Ty seriously hoped the Tides won that night, because he was fucking freezing.
It hadn’t been cold earlier that day. It had been so warm, in fact, that while he’d been walking around with his brothers playing tourist, he’d stripped down to his t-shirt and would have taken that off, too, if Nick hadn’t groused at him about fucking decency laws, Ty, Jesus H. Christ. But now? Yeah, now he was huddled in his flannel shirt and seriously thinking about going to the team store for a hoodie or a blanket or something.
Partly it was the wind. Okay, mostly it was the wind. Their seats were at the very top of the stadium, with nothing to block the gusts coming off the harbor that had given the park its name. Judging by the clammy feel of it and the flat slate color of the sky—so different than the sunny blue of earlier—the wind was bringing a rain with it, too.
And here Ty sat, nothing protecting him from the elements but a flannel shirt and a ball cap, preparing to cheer for a team he didn’t even follow.
He wasn’t really a minor league fan anyway, and his MLB team was the Braves. The Tides were the AAA affiliate for the Orioles, and while Ty could get behind the O’s if he could ignore the designated hitter, he still wasn’t a minor league fan.
The only reason he was here was that he’d made a promise.
One advantage to the wind was that nobody seemed inclined to sit in that section, which meant it was empty except for Ty and his boys. At the moment, that meant it was empty except for Ty. Digger, who was from the South and probably freezing his nuts off, was in the team shop hunting for something warm to wear; Kelly and Owen, who were also cold but not willing to wear seahorses on their chests, were in search of coffee. Nick, who liked neither coffee nor any team that had ever beat the Red Sox, was probably looking for a reasonably warm alternative to both. Ty had offered to stay and guard their seats.
Like there were so many people fighting for them, even if they weren’t technically reserved. Still, he’d wanted to just sit for a while, something that was probably worrying the guys who’d known him since he was eighteen. Ty was never still, not unless something was seriously wrong or they were in a life-or-death situation. But he’d sorely needed the alone time, to try and re-center himself.
He’d almost bought six tickets.
How many? the bored young woman behind the smoked Plasticine partition had asked, and the six had fallen automatically from his lips before he’d caught himself and told her five, please. Digger and Kelly had been messing around arguing about something and Owen had been eyeballing a couple of pretty blonde women, but Nick had been right at Ty’s shoulder, and the sudden pain in his brilliant green eyes had been almost too much to bear.
So when the others had scattered to find ways of warming up and Nick had offered to stay, Ty had waved him off, and now he sat alone with his thoughts and a battered sock monkey.
Letting his gaze wander, Ty caught sight of an imperfection on the plastic seat to his left, the one where Nick would be sitting. There were scratches on the surface, too even and regular to be dismissed as normal wear and tear. Ty tilted his head, shifting the angle until the light hit just right and he could see the marks.
He’d thought it might be a name, some sort of civilian version of KILROY WAS HERE, or maybe a gang sign. It turned out to be a set of numbers—ten of them, in fact. A phone number.
Ty suppressed a smirk. He’d long ago lost count of the names and numbers—often hopelessly out of date—he’d seen scrawled or scratched on bathroom stalls with the promise to CALL FOR A GOOD TIME. He’d even called a couple, on dares or out of boredom, resulting in two actual hook-ups, four bursts of profanity against exes and so-called friends, and one long and very intense phone sex session that had left him an odd mix of uncomfortable and sated, but he wasn’t looking for anything like that now. Still, out of curiosity, he scanned the seat for a name.
There was none. In fact, the only deliberate mark other than the number on the entire seat was a single word: TEXT. No explanation or expectation of what it would lead to, merely the injunction to do so.
TEXT.
Ty didn’t know what prompted him, but he fished out his phone, punched in the number, and sent off a two-word text. [Hey there.]
He didn’t expect a reply. Not really. But after a minute of bouncing his foot on his knee, his phone buzzed with a reply text from the number. [Hello. Who is this?]
Ty debated his options, then texted back, [Call me Ty. Who is this?]
The wait for a reply was even longer this time. [I think you have the wrong number.]
Unaccountably, Ty’s heart sank. Quickly, he shot back, [I got your number off one of the seats at Harbor Park. It just said “text” next to it.]
This time, the response was almost immediate. [I’m going to kill my sister.]
Ty laughed, not sure why he was so relieved. [Hey, better than a bathroom stall, right?]
[That depends. You’re not a RailRiders fan, are you?]
Ty laughed again—and then paused. [Who are they the farm team for?]
[The Yankees.]
[FUCK no.] Ty hit SEND on the profanity before he thought about it. He suddenly panicked, thinking he might have been texting a kid. He’d grown up swearing, but that was no guarantee a kid around here had—even in a military town. [Shit, sorry, my language.]
He could almost hear the amused smirk in the reply. [I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle a few bad words just fine.]
Ty sighed with relief, even as he typed back, [And yet I still don’t know your name.]
There was a pause, as if his unknown correspondent was backspacing over a few variations on a reply. [Call me Z.]
“Z, huh?” Ty said aloud. [Is that short for something?]
[No, I wasn’t named, I was initialed,] came the sarcastic retort, so prompt Ty wondered if he’d had it ready to send already. Before he could formulate a response, another text came in. [It’s what my friends and family call me.]
[Is that what we are? Friends?]
Ty chuckled as he sent the text, wondering if he would get back more sarcasm or something flirty or a picture of the guy’s middle finger. He wasn’t prepared for the message he got.
[If you’re so lonely that you’re texting random numbers off stadium seats, you probably need one.]
Ty sat staring at the screen of his phone for a minute, speechless. Suddenly a voice right in his ear said, “Hey, I got you a beer.”
Ty jumped and, inexplicably, blushed as he slipped his phone into his pocket and squinted up at his best friend—his aviators, naturally, were on top of his head rather than on his face. Nick had a cup of beer in each hand, and he passed one to Ty as he sidled past him and plopped down on his seat—on Z’s number. “The others are coming. Only place open that sells coffee is on the other side of the park and the store looked kinda crowded, but the beer was closer.”
“Thanks.” Ty accepted the cup and took a sip.
Nick sighed, tilting his head back. They sat in silence for a long while, watching small birds or large bugs zoom back and forth as the clouds pressed lower and the wind, if anything, grew stronger.
The buzz of Ty’s phone surprised him. He started, nearly spilling his beer all over with his pants, and shifted awkwardly as he tried to fish his phone back out without elbowing Nick in the face.
