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Chapter thirty-one

Danae

P eals of laughter compete with the shouts of concession workers walking the stands.

Self-confident armchair commentary surrounds me, drowning out the announcements from the speakers.

Peanut shells crack and beer cans pop open as I try to retrain the negative associations in my brain.

Try to hate this atmosphere a little less.

In the bottom of the first inning, Griffin’s turn at-bat comes. I perk up in my seat for the first time, watching him approach home plate. As his name and position come over the speakers, the announcer says, “And we’ve got a new walk-up song for Griffin West today.”

I listen closely as the song starts off quietly, but a smile spreads across my face as I realize what it is. Griffin twirls the bat in one hand and looks toward our seats with a huge grin. Be still, my heart .

“It’s the Harry Potter theme, Mom!” Jason yells, standing to jump up and down. “I bet he picked that because of—” I quickly but playfully clap my hand over Jason’s mouth, giving him a look to remind him we’re not calling attention to the fact that we know Griffin while we’re here.

“Looks like the Wizard of Defense decided to play up the nickname with the music this year!” the announcer says in a vibrant voice.

Wrapping an arm around Jason’s shoulders, I squeeze him in a hug. “That’s definitely for you, bud,” I say, voice low .

Jason grins at me. “For us.”

After one ball and one strike, Griffin makes contact and sends the ball past the opponent’s shortstop, successfully running to first base. Unfortunately, the next two batters strike out, and Griffin is left stranded on first as the inning closes out.

Play continues, and I’d say the energy of the crowd is contagious, but I’d be lying. Aside from the moments that Griffin is at-bat, I’m mostly bored to tears.

Jason, on the other hand, is living his best life.

No, not just his best life. THE best life there ever was, if his smiles and enthusiasm are any indication.

His running commentary of every swing, every catch, every out keeps me amused, at least. It also informs me of all the appropriate lingo for what’s taking place in the game.

Eight innings in, the score is still 0–0.

Very few batters have even made it on base for either team.

Thus far, none of the opposing team’s hits have gone in Griffin’s direction, so we haven’t really been able to see him in action.

He did get a double on his second at-bat, but he was left stranded once again.

I’m really and truly baffled by the level of passion fans have for such a snoozefest.

As the game transitions to the ninth inning, I stifle a yawn. I wish I had my Kindle with me . Trying to dismiss the thought, I remind myself: I love my son, who loves baseball. I really, really like (love?) Griffin, who loves baseball.

But I do not love baseball. Facts are facts.

I hope that Griffin can see that I care about him, even if I don’t share this particular passion of his.

The first batter for the opponents strikes out, but the second hits a double. The next batter makes a base hit, giving the runner at second the opportunity to make it to third base with only one out.

As the next batter comes up to the plate, I see Griffin crouch and ready himself.

When the batter makes contact with the ball, it bounces on the field right in Griffin’s direction.

Almost before I can track where the ball is going, Griffin fields it and throws to second base at lightning speed.

The second baseman, Luke, stomps the bag and immediately throws to first, where Drew catches it with his foot on base just in time to make the out .

The Crowns fans go wild cheering, and I stand up to jump and scream along with Jason.

Adrian makes a flourishing curtsy toward Griffin, who tips his hat and bows in return.

He looks over his shoulder at us as he jogs off the field, and I hope he could see us cheering for him.

“That was the fastest double play I’ve ever seen in real life!

” Jason exclaims as we take our seats. “I mean, it was the only double play I’ve seen in real life, but I bet it would still be the fastest even if I’d seen lots. ”

Drew is the first at-bat in the bottom of the ninth inning, and he hits a triple.

Griffin comes up to bat next, doing the same series of warm-up moves he’s done the past two times.

The first pitch is a ball, and Griffin settles back into his stance.

With the next pitch, his swing is followed by that satisfying crack of the bat, and he takes off running to first. It’s only a single but hit in the perfect direction to give Drew time to make it home and end the game with a run.

When the cheering over the win dies down, Jason looks up at me. “Well, it wasn’t another home run, but it was still the game-winning hit. So I think it still counts for me.”

