Davis
January 2026
Driving from Chicago to South Carolina sucked. There's no other way to say it. I was tired of traveling. I'm thirty years old and have spent most of my life on a bus or on a plane. I wanted stability. A real home. A place that was all mine. Honey Bell is the only place I wanted to be. This town is where I belonged. The only place that deserved to be called home.
My parents were in Honey Bell. They visited me in Chicago as much as they could, but I missed them. When I played in the minor league, my mom and dad attended most of my games. They cared about me, supported me. I needed that in my life again.
The past few months hadn't been the best. It started about a year ago when an injury from my college days resurfaced. My baseball career ended overnight. Just like that. No other team wanted me. The option to be a free agent was even taken away from me. The league said I was a liability. I lost my job, my sponsors, my endorsement deals. I lost everything. Honestly, I had no choice but to come back home.
I was happy to be coming home, but I was still bitter about the reason for me having to leave Illinois. I enjoyed living there. Winter was my favorite; I loved waking up and seeing feet of snow. Not small inches like in South Carolina. I loved having a fire place that I actually got to light instead of showing it off as décor.
There were a few things I wasn't looking forward to, people I didn't care to see or be around. Miranda, for example. She married my best friend on stage at Madison Square Garden. The best friend she cheated on me with. I saw the news when her pregnancy was announced. Dawson and I had smoothed things over a long time ago. We weren't best friends anymore but there was no animosity between us. Miranda, however, I had no plans to reconcile anything with her. I didn't hate her; I simply didn't care about her. At all.
She stopped caring about me first, obviously. She and Dawson had carried on behind my back for nearly a year. When I found out about them, she couldn't even fake an apology. "What do you want me to say, Davis?" She asked when I wanted to know why she had cheated. Why hadn't she just broken up with me. She answered my question with a question. I walked away and didn't look back. I haven't spoken to her since that night. Not a word. Not a text. Not an email.
Honey Bell was small, but the gossip was huge. Bored housewives had to entertain themselves somehow. Miranda and Dawson had been a hot topic for a while. My mom felt the need to give me updates on what was happening in town, what everyone was talking about. I didn't care about any of it unless it had to do with me and my career. I had to make my hometown proud. I was a Lion Legacy. I couldn't let anyone down.
But now I had.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts and my music. "Hey, Mom." She called every hour on the hour to check on me since I left my apartment.
"You could at least pretend to be happy to hear from me, honey," she feigned annoyance. "Should I call back and we try this again?"
I smiled. "I'm always happy to hear from you, but we've talked fifteen times in twenty-four hours."
"That means you're close! Where exactly are you? Your dad wants to meet at Chalky's for lunch."
"Passing through Wren's Harbor now. I'll be about another hour, maybe less. Traffic isn't too bad."
"That's good! I'll take a shower and get dressed. Meet us there, okay? Chalky will be thrilled to see you! I love you! Be safe!"
The call ended before I could tell her I loved her, too. That was my mom, always on the go. She knew I loved her. My mom and I were close. I had a great relationship with my dad, too, but he stayed busy at his law firm. He spent the last couple of years traveling between Tennessee and North Carolina opening two more firms. His partner, Jeffrey Hayes, moved to Tennessee a few years ago and had the idea to expand their practice. Dad wasn't home much.
My parents had an amazing relationship. The kind that most people could only dream about. Watching them together while I was growing up had me convinced that I could find that kind of love, too. They slow danced in the kitchen with no music, held hands in public, kissed all the time. Even after thirty-three years of marriage they never stopped chasing each other. I almost had that kind of love. Almost.
I pulled into the parking lot at Chalky's, the pool hall that belonged to the Honey Bell Lions. It didn't literally belong to the team, but it was the main hang out spot. People cleared out and made room when they saw us.
Chalky was a good guy. His real name was still a mystery. In the eighties he had been a pool champion six years in a row. He paid off his parents' debt, bought a townhouse for himself, and opened the pool hall. He was the coolest guy in town when I was a kid. He's a giant; six-four and about three-hundred pounds. His laugh could cause earthquakes. He used to dress up as Santa and take toys to the shelters and elementary schools. He was a good man, simple as that.
