“He offered to ship it to me, and I said okay. Gave him a big tip.”

She laughed. “Nice. Did it just get here today?”

“A few days ago. After we eat, we can look through it if you want.” Anything was better than listening to her analyze my feelings—even looking at plastic trophies.

But actually, it turned out the box held some neat things. Notes my dad had taken during early coaching sessions with Virgil—things I’d internalized and had repeated to Chip. There’s an art to the mechanics. Focus on the process and not the result. You have to trust your pitches. A few of my favorite baseball cards, some of which were signed by the players.

“If you have a boy and he’s into baseball, he can have these,” I said to Sadie, who was kneeling next to me in the living room, looking through old photos.

“What if I have a girl who’s into baseball?”

I flicked her earlobe with a card. “She can have them too.”

“Hey, look at this one! I think I took it.”

I leaned over and saw a picture of April and me at the kitchen table. “Let me see that.” Grabbing it out of her hands, I studied it more closely. April was sitting how she always did, on her knees, her feet bare, her elbows on the table. She had a pen in her hand and her lower lip caught between her teeth, like she was concentrating hard on whatever she was writing. I, on the other hand, was looking directly at the camera, tilting the chair back on two legs and wearing my usual confident smirk. My hair was wet, as if I’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Here’s another one.” Sadie handed me a second photo, which looked as if it had been taken right after the first. I appeared exactly the same, but in this one, April was looking at me with undisguised adoration, still biting her bottom lip. Sadie giggled. “Her crush on you is pretty obvious there.”

“Yeah.” God, I missed her. She was never going to look at me that way ever again, and it was all my fault.

“Oh, look at this one of you, Dad, and Virgil Dean!” She showed me the picture she’d found, and I had to smile.

“That was the day of the draft. I don’t know who was more excited, Dad or Virgil.”

“I heard he’s in the hospital. Any word on how he’s doing?”

My gut clenched. “What?”

“Something about his heart maybe?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I jumped to my feet and started looking for my phone.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Don’t you talk to his son?”

“I haven’t. Not since I left.” I found my phone and started scrolling through my texts. Of course, there were a bunch from David, which I’d ignored because I’d thought he was contacting me about the incident. God, how self-centered could I be?

He’d left a voicemail too, which I immediately listened to. “Hey Tyler, it’s David Dean. It’s, uh, Wednesday. I just wanted to let you know that Dad’s in the hospital after a bad fall. We think he had some mini strokes earlier in the week, but they’re still running tests. He’s doing okay, but they’re worried about a bigger stroke in the near future, so they want to keep him here. Anyway, he’s in and out of consciousness, but he was asking for you at one point. I know you already went back to California, but maybe you could call him or something. Well, just wanted to let you know. Give me a call if you’d like an update.”

“Shit,” I said aloud.

“What is it?”

“It’s Virgil. He had some mini strokes, and they’re worried about a bigger one. He’s in the hospital, and he’s doing okay—at least, he was on Wednesday when David called me.” But it was Saturday already, and a lot could happen in four days. “I need to call him back.”

“Definitely. But it’s late out there. Almost eleven.”

“You’re right. Crap.” I grimaced. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Sadie continued pawing through the box for a few minutes, but before long she was yawning. “I guess I’ll go to bed. Is my room free?”

“Of course.” I showed her to the guest room, which Anna always kept perfectly made up, even though the only person who ever came to see me was Sadie, and she hadn’t visited in nearly a year. “Need anything?”

“Nope.” She set her shoulder bag on the floor and gave me a hug. “Just this.”

I didn’t sleep well, and before Sadie was even up, I went down to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, took it out by the pool and called David Dean. He picked up right away.

“Hello?”

“David, it’s Tyler Shaw.”

“Tyler. Good to hear from you.”

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s okay. Had a decent day yesterday.”

“Just decent?”

“Well, he’s ornery as hell about being in the hospital. Wants to be at home.”

“Sure.” I took a sip of coffee. “You said he asked for me?”

“Yeah, he did. He was a little incoherent that day, but we clearly heard him saying your name and requesting—not too politely—that you get your ass to practice.”

I had to laugh. “Sounds like Coach.”

“We think he was confused about what year it was, but he was definitely looking for you.” He paused. “If you were thinking of paying him a visit, I’d make it sooner rather than later.”

My heart lurched. “Is it that serious?”

“Yes. He’s got congestive heart failure.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” I made my decision in a snap. “Of course I’ll come. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks. I think it would mean a lot to him.” Another pause. “You know, Tyler, I’m not sure what happened before you left, but the team was really disappointed to find out you’d gone.”

I stiffened. “Sorry. I just . . . wanted to get out fast after what happened. I never should have thrown a punch at Brock.”

“Nah, you shouldn’t have, but he deserved it. Nearly every other parent on the team reached out to me and said they fully support you. Even a couple of them who were there when you hit him.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. They’d like you to come back. The offer’s still there if you’re interested.”

“That’s . . . that’s really cool of those parents. I had the impression some of them were talking to the press because they didn’t want me there.”

“As far as I know, only one gave an interview like that. And I bet you can guess which one.”

“Brock?”

“Yep.”

I wavered for a second, then came to my senses. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. I’m going to jump on a plane as soon as I can to come visit though.”

“Okay. Safe travels.”

We hung up and I lay down in one of the chairs overlooking my pool, bare feet crossed at the ankles. I wondered what April was doing right now, if she was walking at the track or getting ready for work, or maybe having breakfast at her sister’s café. Was she mad at me? Did she miss me like I missed her? Did she think about how close we’d come to being happy together and feel like I’d let her down?