13. Have Fun
13
Have Fun
Chelsea
You’d think I’d never been in a car before.
Or been to Ida.
It’s only forty-five minutes from Birch Lake, and on more than one occasion, we came here to shop in the cute stores downtown—especially at Christmas time. Birch Lake has some cute stores too, but everything is touristy or wilderness focused. Ida is all small-town charm and coziness.
I’ve been here before. It’s not shiny and new.
Yet here I am, staring out the window and vibrating with excitement as Trevor pulls off the highway exit for Ida. Across the river, all the backs of the little shops downtown are visible, and a river walk runs behind them. It’s so idyllic it hurts.
I can’t wait to experience it in a new way.
Forget being a dog looking out a window. I’m Princess Jasmine on a magical carpet ride.
As we head toward the bridge that leads into town, I look to my left at the hillside.
“Wait, are you a country boy or a townie? Rae mentioned they all lived on the same block growing up, right? What about you?”
He laughs at the pep in my voice and shakes his head. “Yes, their whole friend group started because her backyard butts up to Joel’s. As does Aaron’s. Mackenzie’s family owns the bakery on the corner. Miles lives across the street from Rae and Sarah. And before the McKinleys adopted her, Sarah lived around the corner with her shitty biological mother.”
My eyebrows fly up at that.
He continues, voice a little gruff. “Sorry. That’s her story to tell, but I know the scars it left her with.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, yes. They were the townies, and I spent my fair share of time down there with them, especially in high school. But…” He nods to the road in front of us that leads up into the hills. “I grew up in the country. First in a tiny two-bedroom house with hardly any land, and then… well, you’ll see.”
He flips on his turn signal to cross the bridge into town.
“Wait, if you live over that way, why are we heading into town?”
He glances at me and sucks in a breath. “There’s somewhere else I want to take you first. Someone else I want you to meet.”
He drives across town, turning down a couple of side streets until the houses start fading into a sea of evergreen trees. It’s not until we pass through the iron gates that I understand where we’re going.
To see his dad.
The cemetery is set into the rolling hillside. I’ve never seen another like it. It feels almost like it’s one with nature. Like it’s truly a place of peace.
He follows one of the winding roads up toward the top of the cemetery. There’s a monument and a lookout around a curve from where he pulls over.
When he shuts off the car, he turns to me, emotion heavy on his face.
“This is the first time I’ve ever brought someone here.”
My brows tick up. “Really?”
“I mean, Nick’s been here with me before, but that’s because…” He lowers his voice. “His mom’s buried here too.”
My mouth slips open, but I suddenly understand their friendship even more. Two outwardly sarcastic and troublemaking boys with soft hearts who have experienced a loss no one should have to at a young age.
I reach over and take his hand. “You can share as much or as little as you want with me.”
“I know you don’t get to meet him, but I wish you could. This is as close as I’ll get, so…”
I swing my door open. “I’ll be right by your side.”
The gratitude in his eyes makes my heart squeeze. I wish I could take this hurt from him, but if all I can do is lessen it, I will.
When he meets me by my door, I’m still taking everything in.
“This is surprisingly beautiful. Most cemeteries feel stuffy and manicured. As strange as it sounds, it’s like this one grew here.”
“Yeah. It’s why my mom picked this one. My dad wanted to be cremated, but since that wasn’t in writing, and she didn’t feel like fighting with his family about it, this was the compromise. A place that feels real, connected to nature, and more inviting than a lot of others.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the maze of headstones.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“When I’m at home, maybe once every month or two. Whenever I want to center myself and try to feel connected to him. When I’m away at school, I usually stop either before I leave or when I get back. Last time I was here was the day I left for SUNY FL.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Here we are.”
The headstone is large, with a picture of his dad’s face etched into it. Even in the stone, I see the similarities between him and Trevor. The face shape, the dimples, the hair.
The stone still looks brand new, and there are flowers planted at the base.