Laughing, I give him a playful shove. “I’d say so! Don’t get too greedy!”

Jason’s eyes widen with shock. “You got me the game-winning ball?!”

Griffin grins at Jason from where he’s kneeling at eye-level. “Sure did! I tracked the ball down, and then Drew and I both signed it for you.”

Holding the ball with reverence, Jason whispers, “Thank you.” In the next breath, he’s diving forward, wrapping his arms around Griffin’s neck. “I’m gonna display this on top of my dresser forever,” he says.

Griffin looks up at me as he hugs Jason, a tender expression in his eyes.

He winks in response to the smile I give him, and heat floods my core.

As if he can sense the effect of his wink on me, his own smile twists into a self-satisfied smirk.

He gives Jason one more squeeze before standing up to immediately plant a kiss on my lips.

A move I’m not protesting at all, especially since we finally have the privacy of his condo.

“Adrian and Sam should be here with the tacos any minute. Can I get you something to drink?” Griffin asks.

“Water is great. Unless you have a cranberry club soda from Jeff hiding out in your fridge,” I reply.

“I wish,” Griffin says, opening a cabinet door to get two glasses. “As soon as I get back to KC, I’m taking you to Capital Grille again. We’ll have two rounds of the Jeff special.” He turns to Jason. “You want water or a Gatorade?”

“Gatorade!” Jason chirps with a little bounce.

A few minutes later, Samantha and Adrian come through the front door of the condo, laden with bags from a local taco shop.

We stuff ourselves with delicious food as Jason gives his full breakdown of the game today, causing all of us to stifle our amused laughter.

Adrian and Griffin regale us with stories from training camp and the games so far, causing multiple rounds of unstifled belly laughs.

When the tacos are gone and the chips are down to crumbs, Adrian leans over the table toward Jason. “I think it’s about time you tried the best ice cream in Arizona. What do you think?”

“Yes!” Jason yells, pivoting to look to me. “Can we, Mom?”

“I’m too full for ice cream, but you should definitely let Ortiz take you, Fireball,” Griffin says, eyeing me meaningfully.

“I’m in!” Samantha says, giving me a similarly pointed look.

“Oh, yeah, I’m pretty full, too, after all those tacos. I’ll pass on ice cream this time,” I say. Standing up, I start gathering the trash to throw away, trying to look occupied and not like I’m obsessing over finally being alone with Griffin again.

Adrian fist bumps Jason and ushers him toward the front door, closely followed by Samantha. She gives us a sly look over her shoulder as they exit the condo, their laughter echoing behind them.

It’s a matter of milliseconds before Griffin spins me toward him and captures my lips with his.

I loop my arms around his neck, melting against him.

When he pulls back from our kiss, he trails the tip of his nose from my chin up the line of my jaw.

The resulting shiver that skitters through my body must delight him because he smiles against the skin below my ear.

“Have I mentioned I missed you?” he murmurs, voice warm and tantalizing. “That I thought about you constantly the past five weeks? That every day I’ve been daydreaming about drinking in your kiss again?”

Before I can respond, his lips are back on mine, his hands moving from my waist to my hair. I sigh, so blissfully happy to be back in his embrace.

“Everything about you is so soft,” he whispers.

“Your skin,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek.

“Your hair,” he adds, running a lock of my hair through his fingertips, his eyes tracking the movement.

The gray has almost completely clouded out the blue in his irises as he stares at me.

“Your lips,” he breathes as his fingers trace the outline of them.

I move my hands from behind his neck to his shoulders, slowly sliding them down to his chest. When I feel his heart thundering beneath my hands, I mimic his self-satisfied smirk. “I’m really glad to see you again,” I say. “That was way too long apart.”

“Agreed,” he says. “Let’s not do that again.” He leans in to press a kiss to my neck, then takes one of my hands and leads me to the couch.

“Listen, I could stand here kissing you for the entirety of however long Adrian and Sam manage to distract Jason. But I want to talk with you too,” Griffin says as he sits on the couch. He pulls me down next to him, and I drape my legs over his as he tucks me under his arm.

