Chapter 33 #2
Isaiah’s got Max’s hand in his. “Killer Miller! You’ve got a hell of an arm, Hot Nanny.”
Charging at her, I heave her body over my shoulder like a sack of sand. I take off towards first base, running the bases like I just hit a grand slam, one hand cupped to the back of her thigh, the other raised in a single fist.
“Put me down, Rhodes. You haven’t run the bases once in your entire career. Stop acting like you know what you’re doing.”
I can’t help but laugh. Competitive Miller is a feisty little thing.
“A walk?” I taunt. “Kind of embarrassing, Mills.”
“I hate you. You had the ump in your pocket!”
Chuckling, I continue my jaunt to home plate. “God, I love winning so much.”
“Put me down!” Miller smacks my butt. “Jesus. I forgot how hard your ass is.”
“How the hell did you forget? I’ve still got your nail marks there from last night.”
That finally pulls a genuine laugh from her.
“Gross.” Isaiah covers both of Max’s ears, turning him back towards the rest of the team’s families and friends. “C’mon, Maxie. Miller and your dad are being annoyingly happy. We single men don’t need to hear about that.”
With too many people still by home plate, I carry her to the pitcher’s mound for some privacy before setting Miller back on her feet. She’s wearing that too-big grin again, much more of my Miller coming back after a day of sulking.
When she goes back to working six to seven days a week, twelve hours at a time, I want her to remember this. How it feels to be surrounded by the people that love her, that she loves in return. That life is so much more than the money you make or the status of your job. It’s about chasing your joy.
But then Miller’s smile drops when she falls into my chest.
“I hated everything about that photoshoot yesterday,” she finally admits. “I hated wearing that coat again and hearing them call me chef. I’m supposed to be excited. My career is taking off, and I thought it’d feel like a dream. My dream.”
I never know what I’m supposed to say when she talks like this. Do I agree? Disagree? I just want her to be happy, and up until the other night, I thought her career was doing that for her.
“If it didn’t feel like a dream, then what did it feel like?”
She peeks up at me, her chin on my chest. “A nightmare.”
I push her hair away from her face, coaxing her to continue.
“I’ve been in a bad mood since yesterday because I didn’t expect it to feel that way, and that makes me angry.
I’m mad that something I worked so hard for doesn’t feel fulfilling in the slightest. I’m angry that time is against us, and I have to leave tomorrow.
” She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head.
“I should be excited for what’s waiting for me, but I’m not.
And regardless of how I feel about it, I have to go.
There are too many people counting on me to get back to work, and as you can see, I’m a fucking mess over it. ”
Pulling her hands from her face, I run my palms up her arms. “Miller—”
She keeps her eyes down on the ground.
There’s a part of me that wants to lean into what she’s saying, to get my hopes up, but I know these feelings will fade for her as soon as she’s back to her routine. It’s simply the last night of her vacation.
And the last night I can indulge in this fantasy.
“Sorry. I’m fine. I’m just having a moment.
” She takes a deep breath, composing herself, when her eyes land on Max off in the distance with my brother.
“You know, sometimes I look at him and get irrationally mad at you because you were with another woman before me. The audacity you had not to think of me then, you know?”
A bark of a laugh escapes me as Miller breaks the emotional tension with humor per usual, a sly little smile plastered back on her lips. Just where it should be.
Wrapping an arm over her shoulders, I kiss her head. “You are the most jealous woman I’ve ever met. You know that?”
Her head jerks back. “You’ve met other women?”
“Charming as always, baby.”
“I’m sorry I’ve had an attitude today.”
“That’s okay, Mills.” I quickly take her mouth with mine. “You know I appreciate all your flaws.”
“Well, shit. I wasn’t aware I had any.”
“Mmm!” Max hums, attempting to say Miller’s name as he charges in our direction, his little legs working so hard to eat up the distance. “Mmm.”
I was really hoping she’d get to hear him say her name before she leaves tomorrow, but he’s not quite there.
“There’s my favorite guy,” she says, bending down to hoist him in her arms. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s go find us some snacks.”
