Page 17 of Tagging Bases

And now, his plate is even fuller with managing a hardware store, tending to our parents’ farm when they can’t, and dealing with whatever personal issues he has that he deems “none of my business.” It’s a lot for one person to handle, but Roy does it all with this quiet tenacity that I can’t help but admire.

“Sounds good, Charlie. I’ll mark those dates down.” Roy’s voice snaps my attention back to him. “How are classes?”

I groan dramatically. “Don’t even get me started on classes, man. I’m drowning in assignments. But if Mom asks, I’m managing.”

Managing shit, more like it. Daniel did his best to calm me down yesterday, but I can’t shut up the voice in the back of myhead saying I’m not good enough for the major leagues. Or that I’m going to end up back in Pennsylvania. Roy might be okay with living in a small town, but I’m not.

Roy’s eyes narrow slightly, the gears turning in his head as he assesses me the same way he used to when I was a kid. He leans in closer to the screen, brow furrowing with concern. “What’s going on, little brother? You look worried. Everything okay?”

I shake my head, my hair flopping. “We have some new guys on the team this year, and they’re really, really good.”

“Okay…what’s the problem?”

“I’m worried that they’ll outshine me. That the scouts will want them and forget all about me. I know it’s dumb. They can’t even be drafted for another two years, but still.”

I hate how childish I sound. But even more, I hate how vulnerable admitting this out loud makes me. But I know Roy. He won’t judge.

As if proving my point, his expression softens, and he smiles reassuringly. “Charlie, you’re a damn good pitcher. An even better hitter. And if I’m saying that, you know it’s the truth. Remember how much baseball I watch.”

He’s right. Roy’s been enamored with baseball since he could say the word “baseball.” Our parents always assumed it’d be him who’d pursue a sports career. His room was a shrine to the Yankees.

I remember sneaking inside whenever he was out with his friends, too afraid to touch anything, thinking that he’d know it was me if anything was even a centimeter out of place. Posters of Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez covered the walls. Signed baseballs lined the shelves, plucked from the depths of eBay. His bookcase held biographies of legendary players, such as Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth.

I used to pretend I was in Yankee Stadium instead of his room. Back then, we couldn’t afford to travel to New York, so this was the next best thing. All that was missing was the smell of hot dogs and the noise of the fans.

Roy played the sport all through high school, and he was damn good. A power hitter with a cannon for an arm in right field. But as much as he loved playing it, he loved watching more. He’d sit for hours, studying plays, analyzing batting stances, and memorizing stats. Dad used to joke that Roy had so much baseball knowledge that there wasn’t any room in his head for anything else, like girls.

For as long as I’ve known my brother, I’ve never seen him with a girl, outside of school dances, that is. I’ve never questioned why. Mainly because I know he’d punch me in the face if I asked.

It wasn’t until high school that I realized how much Roy’s love for baseball rubbed off on me. I practiced for hours, trying to mimic his batting stance and throwing motion. I even begged Mom to buy me the same glove he used. I didn’t care that it was three sizes too big at the time.

But now? We both have massive mitts.Pun intended.

“Those freshmen might be good,” Roy continues, pulling me from my memories. “But they don’t have your experience or skill. Believe in yourself and your abilities the same way I do. You’ve worked too hard to let a few pipsqueaks intimidate you.”

I nod, his words sinking in. He’s not wrong. I’ve worked damn hard. I’ve put in more hours than anyone else in the batting cages, on the mound, practicing every type of pitch possible. I’ve stayed up till the witching hour studying game tapes and scouting reports.

I’ve poured my heart and soul into the game. I can’t let some minor competition shake my confidence.

Determined to get out of my funk, I smile. “You’re right. I need to focus on myself and be the best pitcher I can be.”

“That’s the Charlie I know.”

“Thanks, Roy.” My voice thickens with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugs off my gratitude, but I notice his eyes shimmering and his nose reddening. If I squint hard enough, I think his Adam’s apple bobs too. “That’s what big brothers are for, bud.To kick your ass when you’re being a pest and build you up when you’re feeling down.”

The sound of footsteps distracts me from bursting into tears. I haven’t been home since Christmas. That’s three long months without being around the only guy I’ve ever loved, aside from my dad, of course. I can’t wait to be in the same room as him again. I’m going to hug him to death.

“Who are you talking to?” Daniel asks, walking up to me with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Roy, I mouth before turning my attention back to my phone. “Daniel’s here. Wanna say hi?”

Roy’s eyes scrunch ever so slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line when I mention Daniel’s name. It’s subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but Roy’s my brother. I noticeeverythingabout him.

You’d think Roy would be thrilled that I have Daniel in my life. Someone who also pushes me to be better and supports me through thick and thin. But he’s biting back words. I want to ask him about it—because it’s becoming more frequent—but before I can, my stomach growls ferociously.

Roy’s grimace melts away, replaced by a chuckle that rumbles through the phone. “Sounds like someone’s hungry. You better go feed that beast before it tries to eat Daniel.”

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