Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Olivia POV
Earlier that night (just after the game)
I checked my phone as I made my way to the parking lot. The sheriff’s patrol car lit up like a Christmas tree as I approached.
. . . and I knew I was in trouble.
“What, did you expect me to walk to the hospital?” Dotty rose from the passenger’s seat and gave me that look that could melt sand.
“No, I figured the Deputy could give you a lift.”
“He has more important business. I need him to do something else. Which means you’re driving me.” She pointed at me.
Fatigue had settled into the pit of my stomach and thought to grow arms and legs. “I don’t want to go.”
“Pish posh.”
“I don’t. He’s a grown man, capable of taking care of himself. And his coaches and teammates will be there?—”
“And yet you’re the one he chooses to be around.” Dotty stared at me. My insides squirmed.
“You’re just making things up to get me to drive you.”
She scoffed. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
“It sounds exactly like you.” Deputy Reegan tipped his head to one side as he rolled his eyes.
“Hush. No one asked you. Be on your way already.” She gestured like she was prodding the car to get moving.
“I’ll call you a rideshare.” I opened the rideshare app.
“You're being a coward.”
“I’m not. I’m just.” So tired and worn and raw. “I’m not interested in him, that way.”
“Hm, let me translate into your language: Queen of Denial, much?”
I groaned. “Never do that again. It’s not personal. It’s just that . . . professionally, Coop makes headlines, that’s all.”
“You think I'll believe you've just been chasing some headlines. Hmph. What a bunch of hogwash.”
Whether I was or wasn’t, the latest development in the Milline family business had left me reeling. Numb. My brother had texted and at first I thought I’d misread something. Or took it out of context.
Misunderstood, maybe? So, I called. Our conversation lasted a whole two minutes, and the upshot was my Dad, a back office operations executive for the IML had just tossed his hat in the ring to run for president of the minor league association.
“You’ve been, in turn, naively annoying. Mildly amusing. And rather perfectly unsuspecting. But now you’re just trying my patience.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Out with it, blondie. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. It’d be nauseating except watching that stick in the mud get all flustered around you is so much more entertaining than those soapy dramas on TV. Can’t get any of the orderlies to sneak in popcorn, though. They’re afraid I’ll break a crown. Idiots.”
“He doesn’t even like me. You’re either seeing things or you’re not taking your medication. Again.”
“I may be old but I’m not a fool. Deputy RBF isn’t either. Your brother’s a scout. Your father works for the IML and has some stake in the Carolina team. The one Cooper wanted to play for.”
“So he knows? I mean, it’s not like it’s super-secret or anything. I did tell you my family’s business is baseball.”
“I don't think he knows, but don't you think you should tell him? Feels important.”
I shrugged. “Is it? It's not like I'm involved. But why play Google detective? You could've just asked whatever you wanted to know about me.”
“I wasn’t looking into you . I wanted to do something for Cooper. Thought maybe some letters from a wide range of supporters would get him another look. I started with his first choice team and what an odd coincidence.”
“There’s nothing I can do. My dad doesn’t talk to me about these things. He acts like I don't exist when it comes to baseball. He and my brother go to games together and I'm always left at home. No baseball for Oliva. No baseball players, either.” Give me a break.
“Well, you’ve never struck me as so boring as to play by the rules. So don’t tell me your father is keeping you from kissing that boy dumbstruck.”
“Coop's not . . . The only thing we have in common is baseball. And I still say he doesn’t even like me.”
“I’ve seen him walk you to your car.”
“It's the Director's policy. He has to.”
“He stops by to check on you. Called me out on my stonewalling tactics so you could get your interview. He was fussy after you two got stuck in that closet together. Not sure what you said to him, but he hadn't cried, you know. And after you left, he finally let some of it go. They've been small changes in the boy, but they're there.”
“I think you're imagining things.”
“That man doesn’t talk to anyone else. Except to badger the crap out of me, ruining my fun—which is how I know he cares. If he didn’t, he’d let me run out and play in traffic.”
“He grumps because he cares?” I stared up at the night sky. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, now. I may as well give it up. Baseball. My plans. Everything I was working toward.”
“Oh Lord, and he calls me overly dramatic. What happened, you get a hangnail?”
“My dad’s on the ballot for president of the IML Minor Leagues. If elected, his term of office will begin in about a year. Which means goodbye to Liv’s dreams of being a scout.”
“I fail to see?—”
“He can tell every club not to hire me.”
“Sure. Fine. But would he do that to his daughter ?”
“He would. ‘To protect me.’” Maddening. Controlling pain in my ass. Why couldn't he just be happy being the head of operations?
“Then I guess you and Cooper have something in common beyond baseball.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but all that came out was: “Uhhhh.”
“I want to play major league ball. No scout or team will touch me right now. But that'll change . I just have to find a way . . .”
“Look, I wanted to try and help him. But every time I tried, I managed to screw something up worse. This last run ended up with the coaches thinking we’re dating, and that my father would back me up on something. Ever. The whole thing’s bound to wind up a bigger mess—sooner rather than later. He doesn't need that.”
“So, you’re sparing him, is that it?”
I opened my mouth to reply. But before I could even say anything, she cut in.
“Poppycock.”
“What?”
“Horse manure. Sheep shit. You need more? I’ve got dozens.”
I blinked. “I don’t understand why?—”
“As you said before, he’s a grown man. Capable of taking care of himself. If he’s letting you help him with something . . . It’s because he either wants your help, or your company.”
“But I?—”
“Let me ask you this. If you take away the ballplayer, what do you see?”
“What? What do you mean? I-I he's . . . Attractive.” With the most beautiful eyes. “And, um, smart, I guess.”
“Sorry, nope, you don't deserve him. Call me that rideshare.”
My stomach flipped over. “What? What the hell are you?—”
“You shouldn't swear at an old lady.” She put her forearm up to her head. “Oh, the abuse I suffer.”
“You curse all the time. Oh my God, I don't deserve him? With his-his-his temper and his irritating barbs and that smirking know-it-all face that he makes. Especially! Especially when . . .”
A chill swept through me. I shivered, but warmth swelled in my abdomen, spilling into my chest. Coop, Breslin, the man I met when we were away from the field. The one I spent time with at the senior center. He was . . . he treated me differently than Coop, the ballplayer.
The way he'd hold my gaze a bit too long, it'd made my insides burn.
The way those midnight eyes glittered when he suggested I show up on “day four”.
The way he'd frown whenever I told him . . . I was fine.
“He looks at me. And I hate it. Not him. Just how he gets me so riled up I can't even think straight. Or about?—”
The way he smelled like soap and sandalwood. The way his voice rumbled when he thanked me. The way his lips felt warm and soft and melty against mine . . .
“. . . anything but him. Oh, God.”
“Fine, you win. I'll go with you to see your boyfriend at the hospital.”
I stared at that diabolical old woman, and I was fairly certain she was her own force of nature, best contained in that senior center. But what could I say? I wanted to see him. To make sure he was all right. I had a hundred questions to ask him.
And he wouldn't get away with 'no comment' as his answer. Not this time.