With my name on her back and my son in my arms, Miller stands in the center of the field, looking like mine.
She should be mine. Ours.
“You coming?” she asks me over her shoulder.
“You two go ahead. I’ve got to go talk to your dad.”
“All right. See you soon.” She takes one single step away from me before I slip a finger through her belt loop, pulling her back to me.
Craning my neck I kiss her, right there in the middle of the infield where anyone could see, because this is not just a fling. Nothing about our situation is detached. She’s it for me and I don’t know how the fuck to handle that.
Monty is leaning back on the dugout railing, chatting with the last person I’d expect to find at our family day, seeing as he’s the third base coach for Atlanta.
“Hey, Ace,” Monty says, nodding towards the man at his side. “You know Brian Gould, right? He’s a part of Atlanta’s coaching staff.”
“Yeah.” I hold my hand out hesitantly, still not quite sure why a member from the team we played against yesterday is here. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” His shake is firm. “You’ve got a hell of an arm.”
“Brian and I were teammates for the entirety of my career,” Monty explains. “So, we were just reminiscing about the good ole’ days.”
Ah, this is making much more sense.
“Still such a shame.” Brian shakes his head. “You retiring the way you did. You had so much potential, and you gave it all up.”
“For good reason,” Monty corrects. “Hey, Miller is here, so I’ll finally introduce you tonight.”
“Monty, can we talk?” I interrupt.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, but we need to chat.”
Monty nods towards Brian and that simple motion has him walking off, creating privacy for only the two of us. I lean back on the railing next to him, both of us looking out towards the field.
“You asked me to come to you if I ever had the urge to ask Miller to stay,” I begin.
“And while yes, I want to beg her to stay, I’m not going to.
We both know she can’t, and I don’t want her to feel obligated to me or to Max, but I am going to tell her she’s always got a home with us, and I just wanted to let you know before I do. ”
Monty remains silent, his attention stuck straight ahead as he simply nods.
“I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
Until now, I haven’t had a father figure in my life since I was fifteen. Monty has not only been a close friend, but a sounding board when I’m struggling. So even though the topic is about his daughter, I need him.
“Are you not going to ask her to stay because you don’t want her to feel obligated or because you’re afraid she’d say no if you did?” he finally asks.
Well... shit. Of course, there are some internal fears surfacing here. Everyone wants to be wanted, and yeah, I’m scared to put myself in the position to ask someone to want me when I’ve grown accustomed to people leaving.
I don’t ask anymore—for help, for someone to stay. I simply do it on my own.
But the hope of not having to do it alone, of Miller truly wanting to be with me, almost outweighs the fear.
“I don’t want her giving up her entire life for me only to realize I’m not worth sticking around for.”
Monty’s head whips in my direction, but I keep my attention straight on the field.
“Then you don’t know her at all if you can’t see the way she looks at you, like you’re the best damn thing to ever happen in her twenty-six years of life.”
That earns my attention.
“You just might be,” he continues. “After me, of course.”
The emotional tension is broken with humor, much in the way his daughter tends to do.
“I’ll speak from experience. She doesn’t feel obligated to your son, so don’t let that thought cross your mind. She loves him in the way I love her.”
We find the two of them, slowly making their way down the food table. Miller gives Max a bite of cheese then finishes the other half of it herself before moving on to the next snack and doing the same.
She does love him. And he loves her.
“She’s not my blood, but she’s my girl,” Monty says from beside me.
“And she looks at your boy, who is not her blood, in the same way I look at her. I’ve seen it all summer.
I watched her fall in love with two people at the same time, and it reminded me of myself when I met her and her mom.
She won’t be able to just walk away from that, regardless of if you ask or not.
” Monty finally looks my way, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know I couldn’t.”
“Fuck, Monty.” Pressing into my eyes, I will the emotion back. “What the hell?”
He chuckles, but it’s watery and choked.
“All those times I asked you to come to me first, it’s not because I thought you weren’t worthy of asking that of my daughter.
