Chapter 16
[Ford]
Our spring training park isn’t nearly as big as Anchor Field back in Chicago.
Seating roughly fifteen thousand fans from left field to right, there is also a berm lawn section that mimics our bleacher area back home.
In this smaller-scale stadium, there is no way for Felicity to avoid the girls, or the girls not to see their mother.
I’ve suggested Ruby take the girls to the lawn where they’d have space to stretch a bit, plus keep their distance from Felicity.
Zelle, Winnie, and June won’t attend every game, but I want them here today on opening day.
As the game begins, I force thoughts of Romero and Felicity out of my head.
The task isn’t difficult with the spring training stadium packed and the love of baseball in the atmosphere.
I don’t risk a glance at the WAG section despite its proximity to the dugout.
Instead, I find my girls sitting with Ruby and her husband, Javier, on the lawn seats just off center from left field.
Ruby rushed me off this morning. The girls aren’t allowed to bring snacks into the stadium.
A backpack isn’t even allowed but I wanted to make certain the girls had blankets and layers of clothing.
While it’s Arizona, the weather has extremes.
The sky is bright blue, but a desert chill ripples over the field. The day is perfect for a baseball game.
The game is going well until the third inning. We’re playing our hometown rivals from Chicago, and their star second baseman hits a pop fly to center field. The ball arches high but drops midfield, causing me to run forward and our shortstop to back pedal on quick feet.
“I got it,” I call out at the same time Romero calls “Ball, ball, ball.”
Neither of us gets the ball as we collide with one another having our heads focused up toward the sky.
In the collision, I’m knocked in my left shoulder with his right one before I’m falling.
In a not so graceful drop, I extend my left arm to catch myself before I hit the ground.
I hear the tear and feel a jolt from wrist to shoulder.
“Fuck,” I cry out rolling into my hurt arm until I’m flipped onto my back. With deep inhales, I try to breathe through the pain radiating over my shoulder and along the back of my neck.
“You okay?” The team trainer hovers over me.
“Just give me a sec.” Another exaggerated inhale. Another sharp exhale. I focus on the sky.
“Ford?” Ross Davis says my name.
“I’m good,” I lie before jackknifing to a seated position. I take another deep breath, wincing while rolling my left arm.
Our team trainer holds out his hand, and I take it with my right one, appreciating his assistance to hoist me upward. The crowd applauds as I stand, after the quiet hush of concern that I’d been hurt.
“Need to sit?” Ross asks.
“Nah. I’m good,” I repeat, not quite confident in my answer. I roll my left arm again. Fuck. As team captain and the oldest member of this team, I refuse to go down during training season.
Romero stands a few feet away with our left fielder and second baseman watching me.
Ross Davis watches me, too, noticing where I’m glaring. His gaze follows my line of sight before turning back to me. “Let’s get through this game.” He smacks me on my good shoulder and heads back toward the dugout.
“You got this,” the trainer adds. “Fuck him,” he mutters underneath his breath, side-eyeing Romero, before walking away.
While it isn’t public knowledge, the team has slowly gotten wind of my marital situation. Felicity and I are no longer together. I have no idea who knows that she’s now with Romero.
Hodge Porter is our left fielder, and he jogs over to me as the trainer walks away.
“You got this,” he says tapping his mitt to mine. As one of my best friends on the team as well as another long-timer with the Anchors, he knows everything about Felicity and Romero. He glances over his shoulder at our shortstop who has given us his back and returned to his position.
“Head in the game, man.” He pats my good shoulder and hops once before racing back to his spot.
The game goes on.
Once the bottom of the inning ends, I head back to the dugout, taking my time, swinging my shoulder gingerly to keep it loose.
Fucking hurts like hell. Still, I scramble into the dugout and collapse to my seat, sneaking a glance at the lawn section.
A commotion occurs near my girls. A woman in an Anchors ball cap pulled low approaches Ruby and her husband.
Instantly, Winnie jumps up and the woman catches her.
I narrow my eyes in hopes to better identify who she is. From this distance, she could be anyone, wearing jeans and some kind of Anchors T-shirt. Her hair is tucked up in the cap.
Standing, I approach the edge of the dugout, squinting as if it will help me more clearly see the woman .
