Page 74 of Switch Pitching

“And how are you doing?” I ask. Because that’s something I should ask, right?

There’s a pause, and then a sigh. “I’ve been okay, but honestly, it’s been a bit rough. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s been strange for me too. Toronto doesn’t feel like home.”

Silence is rarely awkward between us, and the fact that my stomach is quaking after a few seconds of it doesn’t bode well.

“I’ve been thinking about us, Ethan,” I start. “About how hard this has been.” My voice sounds weaker than I’d hoped. I swallow, trying to keep myself together. “I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “You don’t know if we’re, what?”

“This distance and not knowing when I’ll feel ready to go back is killing me. I miss you, but sometimes I wonder if we’re holding on to something that’s slipping away.”

“James, you’ve been gone for a month,” insists Ethan. “I get it. This isn’t easy. But are you saying things aren’t gonna work out between us? Because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

My head jerks up as I face the prospect of breaking up with Ethan. The twisting knot of unease in my stomach clenches hard, and I can’t think of anything worse.

“I don’t want to break up,” I say, because Ireallydon’t. “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that I don’t know how long we can keep doing this.”

“You’re gonna be fine, at least in time for our next season. I’ll wait that long if I have to.”

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up. “But what if I don’t get better? What if we keep drifting apart because of all this distance, and I’m not the same when I come back?”

“We’re not drifting apart, James. This is a shitty situation. The fact that you’re injured doesn’t change how I feel about you. Besides, you said that you’re almost fully recovered.”

“I don’t want to screw things up,” I say, almost as if I’m talking to myself.

“Look, I know you’re doubting everything right now, and I know this is hard for you, but we’re going to get through this, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, I know that, but I don’t know if I want to go back to Boston.”

Alarm flickers across Ethan’s face for a quick moment. “What do you mean? Like, ever?”

Shit, I’m saying all the wrong things today, but I can’t help it. “That’s not what I mean, Ethan,” I say with too much force than necessary.

“Then what are you trying to say? I’m not rushing you back or anything, but don’t you want to see if there’s a chance at coming back for the end of the playoffs?”

I sigh, which seems to be the one sound I make the most these days. “And what if they tell me I can’t? Then I’m sitting around in the empty apartment alone, and it’ll be like I came back for—” I stop myself right before I sayfor nothing. Even in my current state, I know that’s an asshole thing to say.

“James, I miss you.” Ethan fixes his eyes intently on me through the phone screen, sending a strange shiver down my spine. “Like, I’m not trying to make this about myself, but not having you here with me has been hell, especially since we aren’t calling that much.”

And here I am, drowning in a puddle of guilt for not feeling the same way, and for ignoring most of Ethan’s calls.

“I miss you too. I’m sorry that I’m not around, but being home has been good for my recovery and stuff.”

“Of course. I totally get it. That’s what matters.” Ethan’s voice is low, and I can tell he understands, even if it’s not what he wants.

I open my mouth to say something, but I swivel my head to the left when I hear keys in the lock.

“My parents are home, but we’ll talk soon?”

Ethan looks surprised for a second before he catches himself. “Sounds good. I’m not scheduled for tonight’s game, but I should still get going soon.”

“Makes sense. I’ll call you tomorrow?” I say, thinking that I need to hold myself to some kind of promise.

We sign off and I hang up before collapsing onto the couch. Mom comes over and looks questioningly at me.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

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