There was a text from Z on the display. [I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.]
It was then that Ty realized he hadn’t replied to Z’s last text. He took a hasty gulp of beer and managed to text with one thumb. [You didn’t. My buddy came back with beer and I was preoccupied.]
[Oh, so you DO have friends?]
Ty couldn’t help but laugh as he replied, [A few. But you’re not wrong about me needing one.]
He almost backspaced over that last sentence, but instead he hit SEND. Hopefully Z wouldn’t press him too much.
“Deuce?” Nick asked.
Ty considered taking the out Nick had given him, but he couldn’t. It was another promise they’d made. No more secrets.
“No,” he said reluctantly. “Just a guy.”
Nick’s slight frown faded. “A guy?”
Ty’s phone buzzing saved him from having to answer. He wasn’t sure what Z would have had to say, but he was glad the guy hadn’t stopped texting him. [I figured. Want the truth?]
[If you want to share it.]
[That’s probably why my sister put my number on the seat. Because she thinks I need one.]
Ty couldn’t have said what prompted him, but he found himself asking, [And do you?]
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, man!”
“It’s green, D. Green. Not even a good green.”
“But warm. Don’t forget that part. It’s warm.”
Ty glanced up to see Kelly roll his eyes as he slid into his seat, bumping Nick’s shoulder companionably. “Come here. Screw the blanket, I’m stealing some warm off of you.”
Nick put his arm around Kelly’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. They’d always been close—and very tactile—but now that they all knew Nick was bi, Ty wondered if they were actually fucking or just working towards it, because he was pretty sure it was inevitable. He waited for the pang of jealousy and was rather surprised to find that there wasn’t one.
Owen plopped down in his own seat, grumbling as Digger climbed over him to shake out a blanket. “You’re not putting that thing anywhere near me.”
“It’s not contagious, Ozone!” Digger laughed and flapped it at Owen’s face. “Lighten up, man.”
“I’m gonna need a beer before long,” Kelly muttered. “You couldn’t have grabbed me one, too?”
“Two per customer,” Nick shot back.
“Here, take mine.” Ty leaned over Nick to hand his nearly full cup to Kelly. “I’m not contagious, either.”
“Thanks.” Kelly sounded surprised. “You’re not thirsty?”
“Just want to keep my wits about me.”
“He’s texting a guy,” Nick said quickly.
Digger’s and Kelly’s expressions morphed into ones of unholy glee. Owen’s face flickered between discomfort and amusement, but apparently the desire to torment Ty won out. “A guy?” he echoed, slowly smirking.
“Whoo-ee,” Digger whooped.
“When were you gonna tell us?” Kelly asked.
Ty could feel himself starting to blush. Without meeting his brothers’ eyes, he quickly sent off another text to Z: [Want one of mine? I’ve got plenty to spare. They’re assholes.]
It wasn’t until the message sent that he realized just how much time had passed. The ribbing continued, but he did his best to tune it out as he waited for Z’s response. When it came, a minute or so later, it hit him like a punch to the gut, almost as much as Z’s earlier statement about him needing a friend.
[At least they’re around to be assholes. I’d give anything to hear my best friend call me a punk-ass bitch one more time.]
Ty swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. [Yeah. I know what you mean.]
“Ty?”
The soft, worried voice made Ty look up to see four pairs of eyes staring at him with a concern he hadn’t seen since—
He stopped that line of thought before it went any further. If he got too deep in memories, he might not be able to pull himself back. And Ty had a lifelong abhorrence of “making a scene” in public. He was a very private person, always had been, and he hated drawing attention to himself. He’d do it if he had to, but he hated it.
“We didn’t mean to upset you, Six,” Owen said gently. “We’re just teasing, but if you’re not ready—”
“It’s not that,” Ty said quickly. He wondered what to say, then went with the truth. “It’s just—there’s a number on Nick’s seat. I texted it because I was curious, and…”
Nick stood up and twisted around to see his seat. The other three craned their heads to look, too. Ty took the opportunity to take a look at his phone—sure enough, Z had replied. [How long’s it been? If you don’t mind my asking.]
[Just a couple months,] Ty texted back. Inwardly, however, he was thinking seventy-two days, six hours, twelve minutes, because the moment was flash-frozen in his memory. [How about you?]
“Quit staring at my ass,” Nick grumbled without any real heat, slapping feebly at Kelly’s hand as he sat down. “I couldn’t see it from up here.”
“Ten numbers and the word ‘text,’” Kelly volunteered. “So, what do you know about this guy?”
Ty shrugged. “He goes by Z. He’s got a sister who thinks he needs more friends. And his best friend died not too long ago. That’s about it.”
His phone buzzed then, giving him an excuse to ignore the quick look of pain in Nick’s eyes in favor of Z’s response. [Ditto. Guess I can’t ask you if it gets easier, then.]
Ty hesitated a moment, then typed, [Not really. There will be longer stretches of time where you can stop thinking about it, but it never really gets better.]
[You lost someone else?] Z’s text was immediate and more or less what Ty had expected. Before he could start replying, another text came in. [And I said easier, not better. I wouldn’t want to think I could be so heartless that I’d forget him, or that it wouldn’t hurt. Just that it gets easier not to think about it all the time.]
[That I understand. And yeah, I’ve known a few guys who didn’t make it home. Not anyone I was so close to, though.] Ty’s fingers shook as he typed that last sentence, which wasn’t technically a lie, he thought miserably as Chas’ face flashed through his memory. He’d kept his promise and told his brothers, but he wasn’t ready to share that with a virtual stranger.
Ty snickered to himself. Virtual stranger. Bad pun penalty.
“GOOOOD EVENING, TIDES FANS!” The loudspeakers blasted to life, almost making Ty drop his phone. He bobbled it for a minute as the announcer blared through the RailRiders lineup, then managed to get a grip again.
Z had replied. [What branch?]
[Marines.] Ty tried to quiet the odd fluttering of nerves in his gut. He reminded himself that this was a military town—there was no reason to suspect Z would stop talking to him just because he was a Marine—albeit one who’d been shoved out.
The buzz of his phone heralded one word—one that gave him a sense of relief he tried not to examine too closely. [Good.]
“AND NOW, FANS, THE STARTING LINEUP FOR YOUR NORFOLK TIDES!” the announcer bellowed.
“What are y’all talking about now?” Digger asked, leaning back to look at Ty behind Nick and Kelly.