“My grandmother plants those.”
I squeeze his hand as I read the headstone.
In loving memory of Mitchell Osborne Matteny. Devoted father, cherished husband, and beloved son.
“Hey, Dad.” Trevor’s voice catches, and I can’t imagine that kind of ache.
My dad has always been my number one supporter. Losing him—or Robbie—would crush me.
Then my gaze drifts back to Trevor.
Losing him?
Nope.
No matter how short a time it’s been, I’d be heartbroken.
He runs a hand over the stone.
“I brought someone with me today.” He rolls his lips and clears his throat. “I get how you looked at Mom now. Anyway, this is Chelsea. I’m not going to ask her to talk to your headstone, because that’s kind of weird, but I just wanted you to know she’s here with me, and she means a lot to me. You’d like her. She keeps me in line and doesn’t put up with my shit. Like Mom was with you.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, and I walk over to Trevor, taking his hand again.
“I don’t care if it’s weird.” I rest my other hand on the stone. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Matteny. Your son is a pain in the butt, but I kind of like him.”
Trevor laughs, though his eyes are glassy.
“He’d insist you call him Mitch.”
“Mitch. Well, even though he pretends to be a curmudgeon and can be a little full of himself sometimes, he’s pretty awesome. You did a good job with him.”
I meet Trevor’s eyes as I say the words because I want him to know they’re the truth. I don’t have to know his dad to know Mitch would’ve been proud of him. He’s an unfailingly good man, and that’s why I fell for him.
He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Give me a few minutes?”
“No problem.” I kiss his cheek. “I might go check out the view.”
“I’ll meet you over there.”
The clearing overlooking the town is more beautiful than I thought it would be. All of downtown is visible with patchy views of the houses outside the center of town. I look at all the ones I can see, wondering if any of them belong to Rae and Sarah or their friends. Then my gaze drifts to the rolling hills beyond and I get a familiar sense of home. The same one I get when I’m looking out at Birch Lake from the campground.
Trevor sits down next to me, emotion still swirling around him.
He silently wraps an arm around my back.
We’re quiet for a moment, taking in the view as the early autumn breeze dances around us.
Finally, I look at Trevor. “Is it always this emotional for you when you come here?”
He shrugs. “It depends. Sometimes it barely hits me. Today was heavier.” I reach down and squeeze his hand. “He would’ve loved you.”
“I meant what I said back there, and I’ll come here with you anytime you want.”
“Thank you,” he breathes.
“Don’t thank me.”
Our eyes meet, and then his hand slides up my back and into my hair.
His lips land on mine in a raw, sloppy kiss. Not meant to lead anywhere, but it’s an expression of everything he’s feeling right now.
With a sigh, he pulls back and looks at the view again.
“Ready for the chaos?”
I laugh at that. “Let’s do it.”
“Holy crap.” I look up at the iron gate in front of us. A very different iron gate from the one at the cemetery. “When were you going to tell me you lived on a fancy estate? I believe on the way here, you described it to me as quaint . I think we have very different definitions of that word.”
I can’t even see the house from here.
He laughs as he keys in the code and the gates swing open.
“I guess I meant quaint not in size, but in vibe?”
“Ah, like an old English country home?”
“That’s pretty on-brand, actually. Except it’s not old. And no murders take place here. When I think English country home, I think murder mystery.”
“Good to know.”
As he drives up the winding gravel drive, the house comes into view, and his description was dead-on.
“Wow. This is beautiful.”
“It is. It was my dad’s dream house. They’d been saving for years, and it wasn’t going to be on this big of a piece of property, but they’d already had plans drawn up. They’d been dreaming of it together since before I was even born. My dad wanted enough room so my grandparents could live here after they retired if they wanted, or so I could live here with my family one day. He loved the idea of multi-generational living and that kind of family structure. My mom liked it too and wanted something private and safe. When he died and we got all the money that was somehow supposed to take his place, she built his dream house.”
