I wiped the lone tear that fell, disheartened to witness this kind of interaction between them. “Sorry. It’s over here.” I led him to the far left side of the apartment. “Our room is on the other side of the kitchen. This is your bathroom, so make yourself at home.”
“I’ve never seen him like this. He didn’t even make eye contact with me,” Dean said with a wince.
“Told you it was bad.”
“Yeah, I know,” he breathed out. “I need a minute.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.” I turned to leave the room and ran straight into Melissa.
“Is this our room?” she asked, peering around me.
“Yep. Bathroom’s behind you. Make yourself at home.” I sucked in a deep breath, then leaned down to give her a hug and whispered, “Take care of Dean, please. Don’t fuck with him any more. You’re going to break him.”
Melissa coughed against me, shocked by my words. “Oh my God, shut up.”
“I’m not kidding. He needs you,” I said pointedly before walking away.
New York State of Mind
The next morning, I woke up with a back sore from sleeping on the couch two nights in a row. The constant barrage of conversation surrounding me reminded me that my brother and Melissa were here.
Great.
It had to be clear to everyone that I was avoiding my wife. My mind was spinning out of control with thoughts I never imagined having. The idea of my baseball career being over wrecked me.
Literally fucking ruined me.
I couldn’t function like a normal human being anymore. The thought turned me into an unrecognizable asshole. And the worst part was, I knew it. I was completely aware of my behavior, but it was like I couldn’t stop it. My head would tell my mouth not to say what it was about to say, but my mouth would say it anyway.
And even though I wanted to take it all back, I didn’t. It’s as if I started digging a hole and once I got in it, I couldn’t stop digging. I wanted to get low enough so that I could bury myself inside and never see the light of day again. That was what losing baseball felt like.
“Hey, asshole,” my little brother’s voice called out and I cleared my throat.
“What do you want, dick?”
“I want to sightsee and you’re taking me,” he demanded.
I almost fucking laughed. There was no way I was going to let Dean boss me around. “I’m sure Cassie would be better at that sort of thing.” Even that sentence came out sounding like a slam against her.
“I’m sure she would be too. But I want you to take me. You need to get out of this house. And you look like shit.”
Melissa laughed and I shot her an evil look. “Shut up, Fun-Size. Why are you even here?”
“Fuck you, Jack. I’m here because you’re being an asshole to my best friend. And someone has to give a shit about her.”
Her words stung, but I pretended not to be fazed. Each breath I sucked in pierced my heart more deeply. I had to stop hurting Cassie, but I couldn’t. Why couldn’t I just fucking stop? Pushing up from the couch, I glared at the three of them sitting at the table, then growled at Dean, “Be ready to leave in ten.”
“So, where we going?” my brother asked after we left the girls at the apartment, his face filled with excitement.
“You like it here, don’t you?” I teased, my mood already lifting. The trees were losing their leaves and the weather was changing. That was definitely one of the coolest things about living here—the feeling in the air as the seasons changed.
He looked around. “I’ve never seen anyplace like it.”
And he was right. There was nothing like this in Southern California, and New York did have a magical feel to it. That is, once you looked past all the dirt, trash, and large rats running around. Hell, even that shit didn’t bother me.
“Well, I haven’t seen much, to be honest,” I admitted. “I don’t have much time to play tourist, but you’ve got to see Central Park. It’s huge.” I punched my brother in the arm.
“How far is it? Do we drive there? Or walk? Or take the subway?”
I shook my head. “Shut the fuck up. Jesus, you’re like a damn chick. We’ll walk there. It’s nice out and that way you can see more. You can’t see shit if we’re underground in the train.”
Dean agreed and basically walked with his head up his ass, staring up and around the whole time. “Dude, you need to be aware of your surroundings. At least act like you’re paying attention or someone’s going to mug you,” I said, shaking my head.
“What?” He shot me an incredulous glance.
“It’s a big fucking city. Shit happens. Don’t act stupid.”
A group of young couples passed by us and I pulled my hat lower, trying to avoid being noticed. “I think that was Jack Carter! Oh my God,” a girl squawked from behind me.
“Shit,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
“That is him,” I heard another one say. “Look, he has a cast on and everything. Jack? Excuse me, Jack?” The sound of shoes slamming against the pavement stopped me.
I turned to face the group of twenty-somethings.
“Can we have your autograph?” one of the girls asked hopefully.
Lifting up my broken arm, I shrugged. “Can’t really sign anything with a broken hand, sorry.”