Page 29

FOURTEEN

TANNER

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

I clicked off the recorder and turned to where Jupiter Reeves had annoyingly taken the seat next to me.

As usual, the dugout was busy, but throughout this game I’d purposely sat all the way down the other end, away from the coaches, because it was quieter. I mistakenly thought no one would notice me commentating the entire game.

The baby recorder had arrived weeks ago.

On the front of a box was a lovely picture of a mom and her massive baby bump happily listening to whatever it was that had been playing. There she was, smiling widely and looking like she was having the best day ever.

I’d never been intimidated by a picture before, but you had better believe that box stayed unopened on my dresser while I tried to figure out what to say that would make Millie smile as big as the mom on the box.

I was now a week into the voice notes. I didn’t want to admit the amount of times I’d gone over and over what I’d said, only to delete it. I knew this much—it was weird listening to yourself.

I thought I’d be used to hearing what I sounded like from all the interviews I’d given over the years, but they were about baseball and I knew what I was talking about.

I didn’t know what to say to a baby that hadn’t been born; I didn’t know what it would find interesting.

What if I said something wrong and it entered this world thinking I was a dumbass?

And then there was the small matter of what I wanted to say specifically to Millie.

Before I spiraled into a panic attack, I decided I needed to start somewhere. Therefore, I was sticking to baseball for now.

“I’m not talking to myself. I’m?—”

Jupiter’s brows shot under his ballcap. “You’re…what?”

“If you must know, I’m recording my voice,” I told him as a roar erupted from the crowds.

Lux’s ball flew through the air. The guys waiting out on the Hudson in their canoes would be catching this one.

The cameras followed the ball; on the big screen you could see everyone lined up on the water waiting for it.

A couple of fans had those big fishing nets, because they thought it gave them an edge, but in reality, they only knocked them off balance.

Only the true pro fans ever attempted it.

More often than not, the boats capsized from the scrabble of everyone trying to get the ball first with far too much excitement.

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but why are you recording your voice?”

Hmm. How to answer this question?

Millie had passed twelve weeks, she was feeling good. I was feeling good. We hadn’t officially discussed when we should start telling people, but now our parents knew I guess it was okay. I’d have to tell the club soon.

“It’s for my unborn child,” I replied.

I don’t think he was expecting that answer, given he was yet to blink. I focused back on the big screen. As predicted, two boats had toppled before Lux even made it to the dugout.

“Your what?”

I could feel a smile tugging at my mouth. I hadn’t said these words aloud enough for it to not still be a novelty. “I’m going to be a dad.”

“A dad? You?”

“Yes.” I beamed at him as an idea occurred to me. “Actually, you can help me with something?” I flicked on the microphone before Jupiter could respond and pointed it at him. “What’s your name?”

“You know what my name is.”

“I know I do, but I’m asking you to say it.”

“Why?”

“Just… argh . God, can you just do it?”

Another cheer went up from the crowds; Boomer Jones had made it to second.

Jupiter turned back to me, one of his thick dark brows arched in question, but he leaned into the microphone anyway. “My name is Jupiter Reeves.”

“And how long have we known each other?”

“I dunno, a couple of years.”

“Three seasons,” I corrected. “And how long have I loved Millie?”

“Who’s Millie?”

I stop recording, again . My editing skills weren’t good enough to go through this conversation.

“Millie. The mother of my child. The one I’m in love?—”

I froze.

I hadn’t said that out loud before. I am in love with Millie. I hadn’t told anyone before. I hadn’t even admitted it to myself, so what the fuck did I think I was doing blurting it to Jupiter Reeves?

It tripped off my tongue so naturally, I couldn’t be anything but in love with her.

Was I in love with Millie? Yes. Resoundingly yes.

Kind of wish I’d told her first, but Jupiter Reeves would have to do. And to be honest, based on his current expression, I’d say he didn’t realize he was the first person I’d admitted it to, so we were going to pretend it never happened.

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Because I talk about her all the time.”

His fingers scratched through the thick stubble on his jaw. “There’s your problem then.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I rarely listen when any of you open your mouths. ”

“You’re a dick, Reeves.” I turned back to the field. “Can you leave? I’m not done talking to my baby.”

He didn’t leave. “Why are you talking to it?”

