36. Troy
thirty-six
troy
‘Chewbecca’
I breathe in the thin mountain air, closing my eyes to center myself and drown out the crowd and focus on the ball in my hand. It’s crazy to think that just a little over a year ago, I was in Colorado, not too far from this stadium, looking forward to watching Ellie walk down the aisle to me.
Life handed me quite the curveball that night.
A curveball that came in the form of a canceled wedding and a stranger wearing questionable footwear.
A stranger who changed my life in a mere few hours. A stranger who became so much more in the months to follow, only to become a stranger once more.
Thirteen days.
It’s not much in a lifetime, but it can feel like an eternity when every moment is filled with a sense of loss.
Thirteen days since I’ve held her, kissed her, breathed her in. Thirteen days since we’ve even spoken.
That’s not to say I haven’t asked about her—to my dad, who’s now back to coaching the Tremors full time, and Dev, who told me she looked like she was on the verge of breaking when he saw her at the hospital after the birth of his baby girl.
My thoughts trail back to my FaceTime conversation with Pearl just before this game. First, she showed me how she was teaching herself cartwheels, her tiny hands signing excitedly before she demonstrated her newfound skill. We’d recently found an ASL tutor to come to the house, and my little girl was learning signs faster than me or her grandparents could keep up! Then, she told me how Sarina and Rome had come over yesterday, and how Rome had brought her a book about space.
“I want to know as much as Rome knows about space, Daddy. One day, I even want to fly to space!” Her smile stretched over her face as she needled her arm into the air, pretending it was a rocket.
The thought of Sarina making the time to take her son over to see Pearl—twice, in almost two weeks—has me feeling both gratefulness and further despair. It feels like a mirage in the desert, a relief at having found water, only to realize it was nothing but a trick of the eye.
After Ellie and I broke up, it took a while before Pearl stopped asking for her. I was afraid she’d find it hard to trust again. But then Sarina and Rome showed up, and I got to see how resilient, innocent, and forgiving my daughter was. She opened her heart to them just as fast as they did for her.
And while I’m grateful that Sarina wants to keep our children connected, it’s also the reason I’m overwhelmed with grief. Because her effort gives me false hope that maybe somehow, someday, we can find ourselves back in each other’s arms.
We’re in the bottom of the sixth inning and up four-three, with two outs on the board. My eyes find the Colorado batter in the box. He’s already faced seven pitches from me during this at-bat, fouling everything to stay in the game. Their strategy is to tire me out. Unfortunately for them, it’s not working, though my pitch count is now hovering around ninety due to the fact that my breaking balls are hanging more than usual in the thinner air here.
My catcher, Bledsoe, puts one finger down, signaling for a fastball. Ball in my glove, I check the runner on first and get in my stretch position when something catches my eyes in the stands—a blur of brown and pink.
I blink and it’s gone.
Realizing it’s either a figment of my imagination or a crazy fan dressed like a grizzly for the Colorado team, I swipe away all lingering thoughts, including any of Sarina. This isn’t the time for me to dwell on how different my life was two weeks ago. Right now, it’s just me, this ball, and the next pitch.
The fastball leaves my hand, and I already know there’s something extra behind it. Perhaps it’s all my pent-up emotion or my extra concentration to fade out my personal life and get my head in the game. Either way, the pitch explodes, clocking at ninety-five, faster than anything I’ve thrown today. Strike two.
Bledsoe signals for another fastball, and I do my thing again. This time, the batter swings but I can tell he’s late. The ball soars toward right field, floating in the mountain air longer than it should. Thankfully, our right fielder has a good read on it, drifting back to grab it for the third out.
The dugout erupts, but it’s not my team I’m looking at as I make my way to them. It’s that same blur of brown and pink in the stands. And as I close the distance between us, the shape comes into focus.
And apparently, I’m not the only one with my eyes on it.
The crowd’s reaction changes, the usual boos and cheers that come after a third out transforming into a different kind of noise completely—something more chaotic and urgent. Whispers become shouts and phone cameras swivel from the field to the stands.
