I swung the sledgehammer with vengeance, feeling a burst of satisfaction when the concrete developed large cracks as a result. The sun was brutal once again, beating down on my bare arms and the back of my neck, telling me I was probably going to have a sunburn by the end of the day, but I paid it no mind. These were the days I enjoyed my job, the back breaking labor helping me air out my frustrations about everything that was plaguing my mind; my parents, and my dad just turning up, but mainly what had happened with Cara last night.

After my father had left, I’d drank more than I would normally drink and passed out. I woke and was confronted with a raging headache, an equally raging hard-on, and a full bladder. While I’d gone to sleep with bitter thoughts of my dad, my dreams had been filled with her and the things I would have done to pleasure her had she not found that yearbook. I would have woken up a hell of a lot happier, too, that was a guarantee.

Why the hell did I keep that stupid book around anyway? It wasn’t like I could change the past by flicking through the pages. And yet I still gravitated to it every so often. I’d stare longingly at pictures of a life that was lost, when I was last truly happy. There had been a few times when I’d been angry at myself and I’d tossed the book into the trash, determined to leave it there. But every time I did, minutes later I’d fish it back out again.

“Dude, what did that concrete ever do to you? You’re killing it.”

I turned to see Darren walking my way, a grin on his face as he looked at the hole I had created with the sledgehammer. “That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

He wiped his hands on his jeans and gave me a look. “Break it into pieces yeah, not pulverize it into a fine powder that blinds the rest of us.”

I shrugged.

“How did it go last night?”

“It was a disaster,” I admitted, stripping off my gloves so that I could grab my water bottle. “We had a disagreement and she left.”

“What? You forced me out of my own home and you didn’t even get any? Man you must be losing your touch,” Darren said, shaking his head. “No wonder you are in a pissy mood today.”

“I am not,” I said darkly, pouring the water in my mouth. Was there something wrong with keeping to myself for a few hours? My thoughts were too jumbled to spend time with anyone this morning. Whether I wanted to or not, I had a lot to think about, ‘cause any attempt to put it all to the back of my mind wasn’t working. It would be easier to wipe my parents out of my life for good, but seeing my dad again had made me realize how truly alone I was.

The same could be said for Cara. I could forget I had ever laid eyes on her at the bar and move on, but there was something about her that I just couldn’t shake. No doubt she wanted nothing to do with me ever again after last night. Hell, she probably thought I was some weirdo or serial killer… I should’ve just told her about it all. But still, trust was on short supply at the moment.

“Could have fooled me,” Darren said with an arched brow. “Hey listen, while you are talking to me, I found out some info that I think you will be interested in.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, finishing up my water and slipping on my gloves. “What’s that?”

“The coach of that Little League team can’t come back at all this season. The kids are raving over you, man, and the parents want you to continue to be the coach until the end of the season.”

I thought about the kids, how hard they were working toward their first game and grinned, the only bright part of my life right now.

At first I would have said hell no and handed them off to someone else, but getting back into the game, even on such a minuscule level, had shown me how much I missed it. I had enjoyed myself, enjoyed helping those kids, too.

What else did I have to do anyway? Cara wasn’t going to talk to me and all I had was the bar, which was no fun anymore now that she had ruined that for me, too. Why couldn’t I get her out of my head?

Maybe she would turn up at the practice games, and maybe then I could apologize yet again. Third time lucky? She had to feel the fire that was between us, right? She would come back even though I still had no idea why she’d been there in the first place… it wasn’t for me, that was for sure. And if she did turn up, maybe I could find a way to tell her, to trust her with everything…

“Fine, sure, whatever,” I said nonchalantly, picking up my hammer. “I’ll keep doing it.”

I dropped all of the equipment in the middle of the field, watching as the kids ran to it, eager to get started. I was starting to recognize their faces now, remembering the kid’s names with ease. That meant I was getting used to this chaos. What the hell, I fucking loved it.

“All right!” I yelled, clapping my hands. “Sprints to center field, go!”