The place wasn't too busy when I walked inside. The usual lunch crowd, mostly college kids grabbing a bite between classes and older guys wanting to have a beer and watch whatever game was playing. I was hoping to sneak in undetected but I should have known Jodie Lewis wouldn't let that happen. She probably told the whole town that I was coming back. As soon as the door closed behind me cheers erupted. Normally, I lived for these moments, but today, I was exhausted and hurting. I wanted to eat, take a hot shower and go to sleep.
My mom spun around and jumped off the barstool. "You made it!" She said in her excited, high-pitched voice. She threw her arms around me tightly. Too tight. I winced at the jolt of pain shooting through my right arm. "Oh, your shoulder. I'm so sorry." She adjusted the strap of the sling. "I'm just happy you're finally here."
"It's alright. I'm glad to be back," I kissed her cheek and hugged my dad.
"'Bout time, kiddo," I'm thirty-years-old and my dad still refers to me as "kiddo." "He's here, Jodie, can we please order some food?" He asked her. "She's made me wait all day. The woman gave me a granola bar for breakfast," he told me.
She swatted his chest. "Of course. Of course. Let's go. There's a table cleared off for us over in the corner."
I gave polite nods to those watching as I walked to the table. Chalky's daughter, Jessie, came over to our table. I didn't know her too well. She was three years younger and the quiet type. The nose-in-a-book kind of girl. She was cute. Not drop dead gorgeous or anything like that, but she was cute. When the team would be in here playing pool and making too much noise, Jessie was in the corner reading a book. She was tall, long blonde hair, button nose that now sported a blue nose stud.
"Hey, Davis," she said with a tired smile, like she was only being polite. "What can I get ya?"
"Hey, Jessie," her eyes widened. She hadn't expected me to remember her name. I ordered my usual; onion rings with the house zesty ranch sauce and the loaded Philly cheesesteak.
My parents ordered and Jessie returned to the kitchen. I glanced around the building and on the wall hanging next to my dad's championship picture was mine. Side by side. That filled me with pride. My dad pushed me to surpass his records and I accomplished that. No one had surpassed mine yet, but Coach Callahan retired after my senior year. The teams after ours hadn't even made the playoffs.
"Are you really glad to be back home? You seem a little distant," my dad said. He noticed everything.
"Yeah. It's just been awhile, ya know?"
"Twelve years, Davis. A lot has changed, but a lot has stayed the same," he sipped his sweet tea and requested a bowl of lemons. "Ropyr's still here," he searched my face for any sign of reaction. I stayed neutral. "She owns the diner across the street. She makes a hell of a meatloaf sandwich."
I turned my head to look out the winder. Sunshine's Diner. I grinned. She always said she wanted her own restaurant. It made sense that the building was bright yellow. I assumed she would have moved to a big city and become a five-star chef. She was meant for more than Honey Bell but she didn't believe me. From what I could see, she was doing pretty well. Her diner was busy.
"Good for her," I said sharply. I turned back as Jessie set my plate down.
I didn't miss the look that passed between my parents. They liked Ropyr. A lot. They treated her like she was their daughter. When I left town they were devasted with how I left things with her. I never called her, never returned her text messages. I had to forget about her and focus on my career. She wasn't completely innocent in our history either. There was a reason I blocked her from my life. It wasn't just me being a selfish jerk.
"You should talk to her," my mom suggested with her sweetest smile. "At least clear the air since you're both living here again."
I shook my head. "Not today. I'm tired. I want to eat, take a shower, and call it a day."
"Of course. You drove sixteen hours. I didn't mean today." She took a bite of her BLT and after she swallowed, she added, "Tomorrow, maybe."
My childhood bedroom was the same as when I left. Basically a shrine to the sport that became my whole lift. Trophies and medals lines the shelves. My high school yearbooks were stacked on the desk, under the corkboard filled with notes and pictures. I had every one of those letters memorized. Three of the four letters were from Ropyr. The forth was the college acceptance letter I never replied to. Post-It notes were stuck around the board, too. Little reminders from my mom and grandma.
"Me need milk." "Gone to the cabin. Do NOT call us." "Order a pizza sing you don't like Italian food." The last one was from my grandma, my mother's mom. When she came for a visit she wanted to go to Capri's for ravioli and meatballs. I didn't like it. The noodles were too wet and the sauce was bland. She joked that the only Italian food I would eat was greasy and free if it wasn't delivered within thirty minutes. She wasn't wrong.
