Maddox: Then Miss Fennel is in the company of good people.

I chuckle and wipe at my nose with a tissue from the side table.

Kinsley: Thank you for the furniture as well.

Maddox: Ah, yeah, sure. No problem. I meant to get that to you a while back, but kind of lost track of everything.

Kinsley: You didn’t have to do that. We were okay with what we had.

Maddox: Yeah, but now you won’t get splinters from your furniture.

Kinsley: I guess not.

Maddox: Well, I’m glad you liked it. Not sure if Marcy told you, but we’re on an eleven-day road trip, so I won’t be in for a bit. Once I get back, I’ll be in to help out. I’ll bring some the guys too.

Kinsley: You don’t have to do that . . . and you don’t have to keep volunteering.

Maddox: I want to. Please . . . don’t take this away from me, Kinsley.

Oh God. I gasp and quickly type him back.

Kinsley: I’m not taking it away from you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated, that’s all.

Maddox: Volunteering gives me the opportunity to see Herman . . . and you. I promise I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or force you into anything you don’t want. I just . . . fuck, I just need to be close.

I press my hand to my mouth as tears fall, reading his text a few times, the blurriness in my eyes making it hard. Harsh realization hits me out of nowhere. I need him to be close too, but I’m also scared. Scared of what would happen if I let him get too close. Would I be able to withstand having him in my life again? Part of me feels like I’m not truly living without him by my side. The other part worries about the damage he could do, if I did let him back in again and he hurt me.

There would be no coming back from that.

But despite that, the reason I’m crying, the reason I’m overly emotional, is because all I can picture is that boy with the floppy hair, the crooked smile, and the sharp blue eyes, thanking me once again for letting him stay at my house another night. I can feel the warmth of his hug, the feel of his lips pressed against the top of my head. It’s the driving force behind my fingers as I text him back.

Kinsley: You can keep volunteering, Maddox.

Maddox: Thank you, Kinsley.

I sink down into the couch, put my phone to the side, and curl into Herman. I spoon him from behind and hold him for the rest of the night, until I fall asleep and wake up the next morning, a kink in my neck, and bloodshot eyes.

Two Days Later

Knock. Knock.

I look up from my computer and see Marcy standing in the doorway, holding a package. “A carrier just brought this to the office. It’s for . . . Herman.”

“Herman?” I ask, a pinch to my brow. And then I realize. I don’t have to think about who it’s from to know the sender.

Marcy sets the package on my desk and winks.

She is so favoring Maddox. I don’t care what she says.

Once she’s gone, I take a pair of scissors and open the package, only to bring it to the floor for Herman to look at. He barely lifts his head when I show him the package, and then just lies back down again.

“Your excitement is overwhelming,” I say as I pull back the sides of the carboard box, revealing a letter on top. Familiar handwriting. Yup, it’s from Maddox. I pick up the letter and read it out loud.

“Hey old man,

I realized out of all those intimate conversations we had on our walks, I said I’d get you some Rebels gear and then never did. I was a little preoccupied with your mom. But I’m making it up to you now. I have a game tonight. Think you can ask your mom to help you put on this gear and send me a pic? I’d be grateful. Hashtag Rebel at heart.

Love, Daddy (because apparently, that’s what you call me).

P.S. Kinsley, thanks for helping the old man out with his gear. There’s also a little something in the box for you.” I stare down at the note and then back at Herman. “He’s hitting me precisely in the feels, and he knows it.”

I set the letter on the desk and move the tissue paper out of the way to reveal a T-shirt jersey with Maddox’s last name and number on the back. When I pull it out, I realize it’s made for a dog, and I nearly pass out from how adorable it is. Underneath it is a Rebels dog collar and bandana.

“Oh, you’re going to be so handsome.” When I reach the bottom, I spot a drawing. It’s of me and Herman. I’m holding up his ear and laughing while Herman’s droopy face stares straight ahead. Scribbled in his signature art stamp is Maddox’s name.

“Oh God,” I whisper, bringing it closer and taking in the strokes on the paper, running my fingers over the ink, knowing each scratch of his pen had purpose.

I reach for my phone and text him quickly before I lose the nerve.

Kinsley: Got the package. Thank you. The picture . . . well, it means a lot to me, so thank you.

He types back immediately, most likely just hanging out in the locker room, getting ready for the game.

Maddox: You’re welcome. Just started drawing again, had a bit of a drought there for a while. It was the first thing I drew since . . . well, in a while. How does our man look?

Our man.

It all feels so . . . normal, talking to Maddox like this, referring to Herman as ours. It’s confusing, but . . . addicting.

Kinsley: I haven’t put everything on him yet, but when I do, I’ll send you a pic.

Maddox: Thank you. Think you’ll turn the game on for him?

Kinsley: I can.

Maddox: Cool. Thanks, Kinny.

Kinsley: Of course.

I set my phone down and go back to work, my heart beating faster than before as I finish out my day. When we get home, I put Herman in his new gear and I nearly die laughing. He’s decked out in Rebels gear but still has the same bored look on his face, as if he couldn’t care less. I take a picture of him and then send it to Maddox.

Kinsley: #Thrilled

The game doesn’t start for an hour, which means Maddox is probably fueling up with some food right now.

Maddox: Oh fuck, you’re going to have to split time with this guy as screensaver and wallpaper on my phone. That’s the best pic ever.

I’m still his wallpaper on his phone? Joy erupts inside me. Maybe I wasn’t a throwaway for him. Maybe he’s truly sorry for what happened and regretful. Maybe he’s believing in himself and accepting that his past doesn’t have to dictate his future.

Maybe, just maybe he did love me as much as I loved him . . . love him.

Kinsley: I think it might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.

Maddox: Second-best thing in my mind. I think you know the first.

Oh God, he’s flirting, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to survive it.

Divert, divert.

Kinsley: Are you ready for the game tonight? Not quite sure where you are in the playoff race.

Maddox: Ready. We just need four more wins to clinch our division. Hoping one of those games is tonight. I’m feeling the spin off the seams pretty well.

Kinsley: That’s good. Well . . . good luck.

Maddox: Thanks, Kinny. Have a good night and thanks for letting Herman watch the game.

Kinsley: Of course.

Letting Herman watch the game. Yeah right.

I’m still reeling over last night’s game and the three to zero win for the Rebels. Maddox dominated on the mound, throwing a shutout for nine innings. He was untouchable. The announcers could not stop talking about his spin, the velocity, his intensity, and focus. He was interviewed earlier in the day where he addressed his recent fights, and they showed it during the game. He was open and unwavering in his interview, letting the fans know that he was in a dark place that he wasn’t proud of. He let his past demons control his present actions, and it was a version of himself he was disgusted with. He admitted to getting in fights with teammates, to abusing alcohol to help him cope, and it took him a few weeks to realize that he was not only hurting himself, but his teammates, fans, and loved ones.

The confession was heartbreaking and while I watched it, I felt my broken heart start to piece itself back together every time he looked at the camera. It almost felt like he was talking directly to me.

He thanked Cory, Lincoln, and Jason on camera for helping him get straight and for keeping an eye on him. He said he was focused on getting his life straight, even if it’s not the same as before. If it’s a semblance of what he had, he’d be happy.

The announcers cut back to the game and spoke highly of Maddox, of his work ethic, and loyalty to the team.

Before I knew it, I was glued to the TV, watching every pitch, memorizing his every movement, and by the fourth inning, I finally saw it.

It took me a bit, but when I saw it, I broke down into a pile of emotion, on the floor of the apartment.