Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling as I follow Slade down the steps of the Wasp’s stadium. My hand is in his and I’m aware of the stares we’re receiving from the crowd. It’s a tangible force I can feel as we descend to the seats Slade’s parents have for every home game.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assures me as we make it down to where they are.

His mom, Janice, looks up at us, a big smile spreading across her face. “Malone, it’s so good to see you.” She stands up, opening her arms and embraces me tightly. 

Janice always treated me like her own, and I’ve missed her. One of the things I’m most sad about is the fact I lost touch with her. “It’s good to see you too, hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all, Steve couldn’t come to this game, he’s working today, so there was an extra seat,” she mentions Slade’s dad. “I’m more than happy for you to take it.”

She lets me go, then quickly takes Slade into her arms. Just looking at her, I can tell she’s happy to have him home, for however long he’s here.

“You ladies want something to drink? I’m going to get myself something.”

Armed with our orders, he takes the stairs two at a time back up, causing me to wince and hoping he knows what he’s doing. When we have a seat, I wait for the awkwardness to come, but it doesn’t.

“I’m so glad you’re home, I know your mom has missed you so much.” Janice pats my hand as she leans into the seat beside me.

“It’s good to be home.”

Those words aren’t a lie, which is surprising to me since I’d been so reluctant to come back home in the first place. The truth is, I’m finding an identity here I never had before - a place where I’m valued, people know my name and they appreciate my work. In L.A., that wasn’t something I got on a human, down-to-earth level. It was always about being better than everyone else, being the best at what you did. There’s not that struggle here. Here it’s about working hard and putting out the best product you can.

In Willow’s Gap there aren’t smoke and mirrors. Not everyone who walks around downtown knows how to contour their cheekbones, they don’t wear hair extensions, and they don’t go get lip injections on lunch. Here, everything is real. I’m beginning to see that so am I.

“How’s Slater doing? He never tells us and we hardly ever see him. He’s either rehabbing or with you. I’m worried about him.” She wrings her hands in her lap. “What if he doesn’t recover completely from this? How will he handle it? Who will be there to help him? I hope I’m not stepping on any toes when I say I hope it’s you.”

Giving her a smile, I speak softly. “I hope it’s me too, but we’re still new to this, still trying to figure out where we fit – if we even do.”

“You fit; I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time, Malone. Money and fame only get you so far. There’s not been a real smile on his face for years.”

She excuses herself to go talk to a friend of hers, leaving me alone. Intrigued by her statement, I pull my phone out of my pocket and do a quick search of Savage Harlow. Immediately a large amount of pictures pop up, some from when he’s playing, some posed, some from red carpet events he’s done. All of them have one thing in common – the fake smile. She’s right, it doesn’t reach his eyes, doesn’t make the dimple he sometimes has in his cheek pop. He’s been happy, but he’s not been happy, and I can’t help but feel like I’m a source of that.

“Here ya go.” He hands me an ice cold lemonade as he has a seat next to me. “Are you checkin’ out how hot I am? Getting you a new lock screen for your phone?” he teases as he glances down.

“Funny, Slade. Real funny.” I lean into his shoulder, resting my head there.

“I thought so.” He brings his arm around me, and even in the heat I love that he’s being touchy with me. 

We watch the game for a full inning, cheering on Crafton when he comes up to bat and when he makes an amazing play at third. It’s a full inning before I work up the nerve to ask him what I really want to.

“Why aren’t you really happy, Slade?”

I almost drop the bottle of water I’m holding when she asks me the question that’s obviously been weighing on her for a while. “I am.” I give her my best smile.

“You may be now, but you haven’t been.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, showing me pages and pages of pictures of myself.

“Come with me.” I grab her hand. “We’ll be right back, Mom.”

Not even glancing around to see who might be watching, I pull us through the crowd of people to where we stand in the walkway, farthest away from the seats. There’s a breeze blowing, lifting her shirt slightly, throwing a piece of her hair into my face. Pushing it back, I turn to face her, leaning against the railing. 

“Life is hard sometimes, sweetness.”

She laughs, long and throaty. “That’s your epiphany, Slade? Life is hard? I’m living in my teenage bedroom. I think I got that.”

“My life is hard in ways others can’t imagine.” I fold my arms across my chest. “There are so many parts of my life that come together to make a whole. If I fuck up, or make a mistake in choosing to endorse something, it affects everyone I have on my payroll. It affects my teammates, my family, and by extension, you. That’s a lot for a man to carry. The burden sometimes makes the happiness harder to have. Doesn’t mean I’d change much about my life, but you want me honest? This is me honest.”

I wait, wondering what she’s going to say, wondering if I’ve laid too much out there for her. “You’ve got me.”

“Do I? Do I really? Do I trust you with all this shit? There’s so much in my head and in my heart, it keeps me awake at night, stresses me the fuck out, and makes me wonder if I’m doing anything right.”

She comes to stand in front of me, weaseling her way between my legs, folding herself around my body. “You’re doing it all right. I want you to know I see how hard you’re working to come back, how much you’re involved in your recovery. Not everyone would be like you.”

“Anyone who wants to come back and be the best player they can be, would,” I argue. “But honestly that has nothing to do with my happiness.”

“What does? What makes your smile go all the way to your eyes? What makes you feel a warmth you don’t get anywhere else? What do you think about when you’re lonely?”

Killing me, she’s fucking killing me. The bad part about it? She doesn’t get it. Truly doesn’t get it. I’m beginning to see why she ran in the first place. It’s obvious as fuck that she has no idea how much I care about her, how much she means to me.

“You, sweetness. I think of you. All day. Every day. Even when I should be concentrating on a million other things, you’re on my mind.”

She grabs hold of my shirt, pulling her body into mine, biting her lip as she gazes up at me with those green eyes of hers. “Really?”

“Really. You’re what makes the smile reach my eyes, you’re what gets me through the hardest of the days. Always have been,” I admit, fisting her hair. “Always have been, even when I didn’t want you to, which is why it’ll fuckin’ kill me if this ends badly.”

“I don’t want it to end badly,” she whispers as she stands up on tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine. “Promise me you’ll give me a chance in the end, if I freeze, promise me you’ll give me a chance.”

“Why would you freeze?” Just the thought of it makes my heart still, my stomach clench.

“Because I’m a mess. I still need to figure out my life, and I would hate for people to think that I got back with you after you found fame because I want the money and notoriety too. I need to prove that I’m worth it. For you and for me. But I want to do that, with you and for you. Because I want to be the better person this time. The person who’s not afraid.”

The fact that she even thinks that? Makes my chest throb. “You’re one of the smartest people I know, and if other people can’t see that, then fuck them.”

“Fuck them?” she grins.

“Fuck. Them. I promise, I won’t let you freeze.”

She throws her head back laughing as we hear the crack of a bat. Turning around, I see my brother launch one over the right field wall. “Yeah, Six!!” I hoot and holler for him, hoping he knows how much I appreciate this time I’m getting to spend.

“Let’s go back.” She tilts her head to where my mom is still sitting by herself. “And promise me, at least for the rest of the day, these smiles of yours will be the real thing.”

“Always the real thing with you, sweetness. Always.”