Chapter 24
Quentin
“Thank you,” I tell my sister as we finish bringing in bag after bag of clothes.
Last night, I texted her asking her if she could go shopping for Teagan. I wanted her to feel more at home and not stress about going shopping the day after her apartment burned down.
“Is she okay?” she whispers, trying to be quiet as Teagan is still sleeping.
“She was upset, understandably so. I’m hoping today is a better day,” I whisper back.
It tore my fucking heart out of my chest seeing her cry yesterday. If I could, I would’ve somehow gone back in time to avoid her apartment catching on fire. Seeing her upset like that bothered me more than I ever imagined was possible, and I hope it never happens again.
“If you need anything else, let me know. Liv and I need to get ready for the game. I’m going today as a fan instead of working for once.”
“She better be cheering for me,” I say as we hug.
“Of course.” She squeezes me then lets go and quietly shuts the door on her way out.
I have to leave to get ready for said game as I’m pitching today and need to warm up my shoulder properly.
We’re halfway through the season now, sitting at the top of our division.
I’ve been on fire lately, with my pitching being as sharp as ever.
My shoulder’s been about the same, feeling sore for a longer period of time after a game where I pitch, but I’m still able to perform, which is what matters most. So far, it’s not impacting how I play, and hopefully, it can stay that way.
Today we’re playing the Ohio Grizzlies, who sit at the bottom of the division. It means it should be an easier win, but we need to play our best nonetheless.
Not wanting to wake Teagan up with a text, I grab a piece of paper and write:
My game’s at 1 today. I should be back by 6, but there are leftovers in the fridge, or feel free to eat whatever you want.
My sister picked out some clothes for you. They’re downstairs in bags. And don’t argue with me about it. You needed clothes.
If you need anything, text me or call my sister. I’m leaving Camille’s number below. She’ll get to me if there’s an emergency.
Q
With a piece of tape, I stick it to the front of her open door instead of the counter so that she sees it right away, in hopes that it takes one more thing off her mind as soon as she gets up. I’m about to leave when I’m struck by the sight of her sleeping.
Long chestnut brown waves fan across the pillow, her pillowy lips parted as she breathes in and out. Usually, she’s like a little storm cloud, but right now, she looks like the calm before the storm.
Not wanting to be a creep, I back away and tiptoe down the hallway until I reach the stairs.
In the garage, I hop in my car and make my way to the stadium for today’s game with everything but baseball on my mind.
Inviting her to live with me was the right choice. It takes away a load of stress that neither she nor the baby needs right now, and it allows us to get to know each other better, while also allowing me to help whenever I’m needed. Which is what I’ve wanted this whole time.
I do need to be careful, though, because we’re attracted to each other, there’s no denying that. Hell, it’s how we ended up in this situation. But even more worrisome now is the emotional connection we’re forming.
Between our daily texts over the last month and when I spent the night when she was sick, I find myself feeling things that are more than what platonic friends feel.
The problem with that is that I can’t confuse a general liking for the mother of my child with romantic feelings. There’s too much at stake.
It’s with that reminder that I begin my routine for getting in the zone before game time. After seeing the team’s occupational therapist for my shoulder stretches, I retreat to the locker room.
With my headphones in, I skip my country playlist and opt for a different one. I search using the words heavy metal, and a playlist of the best heavy metal classics pops up. My finger presses the play button and I instantly reach for the side of my phone, turning down the volume.
Since Teagan likes it, I’ve been listening to it before games. I didn’t tell her last night that I’ve been listening to it because I don’t want to weird her out or anything. But I like listening to it as it gives me an insight into who she is.
Before I know it, Coach Tran enters the room and spins a single digit in the air. Everyone gets into motion from the simple action, finishing getting dressed and tying up laces. We all respect and love our coach, evident as we follow silent commands, even if he busts our balls half the time.
I tear my headphones off my head and place them in my bag, then reach for my glove instead.
I’m about to head for the tunnel when I hear Ian’s voice.
I spot him near the door that leads to the trainer’s room with his phone pressed to his ear, dressed to play even though he isn’t pitching today.
It’s a requirement in the MLB, that on days when we don’t pitch, we still show up to games to support our team.
“Send me Clara’s address. I’ll stop by after the game,” Ian says as he crosses an arm over his chest.
I stop in my tracks and bend down, pretending to tie up my laces just so I can eavesdrop now that I know he’s talking to Teagan.
He rolls his eyes at whatever she says. “Okay, fine. But I’m seeing you by the end of this weekend, got it?”
I hate the tone he’s using with her when she just lost everything, but I let it go since I know Teagan’s hope is that we can be civil.
When I stand, we make eye contact, and this is where a pitcher usually says something encouraging to another pitcher.
But I know better than to expect that from Ian.
“Don’t blow it tonight,” he says coolly, crossing his arms under his chest, exactly like his sister does when she’s giving me shit.
“Such a team player.” I shake my head as I walk away.
“I do my job. That’s all that matters.” His words make me stop and turn to face him.
“And that’s why you’ll never take my spot.”
I know I’m supposed to find a way to make peace with him since we’ll be a family, but he also needs to grow up.
“I won’t have to take anything. It’ll be given with ease once they realize you’re of no use anymore.”
I don’t let him see that he’s pissing me off. It would only make him feel better about himself than he already does. So it takes everything in me to smirk at him as I say, “Keep dreaming, kid,” and walk away.
So much for making peace.
Being the pitcher means you’re in control of the game, as much as one can control the game of baseball.
I get to pick if I throw a curveball, a slider, or a cutter based on the state of the game and the batter in the box.
My catcher of course influences this decision, but we make the decision together.
The pressure thrills me more than anything, a rush of adrenaline flowing through my body every time I’m on the mound.
It centers me, allows me to focus and drown out everything but baseball.
That is, until I met Teagan.
My catcher gives me the signal for a slider, and I nod as I place my hand on the ball in my glove. Winding up, I release the pitch, and the batter swings and misses.
The crowd’s roar is deafening, making it nearly impossible to hear my own thoughts. Which right now is good, considering I should be focused on the next pitch I’m going to throw, but instead I’m wondering if she’s okay.
I wonder how she’s feeling. If the baby is moving at all, or maybe it’s too early for that. Hell if I know. Maybe I should get around to reading a Parenting for Dummies book soon.
I roll my shoulder, the burn spreading from the top of it to my back muscles, intensifying the ache. With a quick glance, I see the runner on first off of the bag, waiting to run as soon as the ball is hit. I could attempt to throw him out at first, but it’s not worth it.
We’re up three to zero, and all I need is this last strikeout, then I can get home to see how Teagan’s doing.
It’s with that motivation that I lift my leg as I wind up and release my killer curve ball that not many get hits off of.
Boston’s hitter swings and misses, making the crowd go wild as it’s the end of a game with a win for the Panthers.
A rush of happiness washes over me, the high of pitching and winning a game never getting old.
The outfielders and infielders run over to me, slapping me on the back as they congratulate me on a great game.
I give it back to them, telling everyone what a great game they had because it’s true.
Our defense was impressive today, allowing us to win the series over Boston, who’s only a few points behind us in their season.
I flash my PR smile for the camera during my post-game interview, then hightail it to the locker room. Now that the game is done, there’s only one thing I want to do.
To get home to Teagan. Just to make sure that she’s okay, given everything that’s gone on in a short period of time.
That’s it.