22. twenty-two
twenty-two
Brooks
“What are you smiling at, Brookie?” Miles asks, nudging me with his shoulder as he passes. We’re lifting at the gym, which has become a daily ritual for all of us so we don’t lose our conditioning. I’m supposed to be spotting Beau, but Nora had texted me and I couldn’t wait any longer to read it.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say, quickly returning my phone to the pocket of my shorts.
“We would, actually,” Beau says, replacing the bar on the rack and clapping his hands together as he sits up. “You’re up.”
I load up my weights and lay down on the bench. Jonah, Miles and Beau hover annoyingly around me.
“What’s her name?” Miles asks with a quirked grin.
“Does she have a sister?” Beau asks.
“Is she marriage material?” Jonah asks, pointing to each of us in turn. “That’s the only question that really matters, gentleman.”
I puff out a painful laugh and focus on completing my set. But the boys continue to speculate above me, lounging around instead of continuing their workout.
“I’ll bet he’s got a hometown honey he’s been secretly seeing,” Miles says in a loud whisper. “That’s the only explanation for it.”
“Explanation for what?” I say in a strained voice, exhaling to press the heavy load once more.
“Your transformation,” Beau says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.
“Y’all are cracked,” I mutter. But they keep it up until I’ve finished my set and have set the bar back down.
“We’re going to find out sooner or later, Brookie boy,” Beau says with a click of his tongue. “Might as well set the record straight. How hot is she, on a scale of 1-10?”
Now, I’m not a shallow man. But after kissing Nora last weekend, I think she may just have shattered the scale.
“Off the charts,” I finally say, smiling to myself as I take a drink from my water bottle.
“Come on, man!” Miles says, slapping me on the back. “Be a homie, and show us a photo!”
“I ask again…” Beau says. “Does she have a sister?”
“You’re not going to shut up about this, are you?”
“No,” the three of them say in unison.
“Fine,” I say, as we move together to our next circuit. “Her name is Nora.”
Beau whistles. “Beautiful.”
I eye him narrowly before continuing. “She and I dated in high school. We’ve recently reconnected and….”
“Now when you say ‘reconnected’, do you mean, like–” I slap Miles upside the head before he can continue.
“It’s not like that,” I say, feeling the need to defend Nora, not even myself. “She’s got a son.”
“Ding, ding, ding!” Jonah chimes. “Marriage material.”
“Where’s the father?” Beau asks.
“Pretty much out of the picture,” I say, and just thinking about Nate makes my blood hiss. “He has custody every other weekend, but doesn’t seem to want much more involvement then that.”
Beau clamps a hand on my shoulder. “And that’s where you come in, I take it? Insta-Dad?”
“I guess so,” I say. I may not have any personal experience when it comes to parenting, but I’m highly motivated when it comes to learning a new skill. I know it’s something I could put my heart into if I was given the chance.
“She’s the one who made the mugs I gave you,” I admit, and this leads to Miles pulling his mug out of his gym bag.
“Why did you bring that with you?” I ask with a laugh.
“This goes everywhere with me,” Miles says. “Everything tastes better when drinking from this mug. Be sure to tell her I said that.”
“When do we get to meet her?” Jonah asks.
Bringing Nora out to meet the team seems like a serious move, and I don’t know if she’s ready for that yet. I’d bring her around tomorrow if she’d let me.
“I’m not sure I want her hanging around you idiots. You’ll make me look bad.”
Miles scoffs. “You don’t need help with that. You do that all on your own, player.”
As the conversation shifts and we resume our workout, I mull over the idea of bringing Nora around the guys. She would like them, and they would definitely smother her. But merging our worlds would make things feel very…real. That might be a way for me to give her a glimpse of what life with me might look like. A life where we could learn to strike the balance between baseball and everything else that’s becoming more important to me.
We’ve still got four Fridays left in our deal. Guess we’ll have to see how things shake out with a little more time.
“How’s therapy going for you?” Jonah asks me. I probably shouldn’t, but I feel an automatic surge of embarrassment that he brought this up in front of the other guys.
“Oh, did Jonah get you talking to Greta?” Beau says. “She’s great.”
