I felt something cold being pressed against my hand.

I slipped off my sunglasses, looking up to see Clayton handing me an iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts.

I pushed myself vertical, raising my eyebrows at him.

He didn't say anything, instead just leaving my coffee on the side of my lounge chair before taking a chair next to me, laying out for himself.

I knew that's the most of an apology I was going to get from him, so I took my coffee and took a long slurp, enjoying the refreshing taste against the Florida heat.

Bryce had to report out to the fields early this morning, so I'd taken to lying out by the pool to enjoy some of Florida's summer sun before heading down to the baseball fields myself.

It being the weekend, Clayton didn't have practice. So he'd stayed the night in the hotel last night, but I hadn't heard heads or tails from him. Which wasn't unusual, it's not like we were best friends or anything. But I figured he'd be down at the fields with the team, not lying out by the pool.

"Why aren't you out at the fields?" I asked Clayton, glancing over at him.

"Overslept," he answered, before taking another sip of his coffee.

He was wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, clearly not dressed for the pool.

Silence settled between us, and I took another sip of my coffee before lying back down, resting my cup on the floor next to me.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Clayton muttered, after a few more minutes of silence.

I glanced over at him in surprise.

Those were the last words I expected to hear from Clayton Johnson.

"I know you were childishly excited over Disney yesterday, for whatever reason, and I'm sorry that I ruined that for you," Clayton continued, a pensive expression on his face. "So are we good?"

I pushed myself vertical again, the shock wearing off.

Clayton Johnson just apologized to me.

"Um, yeah. Okay I guess."

"Great," he said, pushing himself up out of the lounge chair. "Glad we could have this talk."

"Did Bryce ask you to apologize to me?" I questioned.

"Uh, no," Clayton said, stopping to stare at me. "I'm not apathetic, despite what you may think. I do feel regret for ruining your day yesterday."

I slowly nodded.

He took another long sip of his coffee. "Disney's just my own personal hellhole. So if you don't mind, I'd rather stop talking about it."

"But why go?" I pressed. "If you hate it so much."

He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "Because Bryce is my best friend."

Okay?

He cleared his throat again. "Because yesterday was the only day I got to spend with Bryce, even if it was at Disney. I thought I could get through it, clearly I was wrong. Sorry." And then he turned and briskly walked away.

"Clayton!" I called, jumping to my feet.

I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my bikini-clad body before chasing after him.

"Clayton!" I called again, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him to face me.

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

"You don't have to act so uncomfortable around me," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm not going to judge you or anything. I just wanted to talk."

"Ever stop and think that everything isn't about you?" he snapped, his voice dripping with venom.

His tone caused me to take a step back.

"I told you that I was uncomfortable on the subject," Clayton said, his tone less venomous. "That's more than I should've."

"I just wanted to talk," I repeated. "I mean, despite my best efforts, you remain Bryce's best friend."

He let out a humorless chuckle.

"So I'm just trying to figure everything out."

"Well stop," Clayton suggested. "I'm not looking to be best friends."

"Well neither am I. As I said, I'm just looking to figure things out." I cleared my throat, tightening my arms around my chest. "Bryce has to get tired of constantly playing martyr between us."

Clayton didn't comment.

"So the least we could do is tell him that we talked, if nothing else then for his sake."

"I apologized," Clayton reminded me, emotionlessly.

"And that's a start."

We ended up at a café table out by the pool deck.

"Can I start by asking you a simple question?" I asked.

"It's probably not simple, but you can try," Clayton responded.

He was staring out towards the pool, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. But his eyes flickered towards me as he waited for what I had to say.

"Why do you still call Clyde your dad?"

He stiffened, his eyes flickering away from me again. "As I said, it's probably not simple," he said, in a tight voice.

"Okay, then tell me something that's simple."

"Nothing about my life is simple."

This was going to be harder than I originally thought.

Silence lapsed between us for a few moments, before Clayton glanced over at me again.

"I call him my dad," Clayton said, in a quiet voice, "because that's the respectful thing to do."

My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Why respect the man that didn't respect you?

And so I asked the question aloud.

"Because..." he trailed off, biting his bottom lip. "Because it's complicated."

"Everything is complicated," I filled in.

"Pretty much," he muttered. "It's hard to explain. It's even harder to understand."

And so I let it go.

Because Clayton didn't even have to tell me that much, but he did. And that was a start.

"Anything else?" he asked, with a long sigh.

"Your name."

"My name? Are you talking about my last name?"

I shook my head. "Figured that one out on my own. Simmons was Clyde's last name. Johnson was Taylor's. You changed it."

