I could also tell he was trying to act all chill as he walked behind the batter’s box to get back to the dugout, but his stiff, awkward gait gave him away. At least to me.
“They made it, huh?” I said as he passed by me.
“Yeah,” he muttered, as if regretting ever wishing for such a thing. Or maybe he was conflicted about it because his face was definitely flushed, though that could’ve been from the heat. “Sounded like it was Nina’s idea.”
My gaze flashed toward the stands, where they’d sat down in an emptier section. “So, they’re engaged?”
“Uh-huh.” He rolled his eyes flippantly, but it couldn’t conceal the pain buried there. It was a tough subject for him, and I could only guess why. Maybe because his dad didn’t seem to have enough time for him, let alone someone new in his life. Yeah, I would’ve felt pretty at odds with it as well. Especially if I’d also been told to pack up my childhood room. Now I just wanted to march over there and give him a piece of my mind.
“Who knows if they’ll even make it through the entire game. Dad was already making excuses about work stuff he has to get back to. You know, the usual.”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Is what it is,” he replied, his fingers tightening on his glove.
I saw Coach motioning over his shoulder from the dugout, so I said, “Okay, game time. Don’t forget to listen to all my calls.”
He scoffed. “Don’t forget to let me pitch however the hell I want.”
I chuckled, and he grinned at me. Damn, we’d come a long way, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. For the moment, I decided to revel in it.
“Ugh, I think I liked it better when you were bitching at each other,” Kellan teased, and winked at me as he gathered stray bats.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s only a five-minute reprieve from his usual stubbornness.”
Maclain shook his head. “Pot, meet kettle.”
As the game got underway, I couldn’t help glancing toward the stands every now and again, just to make sure they were still in attendance, like they were part of my family or something. Ridiculous. But I wanted his dad to care, to be interested in Maclain’s life. Couldn’t he see how much Maclain needed to know he mattered?
But maybe not. Maclain was really good at disguising his feelings, but you’d think his dad would’ve known him well enough by now. Except, their relationship seemed to be hanging by a thread if I’d put all the little details together right.
I clenched my jaw as I stole another look. His dad seemed distracted, motioning while talking on his phone, and the fiancée seemed bored stiff. But he’d made the effort to attend, even if out of guilt or to show his fiancée he was a good dad. From the little I’d gotten from Maclain, that fitted his personality. Still, he could’ve at least acted somewhat interested.
“Well, look at that. His dad finally decided to show,” Fischer said under his breath when I sank down beside him in the dugout. “Maybe now he’ll chill out.”
The whole team was aware of how much this mattered to Maclain, and it seemed we were all holding our collective breath. But I also felt protective and couldn’t help taking up for him.
“He’s been all right lately. Give him a break,” I said, and I could feel Fischer staring at me. “What?”
“You’ve really become friends, huh?”
“Yeah, sure. Isn’t that what Coach wanted? And maybe it’s working. The team has been meshing a lot better, and our record reflects that.”
“True,” he mused, and I blew out a breath, relieved.
Yeah, it was a little nerve-racking having this secret between me and Maclain. It was liable to drive me mad by the end of the season. Not much longer. My stomach dropped. And then Maclain and I would graduate and go our separate ways. Likely, he wouldn’t even stay in this stupid town or want anything further to do with me. Wow, I was great at jumping to conclusions. No matter what happened, we could stay in touch and maybe even be a support to each other.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I refocused my attention on the field.
Maclain’s nerves must’ve gotten the best of him because he’d allowed a couple of easy hits in the middle of the fifth, resulting in RBIs. As he kicked at the dirt on the mound, his frustration was obvious. I wasn’t sure we could rely on his intuition given the occasion, but I let it go as much as I could, and it seemed Coach had the same idea because he remained mostly silent on the third baseline. To Maclain’s credit, we were also playing a tough team, and it was a miracle we’d held them as long as we had.