Page 69 of Shades of You

“Let’s do it,” Evan replied, nodding with the brim of his cap dipping low across his forehead.

The next pitch came hurtling toward me. I hardly needed to move my mitt to catch it, and the sting in my palm was a sharp reminder to stay present despite where my thoughts kept drifting. After removing my glove, I shook out my hand.

“You might need to ice that,” Evan said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Or maybe you could just ease up on those fastballs.” I forced a smile as I settled back into position. His laughter was a brief, welcome distraction from the turmoil broiling inside me.

“You getting soft on me?” He wound up for another pitch.

“You’re the one who likes to point out that we’re playing in a rec league.” I almost missed an easy catch and sprawled onto the ground.

“Focus, man!”

“Sorry. Maybe the pressure’s getting to me.” I straightened and crouched again.

Evan barked a laugh. “Yeah. I could see how catching would be way more stressful than combat.”

I smiled behind my mask, but there was little humor in it as he threw a massive twelve-to-six curve toward me. I managed to catch that one.

He peaked a brow. “Or maybe something else is eating you?”

“I’ve got some shit going on.”

“Take five?” Evan suggested, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Sounds good.”

We settled onto the cool grass near our equipment, and I took a long drink of water. My bag called to me once again.

Evan stretched out his right leg and rubbed his knee absently. “You keep looking at your gear. Are you having an equipment problem?”

And there it was.

The opening I’d been waiting for. Now I had to seize it.

Taking a deep breath of courage, I shook my head. “It’s not that. I’ve got something else in my bag. Something I’ve been holding onto for a long time.” I picked at the blades of grass, trying to put the words together. I felt unsteady, like a boat rocked by waves, but it was time to face the storm head-on. “There’s something I’ve never told you about that day we dove theBensonwreck.”

Evan’s gaze snapped to mine, his brow creasing with concern. “What?”

“The reason we were there. Why I wanted to dive that deep room on that particular day. It was supposed to be a celebration.” Now my words tumbled out, leaden with the weight of years of guilt. “You were headed to the MajorLeagues, and I… I wanted to do something special for you. Something memorable.”

His eyes widened at my admission, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The silence hung between us like the dense air before a storm. My heart racing, I reached for my gear bag and plunged my hand inside. I grasped the MVP trophy, that tragic symbol of what should have been Evan’s greatest triumph.

As soon as he’d texted me this morning, I dug it out of that old box and stuffed it into my bag before I could second-guess myself. Now, it felt cold and accusatory in my grasp when I removed it and held it out to him. His face was perplexed as he took the trophy and turned it around in his hands to study it.

And slowly, haltingly, I told him the story of what I’d hoped would happen that day. And how it had gone horribly, irreparably wrong.

When I was done, I met his eyes, tapping my finger on the grass to emphasize my words. “Not a single day has gone by since. Not. A single. One. That I don’t think about what happened.” My voice was deep and thick, raw honesty scraping at my insides.

Dropping his eyes, he brushed his thumb over the inscription at the base of the trophy. Words that had gone unspoken for over a decade.

MVP Evan Markham. To the first of many awards. I’m proud to call you brother. Love, Hunter.

“Fourteen years,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I wish it had been me. Itshouldhave been me.” At last, my voice cracked with the admission—the truth—I’d believed for so long. I had to swallow hard. The apology hung in the air, a lifeline thrown into the churning sea of our past.

He glanced up at me, and the storm of emotion was clear in his eyes—the pain, the confusion. Then he breathed a sigh that sounded like it weighed a thousand pounds. “That’s not true. It shouldn’t have been either of us.”

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