My heart shatters for him—for his mom.
I know Trevor would rather live in a shack if he could still have his dad with him.
I run my hand up his arm. “Well, I’m excited to get to know more about him from his dream house.”
Trevor lets out a soft sigh as he parks the car. “Thank you.”
I don’t bother to ask what for. I know why he’s thanking me—for understanding that as much as he loves his home, there’s a part of him that hurts because of it. “Don’t thank me for being here for you.”
He leans in to kiss me, but sighs and hangs his head before he gets there.
“What?”
“You might regret being here for me in a couple of minutes.”
“Why?” I ask, biting back a laugh.
“Because we’ve already got a stalker.”
He flings his door open, and as I open mine, I look over at the house in time to see someone moving away from the window.
Trev grabs our bags, then leads the way up to the front porch and swings the front door open.
“Having fun, creeper?” he says.
“I’m not trying to be creepy. I’m just excited to meet—”
He cuts Hyla off as I walk through the door. “Chelsea. This is Hyla, the reason for most of my insanity.” I laugh when she sticks her tongue out at him. “Hyla, this is Chelsea. The reason I sound less like a grumpy asshole these days.”
“You only pretend to be grumpy.” Then I turn to Hyla, nerves swimming in my gut. She’s a little taller than me and thin with long blond hair, a bright smile, and mischievous eyes. I want her to like me. So I say the truth. “Hi. I’m not sure exactly what to say. This feels like it could be weird, but I don’t want it to be.”
She sighs in relief. “Me either. So I’m just going to decide we’re best friends now, okay?”
I laugh as relief washes over me. “I’m down.”
Then Hyla wraps me in a massive hug before looping an arm through mine and guiding me farther into the living room.
“Is Trevor behaving himself while he’s away at school?” she asks.
I smile and say, “Define behaving.”
Behind us, Trevor groans, making Hyla and me laugh more.
“She’s here!” Hyla yells.
“We. We are here,” Trevor mutters.
Hyla waves a hand. “We’ve had you for twenty-one years. We’re over you now. You’re washed up. Old and stinky.”
“I’m not stinky.” He pokes her in the ribs.
She sticks her tongue out as footsteps sound, then a woman dashes from a hallway leading to the other side of the house.
“Where? Gimme!”
Hyla shakes her head and laughs as Trevor’s mom runs over to us. She’s wearing leggings and a sweater and has medium-length dark blond hair. And a smile just like Trevor’s.
“Mom, this is—”
She comes to a stop in front of me, then throws her arms around me. “Chelsea. It’s so good to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you too, Mrs. Matteny.”
“No way. Call me Liz. Please.” She lets me go and grabs my hands. “I’m so excited to meet the girl who makes my son smile like that.”
I turn in time to see Trevor looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom…”
“Don’t give me that tone. I like seeing you happy.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
Then he walks over and throws his arms around his mom, and it’s so… touching.
It makes me feel all swoony and mushy and…
As he steps out of his mom’s embrace, I reach for his arm, but when he feels my fingertips on his skin, he yanks his arm away.
“Don’t pinch me.”
I give him my most innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Pinching?” Hyla asks.
Now it’s Trevor’s turn to smile, but his is more evil. “Yeah, whenever she thinks I’m being too much like a fantasy book boyfriend, she pinches me to make sure I’m real.”
Liz blinks, then breaks into a smile. “You’re just like your dad.”
“Fantasy book boyfriend? Does that mean you’ll read books with us?” Hyla asks.
“Definitely. Trev and I have been reading together.”
“That’s so cute,” Hyla says, making Trevor groan again. I love the dynamic here. They outnumber him, but he’s so soft for them. It’s adorable.
“Who else is hungry? I’m starving. Mom, need help with dinner?”
“I’ll never say no to your help.”
“I’m happy to help too,” I say, but Hyla shakes her head.