He nodded.

"I'm talking about your name, Clayton."

He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not following.

"You get this sour look whenever someone asks to call you Clay or gives you a different nickname," I pointed out.

Immediately his face soured.

"Like that."

"I already told you," he said, in a deep voice, "I'm not a piece of dirt to be stepped on. So don't call me Clay."

"And that's the whole story?"

He was silent.

"That's what I thought."

He was silent for a few more moments, before he abruptly stood up, shoving his chair back behind him. "We're going to be late to the fields."

We weren't.

"You're probably right."

~*~

I waved at Ms. Anderson as I waited in line at the concession stands.

Steven and Bryce weren't playing each other today.

If they both won their games today, they'd face each other in the Championship game tomorrow.

Bryce was pitching a few innings in the first game today, and then he didn't have any innings scheduled for the second game.

He wanted to pitch as much as possible tomorrow against Steven.

And he wanted to take it easy this weekend, seeing as though he was on Chemo.

It was just a big tournament, with a lot of college scouts, so he wanted to showoff without going overboard.

I got my M&M's before heading over to the stands, taking a seat on the bottom row.

Bryce was out on the field, throwing a few warm-up pitches, alongside Preston, the second-string pitcher, and Austin. Austin wasn't necessarily part of the team, but they'd recruited him for this tournament.

Clayton was over next to the dugout, chatting with the coaches.

Which just left me. Alone. In the stands.

Regina was going to fly in tonight, and she'd be here for the Championship game tomorrow, but that didn't help me out today.

I crossed my right leg over my left, shaking a couple of M&M's out of the pack as I waited for the game to start, my eyes flickering around the diamond in boredom.

I should've laid out by the pool for a few extra minutes, worked on my summer tan.

Eventually the game started up, but Bryce didn't see much action. He was in the batting line up, fifth hitter. But he wasn't pitching today.

We won, but it was more than boring for me.

I only came out here to support Bryce, because in all honesty what did I care about baseball?

And so when he didn't get to play much, I found myself checking my phone as the time slowly ticked by, the game dragging on.

As Bryce came out of the dugout, a wet towel draped around his the back of his sweaty neck, I rose up on my toes, kissing his sweat-soaked cheek.

I didn't wrap my arms around him though. Because his shirt was literally sticking to him.

"It's ridiculously hot out here," Bryce informed me, in a raspy voice. "Who would actually want to live here?"

"I honestly don't know," I admitted. "Even just sitting in the stands was brutal."

"Let's just get somewhere cool."

He rode back to the hotel with me, stripping his sweaty shirt in my hotel room and hopping in a cold shower.

I went down the hall and threw his sweaty baseball uniform in the coin-fed dryer. We didn't have time to wash it before the next game, but at least it would be dry.

When I got back to my hotel room, Bryce was asleep on my hotel bed. He hadn't bothered to get dressed, a white towel wrapped around the bottom half of his body and his hair still wet from his shower.

I flipped off the lights in the room, taking my phone and curling up in the armchair tucked away in the corner.

Bryce slept almost until it was time to get ready until his next game, and I went and retrieved his baseball uniform as he was waking up.

"How're you feeling?" I asked him, kissing his cheek.

He rested his head against my shoulder as I sat down on the bed next to him.

"Pretty shitty," he admitted, his eyes flickering shut again.

It's got to be the Chemo.

"Maybe you should sit the next game out," I suggested.

"I'm pitching."

Pretty sure he wouldn't be much of an asset like this, but I didn't comment aloud.

"I'm just saying that maybe you should reconsider."

"This tournament is too important."

"As is your health."

He didn't argue any further, his head still resting on my shoulder.

"Can't you just pep talk me or something?" Bryce questioned, glancing up at me. "Tell me that I'm like the Little Engine That Could, or whatever the name of that train is that couldn't get up that stupid mountain?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Okay." I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Bryce Harrison, you're a brightly lit star. Don't let your light dim because of this obstacle. Get out there and shine."

He laughed, pressing his face deeper into my shoulder. "I love you Sophie Allen."

"I love you too you goofball."

He pressed his lips against my mine briefly before standing up, grabbing his baseball uniform off the side of the bed. He paused when he felt that they were warm.

"Was it really that hot out?" he questioned. "My uniform is still hot."

"I put it in the dryer you numskull," I said, throwing my head back in laughter. "I knew we wouldn't have time to wash it between games, but I figured it's better than a sweaty uniform."

A small smile spread across his face. "You're too good to me."

"Sometimes," I said, with a wink.

He kissed me again before heading into the bathroom, coming back out in his baseball uniform. "Okay, let's do this."