Ty shrugged. “He figured out I was military and asked what branch.”
“Traitor!” Nick suddenly shouted, shaking a fist at the lineup. Kelly cracked up.
Ty almost asked what he was talking about, then paused. Glancing at the lineup and doing a fast mental shuffle, he shot off a text to Z: [Any idea why my buddy just called the center fielder a traitor?]
He could’ve sworn he heard a bark of laughter from somewhere below him. [Is your buddy a Red Sox fan?]
Ty’s eyebrows shot up. [Yeah, how’d you know?]
[Mike Yastrzemski’s grandfather played for the Sox. Yaz is one of our star players—he’s fought hard to not live in his grandfather’s shadow.]
[You know a lot about this team.] Ty realized that was stupid, so he quickly tossed off, [So, come here often?]
[I get season tickets every year.] There was definitely a texture of humor to Z’s text, or at least Ty imagined there was. [Have since I moved here. You?]
[First time.] Ty accidentally hit SEND before he could finish his thought. He was typing the rest up when Z’s next message popped in.
[A virgin? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. ;)]
Ty stared at his phone stupidly, feeling the blush creeping up on him again. He wasn’t a virgin, of course—not by a long shot, with either sex—but somehow, he was still embarrassed by the teasing.
And, at the same time, incredibly turned on.
His phone buzzed again; in a slight daze, he glanced down to see the message from Z. [Since I graduated college, more or less. Almost seven years.]
It took a minute for Ty to realize he’d actually hit SEND and asked Z how long he’d lived in the area. Some quick math later, his eyebrows lifted in surprise as he typed back, [Hey, we’re the same age, then. Mostly. When’s your birthday?]
[October 15. I’ll be thirty. You?]
[May 29. I’ll be twenty-nine, so okay, I guess I’m a little younger.] Ty was thankful they’d brushed over the virgin thing.
There was a brief lull in the conversation. Ty was trying to think of something else to say when Z came back with a question. [Are you stationed at Fort Story? Or just on leave?]
A dull, melancholy ache tugged at Ty’s chest as he answered, [Neither. We’re just out of the service.]
[And the first thing you decided to do was go to a Minor League ball game?]
[We made a promise.]
There was a long pause. Ty looked absently at the field as a local battalion commander threw out the ceremonial first pitch, falling well short of home plate. The buzz of his phone saved him from having to weigh in on whether or not the guy had ever been Recon. [Your buddy, huh?]
Ty sighed audibly—Nick glanced at him briefly, but said nothing. [This was his home team, kind of. He told us to catch a game for him. Sit on the visitor’s side and cheer for the home team.] Since that last phrase was from a song, he typed it with an ironic twist to his lips.
To his surprise, Z’s almost immediate response echoed his own thoughts. [I hate that song.]
[Me, too,] Ty admitted, feeling a surge of warmth towards Z.
There was a burst of fanfare, and Ty looked up to see the words SEA THE GREEN over a moving image of ocean waves on the jumbotron. He groaned at the pun as clips from various games began flashing on the screen, everything from hits to runs to the two mascots body-bumping. A minute later, the announcer boomed, “And now, Tides fans, it's time to welcome YOUR 2015 International League champion Norfolk Tides!”
There was a smattering of applause as the Tides ran out onto the field, accompanied by one or two kids in uniform each. Ty was about to ask Z who they were when the announcer said, “The Tides are joined on the field by tonight’s Field of Dreams team, the Bayview Orioles.”
“Cute idea,” Nick admitted.
A new voice broke in, apparently a recording from a local businessman, exhorting everyone to join in the National Anthem. Ty and his friends were on their feet, hats off, before the recording had finished. A young woman in Marine dress blues stood by home plate, microphone in hand. When the words appeared on the screen, all five of them snapped into a perfect military salute.
The anthem ended in a burst of applause. Ty sank slowly back into his seat, pulling his cap back on. There was a text from Z a moment later. [Are you one of those assholes who shouts “O” during the Star-Spangled Banner because they use the Orioles logo?]
Ty stared at his phone, fighting down a surge of anger. [Who the fuck does that? That’s goddamned disrespectful. What the fuck?]
[Drives me nuts. Every fucking time.]
“PLAY BALL!”
Ty made himself set aside his phone and focus on the inning. The starting pitcher for the Tides had a sizzling fastball and a wicked curve that made short work of the first two batters. The third racked up a full count and kept hitting foul balls until he managed to get one winging toward the fence. The center fielder plucked it effortlessly from midair for the third out.
Nick whooped with delight. Kelly laughed as the Tides ran off the field. “So he’s okay then?”
“Yeah, we’re cool.”
Ty’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down to see a text from Z. [Just had a thought. How long have you been out?]
Ty almost panicked before he realized what Z meant. [About a week. Why?]
[Are you guys gonna be okay with the fireworks?]
Ty hesitated for a long moment, then sent back, [I don’t know,] just as the first batter for the Tides stepped up to the plate.
He got tagged out at first following a grounder to third, and the second batter got caught out by the shortstop, but the third batter hit a long ball that dropped to the ground just under the 400 at the back of center field.
“YES!” Digger shouted, waving something in the air. “Number Three, bitches!”
“What’d I miss?” Ty asked Nick, who was laughing in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.
“They threw numbered balls into the crowd,” Kelly explained, since Nick was still laughing too hard. “First batter to get a hit, that numbered ball wins a prize. Digger got number three.”
“Sure it’s not the player’s jersey number?”
Digger’s face fell. “Oh.”
The Tides didn’t end up scoring that inning, but Digger perked up when the announcer confirmed that he had won after all. Ty couldn’t resist texting Z. [That’s my buddy.]
[Who? Rip Tide or the kid?]
“What?” Ty said aloud. He looked up abruptly as the rest of his friends erupted into cheers. A little boy, no more than four or five, was running hell-bent for leather along the second-base line, with the furry blue mascot hot on his heels and what looked like a dinosaur waving him on from the third-base line.
“Uh-oh, looks like Rip Tide is gaining on him!” crowed a new announcer, who seemed to be the woman in bright yellow walking the first-base line.
Laughing, Ty texted back, [No, the guy who won the prize from Flamingo Joe’s.]
“Hey!” Kelly protested, but he was laughing as one mascot effectively body-slammed the other to the ground, letting the little guy win.
Ty looked down to see a text from Z as the announcer congratulated the boy. [Let me know what it is. I’ve always wondered.]
