Chapter 10
JUNIPER
“Just listen to Bonnie purr,” Crew sighs, patting the dashboard in awe. “She’s so faithful.” His voice cracks, and before I can think to be concerned, he fakes a cry of love.
“Am I interrupting something? I didn’t realize how close you and Bonnie were.”
Bonnie the Burb pulls to the end of my driveway, stopping just under the illuminated streetlight.
It’s late, and to my surprise, it’s been a fun night.
More fun than I’ve had in a long time. Crew turns my way and whispers hoarsely with a straight face, “I think it’s best if you go.
We’re in need of some alone time. Bonnie and me. ”
His head meets the steering wheel, and I find his sense of humor hilariously comforting. “Please,” I insist. “Bonnie and Crew.” My full laugh hits me as I attempt to reach for the door handle, pretending to give them a moment alone. “Go make bad decisions together.”
Get it? Bonnie and Clyde. Bonnie and Crew.
Beats hit the steering wheel repeatedly, and what I didn’t expect to see was Crew almost in tears from laughter. His head lifts, and the pools of wetness in his eyes stir my own laughter even more. “No. No. Don’t go,” he begs playfully, not realizing his arm reaches to hold my bicep.
Thankfully, he’s too lost in hysterics to notice the goosebumps across my skin. Or the way I freeze in place, unable to help but look where his giant hand covers the circumference of my arm with room to spare.
Holy hot. But also, holy off-limits.
I exhale slowly, resting against the passenger seat. “You’re really funny, Suburban Daddy.”
“Suburban Daddy?” he wheezes, mouth opening in shock. “Jesus Christ. That’s a new one.”
“Yeah, well, if the shoe fits.” I motion around the blacked-out SUV. “There are much worse things you could be called, so I’d take Suburban Daddy and run. Or in your case, drive.” My teasing can’t be stopped. And neither can the laughter I don’t hold back.
“Cute. You’re cute.”
My eyes dart quickly to the front window, staring at absolutely nothing but mentally something. It has to be something other than Crew.
Maybe I misunderstood him? Surely Addie’s daddy didn’t just call me cute? I don’t think he realized it until now, immediately trying to change the subject.
“I can’t believe how close we live. Lock your doors. Once Addie finds out, she won’t wanna leave you alone.”
“You live over here?” I ask, wondering why he never mentioned that earlier. Not that he had much to say anyway, but it still would have been the time to.
“A few streets down.” Crew points to my left. “I run this route a few times a week, actually. Never knew you lived here.”
“Well, in your defense, it’s barely been a month, so…”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Needing to get something off my chest, I blurt, “Can I ask you something? I have a habit of not saying things when I really want to say them because I’m terrified of hurting feelings, but I’ve gotta ask.”
His smirk is way too charming to be directed at me. “Something about you tells me that’s not true, but ask away.”
It’s wrong of me to ask, but I’m too curious not to. “You’re not married.”
Bright eyes stare at me amongst the darkness of the vehicle. “That’s not a question.”
I want to crawl into a hole and never come out. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I have no right.” I’m gathering my things as quickly as possible, needing to escape before I have a chance to speak out of line again.
“Wait.” That same hand I now feel branded on my skin is back, gently stopping me from leaving. “No, I’m not married. Never was.”
The news of Crew and Addie’s mom shouldn’t rattle me so much.
Not because of him being…him, but because being a medical professional in my field, I witness a lot of broken families.
It’s taxing to watch kids come and go with their mother one appointment and father the next.
Or two mothers. Two fathers. Some permanently absent. The equations are endless.
I guess my first impression of Addie and Crew was happiness. They both just seemed so…happy. Like she had a big family table at home where mom and dad cooked, cleaned, and read bedtime stories together.
It was presumptuous of me to assume.
“I really shouldn’t have asked, Crew. It wasn’t my place. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head solemnly. “It’s alright. You can ask me whatever you want, Juniper. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
This is when I should get out of the car, go inside, and keep any and all lingering questions to myself. Seeing as how I’ve already crossed more boundaries than necessary, I say fuck it and decide I’ve got nothing left to lose.
Tomorrow, when I wake up with stomach-sinking guilt, I’ll beg for forgiveness. “You just don’t strike me as a man who would stay single for long.”
I’m not sure what Crew is thinking, but he stills. “I think you’d be surprised. I don’t have the time to date seriously. Hilary and I are close friends, but a romantic connection was never there past that one drunken night. We have a good thing going for Addie.”
I make mental notes—Hilary. Doesn’t date. No time. One drunk night.
“That’s most important,” I say, smiling softly and appreciating his honesty. “I’ve seen a lot of sad shit. Excuse my language,” I express firmly, and he rolls his eyes in frustration.
“You’re not at work, Juniper. No need to be professional.”
I shake my head and re-center my thoughts.
“You’re right. I just mean…I’ve seen a lot of sad situations within families where the children get the shitty end of the stick.
They switch from home to home and carry the burdens of their parents.
It’s heartbreaking, especially when I know it’s a family that wants what’s best for their child but can’t find enough stability to provide it for them. ”
“You must feel pretty helpless in moments like that.”
More than you know.
I exhale. “It’s the worst part of my job. Best job ever, but the worst parts suck really fucking bad. What I’m trying to say is: you’re doing a great job, Crew. From what I’ve seen with Addie already, she’s gonna be one of the good ones. The world changers.”
