The Field of Love - 17. Chapter 17

The Field of Love

Chapter 17

“Wow Tony, how are you? What’s with the wheelchair? When did you get here?” Sammy finally caught his breath, but before Tony could answer, “have you been released? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you in any pain?”

Tony’s mother held her hands up and said, “Sammy dear, take a breath, slow down. We aren’t going anywhere.” She looked down at a smiling Tony and said, “Don’t encourage him, Tony.”

“But mom, I’ve never seen him like this. It’s funny as shit.”

“Tony!” Mrs. Thompson admonished.

“Sorry mom.” Tony giggled.. “Sammy, I’m cool dude.”

“When did you get out? And why the chair?” Sammy asked.

Tony shrugged, still smiling. “It’s temporary. Docs say I’ll be walking again soon.”

Sammy’s eyes flicked to the chair, then back to Tony. “But… why didn’t you tell me? After we visited, I thought—”

Mrs. Thompson stepped in gently. “We didn’t want to worry you, sweetheart. It’s been a rough few weeks.”

Tony’s grin faltered for just a second. “My brother’s in jail now. Shame he tried to kill me.”

Sammy’s face went pale. “Jesus, Tony…”

Tony waved it off, but his eyes lingered on Sammy’s. “I’m okay. Really. Seeing you like this? Worth it.”

Sammy blinked, unsure if he’d heard that right. “What?”

Tony chuckled. “Nothing. Just glad to be out. And glad you’re here.” Tony’s smile flickered, just for a moment.

Sammy blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tony hesitated, then shrugged. “Just missed you, that’s all.”

Mrs. Thompson gave Tony a look—gentle, knowing. Sammy glanced over, catching it, but said nothing.

“I’m glad you’re out,” Sammy said softly. “Mike and I—we were worried.”

Tony nodded, eyes dropping to his lap. “Yeah. I figured.”

There was a pause. Not awkward, but full.

Then Tony looked up, voice light again. “So, you and Mike, huh?”

Sammy smiled. “Yeah. It’s new. But it feels right.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Good. He’s lucky.”

Sammy didn’t answer right away. He just reached out and touched Tony’s shoulder. “So are we. You’re still here.”

Andy, Mike, Joey, and Roger walked up together, laughter still lingering from the game. Tony looked up and saw Mike. His heart clenched, but he forced a smile.

“Hey guys. Good game.”

Mike stepped forward, cheerful and unaware. “The team missed you today. Sammy says you’re an awesome second baseman.”

Tony’s smile vanished. He stared at Mike. “Not anymore. I’ve been replaced.”

The group fell quiet. Andy caught the edge in Tony’s voice and felt the weight of it. He knew. He’d seen the way Tony looked at Sammy, the way he didn’t anymore.

“Tony,” Andy said gently. “You haven’t been replaced. You’re recovering. Someone had to step in while you’re out.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you?”

Andy didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I’m filling in. That’s all.”

Tony looked away, jaw tight. “Right. Just filling in.”

Sammy was stunned. He looked down at Tony, searching his face. “Tony… what’s wrong?”

Mrs. Thompson stepped forward, placing her hands on the wheelchair handles. “I think it’s time we leave.”

But Tony twisted around, urgency in his voice. “Wait, Mom.”

She paused.

Tony turned to Sammy, eyes wide and unguarded. “Sammy, I’m sorry. I missed playing. I missed us. Our friendship. Forgive me.”

He looked around at the others, Andy, Mike, Joey, Roger. “All of you. Please… forgive me.”

Silence settled over the group. Not heavy. Just full.

Sammy knelt beside the chair, his voice quiet. “You didn’t lose us, Tony. We’re still here.”

The others had wandered off, giving space without saying so. Sammy lingered, watching Tony trace circles on the armrest of his chair.

“I didn’t know,” Sammy said softly.

Tony didn’t look up. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve visited. Called. Something.”

Tony shrugged. “You were busy. New team. New… everything.”

Sammy knelt beside him, voice low. “You’re still part of my everything.”

Tony finally met his eyes. “Not the same way.”

Sammy hesitated. “No. Not the same. But still real.”

Tony’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean to snap at Mike. He’s… good. I see that.”

“He is,” Sammy said. “But you’re good too. And you matter.”

Tony looked away, blinking fast. “I just wanted to be seen. Not as the guy in the chair. Not as the guy who got stabbed. Just… me.”

Sammy reached out, resting a hand on Tony’s. “I see you.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

They sat there, quiet. Not healed. But heard.

Sammy stood and faced Mrs. Thompson. “Let me push him for you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, son. You’re a good boy.” She smiled warmly and stepped aside.

After helping Tony into the SUV, Sammy spotted Mike waiting beneath the old oak tree, arms folded, gaze soft.

“You okay?” Sammy asked.

Mike smiled, but there was a flicker of something else. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? Oh—you mean for calling me your woman who talks too much, like some holy Indian witch doctor? And before you ask, yeah, I looked it up.”

Sammy winced. “Wait… that’s not what I meant. What I should’ve said was you’re known for your wówaȟwa tȟáŋka‘ – ‘words never rested.’ You always have to get the last word.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “That comes from having an older brother who thinks he’s always right.”

Sammy chuckled. “So, it’s genetic?”

Mike leaned back against the tree. “More like survival.”

“I thought you liked having a brother,” Sammy said, brow furrowed in confusion.

Mike chuckled. “I do. I love my brother. But he can be a pain in the ass.”

Sammy laughed with him. “So, are you saying I’m better off without a brother?”