[You’ve never won it?]
The second inning started then, so Ty didn’t get to check for Z’s reply until the break. He found himself bouncing with anticipation and barely waited for the third out to be called before he looked at the reply. [No, my tickets are somewhere that doesn’t usually get caught up in the giveaways.]
[That sucks.]
Ty imagined Z shrugging. [My choice. I pick these seats every year.]
[Where are they?] Ty hit SEND and immediately panicked. Hastily, he shoved his phone into his pocket so he wouldn’t have to see how Z would respond to something so pathetic. How obvious could he get?
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the vibration against his hip just as the first pitch was thrown.
“Dude,” Nick said under the noise of the crowd, leaning in so Ty could hear him. “It’s okay for you to be interested in this guy. Don’t be ashamed of it.”
Ty looked at Nick in surprise, then smiled. “Thanks.”
He managed to focus on the inning, but the second it was up, he fished out his phone. [213, row Y. You?]
Ty had to laugh as he replied. [313, row R. Guess I’m right above you.]
[Well, a little further back. I’m more under row C. But at least we’re in the same area.]
[Are you here on your own?]
There was no reply before the next inning started.
The top of the third turned out to be an exciting one. The second batter hit a ball between right and center, sending both outfielders running. Ty could just hear a deep voice that sent an odd thrill running through him chanting “GET IT GET IT GET IT” from below him somewhere. It looked like the right fielder caught the ball, but just as the cheer was leaving Ty's throat, the white sphere dropped to the ground. Amid shouts and groans, the batter managed to get to third before the ball went out of play.
The buzz of Ty's phone as the next batter jogged out startled him, and he looked down to see an all-caps message. [FUCK I THOUGHT HE HAD THAT!]
[Me, too,] Ty replied. After the next batter struck out, he risked a second text. [Guess that answers that question.]
The RailRiders managed to get a run in, accompanied by much cursing from Nick and Owen. Ty tried to distract himself with the fan challenge going on between innings, but he was uncomfortably aware that Z hadn't replied.
Just as he was about to text an apology, a message came in—and he understood why the wait had been so long. [It's funny. I never felt like I was alone when it was just me here before—when my best friend couldn't make it. It was like he was here in spirit, even when he wasn't here in body. But now? Yeah. For the first time ever, I'm really and truly here on my own.]
Ty bit his lip. [Have you…not been since he died?]
[Haven't missed one. He'd haunt my ass forever.]
The game started up again then, forcing Ty to pull his attention away from his phone. The RailRiders changed pitchers partway through, though, and Ty used the break to look down at his phone. To his surprise, he'd missed the vibration signaling another text. [This is just the first time I've come alone since then. Usually I grabbed a coworker…and my sister was in town last week.]
Ty nodded slowly. [I couldn't do it.]
There was a brief pause before Z's next text came in. [Thanks for watching the game with me.]
[Any time.] Ty flushed with the implication of what he'd said, but he didn't delete it.
The Tides racked up three runs, despite the new pitcher. Ty nearly screamed himself hoarse, distantly surprised at how into it he was getting, before the inning ended. One of the mascots came out to shoot t-shirts into the crowd, but Ty focused on the text from Z. [I thought you were just passing through.]
Ty bit his lip again. It felt like one of those make-or-break moments, where his response could dictate the rest of his life. Hell, he hadn't felt like that since Chas had informed him that his letters from home had been opened and read.
After a long while—probably too long—he typed back, [I'm kind of passing through everywhere right now. I don't exactly have anywhere that feels like a place to stop yet.]
Just before the timer ran down between innings, Z sent his reply. [Nowhere to call home base?]
The RailRiders were able to tie the score before the Tides pulled off a pretty spectacular double play to get them off the field. Ty shot off a text to Z when the screen began showing interviews with a few players. [Guess I'm stuck at second, hoping someone gets a hit at bat.] But there are two outs already and I don't trust the next couple batters, he added to himself.
There was a short pause before Z replied. [Better than standing at bat with a full count, hitting fouls and wishing you'd just strike out already.]
[As long as you're batting for my team.] Ty hesitated for a brief second, then nudged Nick. Silently, he tilted his phone slightly to his left to show his best friend the unsent message.
Nick read it, his eyebrows lifted slightly. Then he looked up at Ty and gave him a brief, encouraging nod.
Ty hit SEND.
The bottom of the fourth seemed to stretch on forever. The Tides loaded the bases, and one of the batters—the center fielder—racked up a full count before hitting foul after foul. Ty thought of Z immediately and bit his lip. His resolve to focus on the game cracked, and he reached for his phone.
“HEADS UP!”
Ty looked up and yelped, throwing his hands up instinctively and dropping his phone somewhere behind him. At the last possible second, Nick shot a hand out and snatched the ball out of the air, right before it smashed into Ty's face. The others erupted into cheers as Nick held the ball aloft.
“Today we salute YOU, Mr. Over-Zealous Foul Ball Catcher!” The sound system blared to life with a clip from an old Bud Light commercial. Digger and Kelly cackled. Nick laughed, too, as he turned the ball over in his hands.
Ty ignored the remainder of the inning in favor of hunting down his phone. Luckily, the case had protected the screen. Brushing the dirt off, he felt his heart jump at the notification that he had a text from Z.
[What would you say if I said I did?]
[I would say that I'd rather not discuss that over text.]
Ty half-watched as his friends egged on two teams dressed in burger bun costumes who were racing to build a burger. Just as the black helmets were declared the winners, Z's reply came in.
[Well, you know where I'm sitting.]
Ty's breath caught in his throat. He stared at his phone, the six words burning themselves into his brain. For the first time in a long time, he was beginning to feel something he never thought he'd feel again.
Hope.
It was stupid. Horribly, utterly fucking stupid. This was some guy he'd literally just started texting, a random guy flirting at the ballpark in a town he was just passing through. They'd gone through towns like this all down the coast for the last week, and they were leaving the next day to head west for a while. There was nothing permanent about this. Nothing to cling to.
But then, a voice whispered—a voice remarkably like Eli's—maybe there could be.
When the top of the fifth ended and the mascots started shooting another cannon on the first-base side of the crowd, Ty shot Z a text. [Maybe I'll come down during the seventh-inning stretch.]
[Damn. And here I was hoping for a shot at the Kiss Cam.]
[Isn't that random?] Goddammit, Ty could feel himself blushing again.
He imagined Z snickering. [Not here. Here it's only at the top of the seventh.]