“Don’t bother. Cooking together is their thing. Unless she’s making cookies and needs all hands on deck, she won’t ask for our help. Which is fine, because it means I get to steal your attention. I’m going to give Chelsea a mini tour!” she calls.
There are muttered affirmations, but they’re already halfway into the expansive kitchen.
She slips her arm around mine. “Don’t worry. I’ll let Trevor show you all the spots that are important to him, but I can at least show you around the downstairs… drag you through the library.”
“There’s a library?” I squeak.
She laughs. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not quite a Beauty and the Beast kind of library, but it’ll do.”
She leads me down the hall Liz came from until we get to a large room lined with bookshelves—except for one wall where Liz’s desk is.
I stand in the middle and spin around, looking at the floor-to-ceiling shelves. There’s even a rolling ladder like in Beauty and the Beast .
“This is incredible.”
“Liz loves for anyone who’s here to borrow books, read, and enjoy.”
I find myself in front of a fantasy section, which includes collector’s editions of several popular series.
“I’ll definitely be taking her up on that.”
“Come on, let me show you my favorite little reading nook.”
She leads me up a set of stairs at the back of the house—apparently there are two stairwells—and around the corner, where there’s a small open space by a large window that looks out over the backyard and woods beyond. There’s a loveseat and two extremely comfortable looking chairs.
Hyla plops down in one and sighs. “So cozy.”
I sit down too. “Wow. It is. Do you spend a lot of time here?”
She shrugs. “Liz likes having company, and it’s better than visiting my actual parents. I have my own apartment, but Liz lures me over for girls’ nights, and when I don’t have to work, I’ll stay the night or weekend sometimes.”
“She sounds awesome.”
Hyla nods. “She is.”
I laugh a little at the awkwardness trying to creep in again. “You seem awesome too.”
She scoffs at that.
“No way. Trevor never lets me get away with being self-deprecating. Somehow, I doubt he lets you do it, either.”
She barks a laugh. “No, he doesn’t. Even though he says that stuff to himself all the time. Such a double standard.”
“I’m doing my best to remind him how awesome he is.”
“Good. He needs that. This last year… it’s the roughest I’ve seen him since his dad died. Liz is right. His smile is brighter again. Thanks to you.”
“He’s doing the same for me.”
“Good. I know we’ve only just become besties, but I already know you deserve to be treated like a princess.”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“Well, since we’re best friends now, I should probably have your phone number. I need to be able to text you if Trevor does anything annoying… or just because I want to get to know you.”
“I want to get to know you too.”
We exchange numbers, then head back downstairs and take seats around the kitchen counter, chatting as Hyla makes some tea and puts cookies on plates for us. I laugh at her retelling of how Amanda ‘hated’ her, even though there’s still a flash of pain in Hyla’s eyes. Trevor has mentioned before that he worries about Hyla, especially with her parents being so crappy. I get it now. I’m not sure exactly what I’m picking up on, but there’s deep pain beneath her bubbly exterior.
“So you teach yoga?” I ask. I’ve always thought a job like that might be fun. And an entirely different avenue through which to uplift women.
“Yep. Big, exciting job.”
So, not exciting, then. “It doesn’t have to be exciting, as long as you enjoy it.”
“I do. It’s not a career, but it’s something for now. I’m still figuring out what I want to do. And who I am. How not to be a mess.”
There’s that self-deprecation again, but I get it. Wound yourself before someone else can wound you. Call out your flaws, so no one can use them against you. It’s something that’s been ingrained in us—especially women—for a long time.
I know for me—and I assume for her—it comes from somewhere deeper, though.
I put my hand over hers and lean in closer. “For the record, I’m a mess too. Still figuring out how to heal from my own trauma. Just know I’ll never judge you. I know Trevor is a safe place for you. I want you to still feel that same safety and know you’re safe with me too.”