It’s when the Jumbotron displays the commotion that my feet come to an abrupt stop.
Because there, arguing with security to let her into the family section behind our dugout, is a female Sasquatch wearing a Blazer’s jersey with my number clearly visible on her back and a large pink bow perched on her furry head.
Is that . . .?
Am I . . . hallucinating?
My mouth falls open as I watch her take off the head of her costume, shaking out her long curly hair so it spills down the back of her furry bodysuit. And then, there she is for everyone to see—no makeup, white patch around her eye clearly visible—filling up the Jumbotron screen.
Rina.
My Rina.
She flails her large, fur-lined arms, speaking animatedly to security. Thankfully, they’re being gentle with her—amused, even—given how she’s making the crowd go wild and taking all the attention off our game.
My smile is instantaneous, a part of me still wondering if I’ve imagined all this. And then, before I can overthink it, my feet are pounding the field on their own accord, closing the distance between us.
I get to the railing that separates our dugout from the family section, ignoring all the claps on my shoulder from my teammates. My head is buzzing and my heart feels like it’s doing a circus act inside my chest. If I was hooked up to medical equipment, I promise they’d say I was seconds away from collapsing.
One security guard leans down to whisper something in her ear, breaking her tirade off mid-sentence, and it’s then that Sarina takes account of what’s happening, following his finger in my direction. As if she’s blinking out of a haze herself.
Her eyes widen when she sees herself displayed on the Jumbotron behind me before a large smile erupts across her face, and she waves to everyone, making the crowd boom. Then those same, beautiful coffee-colored eyes settle on me.
I nod to security and they make an exception, letting Sarina past them. She starts to make her way down to me when she turns and hands the security person the large furry head before walking back toward me. Laughter spills from the crowd at the grimace on the security guy’s face as he looks down at the decapitated BigFoot head in his hands.
This is probably making some sort of live news, and will likely be replayed on various channels with thousands of viewers. But I get the feeling this time, my girl’s made peace with that. This time, she’s showing me—and anyone watching—that she’s ready to face whatever is coming her way. That she’s ready to be mine, for real and for good.
“Hi,” she says softly when she reaches me, her face flushed and her voice shaky. Her curls lift in the breeze as her eyes search mine, uncertainty wrestling with hope.
But she has nothing to be uncertain of.
Because I’m looking at the woman who walked away from me thirteen days ago, now standing in front of me and thousands of others with cameras rolling, in a costume that nods to our own inside joke.
I’m looking at the woman who this crowd might view as just another girl, but who means more to me than anyone here.
I’m looking at the craziest, most incredible and beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, thinking this isn’t just a grand gesture, it’s her choosing me over everything else—her fears, her reservations, and her past. She’s choosing her future, and I get to be the lucky asshole to live it with her.
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” I say through a smile that’s literally making my face hurt.
She nods, reaching out a large furry paw, cupping my cheek. “I learned from the best.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. There’s this gorgeous pitcher I know. A man I’m so in love with, I can’t seem to function without him. Can’t think, can’t smile, can’t eat, can’t sleep.” She pauses, taking in a trembling breath as her eyes shimmer behind a wall of tears. “I can’t live without him, or his adorable daughter.”
My eyes flick to her lips, my chest filling with a warm and giddy ache. “A gorgeous pitcher, you say? He sounds dreamy.”
Sarina giggles. “He is, though he doesn’t need more reassurance. His ego is about as big as I can handle?—”
“That’s not the only thing that’s about as big as you can handle.” I waggle my brows. “Any bigger, and you’d?—”
She presses her enormous paw over my mouth, shutting me up with a bubbled laugh. God, I wish she’d just kiss me.
“As I was saying, there was this one time when he showed up to practice in a Sasquatch costume to win me over.” She brings her face closer so our noses practically touch. “And now, I’m here to win him back.”
My eyes bounce between hers. “You came here all on your own?”
She nods. “For you. To tell you that nothing else matters besides you. To show you that I’m ready to face it all, whatever comes our way, if it means being with you.”