Before Ty could decide how overtly he wanted to flirt, a second text came in. [And they tend to focus on straight couples, so unless you have boobs or a decoy, we wouldn't be on it anyway. I was just joking, Ty.]
If anything, Ty blushed harder. [I knew that.]
The bottom of the fifth was kind of lackluster. When it ended, Ty was about to check for a text from Z when the announcer said, “Here at beautiful Harbor Park, we honor our brave men and women of the armed forces with our Salute to Service. Tonight, we ask any current or former members of the United States Marine Corps to stand and be recognized as we honor your service to our country.”
Ty and his friends got to their feet and stood at attention. He guessed that they, like he, felt an uncomfortable twist in their gut knowing that they were “former” now. The Marine Corps Hymn played as the camera panned the crowd, showing old men and young kids on their feet, most at attention. The screen showed Ty and his friends, then lingered for a moment. He had no idea why, but it made him a little uncomfortable.
When the announcer thanked them and the screen went blank, Ty sat down to see the text he'd been waiting on. [Which one was you?]
[The one on the aisle,] Ty replied without thinking. As the inning started, however, he cursed inwardly. He hadn't specified which aisle.
Everyone seemed to be losing steam, because the top of the sixth dragged. Ty resisted the urge to check his phone until the inning was over, but the second the Tides quit the field, he pulled it out.
To his surprise, there was a reply. [In the flannel? Thought that might have been you.]
[How'd you know?] Ty was genuinely curious.
“Dude!” Owen yelled. “No one needs to hear about your prostate!”
“He's talking about cancer, Longjohns,” Kelly chided. “It's a good thing.”
Ty ignored them, and the “Wheel of Early Detection,” in favor of Z's reply. [I knew you were one of the guys in that last shot. Since the guy next to you had a Sox hat on, I guessed you were either the one in flannel or the scrappy blond guy.]
[So how'd you know I was me?]
[Sheer hope. I don't go for blonds.]
The Tides managed another run in a move that had everyone on their feet screaming. It was swiftly followed by outs, though. Ty was about to text Z when the announcer interrupted him again. “Tides fans, the only thing better than the smell of delicious Ynot Italian pizza here in the air at Harbor Park is sweet amore, so pucker up!”
Okay, Ty had to admit, he enjoyed the Kiss Cam. Older couples who were obviously still in love, young couples shy about showing affection, a few hams, all to the tune of “That's Amore.” Ty and his brothers sang along, except for the point where Kelly, whose beer was obviously hitting him, leaned over and kissed Nick passionately.
Laughing, Ty sent off a quick text to Z: [Do they always use “That's Amore”?]
[Except Country Night,] Z replied, just as the first batter was called. [Then they use “This Kiss.”]
The Tides held the RailRiders back in a fairly tense inning. As soon as the players cleared the field, Ty expected them to start “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” To his surprise, however, the announcer said, “The 'Honor and Remember' flag is a national symbol in honor of the brave men and women who gave their lives in defense of our freedom. For the seventh-inning stretch, our friends at Great Clips invite you to stand and join in the singing of 'God Bless America.'”
Ty rose, and as the old World War II-era recording played, the screen showed pictures of soldiers, sailors, and pilots, from as far back as World War II (as near as he could tell) and as recently as that year. He watched with a small surge of pride as he sang along.
Just as Kate Smith hit the last note, however, a picture flashed up that made Ty's breath catch in his throat. It showed a young man in MARCOM pants and dust-covered boots, his shirt stripped off and his dog tags flashing on his bare chest, sitting on a wall, one leg extended out in front of him and the other bent so that the foot was flat against the top of the wall. His helmet and rifle leaned against the building he had his back pressed to. A pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he was reading a book. Ty couldn't read the title from the stands, but he didn't need to in order to know it was Once a Marine. Most incongruous in the picture was the battered sock monkey sitting at the man's side.
“Oh, God,” Nick said in a small, broken voice as everyone around them erupted into cheers.
Ty was numb, unable to even join in “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” which was one of his favorites. He couldn't get that picture out of his head. He knew that picture. Hell, he'd taken that picture, six months earlier. They'd been free for a rare afternoon, and there had been mail waiting for them. There had been a few letters, he remembered, but they'd all been excited to see what was in Eli's package. It had turned out to be the memoirs of the famous “Cigar Marine”, which Eli had immediately sat down to read.
Ty'd snapped the picture because it was just Eli in a nutshell. The casual attitude combined with instant alertness, the book, the sock monkey, those damned sunglasses. They'd teased him about those three-hundred-dollar Ray-Bans, but he'd just laughed. Turned out they'd been a present from his best friend when he'd graduated boot camp.
It had been Ty's responsibility to package them up and send them back to that same friend.
He barely noticed the rest of the inning, or the next. Not until the gap between the eighth and ninth innings did the buzz of his phone jerk him from his stupor. He looked down to see a text from Z. Only two words. [You okay?]
Instead of answering, Ty sent back his own question. [Who sends in those pictures?]
[Friends and family of military.] There was a pause before Z texted again. [Your buddy was up there?]
[Yeah.] Ty didn't want to mention which one. Somehow, he was afraid that if he did, Z would tell him how funny it was, and he didn't think he could face that—the idea of somebody laughing at Eli.
To his surprise—and relief—Z didn't ask him which one it was. [I sent in one of my best friend at the beginning of the season. Seemed like the best way to honor him. Keeps him here, you know? But it still hurts like hell.]
Ty swallowed hard. Something in his chest loosened a little, and he couldn't help but smile. Z was right. The picture had hurt like hell, but at the same time, now he could picture Eli sitting with them, cheering his team on at the top of his not-inconsiderable lungs and making fun of Ty for enjoying it, despite the designated hitter.
“He's here, boys,” he said softly.
Nick looked at him, tears in his eyes still, but smiled through them. “Oorah.”
[You're right. Thanks for the reminder.]
[Any time, Ty.]
The Tides managed to get the first two batters out—Ty focused on the scoreboard enough to see that they had held the RailRiders back—but then one of the players hit the ball into the picnic area. As the fans screamed their upset, the batter jogged casually around the bases.
Tie ball game.
The next batter struck out, and as the Tides trotted off the field, the announcer said, “Fans, if the game goes into extra innings, our friends at WaWa will give everyone who stays a coupon for a free sixteen-ounce hot drink at WaWa.”
Ty couldn't help himself. [How 'bout a drink after the game?]