She lunges forward and pulls me into her arms. “And you’re safe with me.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey,” Trevor calls from the other side of the kitchen. “No stealing my girl.”
We pull apart, laughing, then Hyla wraps her arm around my back. “Sorry, she’s mine now.”
He smiles contentedly. “Good. I need my two favorite people to get along.” Liz clears her throat, and Trev kisses her head. “I don’t have to worry about you getting along with anyone, Mom. And you’re always number one in my heart.”
She laughs and swats him with a towel. “You’re a kiss-up just like your dad was.”
His smile grows. “I learned from the best.”
Then that smoldering look is turned on me, only it’s not just a smolder. It’s laced with something so much deeper. Something that tugs on my heartstrings the same way watching him with his family does. It deepens that feeling growing inside me. The one I’m too afraid to name because I keep telling myself it’s too soon or I don’t want to jinx it.
But it’s there all the same, growing quietly in the background.
I have a feeling it won’t be long until it grows so big, I’ll have no choice but to let it burst out of me.
I’m cozy and close to sleep nestled in Trevor’s insanely comfortable bed when he climbs in with me, hair still damp from a shower.
He leans over and kisses me, but doesn’t settle in. Which makes me flick my eyes open and look at him.
“Are you okay?”
He lets out a little grunt. “I don’t know.”
“Talk to me.”
“I’m worried about Hyla.”
“How so?”
“She’s lost weight since I saw her last. She was picking at her food tonight. And underneath everything, I can just see the pain…” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It reminds me of—”
“What?”
He swallows, that weight in his voice growing heavier. “Senior year of high school, she went through some hard shit with her parents, and… she took a handful of her mom’s sleeping pills.”
A gasp slips out of me, but Trevor continues.
“When my mom told me… it was the second-worst moment of my life behind losing my dad. Even hitting all those fucking trees on my snowboard and my recovery, it was nothing compared to thinking I could lose the girl I consider my sister.”
I throw my arms around him, sliding closer and holding him tightly. He settles in my arms and then tells me the whole story. Everything Hyla’s been through. How horrible her parents are. How they manipulated her and her relationship with Mackenzie. It sounds truly awful.
“And she’s still holding out hope they’ll come around,” he grumbles. “I’ve been trying to get her to cut them out of her life for years, but she won’t do it.”
I sweep my hand over his cheek. “You can’t force her to do that. Another person trying to control her decisions isn’t what she needs. She needs your support.” He opens his mouth, but I keep going. “I know it’s hard. We both know that, right? But at the end of the day, she’s the only one who can make those hard decisions. All you can do is support her and show her you love her. I know you want to fix it for her, but it’s not up to you. She’ll only face her trauma when she’s ready.”
His sigh is rough and painful as he looks at me, but he runs his fingers through my hair, some of the weight finally lifting off him.
He brushes his lips over mine. “You make me better.”
“You do the same for me.”
A moment of silence stretches between us, and I feel that word rumbling in the depths of my soul, pulling at me, making me question if I should say it.
Then his eyes meet mine, and I swear I see the same thing mirrored in them.
But we’re both chickens and don’t say anything. After a moment, he pulls me close, kissing me deeply.
“Thank you for being here with me.”
“Thank you for wanting me here.”
“Night, baby.”
I press a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight.”
And then, like every time we’ve slept in the same bed, I easily fall into a peaceful sleep wrapped in Trevor’s arms.
Trevor
Holy fuck.
Every so often in life, you know while something’s happening that you’ll remember every detail for the rest of your life.
That’s right now. Because I’m standing in the clubhouse of the New York Metros’ stadium for Aaron’s bachelor party. I’m wearing a Metros jersey with my last name on the back. And I’m about to play a game against the fucking New York Metros.
If I looked up surreal in the dictionary, I’d see a picture of this. No doubt.
I don’t care if it’s all technically for Aaron. I get to spend a few innings living a dream I thought I’d lost.