My throat bobs. “What made you change your mind?”
She’s about to answer when I place a finger on her lips to stop her before turning my hat backward. “Hold that thought, actually. I need you to kiss me first. I haven’t seen you in thirteen fucking days, and baby, I’m literally ready to leave this game where it is, haul your Chewbecca-ass over my shoulder, and take you back to my hotel room.”
Her smile widens as her large paws clasp my shoulders, pulling me closer. “Admit it, you’ve always had a thing for my hairy side.”
My hands cradle her face. “If we weren’t in public and you could feel how hard I am for you, I wouldn’t have to admit a thing.”
She presses her lips lightly to mine, speaking against them through another giggle. “God, you were made for me, Mr. Trojan.”
And with that, I take her mouth, tasting and biting her lips, while the world fades into white noise around us.
Sarina’s arms slide around my neck while I dive further into her mouth, tangling our tongues and pulling out her moans. I can’t even begin to measure the ways I’d missed her touch and caress, her scent and her taste. Thirteen days felt like thirteen lifetimes.
She melts into me, yanking me closer, despite the rail separating us. Soon, we’re a heap of hungry moans and unrestrained desire. It’s only when the catcalls and whoops around us start registering that we reluctantly pull our mouths apart. Our breathless pants meet between us, our eyes and limbs—one set hairier than the other—still tangled together.
She rests her forehead against mine. “I love you. You, Pearl, our kids together. I love us.” She shakes her head, like she’s trying to steady her thoughts. “I missed you every single minute of every single day. I was lost without you, Troy. After thirteen months of being seen— really seen —I felt lost again in just thirteen days. And that void you left? It felt bottomless. Nothing could fill it, except for you.”
She licks her bee-stung lips, tears filling her eyes. “I want all of you, Troy Winters. Even if that means this crazy crowd around us and the cameras turned in our direction. The media, the scrutiny, the fear of being seen—I’ll take it all if I get to have you. My fears don’t hold a candle to the boundless sunshine you bring to my life.”
I cradle her face once more, taking in every perfect feature—even the one she was ashamed to show the world until recently. And God, she’s never looked more beautiful.
“You know that void you were talking about?” I brush my thumb over her slick bottom lip. “I had one, too. The exact size and shape of you.”
“Yeah?” She leans into my touch, trying to lighten the conversation. “With or without my yeti costume?”
I throw my head back with a laugh. “I’ll take you any way I can get you, baby. If that means you need me to pour spicy mustard all over this costume and lick it off you?—”
“Don’t go making promises that’ll get me all hot and bothered, Mr. Trojan.”
I suppress the shiver that runs through me, because dear God, I hope she’s joking.
“You’re it for me, Rina. You’re my it . Not a situation, not a passing thing, and not a secret I hold in the dead of the night. You’re the girl I want, signed, sealed, delivered. If it’s not you, then it’s no one. You, Pearl, Rome? You three make up my world.”
A tremble catches her chin. “I was supposed to make the grand gesture speech.”
I shake my head, laying my lips on hers once again. “It doesn’t matter who says the words, sweetheart. The only thing that matters is we’re on the same page.”
“What about Snatch? You didn’t mention her as part of our family.”
“You mean the hairless hitman you call a cat?” I shudder. “Fine. But only because you guys come as a package deal. But can you agree that she might need a psych evaluation? I swear, I’ve seen her sharpen her nails on a nail file in your salon while staring at me like she’s a main character on Pet Sematary .”
She snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Winters!” Coach’s voice booms from somewhere behind me, and I turn over my shoulder, noting that the Jumbotron has flipped to display the game scores. “As touching and vomit-inducing as this is, we’ve got a game to finish.”
I press one more kiss to Sarina’s lips, breathing her in like she was bottled up just for me. “Watch the rest of the game from the family section?”
“You’ll know it’s me when you hear the BigFoot mating calls.”
“Save some of those for tonight.” I wink at her as I head back to meet my team in the dugout. “I have a better room reserved for us than the last time we were here.”