Felicity? I’ve been fortunate not to catch a glimpse of her today, and I’m wondering if some sliver of kindness has entered her heart, keeping her away from the stadium during the game.
The woman sets Winnie down and bends at the waist to hug Zelle. Then she hitches June upward, notching my youngest on her hip and shifts so she’s pointing toward me. June waves. I wave back. The woman wiggles her fingers at me.
Cadence? My pulse kicks up.
Cadence is at the game? I fist my hands, finding my palms sweating.
Then, the truth hits. Cadence came to my game.
A slow smile curls my lips. My heart hammers with . . . surprise? Joy? Panic even?
“Sylver,” the batting coach calls out and I jerk myself back into the dugout. “On deck.”
Shit. I reach for my helmet and pull my gloves from my back pocket. Finding my bat, I head to the deck and take some light practice swings, watching the timing of the opposing team’s pitcher. My shoulder screams but I focus on the pitcher’s delivery.
After our new prized hitter, Caleb Williams, cracks one to left field he races toward first and rounds to second, sliding into the base.
With a cheer from the crowd for Caleb, I take my position in the box, tap home plate twice and square my stance.
No one will want a scrawny kid from a mountain town, boy.
Don’t shoot the messenger, the mail courier said after I ripped open the envelope telling me I was divorced.
I’m in love with Romero, Ford.
Fuck them all. I swing and miss. My arm cries out in pain.
“Strike one,” the umpire calls.
Clutching the bat harder, I rub my hands around the base of the neck and reposition.
The ball races toward me again.
Fuck them. I swing again, hissing as I do. Another miss.
“Strike.” The call echoes around me.
I will not go down without a fight.
A final ball curves toward me. The bat connects with a resounding crack. And I watch as it soars between left and center, heading out of the ballpark.
Homerun! With a single clap, I take off for first base, round to second, and pull at the bill of my cap as I head toward third, then point toward the lawn seats where my girls sit.
All four of them.
+ + +
Anchors win 6-4 and the crowd sings our winning song. Entering the dugout, I gather my things. There’s no elaborate tunnel that takes us to a clubhouse but a short walk to the path leading to a second building on the property with locker rooms and a training center.
In this area, Ruby waits with the girls. Cadence holds June once more.
“Daddy, you won!” Winnie cries out and leaps for me. I hike her into the air by her shoulders, planting a kiss on her nose and setting her down. My left shoulder screams through the motion.
“Did you see my homerun?” I ask, knowing she did.
“Sure did.”
“Congratulations, Dad.” Zelle leans into my hip, side-hugging me.
I curl my hand around her ponytail and slide it down the length. “Thanks, baby.”
“And what about you?” I reach for June, whom Cadence angles toward me.
June falls into my arms and I toss her into the air, feeling my shoulder extra when I catch her and bring her to my chest.
“Daddy do guwd.” I kiss her cheek and she’s quick to restore her thumb to her mouth. Tugging at her little hand, I act like I’m going to bite off the appendage.
“No,” she whines, pulling her hand back and tucking her head into my right shoulder. As a left hander, I’m used to carrying her on my left side but awkwardly I hold her against my right.
“Hey you,” Cadence finally says, watching me, with some distance between us.
People are slowly starting to mill around us, taking second glances at her wearing my cap and an Anchors T-shirt.
“Who’s T-shirt you wearing, songbird?” Recognizing hers is the graphic kind with a player’s name on the back.
She turns around, giving me a view of her firm ass and my name on the back of her shirt. When she turns back, she leans forward, and whispers a little too loudly, “Figured if you were going to get me pregnant, I should be wearing the name of my baby daddy.” She winks.
And I laugh hard. This crazy woman.
“You came to my game?”
She shrugs, her smile sweet. “Figured your ego could handle another fan.”
Does she really mean she came to support me?
She’d been on tour since last fall. Her personal time must be limited and precious, so it’s hard to believe she flew all this way to see me play ball.
And yet, here she stands wearing a T-shirt with my name on the back, and I’m liking it a little too much.
Looking around me, she narrows her eyes. “Any sign of the ferret.”
“Ferret?”
Felicity, she mouths.
