Page 4

4

Ripley

I’m leaning against the chain-link fence that wraps around the rec center’s makeshift diamond, watching Kali run through basic drills with a bunch of wide-eyed kids. Juniper stands out from the pack, her blonde curls bouncing every time she hops around to catch the ball. And she’s absolutely beaming—like she’s discovered the coolest place on earth.

I can’t pretend I’m not impressed with how Kali handles all of them. She’s calm, patient. She smiles a lot, and somehow her voice carries that perfect blend of kindness and authority. One moment she’s adjusting a kid’s batting stance, the next she’s dodging a grounder and yelling encouragement to another. Watching her reminds me, uncomfortably, of how much Juniper’s missing with no mother around. Does she need someone to guide her in a way that’s… softer, more nurturing? I do my best, but it’s not the same.

Stop it, I tell myself. Kali’s just the umpire who nearly cost you the game. But I can’t ignore how my pulse picks up when I glimpse that confident grin of hers, or the way her ponytail swishes against her shoulders. She’s in athletic shorts and a tank top, and if I catch myself looking a little too long, well, that’s my problem to deal with, right?

“Nice throw, Juniper!” Kali shouts, and my daughter’s face lights up like the Fourth of July. A pang hits my chest. Juniper’s always been a pretty happy kid—Hattie and I do everything we can to keep her that way. Still, seeing her soaking up praise from someone she admires stirs up all sorts of emotions. She hasn’t had a consistent maternal figure in her life. Sometimes I worry she’s missing out.

I sigh, crossing my arms. We had a little disagreement this morning—Kali and I—about whether Juniper should even be in this class. I’m still not thrilled she’s the coach, but Juniper’s already attached to her, so what am I supposed to do? Pull her out because I have a grudge against the new ump? That wouldn’t be fair to Juniper. And the kid’s right. Kali clearly knows the rules. If I’m honest with myself, I know Juniper’s in good hands. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Finally, the session winds down. Kali gathers the kids in a circle, handing out high-fives and little pep talks. Juniper practically glows when it’s her turn to receive a fist bump. I swallow the odd mixture of jealousy and pride that wells up in me. I hate that I’m jealous of Kali, but it’s there—she’s given Juniper something new, something she clearly loves.

I see Kali glance my way, and for a heartbeat, our eyes lock. There’s a flicker in her expression—surprise, maybe, or acknowledgement. I tug my cap lower, determined not to give anything away. When the kids all scatter toward their parents, Juniper bounds over to me, face flushed and bright.

“That was amazing , Dad!” she chirps. “Coach Kali said I have a real good arm! Can we go buy a glove? I want a pink one with sparkles.”

I can’t help smiling. “Sparkles, huh? We’ll see. Come on, let’s go. We gotta get to Hattie’s for dinner.”

“You know what else?” Juniper’s big eyes blink at me.

“What?”

“She loves Star Wars. She called me her little padawan.” Juniper beams with pride.

“She did?” A Star Wars fan, huh?

Juniper hops along next to me, but not before tossing a loud “Bye, Coach Kali!” over her shoulder. My eyes flick to Kali, who waves enthusiastically at Juniper. Then she crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow at me, as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. I give her a small nod, which is about all I can muster without my chest doing that weird twisty thing again.

* * *

All the way home, Juniper cannot stop talking about Kali. Kali this… Kali that.

“And then she showed me how to line up my feet, and it made the ball go faster, and then she said ‘Great job, Juniper,’ and she gave me a high five, and?—”

I’m half-laughing, half-wincing at every mention of Kali’s name. “Okay, kiddo, I get it. She’s the best coach ever. Just don’t forget your dad’s a pretty decent ballplayer too.”

Juniper giggles. “I know, Daddy, but you’re always so serious when you play. Coach Kali makes it look fun.”

That stings a bit, but I force a chuckle. “I’m serious because it’s my job, you goof. You’ll see the difference when you start playing in games.”

We pull into the driveway of Hattie’s house. We live not far away in a nice little bungalow on the edge of town, overlooking the water. Hattie’s got the bigger kitchen, and she offered to host dinner tonight. So, of course I hopped on the plan. I’m still chewing on Juniper’s words when we step inside.

“Hey!” Hattie calls from the living room, flipping through a magazine. “How was practice? Anyone break an arm yet?”

Juniper races over, bouncing on her toes. “No, but guess what, Aunt Hattie? My coach is the Kali! The one Daddy was talking about!” She giggles. “And she loves Star Wars too, just like Daddy.”

Hattie’s eyebrows shoot up. “ The Kali? As in, the new umpire who gave your dad a hard time?” She glances at me with a wicked grin. “Must have been fun.”

I drop my keys onto the counter, then loosen my shoulders. “Oh, it was a real blast,” I say dryly. “Turns out she’s pretty good with kids.”

