Chapter 13
Future Hall Of Famer: I think I need to up my reward for all the effort this is taking . . .
Me: Too late. Do you have a date, or should I prepare my speech for the game today? Don’t worry, I won’t bring up the Star Wars action-figure collection just yet. I’ll leave that up to you.
Future Hall Of Famer: Don’t test me, Bree. But to answer your question, YES I FOUND MY OWN DATE!!
Me: It isn’t Jett’s sister again, is it?
Future Hall Of Famer: And if it is?
Me: Then you’re going to have to explain that collection to a fan in the middle of a busy Wendy’s.
Future Hall Of Famer: Harsh. No, it isn’t Jackie. You don’t have to be so jealous, honey pot. You’re my main squeeze.
Me: She’s a user, Finn.
I reread the messages we sent earlier today and scowl again, feeling that familiar protective burn spark in my chest. Jackie isn’t a present problem, but she was a very big pain in the past. You’d think that being Jett’s sister, she’d share his kindness and humour, but it’s the opposite.
She’s a bratty, spoiled little monster with a kink for bringing Finn into her life for a few weeks and encouraging him to spend thousands of dollars on her before crawling back through Hell’s gates.
It’s been two years since the last time they got together, but clearly, I still haven’t let it go.
“Another one!” Brielle cheers, popping up out of her seat.
Wes’ sister and my closest girlfriend took the outside seat today and nearly swats the popcorn belonging to the dude beside her out of his hands. Wearing a green jersey with her brother’s number on the back, she claps excitedly, leading the cheers in our section.
Deep cherry-coloured hair skims the tops of her shoulders.
The twin bright red highlights graze her cheeks and light up beneath the sun, drawing multiple sets of eyes toward her for reasons beyond her genuine happiness.
She’s shorter than I am by a few inches but could go round for round with me if we’re talking vocal sparring.
“Yay, Uncle Finn!”
The young, high-pitched voice comes from my left.
It belongs to the adorable eight-year-old girl whom I’ve come to love wholeheartedly.
Sara’s on my other side, sitting on the big stadium seat with her legs swinging over the edge and a bag of blue and pink cotton candy in her lap.
Jett will probably ream me out for letting her eat the whole thing, but I like to consider this payback for sticking me on recon duty today.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t take that away for now?”
I lean back and look past Sara to the woman sitting awkwardly beside her.
The new babysitter—Jasmine—is no older than nineteen, if I had to guess.
She seems nice enough, and someone clearly vetted her well enough to watch Jett’s daughter on her own, but I think her age is the real issue here.
Other than being able to stay up later and not needing a solid ten hours of sleep to avoid waking up half-dead in the morning, being young isn’t doing her any favours.
Or at least, I’m blaming her naivety and lack of experience on her age.
It’s not like any of the guys down on the field walk around with a security team.
Jasmine needs to be Sara’s protector when we’re somewhere like this, and I caught her letting go of her hand in a crowd twice on the way to our seats.
I’ve been on edge with her ever since, always second-guessing her and making sure I’ve got a good hold on the little girl so she can’t slip away.
Looking at Sara, I smile to myself when she rips off another huge chunk of cotton candy and shoves it into her mouth. Her cheeks bulge as her palm meets her lips and stays there while she swallows.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll take the heat if Jett gets mad,” I say, knowing that he won’t. Not once he sees his daughter’s smile.
The babysitter fidgets a bit in her seat and reaches behind her head to tighten the strap of her baseball cap. “I still don’t know . . .”
“It’s fine. This isn’t the thing you should be worrying so much about.”
“Look!” Sara exclaims, tugging at the short sleeve of my Avery jersey. “Another no-hitter. Good job, Uncle Finn!”
Finally, I let my eyes wander back to the field. And there he is, celebrating with the guys on the mound. My stomach tightens when I realize I missed his last few throws. It doesn’t linger when Sara steals my attention again with a loud yell in his direction.
From back here, none of the guys can hear her, but I’m not going to be the one to tell that to her.
Although she’s only eight, she grew up with baseball, having spent most of her life in clubhouses and on the very field her dad is walking across right now.
Her interest has been there since the moment she was born, and I think it might be the cutest thing in the world watching her sit here so enamoured by the game.
Brielle sits back down in her seat and crosses her long, toned legs. “Do you think your dad will get another home run tonight, Sara?”
“One more for sure. He hasn’t gotten on base since the second.”
I twist my lips to hide a smile. “You should give him a hard time about that after the game.”
“I will. He’s been swinging at the dirt too many times.”
“Geesh. Harsh critic, SareBear,” Brielle teases, reaching over my lap to pinch her thigh. “We’ll need to make sure he knows we were cheering lots for Finn, hmm?”
Sara nods quickly. “I hope he knows he’s playing soooo good.”
“We’ll tell him,” I assure her.
