CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER ONE
POPPY
The last thing I ever expected to be doing on the eve of my thirtieth birthday is unpacking boxes back into my childhood room in my parent’s home. But that’s exactly what I’m doing. I haven’t been in this room in quite a few years as anytime I visited over holidays, we always stayed in the one and only bed and breakfast in town. And by “we” I mean me, my husband, and my son. Though from now on, I’ll just mean me and my son.
Divorce is a tricky business. One moment you’re happy as a clam and the next you’d maybe like to see your once-significant-other fall down the side of a cliff and maybe not die but get seriously injured. And even though it seemed like it happened in the blink of an eye, in the case of me and my now ex-husband, Wayne, those few moments actually lasted several years in which we found ourselves growing farther and farther apart with each passing anniversary. And while it’s still a shock, ultimately, I know the big, scary D-word is the best thing for us. Right now, it’s my second favorite D-word. My absolute favorite D-word… well, lets just say I haven’t had any of it in a long time. Though I’m still worried about our son. Aiden isn’t what I’d call a rough and tumble soul. He’s a sensitive kid, or can be sometimes. Watching your parents, your family, split in half is never easy. I know it will take some time for him to heal.
“Mom!” Aiden yells from the bedroom next door. Speak of the devil. “I can’t find my mitt!”
That boy would lose his ass if it wasn’t attached. “Did you look in your gym bag?”
There’s a few moments of silence and some shuffling, presumably while he’s looking. I don’t want to remind him that he put it in there last night so he would remember where he put it when we got here. He can also be an anxious kid and I don’t want to add to it.
“I found my mitt!” He yells.
I smile, shaking my head. Little devil. Baseball tryouts start in two days and I’m not only hoping he makes the team but that it’s something he can focus on while we’re both transitioning into this new life. While not rough or tumble most of the time, baseball seems to be the only area where he lets loose a little and gets a taste of that.
He’s moving into my brother’s old room and while Theo hasn’t lived here in years, I still asked my mom to sweep the room for dirty magazines that may have been left behind. She found two. I know Aiden might be showing interest in girls soon but an issue of Playboy from more than a decade ago is not how I want those hormones triggered.
“Need any help in here?” My dad asks from the doorway.
“Um, if you could just take this box to the basement, I think that’s it,” I say, passing it to his open arms.
He peers down into it, the faux gold plating of more than a dozen cheerleading trophies no doubt capturing his attention. They’d still been proudly displayed on top of the dresser when I arrived.
“You were such a talented cheerleader,” he says, giving me one of those beaming proud dad smiles.
“Yeah, I was okay,” I say. I guess the trophies are proof that I was pretty good but the ankle injury my freshman year of college sent those dreams down the drain. That’s when I met Wayne. He was in physical therapy for an injury of his own at the same time as me. He had football hopes and dreams that luckily weren’t dashed by his shoulder trouble. He made a full recovery and I became a different kind of sideline cheerleader.
“Knock, knock,” Theo’s voice chimes from where my dad was just standing.
“Hey big brother,” I say, turning toward him. I place my hands on my hips as I survey the room between us.
“Getting settled in?” He asks.
I nod, sighing. “As well as I can.”
Theo closes the space between us, wrapping me into a brotherly hug. There’s something very soothing about his protective nature. I’ve missed it. Back in high school, I felt like I had a bodyguard. No one dared to mess with Theo Jameson’s little sister. It didn’t make dating very easy, which might be why I fell for Wayne too fast and too hard.
“The gang is excited to see you tomorrow,” he offers, no doubt hoping to lighten the mood.
“And I’m excited to see them,” I say. It wasn’t a lie, though I didn’t have a lot of enthusiasm to give my statement. I know tomorrow during the actual welcome-back-happy-birthday-sorry-about-your-divorce party, I’ll be happy. But right now, that seems like a lot of work.
“Mom!” Aiden yells from next door again. “I can’t find my lucky socks!”
Ah mom life. No one tells you when you become a mom, you’re crowned the Official Finder of Lost Things but there’s not an actual crown and I’m a little pissy about it. Just think, it could be crafted from the very junk I’m tasked to find. Two lucky gym socks hot glued next to the remote, car keys that aren’t mine, and a broken watch all expertly stuck to extra thick cardboard cut into points. Maybe I’ll make that my Halloween costume this year.
PARKER
Have you ever wished you could genuinely punch yourself in the face? I mean really haul off and knock yourself out? My senior year of high school when I realized I’d wasted four years pining over Poppy Jameson and then watched her move away right after graduation without ever uttering a word about my feelings for her is that moment for me. I wish like hell someone had been there to kick my ass.