A chorus of groans met my demand, but the kids lined up at the mound and they started their sprints, each one trying to beat the other. I knew the parents would be grateful to me if I got them all dog-tired and worn out. After I was done they’d sleep well, but at the same time, we’d be building up their endurance and stamina, which I believed went a long way in the sport. Though it didn’t have the same physicality as football or soccer did, the long hours out on the field were enough to drain anyone.

“You know you’re really good at this coaching thing,” one of the dads remarked as he came to stand beside me. “All my son talks about now is practice. You’ve made him love the game and we haven’t even started the season properly yet.”

“Either they like it or they hate it,” I said with a shrug, not wanting the praise to go to my head.

“Well Kevin definitely likes it,” the dad said with a grin. “And I am ecstatic. I played ball in high school and I tell you we’ve tried every sport with him hoping something would fit. And until I put him in this league he was miserable. Seriously, you should do this more. You’re the best coach I’ve seen anyway, you must have played in your day too, huh?”

I didn’t say anything and gave him a slight nod, my eyes on the kids as they completed their second lap. “Better go make them hustle,” I said and walked away from the dad. I didn’t want him asking any more questions that I could and would not answer.

I drew closer to the kids shouting encouragement here and there at those who were lagging behind. Once the three laps were up they knew to hold up and wait to see if they had to do any more. It was a regimen I knew all too well.

“Come on, Harris! Pick your ass up and do another!”

I groaned as I heard my name being called and I sprinted out to the field, wondering why I had to run when all I did was stand on the mound. I wasn’t covering for outfield and I didn’t bat very often but for some reason coach made me do everything all the other players did.

“Come on you can do it,” Lance, our centerfielder said as he jogged past. “Or we’re going to have to start over.”

I picked up my speed, determined to not be the last one in. My breathing was harsh in my ears as I hoofed it back to the mound, grinning as I beat the catcher by a foot.

“Good job, guys,” coach said as he looked at us from under the brim of his cap. “Remember, we play the top team in the league tomorrow. You all have to be on your game. No drinking or smoking tonight. Get your game face on or I will bench your ass. Huddle up!”

We all huddled up and did our little ritual after a hard day’s practice, ending in a yell before it let up. I picked up my bag, feeling the pull in my legs from the running. It felt damn good, but I hoped I could move in the morning.

“I’m depending on you, Harris,” the coach said as he walked past. I nodded, glad that I had his attention. Tomorrow there would be a ton of scouts at the game for me to show my talents off to, and I expected the college offers would start pouring in if I could reproduce my signature curveball everyone was so excited about.

Walking over to my truck, I noticed I was blocked in by a darkly tinted, four-door model, reminding me of those unmarked cop cars I’d seen on TV. The driver’s side door opened and a man stepped out, dressed in a dark suit that matched his car, despite the warm afternoon. “Marcus Harris?” he asked as I threw my bag in the bed of my truck, removing my cleats and throwing them in as well.

“Yeah,” I answered, looking up at him. “What do you want?”

He pulled out a wallet, flipping it open so that I could see the starred shield on the inside. I frowned. What had I done? “I’m Deputy Marshal Parsons. I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” I asked, tamping down the worry and concern. Marshal? Did that mean he was in the FBI? No, that was something else entirely. My mind was scrambling trying to figure out what he wanted with me.

The deputy tucked the wallet back into his suit coat. “I can explain that on the way. Please get in.”

The guy was big and I saw no reason to flee… that would only get me in more trouble, surely? Even though I still had no idea what this was about.

“Er, ok.” I grabbed my sneakers and walked over to the car as he opened the passenger door motioning for me to get in. Whatever the hell it was, he better hurry. I had chemistry homework to do and Anna to call.

I shook off the memory, whistling with my fingers for the kids to come to the mound. That had been the day that had started the downward tumble of my life. The day I wished I had refused to get in that car. I should’ve run away. If I hadn’t gone with Parsons maybe my life would be a hell of a lot different than it was now.