Juniper nods vigorously. “She’s the best! She said my throw was awesome. And she showed me how to hold the bat just right. Look!” She mimics the stance, nearly knocking a lamp off the end table.

“Watch it!” I steady the lamp before it crashes. “We’ll practice outside after dinner, all right?”

She beams at me. “Yes, please!”

Hattie stands up and motions me into the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get started on dinner. Juniper, want to help me chop veggies?”

“Sure!” Juniper’s already tugging a stool over to the counter.

I slip off my jacket and wash my hands at the sink, doing my best to ignore Hattie’s smug look. She’s up to something, I can tell. I toss her a suspicious glance. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She grins, handing a plastic knife to Juniper for the veggies. “What do you mean? I’m just curious about your day.”

“My day was fine,” I say, drying my hands. “We got through practice, Juniper had a blast, and that’s that.”

“Uh-huh.” Hattie stirs a pot of sauce on the stove. “You told me you ‘wanted nothing to do with Kali’ just yesterday. So how’d that go, Mr. I’m-So-Over-It?”

I clench my jaw, tossing a few pasta noodles into the pot. “I still want nothing to do with her. She’s my daughter’s coach, not my friend. End of story.”

Juniper giggles. “But Daddy, you were totally staring at her?—”

“Juniper!” I nearly drop the handful of noodles. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugs, giggling again. “I saw you, Daddy. You were watching her teach. And you had that look.”

“What look?” Hattie pounces, eyes sparkling.

I shoot Juniper a playful glare. “I didn’t have a ‘look.’ I was just making sure she was doing her job right. You’re my kid, I’m allowed to supervise.”

Hattie snorts. “Sounds awfully protective for a guy who wants ‘nothing to do with her.’”

“Can we drop it?” I mutter, feeling my cheeks heat. It’s infuriating how easily they gang up on me, but I can’t blame them for reading between the lines. The fact is, I am drawn to Kali in some bizarre way. I can’t stand her, yet I want to see her again. Makes no sense.

We chat about random stuff as we cook—Juniper’s new dance moves, Hattie’s latest painting project—until dinner is almost ready. While Juniper sets the table, Hattie sidles up next to me, lowering her voice.

“Look, I’m not trying to pry,” she says gently, “but you and Kali? There’s something there, isn’t there?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “There’s nothing. She’s stubborn, rule-obsessed, infuriating… She cost me a run with that balk call.”

Hattie gives me a knowing look. “And yet, somehow, you’re excited to see her at tomorrow’s game. Right?”

My stomach does a weird flip, and I hate how easily she can read me. “I just want to make sure she doesn’t pull another stunt like that.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hattie hums, patting my arm. “Sure, that’s the only reason. I know that face, Riptide. You’re intrigued. And maybe a little…?”

I sigh. There’s no point lying to my sister. “Fine, maybe a tiny bit. But I shouldn’t be. I mean, come on. We clash like crazy. And Juniper?—”

“What about Juniper?” Hattie prods.

“She’s getting attached,” I admit quietly. “I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t want her to get let down.”

Hattie’s expression softens. She knows how protective I am of Juniper. “You’re a good dad, Rip. If Juniper enjoys Kali’s class, that’s a positive, no matter what you two have going on.”

“What we have going on is nothing,” I insist, even though a little voice in my head calls me a liar. “Now can we eat? I’m starving.”

Hattie shakes her head with a wry smile, and we gather at the table. Over bowls of pasta and sauce, we feast and talk about tomorrow’s game—my schedule, the team we’re up against. But in the back of my mind, I’m already imagining Kali, standing behind home plate in all her gear, unwavering in her calls. The idea of her eyes on me again makes my heart pound in a way I can’t quite name. Annoyance? Thrill? Both?

As we finish dinner and Juniper heads off to brush her teeth, I grab a dish towel and help Hattie clean up. She bumps her shoulder against mine. “You’d tell me if something changed, right?”

I shrug. “Sure. But nothing’s gonna change. This is just baseball. She’s the ump, I’m the pitcher, and that’s it.”

Hattie doesn’t push it further. Once the dishes are put away, we head home.

I tuck Juniper into bed, reading her a quick story about a puppy who finds its way home. She babbles for another minute about next week’s practice—Kali said something about practicing bunts and grounders. Then she dozes off with a smile on her face. As I watch her breathing softly, I can’t shake the image of Kali high-fiving my kid, telling her she has a good arm.

I head to my own bed, lying awake for a bit, replaying the day in my mind. I keep telling myself that I don’t want anything to do with Kali, that she’s infuriating. But there’s a part of me that’s itching to face her again.

Tomorrow, I think, closing my eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll show her that she can’t rattle me. But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m already rattled—and maybe a little more intrigued by the fiery umpire than I’d ever want to admit.