There was a surprisingly long pause before Z replied. [Oh, you mean at WaWa? Sounds great. I can always use a coffee.]
Ty bit his lip. Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask…[Too young to drink?]
Again the long pause. Right before the first batter stepped up, Z answered, [It's just…not a good idea.]
“Hope they score,” Owen said, squinting upwards. “I don't like the look of that sky.”
The clouds were certainly getting low. Ty hadn't really noticed night falling, or the gathering darkness, but now he could see the heavy fog rolling in, dipping below the lights. He leaned forward and shouted, “LET'S GO, TIDES!”
The crowd was on fire, cheering loudly, and the Tides did load the bases again, but didn't manage to score.
“Extra innings,” Kelly said in a sing-song voice.
Digger frowned. “Why aren't the Tides going out?”
“Probably because it's raining,” Nick guessed. A steady drizzle had begun falling, and Ty noticed for the first time that most of the other people in the upper tiers had left their seats already.
Suddenly, silently, and without warning, the clouds opened up and a deluge fell on the field.
“AAARGH!” Digger held his blanket up over his head, even though the rain hadn't come under the overhang. Owen grabbed one side of it, shielding himself, too.
Nick jumped to his feet, tugging his collar up to huddle into his shirt. “Six, c'mon!”
But Ty stayed where he was. Even as his friends thundered down the steps, dodging raindrops, he kept his seat and leaned forward, fascinated by the rain, the barely discernible clouds, and the wind swirling it all into paisley patterns. He'd always loved storms, and this was one of the best he'd ever seen. Lightning flashed, and a couple seconds later, thunder rumbled from somewhere off to the west.
The jumbotron had switched from showing player stats to a broadcast of the Orioles game. Ty only had eyes for the storm, though. He could feel it washing away the stress of the last few months, thrumming in his very soul.
A strike of lightning nearly directly overhead made him jump, especially when a loud clap and roll of thunder followed immediately on its heels, but Ty kept to his seat. He could hear his friends—he thought—shouting from below, but he couldn't pick out what any of them were saying until Nick's Boston accent came through, faint but clear. “TY! GET YOUR DAMN STUBBORN MARINE ASS DOWN HERE!”
Ty didn't move.
A moment later, the buzz of his phone startled him. He pulled it out to read the text from Z. [Yeah, Ty, get your damn stubborn Marine ass down here.]
Snickering a little, Ty texted back, [What, and get wet?]
There was a flash of lightning, the brightest yet, and a loud boom of thunder that made him flinch instinctively, curling into a ball to protect him from the explosion. After a moment, he recalled himself to the present, and he slowly straightened. He wasn't surprised to find that he was trembling.
And then his phone buzzed again. [Better wet than dead. Please, Ty, that lightning is awfully close. Come down here where it's safe.]
Ty stared at his phone for a long moment. For the life of him, he honestly couldn't remember the last time anyone other than his brothers or his parents actually gave a damn about him.
Slipping his phone into his pocket, he got up, took a deep breath, and took the stairs three at a time.
His boys were waiting for him just to the right of the steps. There was a squelch as Kelly hugged him. Nick, on the other hand, smacked him upside the head.
“Ow!”
“You dumbass, were you trying to get killed?” Nick snapped.
“I was just watching the storm,” Ty said defensively.
“You can do that from down here.”
Owen sighed at the curtain of falling rain. “I'm gonna go see if the team store has any umbrellas left. Or a rain poncho or something.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Digger agreed.
Kelly looped his arm through Nick's. “Ty, Nick, you coming?”
Ty was about to answer when he noticed a figure still seated just on the other side of the stairwell, his feet braced against a railing. “I'll stay here. Y'all go ahead.”
Nick eyed him suspiciously, but joined the others. Ty waited until they had made their way up the emptying concourse towards home plate before he crossed over to the last row of seats below his own.
Casually, he slid into the seat next to the only one still occupied. “Hey, this seat taken?”
The eyes that turned on him were nearly black, Stygian pools Ty wanted to fall into. He seriously hoped this was Z, because otherwise he was in trouble.
Not that he wasn't already, but still.
“I take it you're Ty.” The man lifted a pair of sunglasses from the top of his head and ran a hand through his dark hair.
Ty was about to say something, anything, when his eyes locked on the sunglasses and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. They were Ray-Bans, pretty typical as far as he was aware, except for one detail. The stem and earpiece was engraved in a slightly faded gold script. Ty had never asked what the Spanish words meant, but the two letters at the beginning of the engraving—E.Z.—had given Eli his nickname, or one of them.
“You sent in the picture of Eli,” he whispered.
Z's eyes widened, then softened, sorrow and pain stamping his expression. “Oh, God,” he said softly. “You're—Six, right?”
Ty swallowed and nodded. “My real name's Ty, though. B. Tyler Grady.”
Z held out a hand. It was shaking faintly. “Zane Z. Garrett.”
After a moment's hesitation, Ty accepted Z's—Zane's—hand. The second he touched it, he found he never wanted to let go.
“I like Zane better than Z,” he admitted.
Zane's lips quirked upward in a smile, and Ty was lost. “I kind of like hearing you say it.”
Realizing he was still holding Zane's hand, Ty let go. “So…so you sit here every game?”
“Just about,” Zane agreed. “Some of them are day games, and most of those I can't make. And every once in a while I miss one for being out of town for work. But I've definitely caught more games than missed over the last seven years.” A distant look came into his eyes as he glanced at the seat Ty sat in. “Eli made me promise I'd keep him posted on how the team was doing.”
Ty touched the armrest. “I guess he'd sit here when he was in town?”
Zane nodded. “We both got season tickets. He'd come when he was home, which wasn't often—you know that—but at least this way, it was guaranteed he'd have the seat next to mine.”
“He told me that,” Ty said. “That he looked forward to going back here on leave because—his best friend made sure he had a seat.”
“Yeah. Take a look.”
Ty twisted around, half-rising from the seat as he did so. There was a sticker affixed to the back of the seat—a green sticker with the Tides logo next to the words SSGT ELIAS J SANCHEZ USMC.
“Seems a little…wordy,” he said softly. He thought of the last time he'd seen those words, though, and a lump formed in his throat.
“Nah,” Zane said with a sad smile. “Wordy was when he told me to get him a sticker that had his name and 'See, it does have my name on it.'”
Ty burst out laughing before he could stop himself. “God, he was such a troll.”
