Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
B oon
Day two of being a high school teacher and baseball coach instead of a professional athlete was over.
I thought I’d miss the head nods of respect at every hotel our team walked into, the women clustered at the bar at each restaurant, vying for our attention.
I thought I’d miss the reporters shoving microphones in my face for a soundbite they could use.
Thought I’d miss the fancy condo in Dallas or the parties I frequently hosted there.
I thought I’d miss everything about being an athlete.
Surprisingly, I didn’t miss a damn thing.
“And then she was like, I’ll get on the box and hit the balls. You guys are the ones who need practice blocking.” Kinsley shoveled another forkful of chicken and rice in her mouth.
Mom gasped, her fork clattering to her plate. “I hope you told that little cuntychops to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”
“Mom,” I groaned. Kinsley snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth so she wouldn’t spew her dinner on the table. I knew very little about parenting, but even I knew using that word around a teen wasn’t acceptable.
Mom just shot me a round-eyed innocent look. “What? She deserves it!”
Kinsley reached over and grabbed Mom’s hand to give it a squeeze.
I noticed she didn’t touch me like that.
In fact, she purposely gave me a wide berth anytime we were in the same room together.
That realization made my chest ache, but the smile on my daughter’s face lifted the dark mood a bit.
It was good to see her smiling, even if it was just because her grandmother swore.
“It’s okay, Gigi. Coach Shae overheard, took the ball from her, and told Jazzy to get in line.”
I took another bite of the dinner Mom made us, relieved Shae had things under control.
I knew all about the dynamic of teams. There was always at least one hothead who thought their shit don’t stank.
A few quiet geniuses, a ton of goofballs that made the hard work seem like fun, and a coach who had to wrangle them all into a cohesive unit.
“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun on the team. Think you’ll get to start at the game Thursday?” It was my first question of the night. I tended to keep quiet and let Mom and Kinsley keep up the conversation at the dinner table. There were far fewer eye rolls that way.
“I don’t know, Dad . I’m the new girl. I’m sure I have to pay my dues for a bit.”
Why did she always put that sarcastic emphasis on the word dad? She hadn’t done that as a little girl. It always made me feel like she was calling me Dad out of respect, but inside she was not-so-secretly laughing at me.
I ignored the dig. “I don’t know, Kinsley. Coaches want to win, and you’re damn good.” I shrugged my shoulders, but couldn’t help the smug smile that crept over my face. “I mean, you have good genes. Not everyone has a professional athlete for a dad.”
Ope. There it was. My first eye roll of the night.
Kinsley turned to Mom, purposely blocking me out of the conversation.
“Anyway, later on in the scrimmage I blocked the crap out of Jazzy’s hit.
Everyone freaked out and hugged me. Jazzy didn’t look too happy with me, but that’s what she gets for mouthing off, you know? ”
She and Mom chuckled. I sat back and enjoyed the bubbly sound of my daughter’s laugh.
I hadn’t heard it since last year. She’d been with me for almost two weeks now and hadn’t laughed.
Damn. I knew she wasn’t happy being here with me, and I couldn’t say I blamed her.
Instead of drinking out of a World’s Best Dad mug every morning, I deserved a trophy for World’s Most Absent Dad.
Back when I was playing ball, something always kept me busy and not focused on my daughter.
Only now that I was home did I start to truly understand what a shitty father I’d been.
At least Mom knew how to handle Kinsley.
I’d stay in the background every night if Mom could get Kinsley smiling and laughing.
Maybe it was too late for me to make amends for being largely absent for seventeen years.
Maybe now the best gift I could give my daughter was to remain on the fringes of her life.
“Well, whether you play or not, we’re excited to go to your game Thursday,” Mom was saying to Kinsley. She looked up at me. “Isn’t that right, Boon?”
I dipped my head in agreement, even though it was humiliating that my mother had to try to draw me into a conversation with my own daughter.
Mom had been harassing me daily to find ways to connect with Kinsley, and I was trying, I really was.
I just sucked at it, and let’s be honest, I didn’t suck at much. This was new territory for me.
“Hell yes. I can’t wait to see the Wolfe genes in action again.” I snapped my fingers, brilliant idea occurring to me. “In fact, any chance you want to go to the batting cages with me this weekend? I heard Blueball has a new facility.”