Mike’s smile softened. He leaned in, eyes locked with Sammy’s, their breath mingling in the quiet space between them. “No,” he whispered. “I’m saying you’re better off with me.”

Sammy didn’t answer with words. He closed the space between them, pressing his lips gently to Mike’s. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic, just quiet, sure, and full of everything they hadn’t said.

Mike responded with a soft smile against Sammy’s mouth, then pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against Sammy’s.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Sammy nodded, eyes closed. “Good. Because I need you here.”

00000

Brent was at Eddie’s that afternoon, pacing the edge of the porch like a caged dog.

“So, you got suspended for a day and kicked off the team?” Eddie asked, shaking his head with a crooked smile.

“Yeah,” Brent snapped. “Meanwhile, that fag only had to sit out one game. And those other two? They’re still playing. Holding hands in the hallway like it’s normal.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You’re not wrong. Back in my grandpa’s day, that kind of thing wouldn’t fly. Not in our school. Sure, as hell not on the team.”

Brent’s jaw clenched. “It’s like the whole world’s upside down. And now one of their dads is running for governor? Great. That’ll make them untouchable.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Not everywhere. Not at school. He can’t watch them all the time.”

Brent stopped pacing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Eddie said slowly, “if something were to happen, and it looked like they started it… well, people might see them for what they really are. And maybe that judge gets a little mud on his shoes too.”

Brent considered that. “We’d need backup. People who’ll say they saw it go down our way.”

Eddie grinned. “Then we make sure they do.”

OOOOO

Judge Collins rose from the kitchen table, setting down his coffee cup with deliberate care.

“Are you boys ready?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Andy replied, stepping into the room with Joey and Roger close behind.

“Good.” The judge placed a firm hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Remember what I told you last night.”

He paused, then added, “And don’t forget — you need to stop by LabCorp for blood work before practice.”

Andy nodded. “I will.”

“One more thing,” the judge said, locking eyes with his son. “The new boy’s name is Robert. Don’t forget that.”

“I got it. Robert.” Andy’s voice was steady.

“Alright then.” Judge Collins gave them a final nod. “You boys have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”

OOOOO

Andy walks with Joey and Roger, laughing about something Joey said. They round the corner toward Andy’s locker — and Brent is already there, leaning against it like he owns the space.

Eddie stands nearby, phone in hand, pretending to scroll. A few students linger, too casual to be coincidence.

Brent straightens. “Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

Andy doesn’t respond. He’s learned that silence is sometimes stronger than words.

Brent steps closer. “You think you’re special now? Got your daddy running for governor, got your little boyfriend tagging along like a puppy?”

Joey stiffens. Roger puts a hand on his arm.

Brent smirks. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re just scared.”

Andy’s voice is calm. “Move.”

Brent doesn’t. Eddie lifts his phone, angling it just right.

Then Robert steps in.

He’s been leaning against the far wall, hoodie up, backpack slung low. No one noticed him — until now.

“Hey,” Robert says, voice sharp but casual. “You’re blocking his locker.”

Brent turns. “Who the hell are you?”

“New kid,” Robert replies. “Just trying to get to class.”

Eddie lowers his phone. Brent hesitates.

Robert’s eyes flick to the group of students nearby, one of them already recording. He knows the signs. He’s seen setups like this before.

“Pretty bold,” Robert says, almost to himself. “Picking a fight in front of half the school.”

Brent scoffs. “Nobody’s fighting.

Robert smiles. “Good. Because if you were, I’d have to report it.”

Brent narrows his eyes. “To who?”

Robert’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say… someone who cares.”

Brent steps back. Eddie pockets his phone. The crowd begins to disperse.

Andy opens his locker. Joey exhales. Roger glances at Robert, curious.

Robert meets Andy’s gaze for a moment, just long enough to say, I’ve got you.

OOOOO

Brent slams his fist against the side of Eddie’s truck out in the back parking lot behind the gym.

“Who the hell was that guy?” he growls.

Eddie shrugs, but his smirk is gone. “Said he was new. Never seen him before.”

Brent paces, jaw tight. “He knew. He knew what we were doing. Did you see the way he looked at me? Like he was just waiting for us to screw up.”

Eddie leans against the tailgate, arms crossed. “Maybe he’s just some do-gooder. Or maybe…” He trails off.

Brent stops. “Maybe what?”

Eddie lowers his voice. “Maybe the judge planted him. Think about it. The way he said he would have to report it. The way he stepped in right when we were about to get them on camera?”

Brent’s eyes narrow. “You think he’s a cop?”

Eddie shrugs again, but this time it’s tighter. “I think we just poked a hornet’s nest.”

Brent kicks gravel. “We had it. We had it. One more shove and Joey would’ve snapped. We’d have had them both suspended. Maybe worse.”

Eddie watches the school building, his eyes scanning the windows. “We need to lay low. Just for a bit. Let things cool off.”

Brent shakes his head. “No. We’re not done. We just have to be smarter. If they’re playing games, we play harder.”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. He’s still watching the school. Watching for movement. For shadows.

“Fine,” he says. “But next time, we make sure no one’s watching.”

OOOOO

Back by the lockers.

“Who was that guy?” Roger asked as he closed his locker.

“He said he was new. I’ve never seen him before,” Andy replied truthfully.

“He sure put Brent in his place,” Joey said with a shrug.

Roger glanced around, then added quietly, “I know I’m the straight guy, but he wasn’t bad looking.”

Joey grinned. “Wow. Are you coming over to our side?”

“No, no,” Roger said quickly. “It’s just more competition for the ladies. It’s hard enough for me hanging out with you guys all the time.”

Andy laughed. “Okay, Mr. Straight Guy.”

OOOOO