“He really was.” Zane's voice was tinged with affection, but there was melancholy in it, too. “Always knew the right thing to say—and the wrong thing, too.”
“Even if he couldn't find the words.” Ty snickered.
Zane's smile widened, but he didn't laugh. Ty wondered if he ever did. “We never had a problem. But then, I speak Spanish, so…” He shrugged.
“I picked up a little over the years, but not much,” Ty admitted. “And most of that was just 'cause it was close enough to French.”
“My French is pretty much limited to voulez-vous coucher avec moi and menage-a-trois, so you're one up on me.”
“I can work with that,” Ty said without thinking.
“I don't share.” Zane smirked at him.
Ty blushed, but his mouth ran away with him again, as it tended to do. “Neither do I.”
“Good,” Zane said, so quietly Ty almost didn't hear him over the rain. He wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to.
They sat in silence for a moment before Ty blurted, “So, what do you do?”
Zane smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It was remarkably attractive. “FBI.”
Ty gaped at him. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.” Zane reached into his jacket and pulled out a badge. The letters FBI were big and obvious. “Undercover agent with the Criminal Investigative Division.”
Ty bit his lip. He was familiar with the CID; his dad's best friend was the assistant director. But he didn't want to say that. It felt too much like bragging. “How do you like it?”
Zane shrugged, his eyes darkening slightly. “I enjoy it. I'm good at it.”
“But?” Ty prompted. He sensed there was something else there, something Zane wasn't mentioning.
“There are times I wish I'd picked a slightly less dangerous career. And other times I wish I'd gone to the recruiters with Eli.”
Ty cocked his head at Zane. “Why didn't you?”
Zane didn't answer for a long moment as he stared across the field at the rain. Ty wondered what he was seeing. “Went to college instead.”
There was a sore spot there, one Ty kind of wanted to poke at. But he also wanted to talk to Zane again after this, so he let it slide. “Yeah, officers are boring.”
Zane huffed something that might almost have been a laugh. “Eli only ever had anything good to say about one officer. Captain…Turner, I think.”
Ty swallowed, hard. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, he was good.”
He felt a rough, warm hand rest on his and looked up, surprised, to see Zane looking at him with what seemed like genuine sympathy. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn't have…I know you two were close.”
For a moment, Ty forgot how to breathe, until he remembered that Eli had had to hold him back when Chas died…and that Zane had been flirting with him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We…we were.”
Suddenly, there was a brilliant, white-hot burst of lightning right over the field, accompanied by an echoing crackle and boom that seemed to go on and on. Caught between his memories of Chas and his memories of Eli, Ty panicked, thrown into a flashback faster than he'd ever been before, and his body took over. He grabbed Zane and pulled him to the ground, half-hiding under the seats and trying to cover their heads.
Zane's arm snaked tentatively around his shoulders, keeping both of them down, but Ty was still caught in Afghanistan and didn't register that it wasn't Nick or Eli shielding him from an attack. After a moment, though, after the thunder finally rumbled itself out, he became aware of a deep, warm voice murmuring gently in his ear.
“It's all right, Ty, you're all right.” Zane's voice slowly sank into the crevices of his brain. “You're not there, you're here. It's all right. You're safe. You're okay. I'm here.”
I'm here. Funny how those were the words that finally pulled him back.
“Zane,” Ty gasped. He clutched at Zane's shirt and lifted his head to look up at those dark brown eyes that had captivated him before.
Zane hesitated before touching Ty's cheek gently. “Better?”
“A little,” Ty said hoarsely. He didn't move to get up or pull away. “Thanks for…thanks.”
“Any time, Ty.”
Sudden suspicion gripped Ty. “How much of…this…is just 'cause you were friends with Eli?”
Zane's eyes widened slightly. “The fact that I knew what to do when you got caught in a flashback. The rest of it has to do with you.”
Something in Ty's chest he hadn't realized was tense uncoiled, and he took a deep breath as he slowly loosened his death grip on Zane's shirt. “Good,” he murmured. “Thank you, Zane.”
“Any time, Ty,” Zane repeated softly.
The look in his eyes kind of made Ty want to kiss him. He curbed the impulse, though, closing his eyes momentarily to take a deep, shuddering breath. The rain was still pounding overhead, but there didn't seem to be more thunder for the moment.
Abruptly, Ty realized that, while he could see Zane, he couldn't really see anything else. The field was no longer illuminated, nor was the jumbotron showing through the rain.
“Did the power go out?” he said, a little stupidly.
Zane looked up. “Lightning must've hit a transformer. Probably why it was so bright and so loud when it hit. Come on, they won't be resuming the game tonight.”
He rose to his feet and held out his hand. Ty reached up to take it and hesitated, momentarily arrested by Zane's face in the shadows. He was rarely honest with himself—that was what he had Nick for—but he was trying, because he'd promised Eli. And if he was being honest with himself, he'd fallen hard. Already.
Goddammit.
He shook off the moment and let Zane pull him to his feet. Once he was up, though, Zane didn't let go. He held on, staring into Ty's eyes, parted by no more than their clasped hands between their chests. Ty suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Grady!”
The slightly panicked sound of his name broke the spell cast by Zane's eyes. Ty turned to see his boys in the middle of the concourse, looking around for him. Nick's shirt was slightly awry, like he'd tucked and rolled, and Kelly's jeans were wet at the knees.
“Over here, O'Flaherty,” Ty called.
Nick turned his head, made eye contact, and visibly relaxed. He waved a hand in acknowledgment, then reached out for Kelly. Owen loosened his grip on an umbrella he'd obviously purchased before the power went out. Digger grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Ty was confused—until he realized he was still holding Zane's hand. Blushing, he let go. “Sorry.”
“It's okay.” Zane let go more slowly. “Are you all right?”
“As I'll ever be, I guess,” Ty said with a shrug.
Zane studied him carefully, then shook his head. “You'll be okay,” he said with certainty. “This won't last forever.”
Ty didn't know what to do with the feelings flooding through him. He'd spent his whole life being the man his father expected him to be—a leader, a good Marine, strong and unafraid. He'd swallowed his fear of the dark or tight places, hidden his feelings for men, and laughed in the face of danger even when he didn't find it funny. He was strong and tough and didn't need anyone else.
But Zane's words made him want to lean on the man, be held and comforted and kept safe. He didn't know what that said about him, and he almost didn't care. All of a sudden, he didn't want to leave.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Zane nodded, but he didn't say anything. His eyes never left Ty's face, though.