“You really think so?” he asks, and something tells me he’s had that worry.
“I do. She might lead you to drink more often than not, but if that’s your biggest concern, I think you’re doing just fine.”
Crew nods, and it’s not at me. It’s as if he’s reassuring himself. Encouraging him to believe that he’s done well as a father. So well that even an outsider can tell.
“I’m considering retirement,” Crew divulges, and I’d like to think this is the moment we actually become friends. “I plan to finish out the season, but I want more time with my daughter. I live with a lot of regret. I’ve missed out on too many big milestones in her life because of the game.”
“I see,” I say. “That can’t be an easy decision. Even I can see how much you love baseball.”
Another nod. “It’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.
But it’s not everything. My little four-foot-nothing six-year-old with an ungodly number of princess dresses is my everything.
She deserves the best of me while I’m still young.
Well, kind of young. Doesn’t help that I've got an elbow injury, either.”
I’m no orthopedic, but I’ve been around my fair share long enough to know how serious injuries can be with professional athletes.
Without proper care and therapy, long-term effects can play a vital role.
It’s nothing to mess around with. “What’s the injury?
Is it treatable with therapy, or have you consulted a specialist? ”
A smirk crests his lips, and I know I just went into full-blown doctor mode. “Down, Doc. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
I roll my eyes. “So, what’s the verdict, then? I expect an answer valued at more than chump change.”
“I know nothing about this chump change you speak of. Doesn’t Bonnie speak for herself?”
Bonnie is a pretty badass Suburban, but she’s subtle compared to the cars I’ve seen people on Crew’s pay grade drive. Myself included.
“I’d never disrespect Bonnie babe.” I run my hand across the passenger door, gazing at her unique design with awe. “The silver stitching against the all-black just makes her feel so elevated and expensive,” I tease. “Must have cost you a fortune.”
“Oh, the pretty doctors got jokes.”
I hear nothing past him calling me pretty.
“Pockets full, Suburban Daddy. Stuffed fucking full. Now, answer the question.”
Taking my question with seriousness, I can’t look away as Crew lifts his backward hat off his head and sweeps his thick hair back before placing it down again. I remember noticing that same gesture on him at the opening season game, and it might be my new obsession.
He’s so youthful despite pushing forty.
“This week, I start rigorous physical therapy. It’s gonna be brutal, and I’ll be more sore than normal. I’ve already been warned. If after a few months there are no signs of improvement and mobility, I’ll need surgery. At least, if the orthopedic recommends, which I know he will.”
“Pitcher’s elbow?” I ask, assuming that’s his injury.
“Yeah. I don’t pitch but play—”
“Centerfield. I saw you out there,” I recall honestly, and don’t miss the way his eyes focus a bit more on my words.
“Pitcher’s elbow isn’t just for pitchers.
You overextend your arm probably more than a pitcher actually does.
Long-distance throwing accumulated over time can be really damaging to all those tendons and ligaments that make your arm function normally.
I’m assuming you’ve been playing all your life? ”
“Since I was eight.”
I nod. “It’s catching up with you. I’m sorry, Crew. That’s unfortunate for a player as talented as you.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. At this point, I just want to feel better. The pain keeps me up at night sometimes. Hopefully, therapy will help.”
Just as I’m about to say more, Crew’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket. Tapping the screen, he answers, “This is Crew.”
I can’t hear who’s on the other line, despite the quietness of the car, reminding me it’s nearing midnight. We’ve been talking in front of my house for nearly thirty minutes now. I lost track of time.
“Meat delivery is scheduled for 6 a.m. tomorrow. Liquor at 4 p.m. Just make sure someone’s there to sign off on the delivery. I should be in before the dinner rush.”
Meat delivery? What is he talking about?
“Anytime, Troy. I’ll see you then.” And he hangs up. “Sorry about that. The restaurant is getting a big delivery tomorrow. Bar manager needed to make sure he was good to close up for the night.”
“Restaurant?” I question with interest, slowly gathering my things and swinging open the door beside me to step out. I straighten my skirt, and I shouldn’t notice the way Crew doesn’t miss it, his eyes drawn to my legs unconsciously.
His sights lift. “Boone. Urban restaurant and bar downtown. It’s fucking jam-up.”
“Jam…up?” I enunciate slowly and laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“It means it’s really good. Best there ever was. Low-key obsessed. Delicious. Amaz—”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, I get it. You are definitely up on the slang more than I am.”
“Helps to have a daughter who thinks she’s sixteen, not six.” He smirks playfully but looks like he’s dreading the teenage years.
“And what an adorable one she is.” I smile. “Well, I should get going. Thanks again for giving me a ride home, Crew. And I promise not to mention my stripping ever again.”
His eyes fall closed for a second before opening them again and looking straight ahead. “Consider it behind us.”
Silence stretches between us and I take that as my sign to leave. “Goodnight.”
“Night, Doc. Sleep tight.”
I close the door and walk up the steps of my empty home, waiting to hear the Suburban I know I’ll forever recognize on the streets to drive away, but the idling of an engine still lingers.
It’s after I unlock the front door, securing it behind me safely, that I see red taillights flicker as Crew pulls away.
Butterflies, butterflies, please, please, please go away.
Tonight was…eventful. And eye-opening. But also fun.
I’ll attempt to forget all about me stripping in front of a patient’s father. But I refuse to forget how it feels to be brought home safely. That is a feeling I want to remember forever.