I rolled my eyes and hoped my loud sigh communicated how annoying I found him.

It was amazing that the moment we stepped on the field Reeves and I had a totally seamless, professional relationship and perfect communication.

He played third base, and as shortstop, I was closer to him than anyone else. He didn’t even need to be looking at me to catch a ball I’d thrown his way, because he knew. It was instinctive. Yet the second we came off, he turned into this.

“So it can recognize my voice when it’s born. It’s hard traveling and being away from Millie all the time?—”

“And Millie’s your girlfriend?”

I shook my head. “Not yet, but I want her to be.”

He stayed silent and stayed staring at me. Maybe if I ignored him he would leave me alone.

“Turn the microphone back on.”

“What?”

“Turn it back on.”

I frowned but did as he asked. This time he took it from me.

Bringing his fist to his mouth, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, baby Simpson. This is Jupiter Reeves, and I play baseball with your dad. And don’t tell anyone I said this, but he’s an excellent shortstop, maybe one of the best in the league currently.

” Jupiter hit Pause. “Did you already say what shortstop does? ”

I nodded. It was all I could manage because I had no idea what he was doing. Guess I could delete it.

“Good. Today he got two runs off a bat in the fourth inning, yesterday’s game against the Braves, he hit a home run, which took us to the top of the standings.

Your dad has some of the quickest reflexes I’ve ever seen, and they’re going to get us to the World Series.

He’s finishing the regular season with a batting average of .

324 and an on-base plug slugging of .917, which is better than mine, if you can believe it.

Your dad is going to lift the Commissioner’s Trophy at the end of the season. ”

Holy shit. Did Reeves just pay me a compliment? And he knew my stats well enough to reel them off.

I expected him to hand the microphone back to me, but he kept going.

“I predict we’re gonna do it in five games, not seven.

And we’re going to beat the Yankees. They’ve been strong this season, had a couple of new players added to the roster, but we’re stronger.

The postseason begins next week, and we’re going in as leaders for the National League East. You agree, Simpson? ” He pointed the microphone my way.

Hmm. I’d been thinking about this more and more the past couple of weeks, even though I didn’t want to jinx it. Jupiter clearly had different superstitions.

“You think five games?”

“Yeah.”

“If we’re against the Yankees, I agree.” I nodded. “But I think there’s a good chance we could be against the Red Sox, and if that’s the case, it’ll be seven.”

“Red Sox, huh.” Jupiter was running his finger back and forth across his top lip. “Interesting. Yeah, I could see that happening. Yankees or Red Sox. Who would you rather take on?”

“Yankees,” I replied without hesitation. “A little hometown competition would be awesome.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, passing the microphone back to me. “Anyway, that was fun. Congratulations, Simpson. Hope you get the girl. But for now, you’re up, so get your ass out there.”

“Shit.”

I jumped up, leaving the recorder inside my glove on the bench, and jogged to the end of the dugout, grabbing my helmet and bat on the way.

We were bottom of the sixth, and leading against the Braves by six runs to three. Jupiter had been correct. I was having a good game, and I’d been having a great season. I’d gotten two runs earlier, but I was yet to hit a home run this game. It had been a few weeks since my last one, so I was due.

You ask any player, and they’d tell you they knew when a home run was coming off their bat, and I could feel this one. My batting arm was buzzing with an extra surge of power that needed expending, and in the crowds behind me, Millie was watching.

It was the first game she’d been to since she’d fallen pregnant. Between my grueling traveling schedule and her tiredness, she hadn’t made it. So today was extra special for me.

She was sitting where she always sat, a couple of rows behind the dugout, with Radley and her Secret Service crew.

I’d caught her eye every time I’d run back into the dugout, and I’d realized that this game was the first game she’d attended where she’d smiled at me as I ducked back in, instead of scowled. Or simply ignored me.

I stepped up to the plate. The Braves pitcher had thrown fastballs the last five times I’d been here this game, and I doubted he’d make it a sixth. Especially as the Braves were down three runs.

We all had a ritual at the plate. I liked to roll my shoulders, swing my bat over and back, loosening my arms. This followed with several deep breaths in and out through my nose, until my heart rate lowered. Then I was ready.

Getting into position, I waited.

The first pitch went wide, and then he got into position again. Knee up, arm back.

It came as a curveball.