I blink over at him in surprise. “You see her, too?”
Beau gives a little shrug, lifting Nora’s mug I’d bought him to his mouth. He’s legit drinking water from it. “We’ve all got our problems. It helps to have somebody to help you process them.”
“Who’s this?” Miles asks.
“Greta,” I say. “She’s the team therapist.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “All three of you talk to her?” We nod.
“Has it been helpful meeting with her?” Jonah asks me.
“Definitely,” I say, not wanting to delve into things that are too personal for me to share with these guys in this setting. “I’m learning a lot, actually.”
“About what?” Miles asks curiously.
“Coping with loss,” I say. “Being okay with mistakes. Dealing with people I don’t like.”
Miles clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Alright, don’t gatekeep, y’all. Somebody give me this woman’s number.”
We linger at the gym for a while, and I realize that I have more in common with these guys then I thought. We’ve all walked through hard times, done things we regret, and have relatives who make life difficult. I never would have known about some of the things they’ve gone through, and talking about our shared life experiences makes me feel even less alone.
Second Friday
After finishing my workout at the gym, I meet with what we players call a “swing doctor”: a professional who can help me rework my natural batting patterns and identify where I can improve my hitting performance at a micro level. I’ve always been told I’ve got a naturally beautiful swing, but my sessions with Greta have inspired me to approach everything as if I’m a beginner. Like I’m learning things for the first time.
“Adopting a beginner’s mindset will help you gradually progress, both in your relationships and on the field. You won’t feel such intense pressure to perform perfectly if you’re telling yourself that you’re allowed to be a forever student of the game,” she told me yesterday.
I’ve taken pieces of different swing philosophies from teammates, coaches, and trainers over the years I’ve been playing professionally, but I felt ready to approach next season with a clean slate. The session was grueling but also really fun. It’s like a weight is slowly being lifted from my shoulders every time I step up to the plate. I’m enjoying myself again, and I’d been satisfied with my efforts even though they weren’t perfect.
After taking a virtual meeting with one of my sponsors in preparation for the upcoming holidays, I shower and change before driving back up to Kitt’s Harbor to see Nora. She’s got Ollie this weekend and, as promised, took charge of our plans for the evening. Honestly, I couldn’t care less what we’re doing, as long as I get to touch her, hold her, and kiss her again. That kiss in her studio short-circuited my brain last Friday. I don’t think I’ll recover until I get another taste of her. Maybe I’ll never recover. I’d be fine with that.
When I arrive, I’m surprised to see a Subaru Outback already parked in her driveway. My questions are answered almost immediately as the door swings open and Nora welcomes me inside. I sweep her into a bone-crushing hug.
“I missed you,” she says breathlessly into my ear, and I want to hold her forever. But then I lift my gaze and find her sister and brother-in-law are standing in the living room with Ollie, watching us. Sydney is grinning from ear to ear.
“You remember Sydney?” Nora says, and her sister extends a hand towards me.
“Good to see you again,” I say, feeling slightly disappointed that Nora hadn’t warned me that we weren't going to be alone tonight.
“And Trent.”
He’s got Ollie scooped up in one strong arm and still manages to crush my hand with the other, offering a clipped greeting. He’s clearly still not warmed up to me.
“I’ve enlisted their help for our activity this evening,” Nora says, her brown eyes sparkling. She looks gorgeous, dressed in a denim jacket and jeans.
“Should I be nervous?”
“Very,” Sydney says with a wink. “Let’s get on the road while we still have good light?”
We carpool down to the harbor where the sun is just about to drift below the horizon. Sydney pulls a bulky camera out of her car and several lenses. Ollie even has his own little camera–one that she had given him, I gather.
“Nora asked me if I would teach you some photography basics,” she explains, adjusting the settings on her camera. “Have you ever used a DSLR before?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
The October air down by the water is salt-tinged and cold. I steal Nora’s hand, grasping it tightly as we pick our way down the rocky beach to the waterline.
“Photography, huh?” I ask her. “Is this just an excuse for you to take an excessive amount of photos of me so you can stare at them when you miss me?”
“So what if it is?”
“I’m all for it,” I say, squeezing her hand. “As long as I can take some of you, too.”
