Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(70)

“No, sir. I plan on joining the pro draft after graduation.”

“That would be a waste.” The words rush out of his wife’s mouth. The three of us look at her and she laughs nervously. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. I should introduce myself appropriately—I’m Dr. Carson, dean of the English Department at Spalding University.”

“Uh-huh.” A very un-grammatically-correct response. Why do I feel cornered?

“Mrs. Rowe, your English teacher, is a good friend of mine. She’s shown me some of your writing. You’re very talented. Both on the field and off. Spalding University offers a wonderful course study in Creative Writing and many of our students go on to pursue their master’s in Fine Arts.…”

Mr. Carson puts his hand on his wife’s arm.

“You’re recruiting him. I thought I won the coin toss.”

“You weren’t talking fast enough.” She pats the hand he just placed on her. “Spalding has a baseball team too.”

I fake laugh because everyone else does, but my uneasiness builds. Standing here listening to them makes me feel like I’m betraying my father.

Mr. Carson lets go of his wife. “Spalding is a Division Three school. The University of Louisville is Division One. Several of our players went on to be drafted into the pros. You have talent that can’t be taught, but you’ve got some tells on your pitches and some issues with your placement. My coaches can work with you and take your pitches to another level.

We’ll prepare you for the pros plus you’ll be walking away with a degree.”

“Are you offering me a scholarship?”

“Spalding will,” says Mrs. Carson. She smiles unrepentantly when her husband grimaces.

Mr. Carson exchanges a wary look with Coach. “I need to know if you’re interested. I have room for a pitcher on my team and I’m looking to offer a scholarship to someone during the early signing period in November.”

November, which means if I want to go to college, I have a little more than a month to decide. No pressure. Mr. and Mrs. Carson describe college life while I pretend to listen.

What will Dad say if he finds out? They both hand me cards, to Mr. Carson’s dismay, and say their goodbyes, leaving me and Coach alone.

I wait for the Carsons to be out of earshot before I ask the question bugging me. “Have you been talking to Mrs. Rowe?”

“We talked last month. I think it’s in your best interests to explore all of your options.”

“You don’t think I can make pros?” This is the man who has encouraged me almost as much as my dad.

“No,” he says slowly. “I believe you can, but I also know that your father isn’t presenting you with everything on the table. Your father’s a good man, but I consider you one of my own sons and I wouldn’t be helping you if I didn’t make that introduction.”

My world tips. Coach and Dad have always seen eye-to-eye. Why the change? “I’m not doing the writing competition.”

“Ryan,” Coach says with an exasperated sigh. “We’ll discuss this later. You have company.” His gaze wanders over my shoulder and dread settles in my gut.

Mark waits for me at the bottom of the bleachers while Beth remains in her seat at the top. I make a sweep of the area to be sure no one from town is around to see this reunion.

“Hey,” Mark says. “You played a hell of a game.”

I inhale deeply, attempting to find a center.

Mark left. Dad looked him straight in the eye and asked him to choose. My brother didn’t choose me. I asked him to stay and fight and he didn’t. I asked him to come home and he didn’t. And now he thinks he can show up here and everything will be fine. Guess what? It’s not fine. “What are you doing here?”

Mark plays linebacker for the University of Kentucky. In his freshman year, he gained twenty-five pounds of muscle. He’s a big son-of-a-bitch. “I want to talk, Ry.”

“I think your silence since this summer said everything.” I walk past him and gesture for Beth to come off the bleachers.

“I wanted to contact you, but each time I tried I couldn’t. I kept thinking about Mom and Dad and I needed space.”

Space. Why didn’t he just knee me in the groin? I throw out my arms. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Mark says loud enough for the few remaining spectators to hear.

“Yeah.” I keep walking. “It does.”

In lethargic steady strides, Beth’s feet plunk against the metal of the bleachers as she wanders down. “What are you doing?”

“We need to go. You need an hour, remember? And then we’re going out to dinner.”

“We have time. Go talk to your brother.”

“It’s fine, Beth.” Mark responds for me in a tone that indicates an apology. “I’m glad I got a chance to meet you. Don’t let Groveton smother you to death.”

She gives him one of her rare genuine smiles and I want to hit something—hard. “Good luck with your game next week.”

Mark shoves his hands into his jeans as he leaves. “You know where to find me when you’re ready, Ry.”

Beth watches him until he’s out of sight.

“What the f**k is wrong with you?”