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CHAPTER THREE

Christy

“That’s who?” Sasha asks, confused as to why I’m gripping her hand so tight.

I close my eyes, calming my racing heart.

When I open them, I turn to her. “That’s Evan. Evan P. The guy whose hair I cut today.”

“Shut up!” She jumps in her seat. “ P is Parker? You cut Evan Parker’s hair today? You know Jamie is going to lose his shit over this, right?” She stands up. “Let’s go say hi!”

“No, no, no.” I pull her back down to her seat.

“Yes. You said he was cute. I need to meet this guy.” She steps around me, knocking my now-empty bottle on the ground.

“I never said that!” I whisper-shout as I grab the bottle.

Once she’s out of the row, she stands up straight to look at me. “You didn’t have to. Just the fact that you mentioned him told me he was.”

She walks toward him, and I feel my face flush from embarrassment. I know if I don’t go down there, she’ll make an even bigger scene, pointing and waving for me to join her—if she does, in fact, get a chance to talk to him.

I roll my eyes, then stand up and follow her as I run my hands down my hair, making sure it’s not a frizzy mess, then check to make sure my clothes are in line and not looking frumpy.

We get to the kids just as Nolan grabs a ball from Evan.

Instantly, he turns to show me. “Mom, he gave a ball to me!”

I put my hands on his shoulders and smile at Evan, not sure if he’ll even recognize me since we only met once and he’s probably seen a ton of people here today.

No such luck.

“Hey. Christy, right?” He points at me in question. “Is this Nolan?”

Nolan’s eyes open wide as he turns to me, then back to Evan. “You know my name?” he asks in absolute shock.

Evan smiles at him, and I hate what it does to the butterflies fluttering in my stomach right now.

“Sure do, bud. Your mom and I had a long conversation about your name today.”

“You know my mom?” Nolan hops up and down like a jumping bean, not able to contain the excitement racing through him.

“Yep. I met her today when she cut my hair. Does she cut your hair too?”

“She does!”

“High five! We have the same hairstylist,” Evan says, making me laugh out loud.

“That’s so cool!” Nolan slaps his hand. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you knew a baseball player?”

“I didn’t know he was a baseball player,” I respond, smiling at my son, then facing Evan. “Neither he or his sister ever mentioned it.”

Evan gives me a soft grin. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. Just don’t like going around telling people.”

I nod my head. “Makes sense.” I point to his hat. “That hat makes more sense now too.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I was afraid that was a dead giveaway when you mentioned it.”

My sister nudges me, then reaches her hand out to Evan. “Since my sister here isn’t going to introduce me, I’ll do it. I’m Sasha, her sister. And these two are mine.” She acknowledges Jackson and Layla, who are standing next to Nolan.

“What’s up, guys?” He gives them both a high five.

“My dad was talking about you the other day,” Jackson says.

“Yeah? He’s heard of me?” Evan asks.

“He said you’re going to be a good addition to the team. He’ll be jealous we got to meet you.”

Evan smiles. “Then how come he didn’t come tonight?”

“He’s a firefighter, so he works weird hours.”

Evan leans down to Jackson. “I work weird hours, too, as a baseball player, so I get it. Here.” He raises his finger, like he’s telling us to hold on as he goes and grabs another ball from a bucket, then takes a pen off the table on the field. He comes back to us and signs the ball, then hands it to Jackson. “You can give him this since he missed tonight.” He then holds his hand out to Nolan. “Give me yours, too, and I’ll sign it.”

Nolan hands him the ball and places his hands on the railing as he jumps up and down, barely able to contain himself.

He hands it back to Nolan, who instantly shows me.

“Look!” he exclaims.

“I see.” Then turn back to Evan. “That’s really cool. Thank you.”

Other people noticed he was signing autographs, so now everyone is trying to hand him something to sign.

I pull our kids out of the way even though he keeps glancing back up at me to see if I’m still here. “Let everyone else get a turn,” I say.

Evan and I lock eyes.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.”

I nod and grin, not able to say anything else since the crowd around us has grown even more, so I step back and turn to climb up the stairs.

“I saw that.” Sasha nudges me.

“Saw what?” I question, not sure what she means.

“The way he looked at you. He’s into you.”

“Stop. No, he’s not. He was just being polite.”

She smirks. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.”

“I don’t date my clients,” I state firmly, knowing all too well what happened the last time I did.

She stops to eye me, then Nolan, and blows my statement off. “Your clients have never been extremely hot baseball players. I think you may need to break your own rules for that one. Just sayin’ …”

I shake my head as I grab the rest of our things and make our way to another part of the stadium that has activities going on.

Evan

Of course the girl I’ve been thinking about all day shows up tonight.

While I sat in her chair today, I was trying my hardest not to think about how beautiful she was. The last thing I need in my life right now is a girl taking my thoughts away from the game. I was able to tuck any attractions I had of her away—until my sister’s phone call. Knowing she was purposely trying to set me up put so many what-if questions in my mind.