I tossed and turned for hours and couldn't fall asleep. I drank a bottle of water and took my prescribed pills for nights like this, and nothing was working. My body was exhausted but my brain would not shut off. It kept replaying my life before I left town, mocking me and telling me what I could have done differently. What I should have done differently.
I needed fresh air. I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed my truck keys and headed downstairs. The TV was on in the living room, reruns of FRIENDS. My parents loved that show. When Matthew Perry died my mom grieved like she had lost a brother.
"I'm going out!" I hollered from the front door, the same as I did when I was a kid still living here.
They responded with the usual, "be safe" and "have fun."
I knew Honey Bell like the back of my hand. All the back roads. The places cops like to park when they thought they were being sneaky. The hidden entrance to the woods where couples could make out in private. Weirdly enough, my dad told me about that one.
I drove around with the windows down, barely listening to the Luke Combs album on Spotify. No destination in mind. Driving calmed me down and helped me relax. I had just driven for sixteen hours from Chicago, but this was different. I didn't have to pay attention to a map or traffic or an interstate. This was a relaxing kind of drive.
It was ten o'clock, almost everything was closed for the night. There was one place where the lights were still on. I parked on the curb and walked inside with no script in mind.
"We're closed," her sweet as pie voice called from the kitchen.
"The sign still says 'open," I said. The diner was cute. Hardwood floors, pale yellow walls covered with drawings and shelves of books and little trinkets. The booths and stools were yellow. Everything about this place was totally Ropyr.
I smiled when she came to the front. Her brown hair was in a knot on top of her head; a few strands had fallen loose. Not a drop of makeup on her face. She was still so beautiful. She traded her jeans for black leggings, but her t-shirts hugged her curves and she still wore those high-top Converse. You wouldn't know she was twenty-eight by looking at her face. You couldn't tell how hard life had been on her.
"What do you want, Lewis?" She folded her arms across her chest. I knew this attitude well. I'd seen it plenty of times and I knew how to knock the walls down. This time might be harder than the first time, but I knew it could be done.
I walked further inside, but not close enough to touch her. I had to make her feel safe again. I had to earn back that trust. "A cup of coffee would be nice."
"We're closed," she said again, this time through clenched teeth.
"The machine is on," I challenged. A fresh pot was sitting on the counter, steam rising from it. The machine was whistling as it cooled down.
She glared at me for a solid twenty seconds before groaning and lowering her shoulders. "Fine. One cup."
I smirked when she went behind the counter. I won this round, I thought as I sat on a stool. "Cute place you have here," I said, not taking my eyes off her. The leggings hugged her better than the jeans had.
No response.
"Listen, Ro…"
"Don't," she cut me off. She all but slammed the cup of coffee down in front of me. "You don't get to call me that anymore," she said, piercing me with her green eyes. There was no love there anymore, only hurt and anger and maybe a little resentment.
"Ropyr. Sorry. Ropyr, can we please talk? Just one conversation." I wasn't one to bed, but I'd get on my hands and knees in the middle of the town square if that's what she needed me to do.
"Now? You want to talk now? I wanted to talk twelve years ago, and you left. You packed your bags and caught the next flight out of town. You didn't even say goodbye."
"You didn't give me a chance!" I didn't mean to yell at her. Guilt took over and I slammed my fist on the counter. She didn't blink, didn't flinch. She didn't seem to care, but I saw through her. I could read her like she was my favorite book. I knew everything about her. "I'm sorry."
"For yelling or for leaving?" She asked, her voice colder than the January air outside.
Not for leaving. I would not ever apologize for following my dream. Signing that contract with Washington changed my life. I got everything I ever wanted after signing that deal. Well, almost. But I would never apologize or feel bad for leaving that night.
"That's what I thought," she said with a slight nod. "Go home. We're closed." She poured out the coffee I hadn't touched and started turning off the lights.
I knew when to not to push her. Once the door closed behind me, I heard the lock click into place. I looked back to see her standing there watching me. She was probably making sure I was leaving, but I swear it looked like she wanted to say something.