She gives me a sly side-eye. “Did you miss me this week, Brooks?”
I pull her hand back and bring us both to a stop before sliding my mouth near her ear. “Of course I missed you. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”
Nora’s gaze crashes into mine, and charged tension stretches taut between us. Her lips curl up into a smile, and for a second, I think she may close the gap between us and kiss me right there in front of her family…but then Ollie scurries towards us, and she looks away.
“Cheese!” he cries, lifting his little camera up. I wrap an arm around Nora’s shoulders and lean my head against hers, drawing her close. I hear the beep of the button on Ollie’s camera, but from his height, he probably only captured our legs in the photo.
“Get down here, you two! We’re losing the light!” Sydney calls out. We comply, joining her down by the water.
“Okay, stand here. Act like you like each other,” Sydney instructs, with Trent and Ollie hovering behind her as she starts taking photos. Easiest photoshoot I’ve ever done.
“Come look at these!” Sydney gasps, showing us the display of her camera. She clicks through a few photos, and I love the way Nora is looking at me. Her easy, bright smile says it all. She’s into me and happy I’m here. I’m gonna need all of these pictures sent to me immediately, along with several prints to take up residence in my apartment.
“Do you see how I positioned the two of you in the shot here? This is called the rule of thirds.” Sydney then explains about a whole bunch of things in her camera settings like the aperture, f-stop, and white balance. I’m taking mental notes and find her lesson genuinely interesting. She then drags Trent in front of the camera with Ollie on his shoulders and hands Nora the camera. She explains how to best pose ones’ subjects, how to frame them to best capture the landscape, and then she lets Nora snap away.
“We’re good. Right, Ollie?” Trent finally says, pulling Ollie down off his shoulders and following him down to the water’s edge.
“Look, Uncle T!” Ollie gasps. Trent crouches down, carefully bending over to inspect the rock Ollie has picked up.
“You’re up, Brooks,” Sydney says, pushing me out in front. “You’re used to this sort of thing, right?”
I laugh, gazing into the camera lens like I’ve been coached to do on the few brand and commercial shoots I’ve done. Though I’m never completely comfortable in front of a camera, I’ve learned to fake it pretty well.
“Oooh-whee!” Sydney screams. “Do you see that Blue Steel, Nora? I hope you got that shot. You’re a natural, Brooks. Move in closer, Nora.”
“Yeah, Nora. Come closer.”
She steps towards me, raising the camera up to take more photos. After she and Sydney deem my modeling to be sufficient, we then switch places. I receive some brief instruction from Sydney before she skips off to join her husband and Ollie.
“What do I do with my hands?” Nora asks, raising them awkwardly.
“Just pretend we’re the only ones out here,” I say, snapping a few photos. “Nobody else is watching.”
She hugs herself, clearly uncomfortable being shot by herself. I lower the camera and move in closer.
“Just look at the camera the way you look at me,” I say, and I’m pleased to see a blush deepen the color on her cheeks. I raise the camera up again and look at her through the viewfinder. She glances out at the water and then back at me, and the hesitant smile that rises on her lips makes my chest ache.
“You’re a babe,” I say, trying to make her laugh. “Stunning. Gorgeous.” She giggles, and I take a few more pictures.
Ollie wanders over with a handful of rocks he’s collected, and Nora bends down to admire them. I take photos of the two of them, then turn the camera on the distant forms of Sydney and Trent, walking together further down the beach. I turn the camera out to the ocean and snap a few shots of the ribbons of color stretched along the skyline.
I wander a ways down the beach, taking photos, pausing to note the way the fading sun glitters on the surface of the water, the barnacles that tack the posts holding up the dock. There are so many intricate details that I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been actively looking. Something about having the camera in hand makes me more sensitive to the beauty around me. One beauty, in particular. I could shoot photos of Nora all day. I turn back and take a few more of her from a distance.
Sydney gathers Nora, Ollie, and I together for a few more photos. There’s a deep tug in my gut again as I stand there on the beach with Ollie in my arms and Nora leaning into me. We feel like a solid unit, the three of us. Something complete and infinite.