“Would this be an appropriate seating position for reading at the ski lodge?” he asks, voice teasing.

“ Hmmm ,” I say. “Realistically, if I was going to be able to hold my book, I’d have to face the opposite direction and lean my back against your chest.”

“I can get on board with that too,” Griffin says, “but for now, I’m happy just like this.” He kisses the top of my head, pausing to noticeably smell my hair. “What kind of shampoo do you use?”

I laugh. “Some cheap stuff from the grocery store. My days of regular highlights and high-end hair products got left behind when I cut ties with my parents. But I like the mango citrus scent of this shampoo, so I don’t even care.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Griffin replies. “Don’t ever change it. I can’t believe you used to highlight your hair. It’s already the perfect shade of auburn. Why would you mess with perfection?”

I shrug, his arm wrapped around me rising and falling with the movement. “It was part of the lifestyle my parents wanted for us. Regular beauty treatments to look as chic and posh as possible were as much a part of my upbringing as learning to ride a bike.”

“I’m almost surprised you know how to ride a bike,” Griffin remarks.

Slapping him on the chest, I lean back to give him a fake scowl. “We weren’t that out of touch with reality,” I say. He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not saying I could tell you the last time I actually rode a bike, but I did learn.”

Griffin laughs, and I lean my head against his chest to fully appreciate the thundering sound. I trace lazy patterns on his forearm as I ask, “How has training been?”

“Different this year. Mentally harder than usual,” he says. “Mostly because of the separation from you. But also because the seed of doubt about whether I’d be good enough to make the squad was bigger than ever after coming back from the injury.”

“I can imagine that weighed on you,” I reply. “You were amazing today, though.”

“Did you think so?” he asks, pulling back from me enough to look at my face. The tentative smile on his face looks as though he’s genuinely searching for my approval. To know if I’m proud of him.

“Of course,” I say, reaching a hand up to trail my fingers along his beard.

“Even from someone who doesn’t care for the sport, I can appreciate the talent you had in fielding that double play.

Not to mention three hits.” He smiles more fully, looking pleased.

“But the walk-up song was by far my favorite part.”

His smile breaks into a grin. “I thought you might appreciate that. Good thing my nickname lends itself to a little Harry Potter magic. What did Jason think?”

“Oh, he was beside himself. Thought it was the coolest moment ever. Well, until your double play. Then that was the coolest moment ever. Although now he probably thinks getting the game-winning ball is the coolest moment ever,” I say.

My voice drops to a murmur as I add, “You’re giving him a lot of coolest moments ever. ”

“And you’re giving him all the everyday forever moments,” Griffin says tenderly. “How have things been going since the most recent therapy appointment?”

“Up and down,” I say, sitting back a little. “We had our first appointment with the occupational therapist, and she’s going to teach me some of the exercises to do at home with him as well.”

“Will you see both of them every week?” he asks.

I frown slightly. “Maybe? I need to figure things out as far as how much we can do.”

Griffin’s brow furrows. “What’s the hangup?”

Shrugging, I say, “Nothing’s covered once he's on my insurance after the adoption is finalized. So I need to plan everything out and set up a reasonable schedule with Jessica and the OT when we get back home. Speaking of home, when will you actually fly back to KC?”

“Unfortunately, not soon enough,” he says.

“We still have one game left here the day you leave, and then we fly to Texas for two exhibition games. We’ll only have a couple of days back in KC before the home opener.

Thank goodness our first series is at home this year.

I don’t think I could handle seeing you and then immediately having another two-plus weeks apart. ”

“Thank your season scheduler for me,” I tease. “They might be saving my sanity. Which will already be stretched to the limit watching so many baseball games this week.”

Griffin gives me a mischievous look. “No closer on converting you to a fan, huh?”

Slowly shaking my head, I smirk back at him, causing his eyes to narrow.

“Good thing I’m finding another passion, then,” he says, voice nearing growl territory as he leans toward me. “Another very enticing passion.”

Our lips find each other like two oppositely charged elements that can’t stay apart. That won’t stay apart. That don’t want to stay apart.