Kinsley scoffed, followed quickly by an eye roll, and the cherry on top of this teenage angst sundae, a push away from the table. “No, thanks.” And then she was gone, flouncing off to her room, evidenced by the slamming door from upstairs.
Mom was already glaring at me.
“What did I do?” Honestly, women confused the hell out of me.
Mom just shook her head, lips pressed together into a tight line of disappointment. “Sometimes I wonder how I could have failed you this badly.”
My hand went to my chest. I’d done what she’d been harping on me to do. I tried to connect with Kinsley and got the cold shoulder. “Ouch, Mom.”
Mom pushed back from the table and walked out of the room. “You can clean up.” The statement hung there, her meaning clear. At least do something useful, Boon.
Well, fuck.
I grabbed all the dishes from the table and headed for the sink, rinsing them before placing them haphazardly in the dishwasher.
I was a firm believer chaos placement of dishes led to the best cleaning process.
I wiped down the stove and countertops, then dropped the damp towel on the counter.
The house was quiet, both women disgusted with me.
It was way too early to turn in for the night.
My brothers were busy with their wives. I had no friends here in Blueball, and I was feeling restless.
So I decided to go three for three.
I walked outside and headed for the fence line between our property and the Fletchers’.
If I was going to piss off the females of Blueball, I might as well add Shae to that list. The geese caught sight of me and started honking from across the field.
I sprinted to the fence and climbed over, flipping them off with a smug smile before heading up the porch to Shae’s house.
I knocked and then patiently waited for someone to answer.
In truth, I’d come solely to thank her for adding Kinsley to the team.
Anyone who could make my daughter smile like that deserved thanks.
It took awhile, but the door finally swung open.
Shae stood there in the doorway with a wrench in one hand and wearing a soaked T-shirt with the word Cellfie emblazoned over a picture of a cell taking its picture.
Her shorts showed off her curvy legs and the bare pink toenails were back to distracting me.
“What?” she barked by way of greeting.
“Uhh…hi.” It was probably my lamest greeting to date. I think it was the auburn hair piled on top of her head with strands that hung down and tangled with her glasses that had me distracted. Or it could have been the way the damp T-shirt clung to her spectacular breasts. I’d forgotten how to speak.
She huffed, wrench still in the air. “What do you want? I’m a little busy here.”
I shook my head, clearing it of whatever the hell had taken over my brain.
“What’s happened?” I stepped inside, ignoring the way she reared her head back at my arrogance.
The house looked very different from when we were kids.
New paint, different furnishings, wallpaper. The house looked amazing, actually.
She shut the door and rounded on me. “My sink sprung a leak and I’m trying to fix it. So, if you could state your business and get out, that would be appreciated.”
I hurried into the kitchen. “Let me take a look.” Even as my steps confidently headed for the pool of water on the kitchen floor, my brain was screaming to abort the mission. I knew nothing about plumbing and couldn’t offer a damn bit of assistance, other than calling for a professional plumber.
“Seriously, don’t…” Shae’s voice trailed off as I hit an unseen patch of water and nearly lost my footing. I grabbed the countertop and steadied myself.
“Whoa.”
I heard a garbled laugh behind me. I turned to see Shae’s hand over her mouth, clear glee in her eyes. Glad I could make at least one female laugh today, even if it was at my own expense. Reaching behind my head, I pulled my shirt over my head.
“What are you doing?” Shae screeched, laugh long gone.
I laid the T-shirt over the puddle of water and let it soak up the mess. Then I lay down on her floor, head nearly into the cabinet under her sink, and looked up at her. “Hand me the wrench.”
Shae’s mouth was hanging open, her gaze taking in the sight of me laid out on her floor, shirtless.
I couldn’t help a bit of a smirk. She liked what she saw, I knew that much.
A woman doesn’t bite her lip and press one foot on top of the other like she’s rubbing her thighs together if she doesn’t like what she’s seeing.
I may not know plumbing, but I knew a turned-on woman when I saw one.
She handed me the wrench in slow motion. I took it from her and paused, staring up at pipes and a slow drip of water just above my head. Well, fuck, now what, genius?
“Looks like you got a leak here,” I said, buying myself some time to figure out how this damn wrench worked.