Once the sun has dipped below the ocean and Sydney deems the “golden hour” light to be long gone, we pile back into our cars and head back to Nora’s house.
Trent offers to put Ollie to bed, but Nora looks up at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve got it,” he insists, tucking Ollie under one arm like a football. “Your work isn’t finished yet.”
He’s right. Sydney then opens her laptop and begins loading all of the photos into the editing program she uses. I’m glued to the screen as she flicks through the photos, teaching us a few basic editing techniques.
“Here,” she says, sliding the laptop to me. “You edit this one.”
It’s one of the photos she’d taken of Nora and I, and it’s phone background-worthy. Nora’s got her head tipped up to look at me, and I’m gazing back down at her, smiling broadly. Our hands are tangled together, and her hair is lifting in the ocean breeze.
I hunch over the laptop, adjusting the toggles to play with the exposure, colors, and white balance in the photo. Sydney watches me work and occasionally offers suggestions, and when I sit back and slide the laptop back toward her, she looks impressed.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“First time,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. “But I like it.”
“Did you take all of these?” Nora says, clicking through the photos until she lands on one I’d taken of her and Ollie.
“Yeah,” I say, suddenly feeling sheepish. I hadn’t meant to fill Sydney’s memory card to the brim. I’d been enjoying the process.
“These are great photos, Brooks,” Sydney says approvingly. “Really.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing shyly at Nora, who is looking at me like I’ve just done something really remarkable.
“Greta will be proud,” she says.
After Sydney uploads all of the photos to a shared folder and gives me and Nora access, she and Trent say goodbye. Trent glances back at me before hopping into his truck, and he gives me the slightest nod and raises a hand in my direction. I take it to be bro-code for passing whatever test he was running to determine whether or not I was worthy for Nora. After tonight, I think he approves.
I linger in the doorway, not wanting to leave Nora again. Feeling like I’ll never have enough time with her.
“I’ve got batting practice with some of the guys from the team tomorrow morning,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers and tracing my thumb over her knuckles. “So, as much as I’d love to stay longer, I’d better head home.”
She draws her bottom lip under her teeth, looking disappointed. “Okay.” She suddenly gets a mischievous gleam in her eyes, reaching up to toy with the buttons on my jacket.
“There’s something I’ve been curious about,” she says. “Do you still chew Bubblicious?”
“Who wants to know?” I tease.
“The girl who used to kiss you in high school. You always tasted like Bubblicious.”
“Well, in that case,” I say, “yes, I do. But only on game day. So, if you like it that much, you’re going to have to come to one of my games.”
“You’d kiss me at a game?” Nora says with a tilted smile. “In front of all those people?”
“I’d kiss you anywhere.”
I slowly back her into the wall and cage her in with one arm over her head, bending my head down to find her mouth.
Nora kisses me back hungrily, her hands bunching the front of my shirt, traveling the length of my torso and exploring the ridges of my back. This kiss is breathless. Nipping and tugging, grasping and catching. I kiss her with questions, she readily kisses me back in answers. I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to break apart. When we finally do, she knots a hand into the hair at the back of my neck and brings my mouth back down to hers again. Who am I to deny the woman what she wants? I delve in for more, feeling like I’ll never be satisfied. I’ll never grow tired of her.
“Brooks,” she finally mumbles against my mouth, her fingers locked into my belt loops. “You’re too good at this.”
“Mmm,” I hum, catching her lips again in a slow, languid kiss. “Is that going to be a problem?” “Yes,” she whispers, pressing her forehead against mine. “I can’t walk into my studio without thinking about you, without wishing you were here.” She trips a trail of kisses across my cheek, and my heart thunders in my ears with every delicate press of her warm lips. “And now you’ve ruined my front entryway, too.”
“There’s still several more rooms in your house. I’m happy to ruin the rest of them for you.”
She laughs, her hand tightening in my hair. She kisses me once more, and I know she’s giving me the sign that it’s okay for me to go. I sigh and reluctantly shove away off the wall, freeing her from the press of my body.
“This week while I’m away,” I say in a low voice, “you think about which room you want me to kiss you in next, and let me know.”
A slow smile grows on her plump, swollen lips. “All of them.”