Since it was going to be two weeks until I saw her again, I was able to push it away completely.

And then she shows up here.

When I noticed the kid standing at the railing, wearing the same Little League hat I had seen in the picture sitting at her station today, I had to go over to see if it was him.

I finish signing all the autographs that I’m asked for, not caring how long it takes. I’ve seen guys annoyed by this part of the game, but I love it. I used to think it would be so cool to get a player’s autograph. I still can’t believe I made it this far, so really, this is me as my five-year-old self, still wanting that autograph, even though I’m the one writing on the ball now.

Once everyone is gone, I grab my things and head back to the locker room.

“Did you sign every ball that was handed to you?” Murph asks.

Max Murphy—who everyone calls Murph—is an older pitcher on the team and can be a little on the grumpy side, so I’m not surprised he’d ask something like this.

“Yeah. Why not?” I respond with a shrug. “Not like I have something pressing to get to.”

“Rookie,” he taunts as he grabs his stuff and walks by me, heading out of the locker room.

Chase Thorne, our third baseman and who’s the same age as me, places his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let him bother you. He can be a bump on a log sometimes. Talk to the fans or don’t. You be you, bro.”

I nod my thanks to him as I get back to gathering my things to head home for the night.

Walking into a new place with no one there feels weird. I’ve always lived with a roommate, so looking around at my basically empty house is kind of depressing.

I throw my bag down on the ground, plop on my couch—the only furniture in the room, even my TV is currently sitting on the floor—and pick up the phone to call my sister.

“Hey, bro,” she says when she answers the phone.

“What’s up, Sam? Whatcha doin’?”

She lets out a sigh. “Just got the kids in bed. Mike poured me a glass of wine, and I’m chillin’ for the night. How about you?”

“Just got home. We did an open batting practice tonight, inviting kids out to come watch.”

“Oh, yeah? How did that go?”

“Good. I stayed after to sign autographs.”

A slight laugh escapes her lips. “Of course you did. Why am I not surprised? That’s awesome though.”

I know the second I mention this, she’s going to freak out, but I can’t keep it to myself. “Your girl showed up to watch.”

I hear commotion on the phone, and I can only imagine her setting down her glass so she can react in her proper way without spilling a drop.

“She didn’t!”

I inhale and exhale, fighting a smile, though I have no idea why I’m trying to hide it; it’s not like Samantha can see me.

“She did. With her son, Nolan.”

“Did she know who you were?”

“No. She acted just as surprised as I was. I’d noticed a kid wearing the same Little League hat in the photo on her stand, so I?—”

“So, you went over to a group of kids just to see if, in all of Nashville, out of all the kids who play in that league, this might be the kid from the photo,” she interrupts me to say, drawing out the word all both times.

“Your point?”

“Nothing. Just pointing out that you went out of your way to see if this was Christy’s son.”

“And it was.”

“Yep. I gathered that.”

“You’re impossible—you know that, right?”

“Sure do. I’m also a really good matchmaker.”

“Just because you called one person to set up my hair appointments doesn’t make you a matchmaker.”

“Eh. Wrong. I called seven.”

“You called seven different people to find me a hairstylist?”

“Yes! I told you I was taking this matchmaker thing seriously. I knew the only consistent thing in your life was your haircut every two weeks, so I took advantage of that and made sure that person at least had a chance of attracting your attention.”

I run my hand down my face. “I thought you were kidding about that when you told me earlier.”

“Nope. I don’t kid.” She sighs, and it makes me stop and pause too. “I just hate that you’re alone out there.”

She hits the button to FaceTime me, and I accept, only to see her wearing a sorrow expression.

I mimic my face to be like hers. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Show me your apartment.”

“Why?”

She gives me that mom stare she’s gotten even better at since she had her own kids. “Because I’m proving my point.”

“I haven’t even been here for a week. Give me time.”

“I see you’re sitting on the couch. Gald that arrived.”

When I first moved in, all I had was a lawn chair. I agree; it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but at least I wasn’t on the floor. With all my time in the minors, the only piece of furniture I’d move with was my bed. I bought one of those Sleep Number beds, so I could deflate it, put it in a box, take it, along with the foundation, and move them to my next location. The only thing that matters to me is a good night’s sleep. The rest I can figure out as I go.

“I’ll get some more furniture, I promise.”

She raises her eyebrows, which always shows me she means business. “Don’t make me call in some reinforcements.”

I laugh out loud at the mild threat. “I won’t.” I pause as I look around my home again. Emotions—I’m not quite sure what they are—rush through me. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you, bro. Night.”

“Night.”

I click End, drop my phone next to me, and stare at my empty place.

She’s right. I can finally start to settle down and actually create a life here. The thought excites and terrifies me at the same time. I’ve been so focused on baseball that I’m not sure if I know how to have a real life outside of it.

Before I convince myself not to, I pick up the phone and text Christy, praying I don’t make a fool of myself and make my sister find me another hairstylist.