Page 32 of Shades of You

“Okay, okay, warm-up’s over,” Gabe called out, throwing a little more heat with the next pitch.

Evan adjusted, the half-hearted swings morphing into something sharper, more focused. It was like watching an old engine rumbling back to life, each swing bringing him closer to the player we knew he could be.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Gabe asked and I grinned, knowing Evan couldn’t see it. Gabe managed Evan beautifully, slowly building his confidence and now baiting him. From the mound, he shook his head. “I thought you could play.”

“Just pitch the ball, asshole,” came Evan’s growl of a reply.

Gabe pitched to him at full speed and Evan swung hard. The crack of the bat resonated like a shot, the ball rocketing straight back at Gabe and missing him by inches. He jumped out of the way, and we all erupted into laughter as Gabe theatrically checked himself for injuries.

“Damn, Evan! You trying to take me out?” Gabe exclaimed, still smiling wickedly as he caught the ball Aiden tossed him.

“Nope,” Evan shot back with a matching grin. “If I wanted you out, you’d be out.”

The tension broke, and the practice rolled on with newfound ease. As I crouched behind home plate, pride swelled in my chest. Evan was stepping back into the game, into life itself, and I was here to witness it.

He sent the next pitch streaking along the baseline. Then one into the gap between first and second. He hit the next sharply, lacing it between second and chef Martin at shortstop. The next two were long fly balls that dropped where the outfielders couldn’t catch them, including Liv in right field. Aiden, stationed at third, could only gape as another line drive whizzed past him, his glove swinging up a moment too late.

“Nice, Evan!” Stella’s voice rang out from second base, her athletic form poised and ready. He hit the next ball directly to her, letting her field it cleanly. Her cheer felt like a bright flag waving amidst our collective awe.

I squatted behind home plate, my heart thrumming in rhythm with each precise hit Evan executed. What had started as a tentative experiment became a spectacle, a masterclass in control and power. Each swing sliced away more of the years he’d been absent from the game.

Memories flooded back to me. The countless afternoons we’d spent on fields just like this one, where I wasthe only challenger willing to step up to the plate because Evan was so damn good. I remembered the ice packs, the bruises on my palms from catching his fireballs, the pride I felt being his brother.

Now, the longing for that connection—a bond frayed by time and circumstance—pulled taut within me. I wanted to reach across the years and mend the threads I’d let unravel, to be the boys who understood each other without words. Evan’s last drive arced high, then plummeted down just inside the third-base line, a perfect hit. As the team clapped and hollered, I rose to my feet and flipped my mask back to rest against the crown of my head.

“Well, you’ve still got it,” I said, my voice tinged with admiration.

Hesitating, his eyes scanned mine, searching for a catch that wasn’t there. Then, slowly, the edges of his mouth lifted in a smile. It was a fragile, yet pivotal moment in the slow dance of our reconciliation. “Thanks, Hunter. That felt good. Really good.”

“Because it was.”

“Hey, Evan! Think you could teach me that swing?” called out Aiden, his lanky frame standing with one foot on third base.

“Sure,” Evan replied, the ghost of a smile remaining on his lips. “It’s easy. Just don’t play for a decade.”

Laughter rippled through the team, and Stella, still at second, threw in her two cents. “Don’t tease him, Evan. Or you’ll end up being our manager instead of Maia.”

“Hey!” Maia called. “I like being the manager. Evan, you just back off.”

This time, Evan’s smile could have cracked his face. He was back where he belonged. Part of a team, where the camaraderie was thick in the air. It was clear we all felt it—Evan’s return wasn’t just his victory. It was a win for all of us.

When practice ended, Gabe trotted up to the plate, rolling his shoulder with a wince. As I rose from my crouch, he faced Evan. “You know, if you ever want to try pitching again, I’d gladly hand over the mound.”

Evan widened his eyes at the suggestion, his hand rising as if to ward off the very thought. “Pitch? Nah, I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. Hitting’s one thing—pitching is completely different.”

I knew full well that Evan could probably out-pitch anyone in the league, decade off or not. But I kept my mouth shut. Pitching for him would be more than just throwing a ball—it was bearing the weight of every eye on you, every expectation resting on your shoulders. For Evan, that would be like stepping right into a hurricane.

April rose from her camp chair behind the backstop and approached us. “Come on, Gabe. Let’s get you home and get some ice on that shoulder.” She linked her arm through Gabe’s and shot us a knowing look, her other hand resting on the swell of her belly.

“As long as the ice is on my shoulder and not in my whisky,” Gabe replied, his smile softening as he glanced down at her.

They walked off together in a picture of contentment, leaving the rest of us to bask in the glow of a practice that felt like more than just practice—it felt like the turning of a page.

I clapped the dust off my glove, watching how much more relaxed Evan was, how his shoulders had eased down from where they’d hitched up around his ears. I spoke before I could change my mind, even though I knew my words were risky. “Hey, Evan. If you ever want to throw theball around, really pitch, I’m game.” I tossed my mitt from one hand to another, a casual offer lobbed into the charged air between us.

He met my gaze, his eyes steady and unreadable for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than the shadows creeping across the outfield. Then, with a slow nod that felt like a victory in itself, he said, “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

That was enough for me—it was an open door, no matter how slight the crack. As he walked off the field with Liv, the others patted him on the back. I felt like we were all part of something fragile yet fierce.

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