It’s because I was looking out for you .
Miller has this intense need to be the best at what she does even if it’s not something she loves all that much, and I wanted to have this conversation before you put your heart on the line.
Kai, she might not stay, but I can promise if she goes, it’s not because of you. You need to understand that.”
I exhale a long breath. “I’ve noticed that about her, her need to be the best. Like she finds her worth in checkmarks and achievements.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Has she ever told you what that’s about?”
“Not explicitly, but I have a feeling it has to do with how you two became a family. I think there’s some residual guilt there. As if she feels at fault for taking you away from the life you were living at the time her mom died.”
Monty nods, keeping his eyes out on the field and not on me. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ve had a hunch that’s what was going on. We’ve talked about it, but I don’t think she’s ever truly understood that nothing about our situation was a sacrifice.”
Finding Max and Miller again, I watch as my son lays on her shoulder, delicately tracing the ink where her too-big jersey is hanging off.
“Do you love her?” Monty asks.
“I do. Very much so.”
“She might break your heart.”
“I’ll love her anyway.”
“I know you will.”
“I mean.” I pop my shoulders. “At times, I still think she’s way too fucking much.”
“Right? The things that come out of that girl’s mouth? Who the hell raised her?”
A laugh spreads between us, the emotional moment put on pause as we watch my son and his daughter together.
Monty exhales a contented sigh. “Just know that I loved her first.”
I nod. “And I’ll love her always.”
To the left of me, Kennedy comes bounding up the dugout stairs with none other than Dean Cartwright on her heels. I’d instantly be thrown off if any member of an opposing team walked through our dugout, but Dean of all people? Every one of my senses is on high alert.
I don’t like the guy, but he’s never done anything to me personally. However, he went at my brother for years while we were growing up, and after our mom died, I did everything I could to protect Isaiah.
Dean went to a rival high school and slept with any girl he learned my brother was dating, which gave Isaiah a real fucked-up complex when it came to relationships, never once having a committed partner who didn’t cheat on him.
He constantly talked shit to him on the field, and though my brother likes to pretend he’s unaffected, the truth is, to his core, Isaiah is sensitive.
Therefore, I’ve spent years keeping Dean away from him unless we’re playing against Atlanta, as we are this weekend. Anyone who creates an issue with my brother is automatically an issue for me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” I ask, popping off the dugout railing.
Dean wears the most annoying smirk as he turns my way.
“Game is tomorrow, Cartwright.” Travis steps up. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Yes, he is,” Kennedy says. “What is wrong with you guys? It’s Family Day.”
“Exactly,” Isaiah calls out. “He shouldn’t be here.”
Dean turns on my brother and that annoying smirk morphs into a Cheshire Cat-like grin. Knowing and pompous. He takes a step closer to Kennedy, which has my brother seeing red.
Isaiah takes quick, fluid steps towards the two of them, but I intercept, hands on his chest to keep him back.
“Get the fuck away from her,” he seethes over my shoulder.
Kennedy’s eyes are narrowed in confusion. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Yeah, Isaiah.” Dean slings an arm over Kennedy’s shoulder. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Get your filthy fucking hands off her or I swear to God—”
“Stop acting like a deranged caveman,” Kennedy chastises. “He’s allowed to be here. Dean is my stepbrother. Chill out.”
I swear the entire stadium goes silent at those words. My brother’s body is frozen under my arm as my eyes lock with Miller’s across the way.
“Stepbrother?” Miller asks. “So, your sister is...”
“Yes,” Dean agrees. “My sister is the heartless bitch. I’m Team Kennedy, so don’t worry about that.”
Miller’s lips curve into a smile and I’m not positive what that’s all about, but I’m sure she’ll tell me later.
“Kenny,” my brother whines. “Please tell me this is some sick joke.”
“You’re so dramatic. It’s not a joke. Dean’s dad and my mom got married when we were in high school. So be nice. It’s Family Day.”
“Yeah, Isaiah.” Dean shoots my brother a wink. “Be nice. It’s Family Day.”