They stood for a few moments more, just watching one another. At last, Zane spoke quietly. “How long are you in town for?”
Ty winced. “We were leaving tomorrow. Thought we'd head west. Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, that kind of thing.”
“That'll be a nice trip.”
Ty shrugged. He'd been looking forward to it, up until now. Suddenly the thought of leaving left a hollow feeling in his stomach, as much as the idea of leaving his brothers.
Zane studied him a moment longer, then something in his face softened. “Well. You've got my number, now. I hope you'll use it.”
“I will,” Ty said, surprised when his voice came out a little hoarse. “You, too, okay?”
“I will.” Zane smiled. It made him look even more handsome. “Where are you parked?”
Ty gestured vaguely towards the third base gate. “You?”
“By the underpass,” Zane said, sounding regretful. “Well, I—be safe, okay, Ty?”
“I'll call you when we get where we're going tomorrow,” Ty said impulsively.
Zane's smile broadened. “I'd like that.” He held out his hand again.
Ty stared at it for a moment, then back up at Zane. Slowly, he reached for Zane's hand—then bypassed it entirely, took Zane's face in his hands, and kissed him.
Zane flailed for just a moment, obviously caught off-guard. But then he kissed Ty back, leaning into the kiss. His hands went to Ty's waist, holding him close, pulling him in. Ty dropped his own hands from Zane's face to his shoulders. The rain pounded around them, the wind rattled the surrounding signs, but Ty's world had shrunk to him and Zane and their kiss.
It seemed to last forever, and no more than a moment. Ty didn't know which one of them pulled back first, but he was pretty sure it was only because they needed air. He felt light-headed and dizzy.
“Sorry,” he said, a little hoarsely.
Zane shook his head. “Don't be. Unless you didn't mean it.”
There were no words for the feeling Zane's words stirred up. The closest Ty had ever come to it was when he'd made Recon—the same rush of adrenaline, the same fluttering of mingled excitement and nerves, the same certainty that his life had just taken a sharp turn for the better. The same knowledge that things would never be the same.
It was amazing. And at the same time, utterly terrifying.
“I meant it,” Ty said, his voice husky.
“Good.” Zane cupped Ty's jaw in one hand, rubbing his thumb against his cheek. “So did I.”
God, Ty wanted to kiss him again. But he knew, with complete certainty, that if he did, he'd never leave. He leaned into Zane's hand for just a moment, though.
“I'll be back,” he found himself saying.
Zane smiled again—a broad, warm smile that seemed to light up the stormy night. “I'll be waiting.”
Ty held out his hand, and this time, Zane took it. They clasped one another for a long moment before Ty reluctantly pulled away, sliding his fingers along Zane's to maintain contact as long as he could. Finally, he lost that connection and started to turn away.
“Ty?”
“Yeah?” Ty turned back without even thinking about it.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
Ty nodded, taking in Zane's appearance, thinking of what he'd said earlier. “You, too, huh?”
Zane lowered his head briefly, then looked Ty in the eye. “I promise.”
Ty swallowed, feeling the unexpected weight of Zane's promise. He simply nodded in response, then walked over to where his boys were, resisting the urge to look back.
“You done saying your goodbyes, Six?” Owen said, a little gruffly.
“For now,” Ty said softly. He tried to push the ache of leaving out of his mind.
Nick wrapped his free arm around Ty's shoulders, patting his chest for just a minute before stepping away. “C'mon, let's go find the car and get a hotel.”
“Yeah, I need a fucking shower,” Kelly muttered, running his hand through his hair.
The five of them started for the ramp that would lead them to the parking lot and Ty's beloved Bronco. They hadn't gone more than a few steps, though, when the buzz of Ty's phone surprised him. He fished it out, expecting it to be his brother or a weather alert.
Instead, it was from Zane, three simple words. [Miss you already.]
Ty stopped and stared at his phone. If this were a cheesy romance novel, he thought, or a rom-com, he would turn around to see Zane standing there watching. He would run back up the concourse and throw himself into Zane's arms, and they'd share another kiss as the rain poured around them and the credits rolled.
But this was real life, and if he turned around, all he'd see would be Zane disappearing down the staircase behind home plate—or worse, an empty concourse. He should just respond to the text and keep walking.
Instead, he looked back over his shoulder.
And there was Zane. Dark and silent, illuminated by emergency lights and occasional bursts of lightning, he stood exactly as Ty had pictured it, hands in his pockets as he watched what was left of Sidewinder walk away.
Ty dropped his phone. He didn't care. He gave into the impulse and ran back towards where Zane stood, even as Zane moved towards him. They met in the middle, and Ty threw himself at Zane.
Zane caught him, pulled him close, and kissed him again. Ty kissed him back, his arms around Zane's neck. After a minute, he shifted his grip so that he could sling Zane back onto his heels, just enough to force him to hold onto Ty for balance. Faintly, he could hear his brothers catcalling him.
He didn't care about that, either.
After a moment, he let Zane up and pulled back. “Miss you, too,” he said breathlessly.
Zane traced Ty's cheek lightly with one finger. “I'd love to ask you to stay,” he murmured. “But I know you can't. Not right now.”
Ty shook his head. “I would if I could.”
“I know.” Zane sighed, resting his forehead against Ty's for a moment. “Okay. You'd better go before this gets any harder.”
“Yeah…yeah.” Ty pulled away reluctantly. Zane did the same. “Bye, Zane.”
“Bye, Ty.” Zane smiled faintly at the rhyme.
This time, he was the one to walk away.
Ty watched him for a moment, then made himself turn and rejoin his brothers. Digger looked amused as he held out Ty's phone, which either miraculously hadn't broken or had been repaired quickly. “Never pegged you for the romantic type.”
“Yeah, well…” Ty shrugged uncomfortably and pocketed his phone. “Never felt like that before.”
Digger nodded. Something in his gaze told Ty he was thinking of his lost high school love. “I get it, man.”
Nick's eyes, too, were sympathetic. All he said, though, was, “Let's go.”
It was Ty's turn to drive, so once they'd dashed across the parking lot and piled into the truck, he tried to make himself focus. As the truck warmed up, though, he glanced up at the walls of the ballpark one last time.
“You'll be back,” Nick said softly from the passenger seat.
Ty glanced over at his best friend, then, suddenly, found himself smiling.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling out of the parking spot and out onto the road. “I will.”