~*~

The second game went just as I predicted.

Bryce only pitched a couple innings, because he wanted to pitch the majority tomorrow against Steven.

But he wasn't in the batting order this game.

Bryce pitched an impressive game though. I couldn't tell the college scouts in the stands, but I know that the people around me were commenting on Bryce's performance.

Which made my heart swell up with pride.

Because that's my boyfriend.

Preston came out to pitch in the third inning, which caused some disappointment in the stands after the performance that Bryce just gave.

I couldn't help but smirk.

Clayton came out into the stands, and I raised an eyebrow at him. Because he's usually in the dugout with the team, and he often acts as third baseman coach during the game.

"We need a cold bottle of water," Clayton informed me.

"Everything okay?"

He nodded, and I went over to the concession stands and requested a cold bottle of water for the team.

They gave me half of a case, and I returned it to Clayton.

I resumed watching the game, my eyes drifting over to the dugout every few minutes to see if I could see any action.

But I was sitting directly behind it, which meant that I couldn't see what was happening inside.

Preston did a decent job on the mound. But he didn't compare to Bryce, which really only helped Bryce's standings.

I really wish I knew the college scouts in the stands right now.

As the next inning rolled around, Austin took the mound to pitch, which didn't surprise me. We were ahead, but our lead wasn't significant. And Preston's pitching probably hadn't impressed the coaches enough to put him back up on the mound in such a crucial inning.

They could always put Bryce back out.

And then halfway through the inning there was a commotion in the dugout.

I turned to see one of the players come out, leaning over the fence before puking.

I felt my stomach churning.

I didn't want that to be Bryce. That had to be anyone but Bryce.

But it was hard to tell with his head ducked down, the bill of his hat covering his face.

And then Clayton come out of the dugout, a bottle of water in hand.

It still could be someone else.

And then Bryce lifted his head, accepting the bottle of water as the coach called for a medic.

I immediately rose to my feet, Clayton glancing up at me as I made my way over, the medic just ahead of me.

Bryce was puking again as I reached him, the medic draping a cold towel across the back of his neck.

"We need to get him out of the heat," the medic advised the coach. "Probably just heat exhaustion."

The coach exchanged glances with Clayton.

"Take him back on the hotel shuttle," the coach said to Clayton. "Call his mom. As soon as the game's over, I'll meet you there and we'll discuss what further action to take."

Clayton nodded, glancing over at me as though he was questioning if I was coming too.

I immediately nodded.

I had no interest in this stupid game. Bryce was my only concern.

I knew playing today was a terrible idea.

"I can't believe I'm carrying you again," Clayton commented to Bryce, as he draped one of Bryce's arms around his shoulders.

"Do you need to be reminded of middle school?" Bryce asked him, his voice hoarse.

"Fuck off," Clayton muttered.

"Then stop complaining."

The hotel shuttle took us back, and we ended up back in my hotel room.

Bryce took another cold shower, washing the Florida heat off of him, before changing into a pair of gym shorts and sprawling out on my bed.

"I puked in front of all those people," Bryce moaned, his head resting on a pillow in my lap. "All of those college scouts."

"At least you played well," I offered.

"I think me puking my guts up sort of overrules that," Bryce muttered.

"They'll rule it out as heat exhaustion," Clayton declined. "It happens, especially to those who aren't used to the Florida heat. You should see how many of us puke during a UF baseball practice."

Bryce raised an eyebrow at him.

"Trust me, it's gross but they won't think twice about it. You're a South Carolina boy, you aren't used to playing baseball in 95 degree heat with a heat screen that brings it up to 105 degrees."

"Fuck my life," Bryce groaned, pressing my face back into the pillow.

"I really don't think you should play tomorrow though," Clayton said.

"I second that," I added.

"And when we agree on something, you know it's important," Clayton said, with a slight laugh.

"My doctor cleared me, I'm playing," Bryce said, picking his head back up. "And I'd really appreciate it if I had the support of my best friend and my girlfriend."

I exchanged glances with Clayton.

"You always have my support," I said, in a soft voice. "I just want what's best for you at the same time."

"If you want to go out and get yourself killed tomorrow, you'll have my unconditional support," Clayton said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Just don't say that I didn't warn you."

So what did you guys think about Clayton's apology? Did you expect that out of him? What about his willingness to talk about his past? (That was really me just pre-setting Clayton's Quirks.) But we had some character development there, did you notice? What about Bryce's stubbornness in playing? Did you expect the ending?

Teaser: Bryce plays Steven in the Championship game! Who will you be rooting for?