I will say, the night she left, I illegally procured a bottle of bottom shelf whiskey and got drunk in a field. So drunk in fact, that I fell off the tailgate of my trunk face first into the cold, wet, and unrelenting ground. I had a busted lip and bruised jaw so maybe I did succeed in kicking my own ass.
Now she’s back in town. The moment her older brother Theo told me she was moving back, I felt an intense wave of emotions. Many emotions. Confusion, because she was supposedly happily married and living her best life. Excitement, because maybe a rare second chance was going to present itself for me. And shear panic, because how long do you wait after a divorce to make a move?
I’m not the same awkward teenager I was back then. Nerdy, shy, and meak are all words that come to mind regarding my personality as a teen. I loved math and history the most, and joined the Math Club my freshman year. The only “cool” thing I did was play baseball. By my senior year, I was less nerdy and awkward but I wouldn’t say I was a charmer by any means.
Baseball may have helped me come out of my shell a little but it still wasn’t enough to help me with Poppy. We had a lot of classes together over the years and when we were juniors, I sat right behind her in English. Sometimes she’d flip her blond hair from side to side and I could smell her shampoo. It was this clean mix of citrus with a hint of floral and I swear to God I went to the drug store and sniffed every shampoo on the shelf trying to find it. I never did by the way. Maybe it was her natural scent, I don’t fucking know. All I do know is that maybe it was borderline creepy to do that and I was lovesick as all hell. Jesus, the sudden lusty nostalgia is enough to make my dick twitch. I shift side to side praying like hell Tom doesn’t notice. That would be all I need.
Honestly, I don’t really think she paid me any mind. We ran in the same circles and maybe had a few conversations about nothing much but she never seemed to really see me.
“Dude, are you okay?” Tom asks. “You’ve been zoned out for a few minutes.”
We’re in the baseball storage room putting away gear and I realize I haven’t spoken in a while. “I’m fine, just thinking.”
“About Poppy’s party tomorrow?” He asks.
“Shut up,” I say.
I’ve been the baseball coach for the Cardinal Falls Little League team for three years and Tom has been my assistant since day one. And before you ask, yes. We’re the Cardinal Falls Cardinals. It’s not original nor does it strike fear into our greatest rivals, the Boomville Bobcats, but you work with what you got. I mean, what did you expect? The Cardinal Falls Sharks? Makes no sense.
“I’m just saying, man, I know you have to be thinking about her. You get this look in your eyes when you do. The second I heard she was moving back, I knew you’d turn into a drooling lump,” Tom says.
He’s not wrong. I’ve asked Theo about it enough times that I’m pretty sure he knows something is up. That would be just what I need. He’s become a close friend over the years but I’m not sure how he’d feel about me going after his little sister. It’s like a rule among guys. Sisters, mothers, aunts, even close cousins are all off limits.
“Will you just focus on whatever it is you’re doing over there and stop sticking your nose into my non-existent love life?”
Tom holds his hands up in innocence. He’s an older guy, closer in age to my dad than me. I guess retirement gets pretty boring, so his solution was to come help me wrangle roughly twenty-five nine and ten-year-olds. Tryouts for the season are in two days and there’s actually a lot to do to prepare. That’s what we’re working on now. With Poppy’s birthday party tomorrow, it really needs to get done today.
“Did you get her a gift?” Tom asks, pressing on.
“Yes,” I say. “Of course, it’s a fucking birthday.”
“A good one?” He asks.
“I like to think so.” I turn to face him, wanting to really drive my point home with intense eye contact. “Now please, for the love of God, will you just leave it alone?”
Tom retreats to his task, finally taking the hint and leaving me to stare down at the list of kids who have signed up to try out. Some of their names I recognize, others not so much. In a town as small as ours, family names who have been around a long time are easy to spot.
We have a pretty good number too. So many in fact, that letting everyone get playing time might be difficult. This isn’t the MLB after all. Everyone gets to join the team. Tryouts are not to make cuts, but rather to evaluate the players strengths and put them in the best positions for them as an individual. Then, as the season goes on, we improve their weaknesses and try to make them all pretty well-rounded players.
It’s going to be a long summer. I can already feel it. Not that I’m complaining too much. A long summer beats a long winter. But between working on the curriculum for the next school year, coaching practices during the week and games on the weekend, plus Poppy’s return, I feel like I might be stretched a little thin. Well, only if I can woo her. That’s the word isn’t it? Woo. Wooing. To woo. Hell if I know. It’s been a long time since I’ve wooed anything.
“So what did you get her?” Tom asks.
I rip a sheet of paper from my notepad and wad it into a ball before chucking it at his head. He ducks, missing my assault, then smiles to himself and returns to what he was doing. He means to drive me crazy, as is his usual goal. But this time, he’s discovered a very specific button he can push. All of which lends to just how long this summer will likely end up feeling.