“No ferret. Not today.” Who is even looking? I have my girls here. And Cadence. “You met Ruby and Javier.”
Cadence smiles at the couple lingering close by but giving us space. “We’re best friends already.”
“Of course you are.” I laugh again, jiggle June against my chest and then set her down, flinching once more.
“I’ll take the girls home now,” Ruby says. “We’ve had enough popcorn and hot dogs. I think an apple or two might be in order.” With her hand reaching for June’s, she adds, “Good game, Ford.”
Javier pats my left shoulder and I try not to recoil from the sharp sting.
Zelle takes a few steps forward but then turns back. “When will you be home, Dad?”
“One hour,” I say. “Sixty minutes.”
“I’ll be counting.” Then she takes a step. “One.” Another step. “Two.” Her voice drones on as she moves forward and my chest aches from her fear.
“Better make it one hundred,” I call after her and I hear Zelle start all over again.
“You okay, cowboy?” Cadence asks as I watch the girls walk away and reach for my bat bag, hiking it up and over my right arm.
“Yeah. It’s just my shoulder.” I roll my left again, the pain more than a pinch. I’ll need ice and lots of it.
Cadence walks with me toward the training facility, and I’m hopeful of pulling her away from the prying eyes. Within a few feet, we reach the path leading to the second building and most people respect our privacy as if an invisible line in the pavement is drawn once the team reaches this spot.
“So, why’d you really come?” I bump my elbow into her arm.
Cadence grabs the bill of her cap—my cap—and tugs it downward.
“I heard baseball players are superstitious and I worried this hat might be special. I thought I’d bring it back to you, but I was running late, and the game had already started.
Some guy wouldn’t let me near the dugout even though I explained I had your lucky cap. ”
“Lucky cap, huh?”
“Of course. It’s what you were wearing when you met me.” She smiles wide. Her mouth full. Those blue eyes dancing.
I shake my head. “Which guy?”
“Don’t know. A silver fox wearing an official jersey.”
Silver fox? What the fuck is a silver fox? An old guy with gray hair? “Half the coaching staff might qualify under that description.”
“Seeing as I know who Ross Davis is.” She exaggerates her heart throbbing by patting her chest with both hands three times. “It wasn’t him.”
“Got a thing for silver foxes?”
“Nah. Just hot center fielders.”
I stop short and Cadence takes a step forward before turning to face me. We stare at one another a second before I clear my throat. “How long are you in town?”
She sighs. “I need to fly out first thing tomorrow morning.” She holds her hands upward and spreads them apart like a headline as she says, “Breaking news in the music industry.”
“Care to share with the class?”
“Maybe over a drink?” Her brows hitch.
“Not tequila.”
She flirtatiously pouts before straightening her lips.
“How do you feel about milk?”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t drink it. Why?”
“It’s what I’ll be serving with dinner.”
Cadence’s mouth falls open and her head nods once before she tilts it the slightest bit. “Ford Sylver, are you asking me over for dinner?”
I think I might be. My cheeks flame and it isn’t because of the hot Arizona sun. Holding out my hand, I say, “Give me your phone.”
With a huge grin on her face, Cadence hands me her phone where Cowboy is indeed listed as a favorite right after Enya. I add my address to the contact so she has it with the number and can easily map a route to the condo.
“How about six?” I need time to ice my arm and shower. And maybe tidy up my place a bit.
She smiles wide. “What can I bring?”
I bite my lip before suggesting her fine ass is enough.
“Just you, TQ.” She’s going to be more than I can handle.
“See you at six.” Nodding once, she steps aside so I can pass for the training facility but once I pass her, I turn and walk backwards.
“Hey, Cadence? Did you see me knock it out of the ballpark?”
“Really?” She tips her head back as the bill of the cap is covering her face too much. “Hadn’t noticed,” she teases. Her gaze lowers slowly, taking me in from top to toe. “I was too busy objectifying you in those pants. No one told me baseball pants were so sexy.”
My face flames a thousand watts again.
“I’m turning around now, Cadence. See you at six.”
“I’m going to objectify you again as you walk away.” She laughs and I swivel for the training center as I give her a backhand wave.
While smiling all the way to the building.