After months of therapy, Garrett Delko is still struggling to cope with his brother's suicide. The only time he finds peace is on the pitching mound and with a mysterious girl he's been obsessed with since the first week of college. One night, he se...
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Call Garrett a coward. He was perfectly okay with that. After the disastrous game Saturday night, he'd gone into hiding, refusing to come out of his room except for nightly runs. He ignored all texts and calls and hadn't logged into any of his social media accounts. Frankly, he didn't have the mental capacity to deal with their accusations when his own bared down on him like a rabid wolf.
He couldn't even look at himself in the mirror. His one chance to prove himself to the coaches, to the team, to Jordan, hell, to himself, and he choked. HARD. Worse, he didn't know why. At first, everything had been fine. His pitches and his emotions had been locked down tighter than a vault, but then the batter hit a home run, and something inside of Garrett snapped, and he lost control. Then he panicked because he never lost control. Not on the pitching mound.
He'd never forget Jordan's face when Coach called a timeout to switch pitchers. Garrett thought ridicule was the worst thing to receive from Jordan, but he was wrong. Jordan's sympathy crippled him and took what little was left of Garrett's pride and smashed it to smithereens. Jordan had tried to talk to him after the game, but Garrett had shrugged him off. What could he have said that Garrett hadn't told himself?
When Greg returned from his afternoon classes, Garrett was playing a game on his computer. He raised an eyebrow at Garrett still in his pajamas. It was the second day in a row Garrett hadn't gone to classes. He knew he'd have to go eventually, but he couldn't make himself venture outdoors. Not yet.
"Still not feeling well?" Greg asked, throwing his basketball shoes onto the pile in the corner.
Both knew it was an excuse, but Garrett was grateful Greg went with it anyway. He'd been surprised to see his roommate in the stands Saturday night. They got along, but they weren't the best of buds, so it'd meant a lot that Greg came to support him. Of course, it also meant he saw Garrett's colossal fuck-up. "Yeah, but I have to go to baseball practice tonight."
Greg eyed Garrett's unwashed hair and tea stained shirt. "You sure you should go?" Garrett must be more wrecked than he thought if Greg, the king of messiness, was questioning his sanity.
"I have to," Garrett said. A ball of dread formed in his throat. Would the coaches bench him permanently when they found out what happened? He would if he were in their shoes. After all, how could they fix something when they didn't know the cause?
Greg's foot started tapping. A surefire sign he was uncomfortable. "I'm not one to lecture—live how you want, ya know? But you might want to shower before you leave."
Garrett sniffed his armpit. "Sorry, man."
Greg shrugged, the topic forgotten. Garrett didn't know how the two of them ended up as roommates. They were night and day. Greg was a take-life-as-it-comes type of guy, and Garrett liked things planned out, but they worked because they didn't interfere in each other's lives. Greg never asked about Garrett's nightmares, and Garrett never questioned Greg about his dealings with shady people.
