my bad mood. To be honest, I’d already forgotten about the test. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to think about anything else.
A quick rap on my window made me jump. I turned to see my dad’s face staring at me, his expression twisted in confusion. I rolled it down, and he placed a hand on my side mirror.
“Why are you sitting out here instead of lifting inside?”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I was late.”
My dad cocked his head back in surprise. “You were late?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
That was the one question I’d been dreading more than any other. “I was having breakfast with Danika in the comm.”
He moved toward my window and leaned in, bracing himself on his forearms as I prepared myself for the lecture that I was sure would follow my answer. “Did you lose track of time?”
“No.”
My dad started laughing. “No? Not even gonna lie to me, son?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“Don’t most kids lie to their parents to stay out of trouble?”
“Am I in trouble?” I asked with a little more arrogance in my tone than I had intended because what was he going to do, ground me?
“Looks like it to me,” he said with a smug look on his face before pushing away.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just pissed off.”
“At who?”
“Myself,” I breathed out in frustration. “Who else would I be pissed at?”
He shrugged both shoulders. “Never know. You could be mad at Danika. Or Coach Jackson. Or the commissary for being open.”
I huffed out a quick laugh. “You and Mom raised me better than that. I don’t really deflect.”
“You can thank your mom for that one. Taking responsibility for your actions. Owning up to your mistakes and not blaming others. That’s all her,” he said with a smile, and I didn’t say anything. “How long did Coach kick you off for?”
“Just today.”
“That’s good,” he said with a nod before snapping his fingers. “Oh, hey, how was your test?”
“I got a B minus.”
My dad’s grin grew even wider. “Nice. Guess the tutoring’s working then,” he said before taking a few steps away. “Hey, Chance. Don’t beat yourself up too much for today. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Never,” I reassured him because I wouldn’t. What had happened this morning could never happen again, and I’d make sure of it.
“And don’t show up today. No matter how badly you want to, do not come to the field.”
“I know. I won’t.”
I spent the rest of the morning damn near sulking in my room until well past noon. It was weird as fuck, being home alone while the rest of my teammates were at the field, practicing. I wanted to be there. I needed to be there. I was supposed to be there.
But I wasn’t.
Grabbing a bat, I walked into the backyard where a tee and a small net were already set up. I might not be able to hit with my boys at the moment, but I could still practice at home. It wasn’t quite the same, but it would have to do. I’d swing this bat until my fingers bled.
It might have looked extreme to someone from the outside, but when you loved something as much as I loved baseball, you fought for it. And when you fucked up and had no one else to blame for your mistakes, you punished yourself for it.
My phone buzzed and kept buzzing. I wondered who was actually calling me instead of texting as I pulled it from my pocket. Cole’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Hey. I thought I’d swing by later. You gonna be home?”
“Yeah. I’m here all day. Come by anytime.”
“All right. That was easy. See you later,” he said with a laugh before ending the call.
Most of us guys didn’t tend to chitchat. We got straight to the point and then got on with our lives … with the exception of Mac. I was pretty sure that guy would talk on the phone for hours if you let him.
I kept hitting off the tee, even as sweat dripped down my forehead and burned my eyes. Only when my stomach growled and I felt a little dizzy on my feet did I stop. I needed food. And a shower.
By the time I got out of the shower, the house was loud, and I knew that my roommates were back. Toweling off my hair, I pulled on a pair of shorts and walked out of my room to find Cole sitting in the