Page 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Christy

I send Sasha a text message.

I’m about to pull up. Want to just send Nolan out?

When my phone rings, I drop my head, knowing I wasn’t going to get off that easily. I click the Answer button on my car. “Hello?”

“You have lost your mind if you think I’m just sending Nolan out and not asking you a million questions about your day,” my sister rants without even taking a breath.

“I didn’t think that was going to work, but it was worth a shot. I’m in your driveway.”

“Nolan, baby, grab your things. Your mom’s here,” Sasha says as she opens the door and walks outside to meet me. “You have one minute to spill all the details before he comes running out. Go.”

I laugh. “What can I say? It was a great day.”

“And …” she says as she walks up to my car and hits the End button so we can talk face-to-face. “Did you kiss him?”

I grin, feeling my face flush.

“You did!” She claps. “Tell me everything!”

“He first kissed me after saying he only played games on the field, and then he kissed me goodbye.”

She places her hands on my windowsill and leans down so she’s more at my level. “Was it amazing?” she asks, hopeful.

I nod with a huge smile. “It was.” I drop my head to the headrest and inhale a blissful breath. “He invited Nolan and me to join his sister and her family at the opening day game on Thursday.”

“Ahh!” She jumps for joy. “Are you kidding me?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Nolan is going to be so excited.”

“So … what are you going to say to Nolan about who he is?”

“That he’s a client of mine and nothing else for right now. It’s the truth so …” I shrug, then sigh. “I’ve never done this, Sasha. Funny thing is, he’s the one who brought it up—about Nolan, I mean. I guess his sister was a single mom, so he said he understands how things need to go slow.”

“Then there you go. Stop overthinking it and go have fun.”

I purse my lips and nod just as Nolan comes running out of the house.

“Mommy!” He’s carrying his backpack over his shoulder, and it’s bouncing from one side to the other, almost knocking him over since it’s so much bigger than he is.

Sasha moves to the side so I can open the car door, get out, and hold my arms out for him to jump into. “Hey, buddy!”

He hugs me tightly. “Hi, Mommy. How was your day?”

I chuckle at how cute he is when he asks me things like this, acting like a little man. “It was amazing. How about yours?”

“Eh. Nothing special,” he responds, making me laugh out loud.

“Well, how about I tell you that the guy we met at the ballpark the other day is getting us opening day tickets? Will that make your day better?”

He bounces on his feet. “Really?” He looks at Sasha. “Did you hear that, Auntie? I get to go to the game!”

“Sure did, baby!” Sasha holds up her hand to high-five Nolan, which he does with the biggest smile on his face.

Then he turns back to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the car. “Let’s go. I got to get ready!”

“The game isn’t for two days.” I laugh.

“Yeah, but I have to get a new Terrors hat and a ball for everyone to sign.”

He opens the car door and jumps inside, quickly securing his seat belt and motioning for me to get in the car so we can go.

“He does realize all the stores are closed now, right?” Sasha asks with a chuckle.

I turn to her so fast that it catches her off guard. “What am I doing?”

She places her hands on my arms. “Whoa. Hold the phone. What’s this all about?”

“Look at how excited he is.” I point at him, then bring my attention back to her. “What if Evan and I turn into nothing, and Nolan gets crushed?”

She lowers her head to look straight into my eyes. “He doesn’t know you spent the day with Evan. You told him Evan is a client of yours, remember? Treat it that way, and Nolan won’t have a clue what’s going on.”

I inhale a deep breath and nod.

“Don’t worry. Let the boy be excited about going to a game. It’s no big deal.” She says the last part slowly, making me feel better about the situation. Then she says flippantly, “Once you officially start dating, then you can worry about breaking Nolan’s heart if it doesn’t work out.”

My jaw drops at her comment, but she’s quick to wrap her arms around me and laugh.

“I’m kidding! Stop overthinking it. Go have fun.” She pulls me back and looks in my eyes again. “If it’s meant to be, it will be. Until you know either way, just enjoy the ride.” She leans in to whisper, “And I hope you know what I mean by ride .”

I push her away from me as we both giggle. “You’re horrible—you know that, right?”

“Yep. But that’s why you love me.”

“Bye,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“Love you, sis.” She waves with a cheesy grin on her face.

I can’t believe how excited Nolan is to go to the game. Getting him to go to sleep last night was next to impossible. I feel bad that we don’t go more often. The stadium is only fifteen minutes from our house, and they have kid days, where tickets are only fifteen dollars. I just don’t think about bringing him unless he asks to come.

When I go into his room, I automatically turn to leave to get my phone, knowing I need to take a picture of him before I wake him up. I enter the room again, snapping a photo of the cutest little boy ever, who’s asleep with his arms wrapped around his baseball glove like it’s a teddy bear.

Evan and I texted a few times back and forth last night after I let him know I got home okay, so before I overthink anything, I text him the picture.

He’s quick to reply.

My guy! Let’s go!

I laugh, not responding, and tuck my phone into my pajama pants pocket before I crawl in bed with Nolan, wrapping my arms around him as he lies on his side.

