a shot?”
“I think he’s good enough to get drafted. Beyond that is anyone’s guess. The odds say he’ll never get above the first level. But his chances are much better than, say, winning the lottery or picking the trifecta at the Kentucky Derby.”