Back when our friend—and Amanda’s boyfriend—Jamie was preparing for the draft and had scouts coming to see him, Aaron connected with the Metros’ pitching coach, Marc Demoda. Marc and Aaron bonded over being pitchers who’d suffered hand injuries and became friends.
Because of course they did.
Aaron could become friends with anyone after talking with them for twenty minutes. That’s just who he is.
With some coordination from Jamie, who plays for the Metros minor league affiliate back home, Marc helped set this up for Aaron.
Not only do I get to live this tiny piece of my dream and play in a major league stadium against members from a major league team, I get to do it all with my best friends.
A couple of guys from the SUNY FL team are here, but otherwise, it’s our high school friends, including the dream team infield. Miles catching, Joel on second, Nick at shortstop, me at third, and Aaron pitching—for a bit of the game, at least. Like me, he won’t be able to play through the whole thing. I already know I’ll only last a couple of innings, but Nick’s older brother Vince played third on our high school team ahead of me, and he’ll be taking over when I’m done. Aaron will be bouncing around playing different positions before he pitches the final inning or two.
“You boys all ready?” Marc asks.
Aaron looks at him and smiles. “Give us a second.”
Marc nods and talks with Jamie as they head to the dugout where the rest of the guys are, but Nick, Miles, Joel, Aaron, and I hang back.
“Somehow a lifetime of playing ball together ends up here,” Aaron says. “I know Jamie and Marc pulled out a lot of stops to make it happen, but part of the reason I’m here at all is because of this—our team. The one we built and refused to break up. Do you remember when we were eight, and they tried to put Nick and Miles on a different little league team than us?”
Nick claps his hands and laughs. “Oh man, my dad was ready to lose his shit over how many tantrums I threw about that.”
Joel laughs. “Luckily, my dad threw money at the situation and fixed it.”
“I know we’ve had our own friend groups over the years, but this little team is the reason we won the state championship in high school. No one plays like we do. No one knows their teammates like we do. Fifteen years of playing together… they’ve got nothing on us.”
“So what you’re saying is… we’re about to go kick some major league ball players’ asses?” Miles says.
“Sounds just delusional enough to be right,” I say.
We all laugh.
“Thank you all for being here. I know this moment isn’t just for me. It’s for all of us. Let’s go kick some ass.” Aaron sticks his hand out. “Warriors.”
We all put our hands on top of his and yell, “Warriors!” in honor of our high school team.
Then we make our way out to the dugout to live our fever dream.
It’s the bottom of the third, and I’m savoring every moment of this game, ignoring the pain in my leg and lower back. Today is a dream, even if three innings is my limit. Vince batted for me in the top half of the inning and will take over for me after this.
If this is the last few minutes of baseball I’ll ever play—at least like this—I want to soak in every moment.
Despite playing against major league players, we’re holding our own. It comes down to teamwork. I know and trust every person on this field. We’ll all be right where we need to be and the way we play is second nature, even after all these years.
“Let’s do this. Get these outs and close out the inning,” Marc Demoda yells from the dugout. He’s serving as our coach for the game, while Metros’ pitcher and Marc’s honorary brother-in-law Corey Matthews is serving as coach for the Metros’ players.
Jamie’s been killing it pitching, proving he can hold his own against the pros—not that it’s a surprise. His talent has always been on another level from everyone else.
Between fouls and balls, it’s a full count, but Jamie stays cool. There’s no one on base right now, but any hit is a risk.
I’m on high alert as he throws the next pitch. I know before it hits the box that it’ll be a hit, so I wait, ready for what might come my way.
The crack of the bat sends the ball flying in Nick’s direction, a few feet above his head, but nothing fazes him, and perfectly timed, he jumps and snags the ball out of the air. Out number one.
We bump fists as the next batter takes the box. After a few pitches, he hits a line drive that’s quickly fielded, but gets him on base.
Next up is Declan Lowery. My rival third baseman.