“Morning, baby,” I whisper.

He holds my arm closer to him and kisses my hand. “Morning, Mommy,” he responds in a sleepy voice, melting my heart.

Waking him is honestly my favorite part of the day.

“What time is the game today?” he asks, still partially asleep.

“It’s tomorrow. One more sleep.”

“Ah man,” he whines.

I giggle and hold him tighter. “You’ll survive. Let’s get going though, so we can get a good breakfast in your belly before school.”

Evan

The picture Christy sent me of Nolan put the biggest smile on my face. I wanted to text her so many things today, but I know we need to take it slow.

Once all my furniture arrives, I text her photos just so she can see how it turned out.

Hey! It’s an actual home now!

Her response makes me laugh.

Thanks to you.

Happy to help!

I know she’s at work, so I tuck my phone back into my pocket and get my things ready to head to the park for batting practice.

I walk into the locker room, which is full of the players getting ready, hanging out, or goofing off by throwing a football around the room.

I say, “What’s up?” to a few of the guys and head to my locker, pausing for a quick second when I see the plaque with my name on it. I swear it will never get old.

The closer I get, I notice my entire locker is painted bright pink, every centimeter of it looking like a highlighter exploded in it.

Taking a deep breath, I know there’s one of two ways I could handle this. I could get mad and lose my shit, or I could nod my head and realize this is just how it goes when you’re the new guy on the team and take it like a man. I’ve witnessed some crazy shit—of how others have welcomed guys to the club—so in reality, this isn’t that bad.

I notice the room has gone silent around me, so I drop my head to my chest, open my arms out wide, and say with a chuckle, “You guys got me.”

When I turn around, everyone is laughing and high-fiving each other.

“Welcome to the team, brother,” Carter Callahan, one of our closing pitchers, says to me as he walks up, slapping my hand and bringing me into him for a side bro hug.

This is what it’s like being a closing pitcher. He can go in and throw nine pitches, and that’s all he needs to do every couple of weeks to get paid the big bucks. So, while the rest of us are grinding it out daily, he has time to come up with these pranks to pull on guys.

A few of the other players come do the same while others just high-five me as they walk by.

When I see it again, I let out a loud laugh, knowing now that it was done in good fun and realizing just how funny it actually is. When I take a closer look, I notice a whole bunch of tiny ducks hiding throughout the locker as well.

“Is this shit going to come off?” I ask, rubbing it with my thumb.

Cassidy “Tripp” Nash, one of our catchers, slaps me on my back. “Not anytime soon. It’s going to take some paint thinner and elbow grease to get that off. I think they got a little carried away with the layers.”

“You think?” I ask rhetorically.

He points to these little ducks that until now I had missed but are seemingly hiding everywhere in my locker. “The live content creators, Cheyenne and Micki, added the ducks to join in on the fun.”

Carter turns off the lights, and the only thing anyone can see is my locker. “And it glows!”

We all laugh again as I drop my head back, trying to figure out if I’ll ever live this down.

“You’re a good guy, bro,” Max says as he heads toward the field. “You definitely handled that better than I would have.”

“What did they do to you?” I ask him.

Carter starts to say something, but Max points at him with a knowing stare, like, Don’t you say a word .

My eyes open wide as he walks away, and Carter whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”

I nod my head and get back to the task at hand, checking all the items I left in the locker to make sure none of it is pink now.

One by one, we head out to the field, ready to take our BP for the day.

As I wait my turn, Coach Declan Wylde, our team manager, calls me over. “Evan, come here. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

He’s standing with two guys—one older, I’d say in his sixties at least, and one younger, maybe closer to my age. Both are dressed in suits, but the older guy is wearing a cowboy hat as well.

I walk up to them with my hand outstretched to the older gentleman first. “Nice to meet you. I’m Evan Parker.”

“We know exactly who you are, son. I’m Charles Stone, and this is my son, Eddie. Welcome to the team. We sure are glad you’re here with us.”

I was part of a three-way trade that came out of nowhere about a month ago. That’s baseball though, especially when you’re still trying to make it to the show. This trade worked in my favor because here I am.

“Thank you for having me.” I shake Eddie’s hand.

“The Stone family owns the team,” Coach Declan adds in.

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought Josh Thompson was the owner. I can’t believe I had that information wrong.”

“You’ve got nothing wrong, son,” Charles replies in a friendly Southern tone. “He’s an owner too. We’re more silent partners. The world doesn’t need to know our business, so we give him all the accolades and get to sit back and just enjoy the show.”

“I can respect that.” I nod.

“You were one I pushed for,” Eddie says. “I watched you play the Mudcats in Boston last year and knew you had something special.”

I grin and nod his way. “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me that. I’ll do my best to uphold that thought and have it translate to this team as well.”

“Parker, you’re up!” Coach Chris, a hitting coach, yells from behind the L-screen.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say to both of them, shaking their hands again. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Charles replies, and then Eddie says the same.