“Oh, Aubrey will for sure,” Brielle sings.
When I look at her, she’s smirking at me. “What does that mean?”
“I’m sure the two of you have another date tonight. Maybe you can congratulate him.”
“A date?” I ask innocently.
“Don’t even try. You know Wes has a blabber mouth.”
When it settles in, I groan, immediately looking down to the field. The catcher I’m ready to strangle is gone now, though, already in the dugout with the rest of the players, Finn included.
“It’s not like that,” I tell her, trying to sound as firm as possible.
“Yuh-huh. You’re just platonically dating, then?”
I reach for my slush and take a long sip before saying, “We’re not dating at all. He’s simply helping me get over my aversion to men.”
“Mmm. Okay.”
“Brielle,” I mutter, half scolding, half pleading for her to let go of the fascination she has with trying to get me to agree with her misplaced interest. It’s been something I’ve been battling for a few months now. “Don’t start.”
She claps her hands to her thighs and twists in her seat until she can stare at me head-on. “Too late. You know I don’t buy this best friend charade—”
“Not here!” I squeak.
I’m too aware of the fans around us, watching and trying to listen in on our conversation.
To anyone with knowledge of the Havoc’s families or their social media presence, they can recognize me and Sara.
Sometimes they’ll spot Brielle, but she’s anti-social media to her core and doesn’t like Wes sharing her photo online.
It’s one part of Finn’s job that I’m not crazy about, but it’s also non-negotiable.
Brielle stamps her lips together and slumps back, thoroughly chastised.
I release a tight breath and suck back my slush, feeling the cold seep into me.
The babysitter doesn’t speak, so it’s just Sara left murmuring to herself.
She’s watching the field intensely, ready to see her dad get back out there.
It’s only a handful of minutes later when the San Diego pitcher and outfielders head out. The first batter up from the Havoc is the eighth down the line and winds up hitting a foul before two more strikes. Sara boos when the pitcher celebrates his first strikeout and settles back in.
“I bet he stinks,” she attacks.
My laugh escapes me in a harsh exhale. “Sara!”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t disagree,” Brielle joins in, apparently done with her silence.
I shake my head and tuck my empty cup into the holder beneath my arm. “Inside thoughts, guys.”
“Don’t be a bore. You’re thinking it, too.”
“I’m not thinking that,” I disagree.
I’m thinking of something far worse. Words that I won’t say around Sara and risk her repeating them to Jett.
“Dad’s out now!” Sara squeals, pointing past the head of the old couple in front of us.
Jett’s swinging his bat off to the side of home plate, waiting his turn.
His green helmet blocks half of his expression from us, but Sara doesn’t care.
The only thing that matters to her is seeing him out there and cheering as loud as she can, hoping that he’ll hear her voice amongst the thousands of other ones.
The ninth hitter makes it onto first base, and the stands explode in cheers and screams. Jett’s face and stats pop up on the screen on the opposite side of the field, and I smile to myself when Sara pops out of her seat, jumping in place.
The fans behind us laugh loud enough for me to pick it up as she freaks out the same way she has the last dozen times he’s taken to the plate.
He gets into position, and I let my gaze wander to where he came from. We’re sitting close enough to the dugout that if I stood, I might see into it. But I can’t get myself to. Brielle’s words bite at me, adding to the turmoil I’ve been suffering through since minigolf.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure there’s something wrong with me.
Sitting here right now, I shouldn’t be hesitating to try to look for Finn the way I always do, if only to give him a very friendly, supportive wave.
That’s the last thing I’m going to do, though.
Not with Brielle staring at me smugly like she can read my mind or with the funky-ass emotional roller coaster I’ve taken a seat on.
Without my work to distract me and the privacy to pretend Brielle’s been blabbing off helplessly the way she always does when it comes to me and Finn, I’m left a damn mess.
It’s all this dating and pressure to find someone in such a short time.
I tell myself that her teasing has only affected me like this because my emotions are such a mess.
Yeah, that’s it.
“Go, Dad! Go!” Sara screams, both of her arms shooting into the air.
I lean away from her and grin, letting her pull my mind from that dangerous black hole. “A little louder and he might hear you.”
She takes my words to heart and repeats the words louder this time, until I hear them piercing through my eardrums. Still, I encourage her to keep going, knowing that these memories are going to be some of her favourites ten years from now.
After Jett makes his first swing and sends a ball off into foul territory, he turns toward our section. Whether or not he can truly see her, he flashes an enormous grin that I know she takes as her own. The little girl claps her hands at her chest and leans into me, nearly buzzing.
“He saw!”
I rub her upper back and nod, staring out at the field.
It’s impossible to worry about anything when there’s such happiness around me.
That’s why I love coming to these games so much.
Even when it’s not Finn out there, I’m still smiling out at the players who mean the world not only to him but to me, too.
This is my family right here. Found and kept for as long as they’ll have me.