Count On Me (A Brayden Schenn Love Story)

Scar

I didn't move. Whatever annoyance was at the door rang it again. And again. And again. I finally managed to pick my body up and drag it to the door. I swung the it open.
"Hello ma'am, I would like to talk about-" some lady said.
I slammed the door in her face. My inner Philadelphian coming out. I didn't give a rat's ass about whatever she was going to say.
I actually managed to watch TV. I turned on the MLB Network. I used to play softball up through high school. One thing I wanted to do in Boston was go up to Fenway and take in a game. Maybe a series. I like baseball.
I looked up some tickets. I found one ticket along the first baseline, 6 rows up behind the home dugout for tonight's game against the Rays. I bought it.
I heard the garage door open and moments later the door opening.
"Hey Kaylee," Jackson sat next to me on the couch.
I smiled.
"Look who decided to crawl out of her room," Dad said.
I shot him a look.
"Anyways, I got a call from Brayden," he started.
I perked my head up, suddenly interested.
"He wanted to check up on you. He asked if you were still depressed," he grinned at me.
"I haven't thought about it like that," I said. "Oh and by the way I got a ticket to the Sox game tonight."
"A ticket? Just one?"
I nodded.
"For you?"
I nodded again. "I just need alone time, that's all."
"Alone time? Sweetie, ever since you've been here, you've been nothing but alone," Marissa stated.
It was true, I hated being with people.
"Yeah, but I'm not done processing everything yet," I replied to both of them.
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I borrowed my dad's old Ted Williams jersey. I put on some shorts and let down my hair. It was curly from the bun I had it in. I looked in the mirror. I still had a little scar from when I smacked my head against the bathroom counter.
I could have died that night. That was my goal, actually. But, Brayden wouldn't let it happen. I was upset that he called my dad and not me. I was upset that he viewed my messages but didn't reply. He wanted to know if I was still "depressed". Thinking about it, I still am, just not as bad.
I arrived at the field just in time for batting practice.
I stood at the fence, not behind the dugout, but next to it.
I stood there with a ball my dad gave me, one of those official Major League ones, and a pen. Mike Napoli, the first baseman, walked over and signed some kid's ball. Not mine. He was one of those guys, looking out for the young kids. But right after him, Xander Bogaerts, one of the young guys on the team, came over, smiled at me, signed my ball, and winked at me. Rookies. After smiling back and thanking him, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
Brayden
Hey, sorry I couldn't reply. I talked to your dad, he said you were doing alright. Are you?
I walked back to my seat.

Brayden's POV
I waited for Kaylee to respond. I sat alone in my apartment. Saskatoon was getting old. I needed something new. Maybe Boston.
I missed Kaylee. I needed her. I needed to talk to her. I thought about our last night together. She smelt like flowers. Her hair was soft between my fingers. I could almost feel her body against mine. Her soft skin on my lips.
My sexual thoughts of her were interrupted by constant buzzing of my phone on the coffee table. I saw a K in the contact name, but it wasn't Kaylee.
"Holy shit."