Page 65 of All I Have Left

I know the expression he’s wearing. The darkness in the way his brow is pulled together and the emotionless smirk. It makes me want to run to Grayson, afraid of what will happen next.

I blink, and along with the thirty-some others attending this game, we watch as Grayson approaches home plate, tugging on his left sleeve. His bat hits against his cleats once. It’s a habit he’s always had, and never broke.

I watch his feet and the angle of his stance. I’ve seen Grayson drive one back at the pitcher many times, and I know exactly what’s about to happen.

Fuck you, Shane. I hope this stings like a motherfucker.

Shane shifts his position on the mound, his arm drawn back when the umpire gives the signal.

It’s a purposely delivered pitch off to the right. Grayson seesit just in time and twists around, the ball bounces off his right shoulder as he drops into it, but the sound is awful.

It stung, it had to have.

If it did, Grayson doesn’t let on. He simply steps back off the plate and stares at Shane, reluctantly refuses to take his base, his jaw tight, face unreadable.

“My aim’s a little rusty,” Shane says, repeating Grayson’s words. Smiling, he stands relaxed on the mound, his glove hanging loosely at his side, waiting on Grayson’s response.

“Take your base,” Hicks says, motioning to first base, his eyes heavy on Grayson.

“Nah.” Grayson refuses. “I’ll give him that one.”

“Whatever,” Hicks mumbles, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to do what you want anyways.”

“Just take your base, Grayson,” Wyatt warns from the first base line.

Naturally, he ignores his dad.

Wyatt shakes his head, his hand on his hip.

Julia does the same. “Why is he so stubborn?”

Frankie laughs and reaches for her water bottle. “Probably because he’s related to Kelly.”

“You’re no angel,” Kelly notes, rolling her eyes at her sister.

I drown out their bantering because all I can think about is the hatred on Shane’s face. Part of me thinks Shane has been counting on Grayson taking the base because if he does get a hold of the ball, it’s coming back at him.

And it does—too fast for Shane to react. I hear the crack of the bat, and then Shane holding his stomach where the hard, and solid, line drive nails his left hip.

A little lower would have been nice,I think to myself, only to have Frankie actually say it out loud, as Grayson runs to second base. Before Shane can recover and make the play, Grayson is sliding into second.

Sighing, Shane turns around but doesn’t look at Grayson, or me. He’s holding his hip.

I smile at Grayson as he stands on the base, dusting off his pants, watching me.

“Looks like he hasn’t forgotten how to play,” Kelly adds, shifting in her chair to face me.

I’m not exactly sure what to say, so I don’t. But I do glance Grayson’s way again wondering what it is he’s trying to prove by provoking Shane.

He gives me another wink, as if that had been for me.

Though I appreciate it, he needs to stop antagonizing him. “Knock it off,” I mouth, hoping he’s listening to me.

To my surprise, he nods, as if he knows he’s pushing it.

The rest of the game goes by slowly and by the seventh inning, I’m sure I have a sunburn.

When the game ends, the sun has set over the fields and the hospital’s team wins by two runs. It leaves an ominous feeling in the air not knowing what Shane might do after the game. With one eye on him and Lance, I notice Grayson walking over to me with a huge grin on his face as he tosses his mitt down by his bag at my feet. I hadn’t noticed before but all his stuff is near me. Water bottle, keys, shoes, sweatshirt... it feels like we’re a couple.

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