After a strike and a couple of fouls, he’s hungry for the ball, but I’m hungry for the play. I hope he hits it. If this is my last play on the field, I want it to be a good one. I want to remember why I love this damn game so much. The thrill of the moment. How one perfectly executed play can change the course of a game. How a well-oiled infield can control the outcome of a game or an entire season. It’s in the littlest movements and the big things like teamwork. Baseball shines in the nuance.
Another strike, and as much as I want to win, I want the action more.
Come on, Declan. Give me something to play with.
Next pitch is a ball, and I’m crawling out of my skin.
Jamie’s jaw is set as he throws the next ball, and this time, Declan’s bat connects with it.
A grounder flies down the third base line and instinct kicks in. One second. Two seconds. Then the ball is in my glove. I turn and whip the ball to Joel, who’s waiting effortlessly at second. The second the ball hits his glove, he turns and fires it off to his brother Jesse at first. My heart is in my throat as I watch Declan running. It’ll be a split-second difference, but then I hear the magical sound of the ball landing in Jesse’s glove right before Declan crosses the base.
My eyes shift to the stands, where all the girls are watching and cheering—including my girl. And fuck, I wish I could’ve had this for years. Wish Chelsea could’ve seen me play before I was injured.
The high of the play crescendos as Nick throws an arm around me, but it fades instantly when I realize I’m done.
It’ll always be hard walking off the field with both a pain in my chest and in my leg, but getting to do it at all—it’s the stuff of dreams.
“Awesome play,” Aaron says, jogging over to Nick and me. He extends his fist, and I bump it, then Joel, Miles, and Jamie are walking with us too.
We pause outside the dugout, looking out at the field.
“I was struggling so much senior year, it didn’t hit me that it was our last game together. I’m glad we got to do this,” Aaron says.
Everyone murmurs their agreement, but I’m at a loss for words. The emotion of the moment sweeps over me, and all I can do is enjoy it. Cherish it. For half a second, I swear I hear my dad’s laugh. He would’ve loved seeing this.
He always told me that the most important part of baseball wasn’t winning, it was having fun. There were plenty of times when I didn’t agree with that, but today I do. Win or lose, it’s been the best game of my life.
I thought I’d be bummed to be out of the game… until Marc Demoda shoved a microphone in my hand. Apparently, he felt my sarcastic dugout commentary deserved to be heard by everyone in the stadium. Now cheering on my boys and heckling the Metros’ players is my new favorite pastime.
“The count is two and two. Runners on second and third. Two outs. Pitching legend Aaron Cooper is on the mound, and the Ida Warriors alumni lead the Metros by one run here in the bottom of the fifth.” My voice rings out across the stadium.
“Who gave him a microphone?”
“My third base rival, Declan Lowery, is annoyed that I’m here to give you all the play-by-play, but personally, I think he’s just jealous of my youth, charm, and good looks.”
“I’m annoyed that this sounds more like a comedy roast than a baseball game!”
“I think he’s more annoyed about that strikeout at the hands of Aaron Cooper, but he’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Over the course of his high school career, Aaron set the record for most shutouts ever pitched—both in a season and in his high school career. Neither record has been broken, even by his protégé and current pitcher for the Binghamton Knights, Jamie Henderson. So, don’t feel too bad, Declan.”
He shouts something else I don’t hear, but I’m enjoying myself way too much to care.
It’s the bottom of the fifth, and Aaron’s finally pitching. Despite his injury, he’s pitching well, even though I know it wouldn’t last for him much more than an inning at this point.
The batter up right now, Tim Tillerson, is giving Aaron some trouble, but it’s clear Aaron’s also feeling the pressure. There are two outs, and as much as none of us want this game to be over, we all want to win. All it’ll take is one strikeout, and the game is over.
“Aaron with the fastball, but Tillerson gets a piece and… another foul. The count is two and two with two outs. The Metros are clawing for the win, not wanting to be shown up by this ragtag bunch of players, but that ragtag group of players has a secret weapon—the chemistry built by years of playing together.”
