brought us home. Scott was excited to hold a baby for the first time.”

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I wish she’d tell me she loves me, because I love her. She may be a drug addict and an alcoholic and she’s probably a whore, but she’s my mom. My mom.

“I loved to take you to the mall. People

would stop me and tell me what a beautiful baby you were. I’d let them hold you and

they’d try to guess your name. You were so cute and you never cried. You were my own personal baby doll.”

I wrap my arm around her and cringe when I feel her ribs poking through her skin. Mom sighs and continues, “I named you after my momma, hoping if I did she’d change her mind and love us both. My momma left me,

Elisabeth, but I never left you. Never.”

No, my mother never left me and that is the reason why I owe her. I grew up knowing the sacrifice she made on my behalf. I hold my breath to keep my body from shaking with

sobs. My mom needs me and I can’t be soft any longer. I did this to her. I left her behind.

“You’re still coming for me, right,

Elisabeth? On Monday?”

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Ryan

IN A WRINKLED POLO and a pair of jeans, Scott leans against the wall at the end of the

emergency room. He raises an eyebrow when he spots me, but then lowers it as if he’s too tired to care. “How did you know she was

here?”

“Your wife told me.” I came straight from the competition to Scott’s house so I could share my news and give Beth the roses. My world came crashing down when Allison said those three words: Beth’s mother overdosed.

I glance into the room and immediately look away. The sight of Beth curled up on the bed with her mother is too intimate for anyone to witness—including me. “How long has she

been in there?”

“A while.” Scott kneads his eyes with his fists, just like Beth does when she’s had all she HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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can handle. I see a lot of Beth in Scott.

“How did the writing competition go?”

And just like Beth, he’ll avoid the bleeding elephant in the room. “I won.”

If he weren’t so tired, the smile on his face would appear natural. “Congratulations. How did your team do against Eastwick?”

“They won too.” Just like I knew they

would. They’re a great team and I’m proud to be a part of them.

“Good.”

Difference between me and the Risks? I

have no problems discussing elephants. “How is Beth’s mother?”

“She’s alive.”

I pause. “How’s Beth?”

Scott shakes his head. Silence falls between us, but we both jerk our heads toward the room when we hear a muffled sob. Beth is breaking my heart and from the pain tearing across Scott’s face, she’s doing the same to his. More silence between us. A sniff comes from the room and my fingers itch to hold Beth and somehow right her world. I won’t let her use this as an excuse to run. I’ll talk to her and make her realize that now is the time to involve HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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Scott.

“Elisabeth says that you’re trying to decide between college and pro,” he says.

I nod. The choice is harder now that I’ve won the competition.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”

he asks.

I tilt my head up. “I’d love your advice.”

“Decide what baseball means to you,

because if you’re playing to make money, then you’ll be sadly disappointed. Only a small percent of drafted players ever play a day in the majors and you’d make more working at McDonald’s than you will playing in the

minors.”

A nurse passes between us and I let the back of my head hit the wall. “You went pro.”

“When I was eighteen, baseball was my only option. From what Elisabeth says you have several options. If baseball is what you want more than anything, then it will be worth the sacrifice. If going pro is a means to an end, I’m telling you the odds are against you.”

Then Scott gets that crazy gleam in his eye.

The gleam I understand. “If baseball is what you live by, breathe in, and die for, I’m telling HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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you that you’ll need the rush of running out onto that field. I’ve never experienced anything else like it.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. His comments are well received, but not helpful. I’m nowhere closer to making a decision. Out of the corner of my eye I peek into the room. Beth’s eyes meet mine.

“Spend time with her,” says Scott. “But

Elisabeth goes home with me.”

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Beth

SCOTT’S HAND ON MY BACK urges me forward

as I watch my aunt Shirley drive away with my mom. It’s late, I guess. The sun has set. Stars twinkle in the sky. Ryan has come and gone, though I could tell he didn’t want to leave. He loves me. I know that. I somehow wonder if his love is the only thing that’s kept me from losing my mind.

“Let’s go home,” Scott says.

Home. My room with my clothes and my

box of Lucky Charms in the pantry. Home. It can be my home if Scott will help my mom.

The red taillights of Shirley’s car disappear as she turns left onto the main street.

I exhale all the air out of my body and turn to Scott. “We need to talk.”

He nods in agreement as he hooks an arm

around my shoulder. Three months ago, I

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would have decked him for touching me.

Now, I welcome the embrace. With exhaustion weakening my knees, I lean into my uncle.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Scott continues to lead me to his car. “You’re dead on your feet.”

We’re halfway to his car when a moment of déjà vu hits me. Like I’m seeing something that I’ve seen before—a memory in slow

motion. I jerk my head to the right and realize that it’s not a memory, but reality.

I flinch to a stop and Scott halts along with me. “What’s wrong?”

“Isaiah,” I say not to Scott, but to myself.

My best friend is here.

Leaning against the hood of his black

Mustang, Isaiah watches Scott and me from a distance. He dips his head when he spots me looking at him. I step toward him and Scott grabs my arm. “No, Elisabeth.”

My head whips. “Just for a second. Just one second. Please.”

His grip loosens at the word please. When he finally releases me, I sway. I’m worn out—

physically, emotionally, but I dig for strength. I have to talk to Isaiah.

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to me meet me halfway, and speaks before I reach him. “Shirley told me about your mom.

Are you okay?”

His question stops me about a car’s distance from him. Hurt pours out of his eyes, and every muscle in my abdomen clenches. My close

proximity actually causes him pain and that fact slaps me in the face.

“Yes,” I answer, then think about it. “No.

She’s addicted to heroin.”

Isaiah glances away and a lead ball drops into my stomach. “You knew.”

He meets my eyes again. “She’s bad news,

Beth. You’re not going to change her.”

She will change. Scott will help me. I know it. “How are you?”

“I’m surviving.” Isaiah surveys the night sky, then pushes away from his car. “Have a nice life.”

“Isaiah…” I say, unsure of how to make us better. “This isn’t goodbye.”

“Yeah,” he answers as he unlocks his

driver’s-side door. “It is.”

“If you believed that you wouldn’t be here now.” I’m energized by a second wind as my words sink in. “We’re friends. For life.”

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He rubs a hand over his face before

sliding into his car, shutting the door, and turning over his engine with an angry growl.

The brief burst of energy drains from me, starting in my head and seeping out through my toes. It hurts to know that I’ve caused Isaiah pain, but someday he’ll really fall in love and discover that all we’ve ever been is friends.