Page 18

Sam

S eeing the flush on Kelsey’s face and neck only drove my thoughts further from good, wholesome activities.

God, she was beautiful, and she looked downright edible.

Her t-shirt was tented over her nipples, an image that would stay with me when I was alone in bed later tonight.

Her shorts were barely longer than her shirt and loose enough that I could imagine slipping my hands in through the leg to see if she was wet for me.

I stood outside her door like an idiot, holding two baseball hats and desperately hoping she would invite him into her suite. As if in protest of my dirty thoughts, Crew cried from the other room, and Kelsey hastily invited me in as she rushed to check on her son.

She emerged from the bedroom, bouncing Crew to soothe him, and set a pad on the couch as she changed his diaper.

He continued to cry, and she calmly finished, not at all flustered by his distress.

Then, she put him at her breast to nurse.

His cries subsided to whimpers and then satisfied gulps.

I sat on the chair across the room, having difficulty not feeling like I was interrupting .

“Is it okay for me to be here while you feed him? Do you want me to leave?”

“I can’t control when he wants to eat, and I don’t want to hide away while he nurses. If you’re uncomfortable with this, I understand. You don’t have to stay.”

I swallowed hard and took some time before speaking. “I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable.”

“How was the game tonight?” Kelsey asked, an apparent attempt at changing the subject.

“We won, but Ramon got two solo home runs. He’s hit a homer in nine of his last ten games. Streaks in baseball tend to continue.”

“So, you need to end his streak tomorrow?” She asked, her eyes drifting to mine as she leaned back on the couch.

Crew’s hand stroked her cheek as he nursed peacefully.

I’d never seen someone who embodied motherhood so completely.

These two were separate human lives, and I couldn’t imagine one without the other.

“That’s the plan. Or at least if he rips one, I want the bases empty.”

“Will you be able to see us while you pitch?”

“Yes, I made sure I could see you. Your seats won’t be as good as at the home game, but you’ll still be behind home plate.”

“Do you still really think this has to do with luck?” she asked.

“I don’t know how else to explain it, and good things happen to me when you’re around. I'm willing to see what this means even if I need to fly you and Crew all over this country.”

“Did you ever want to do something besides play baseball?”

“I’ve never thought about anything else. My father was a pitcher, and I grew up surrounded by the game of baseball. I grew up with access to the best travel leagues, coaches, and trainers. I was groomed to be a pitcher.”

“But what if you hadn’t been good at it?”

“I was raised without an option. There was no plan b, and my father would never have accepted me had I not pursued baseball. However, a couple of weeks ago, I faced the prospect of my career coming to an end. Only then did I realize how important my career was to me, and it had nothing to do with my father.”

“I have three semesters left before I can get my nursing degree,” she said absently.

“Why don’t you finish your degree?”

“I’m hoping to start back in January. I initially had hoped to start this fall, but that won’t happen.

I’ve been trying to save money since classes will make it tougher to work as much as I do, and I still have to spend time with this guy.

I don’t want him raised by someone else.

” I could see the toll that basic survival had on her; I couldn’t imagine her adding classes and schoolwork on top of what she had already handled daily.

Crew had fallen asleep, and she excused herself, leaving the room to put him back in bed in the portable bassinet.

Monica hadn’t found a rental; she’d bought one for these two nights.

She’d planned to have the hotel ship it back to Boston after Kelsey had checked out.

I had asked her to make sure Kelsey didn’t know she bought it just for the trip.

It was hard not to see how uncomfortable it made Kelsey to take anything from me.

The financial divide between our circumstances was staggering.

It only made me want to work harder to take care of her.

When she came back out of the bedroom, I was disappointed to see that she had put a bra on. I could no longer see her nipples through the fabric. Her t-shirt and shorts rode up when she reached into the cabinet for a glass, and I kept my eyes peeled to her ass, hoping for a peek.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“No, thank you. It’s late; I don’t want to keep you up. Would you like to meet for breakfast?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching me walk towards the door.

I couldn’t explain it, but my body rebelled against leaving.

Every fiber of my being wanted me to stay here with this woman.

It wasn’t just sex, but a need to shield her from the rest of the world and give her anything and everything she wanted.

I hated that she had to struggle to finish college.

My education and baseball training had all been handed to me, and she worked twice as hard as I did and still couldn’t even finish her nursing degree.

Everything I had was because I was good at throwing a stupid ball, and my parents had the means to provide it for me.

If she became a nurse, she’d be saving lives.

“I’m not sure if you hear this often or not. But you are amazing.”

When I watched tears well up in her eyes, I worried that I’d overstepped, and I hated myself for causing her to cry. She averted her eyes, focused on the glass of water in her hands, and took a long, ragged breath, “I just do what any mother would do.”