Aaron throws the next pitch, but it drops and is called a ball. I watch from the edge of the dugout as Miles gives a signal that I know all too well. They had a special sign for it in high school. Our high school coach would get so mad when they’d go rogue and do this, but it almost always worked. Will it against a major league team? Who knows. But we’ve made it this far.
“It’s the payoff pitch, and after a brief communication with his catcher, Cooper makes a decision. Is this the end of the game? When we all win lifetime bragging rights over beating a major league team? Here we go, and the throw is… a screwball! Unbelievable!” At least for anyone who doesn’t know that’s Aaron’s and Miles’s hail Mary. “And it’s good. Tillerson connects with the pitch for a line drive right between first and second.” My heartbeat ticks up as I watch, my voice rising as I watch what I knew would play out. “But Joel Wilkinson is there, and he snatches it out of the air! You know what that means! We’ve all officially won bragging rights over this fine team of players for a long time.”
With that, I set the microphone down and go join my team congratulating Aaron and Joel. Even the Metros’ players surround us, and I know with certainty, I’ll be telling this story to my grandkids.
Did I ever tell you about the time I beat the New York Metros?
Sure, Grandpa. Whatever you say.
“Seriously, were you the one who gave him a microphone?” Declan asks Marc.
Marc just shrugs innocently as Corey rolls his eyes.
“Hey, that was some good commentating,” Ryan Daily, the Metros pitcher, says.
“Thanks. I guess that’s the benefit of me having a big mouth.” And all the years I spent watching games and talking about them with my dad.
“Speaking of that,” Jesse says, pointing at me in amusement. “I’m planning a winter carnival at the Knights’ stadium, and I need someone to emcee a couple of contests and the baseball trivia. Any chance you’d be interested?”
Jesse works as the media and marketing manager for the Knights.
“Hell, yeah. Sign me up.”
“Sweet. I’ll send you more info. And hey, if you enjoy that, we might have a commentating gig open up over the summer. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, man.”
He claps my shoulder and walks off, but I’m staring after him, surprised. I’m enjoying working with Coach M behind the scenes, and I’m looking forward to our first real practice in January, but that doesn’t compare to centering myself in the game like I did while I was commentating. Watching Joel make that play, I felt like I was right there on the field.
It hits me for the first time that maybe this was always a fever dream. Did I really have what it takes to go pro? Maybe minor league. But even then, would I have enjoyed it? All the travel. The stress on my body. You have to really want it, and as much as I love the game, I’m not sure I would’ve enjoyed it long term. The joy I get watching a game is almost the same as the joy I have when I’m playing it, but I have to admit, playing today was the most joy I’ve felt for the game in a long time. Playing with my friends was one of the best things about today.
That and beating the Metros.
And my girl getting to see me play. Even if it’s the only time she gets to see it—until we all inevitably get bored in our day jobs in our thirties and create some sort of rec league.
When the girls make it down to the field, they come barreling toward us, and in the time it takes Chelsea to run to me, I soak it in. Then she jumps into my arms and kisses me as I hold her tight.
When I set her down, she smiles up at me. “You were amazing. I saw it all in a new way today. Your passion was indescribable. And it came through when you were announcing too. Watching you play and hearing your sexy voice bouncing around the stadium has officially turned me into a baseball fan.”
I chuckle at that. “Good. Because I want you at every home game this season. I don’t care that I’m not playing, I want to be able to look into the stands and see your smiling face.”
She lets out a soft sigh and kisses my cheek. “You’re on.”
I take her hand and look around, my eyes drifting to right field. I hope my dad was watching and loving it all the way I did.
I turn to Chelsea. “Walk the field with me?”
“I’d love to.”
With my arm wrapped around Chels, we wander the field together before ending up back at third base to close out what has been one of the best days of my life.