Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
JAYDEN
My agent told me it would be a grind, that there would be some bitterness about coming in and getting priority over some of the other guys with the Bearcats, but I didn’t expect to get this level of shit.
Literal shit. From some sort of animal, I hope. On my rental car hood every day for the last two weeks.
The trade happened fast. Texas was desperate for bullpen arms, and I’m a hot prospect.
So hot that Texas got two of their prospects out of the deal.
Scott says this all bodes well for his negotiations when I hit free agency, but I can’t think about that stuff yet.
The money and glitz have always been Adriel’s thing. Me? I just want my shot.
Until that time comes, though, I’ll endure the disgusting pranks that seem to be the thing here in the Midwest.
“Ha ha, very clever,” I remark as I fold up the White Castle container filled with shit someone left for me. I scan the player lot and catch two of the guys, outfielders like me, fold into one another with laughter.
I hold up the box and shout, “Nice one!” But under my breath, I call them pricks as I carry their gift to the dumpster by the alleyway.
I get in my car after tossing my gear in the trunk.
I miss how easy it was to move from the apartment complex to the stadium back in Sweetwater.
Small towns mean everything is close. Walkable.
I guess I got spoiled by never having to drive.
The Bearcats are just north of the city, and simply getting out of the stadium parking lot is a chore.
All will be worth it when I make it to Wrigley.
Scott pitched me the idea of Chicago as more of a sure thing than it’s turning out to be, and I’d be lying if I said his sales pitch that I’d get called up quickly didn’t help sway my decision.
But also, my leaving will make the pathway to Texas easier for Colby.
It’s not fair. But it’s the truth. And we’ve gotten pretty creative about staying connected while we’re apart.
Technology and video calls make this kind of life easier.
And it helps that we’re both fighting for our summit in this game.
We understand the long hours the other person has to commit. And the frustrations.
I press the call button on the touchscreen in my car, and it rings through the speakers four times before a breathless Colby picks up.
“Hey, sorry. Walking,” she says.
“For exercise, or are you late for something? Did I interrupt?”
When my trade went through, Colby demanded she be allowed to do her job. She should have been allowed regardless, but with me not around to give anyone an excuse, the staff was hard-pressed not to cut her loose with the hitters.
“I was late for something. But I’m good. I have time.”
The sun is setting here, but Colby gets an extra forty minutes of daylight even though we’re in the same time zone. We tested it one night while I sat out on the hood of my car and she stayed behind in the stadium stands in Sweetwater.
“Be safe out there. You working late?” It was an off day for the team, so she’s not coming home from a game.
“Just fitting in everything I can. Yeah. I’m good though. I want to hear about your day.”
She still sounds like she’s racing for something, and there’s chatter behind her, like she’s in a mall or something, but there aren’t any shopping malls in Sweetwater.
“Colby, if you’re busy, I can—”
“Fine. I wanted to surprise you, but I can’t figure out how to order rideshare, or where I go for it. O’Hare is nuts! Can you pick me up?”
I stop in the middle of the road, and an enormous SUV swerves around me, the guy blasting his horn as he shakes a fist out his window. I’m pretty sure he just said, “I will fuck you up.”
He has to catch me first.
I flip around in the middle of traffic and head toward O’Hare, a giant grin spreading to my ears as my heart pounds so hard I think it’s lifting my ass off the seat with every beat.
“You’re here?”
Colby laughs, then muffles the phone as she says, “Excuse me,” to someone.
“I’m here. And I remember why I like wide-open spaces. Apparently, everyone decided to come to Chicago today. How long until you get here?”
I stop hard at an intersection and type in the directions on my phone.
“Eleven minutes,” I say.
“Great. I have to pee. Terminal three, arrivals. I’m wearing a bright red polo shirt. Love you!”
She ends the call too fast for me to say it back, so I hold the words on the tip of my tongue. That way I can save them for when I see her.
I speed a bit. I speed a lot. And end up getting to the arrivals area in eight minutes flat. As promised, Colby is waving at me from the end of the curbside pick-up area, her bright red shirt impossible to miss.
I pull over in a striped area marked with yellow paint. I’m sure I’m not supposed to park here, but damn, this traffic is nuts. I hop around the front of my car and pick her up in my arms, swirling her around until her feet land in the street.
“This is the best day ever,” I say, snagging her carryon roller bag. I whisk it around to the trunk, and deposit it on my way back to the driver’s seat. Colby gets in the passenger seat, and we’re out of the no-go zone before one of those transportation cops gets a chance to whistle at us.
“How did you pull this off? There’s a home game tomorrow, isn’t there? Or was it cancelled? Shit . . . you didn’t get fired, did you? Fuck that system if they fired you, Colby—”
“Jay—” She wraps her hand around my arm, and I glance to my right. She’s smiling.
“Sorry, I guess I’m excited to see you,” I say, turning my attention back to the winding roadway that leads out of labyrinth of O’Hare.
I pull up to the light before the expressway, Colby’s hand still on my arm, so I take it in my hand and bring her wrist to my mouth, kissing it.
“Jay . . . this best day ever? It’s better than you think.”
And that’s when I see it. Her bright red polo shirt is stitched with the classic Texas T.
Texas.
The show.
My eyes widen and dart to hers.
“You’re serious!”
Her head bobs, and a second later, she squeals and throws her arms around me. I’m late to leave when the light goes green, earning me another honk and fist, but fuck that guy. I make the left turn and immediately pull into the cellphone lot to hold her face in my hands and kiss her properly.
“You’re going to Texas?” My eyes blink with happy tears, and hers do the same.
“We sound like two people who just found out they’re having a baby.” She giggles.
A rush of electricity zaps down my spine, and I shake my head.
“Colby, I’m really fucking excited about this, and yes, it’s a close second on the scale of great news. But one day, when you tell me my baby is growing in that belly of yours? Actual fireworks are going to blast from my head, like a fucking halo of fire.”
Her giggling softens for a moment as though the weight of my commitment to her just slammed into her chest. We haven’t exactly talked about big moments like this, but I’m fine laying all my cards on the table. She should know what I see for us. What I want for us.
“Jayden,” she says, swallowing hard.
I drop my head for a minute and suck in my top lip.
“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with that. But I love you, and you need to know where my head is at. And that’s down the road. And we’d make it work with both of our careers. I don’t expect—”
“Jayden,” she interrupts me. I lift my gaze to find her brow pulled in and her lips puckered on the verge of laughter.
“Did you seriously say halo of fire?” She blinks.
Phew! She’s not freaked out.
“I did. You want to see it now? I can make it happen. Hold on,” I squeeze my eyes shut tight and blow out my cheeks, as if that’s what one does to produce facial fireworks. Jayden fills the car with her laughter, then smooshes the air from my cheeks before pressing her lips to mine.
Then, cradling my face in her hands, she says the only words possible to reset my focus and shut me up.
“Now, take me home and fuck me already.”
I weave through traffic, hating every blasted snarl that delays us, but the thrill of seeing her in real life, of getting to touch her rather than touching myself and imagining, suddenly makes the forty-minute trek back to my apartment tolerable.
I grab her carryon along with my gear bag and drag them into my building, opting for the elevator to the second floor rather than the stairs.
“It smells like vomit in there,” I explain. The four college kids that shove their way into the elevator with us with a twenty-four pack of Old Style offer the explanation for me. Thankfully, they keep going up when we get off.
“Why do you live here?” she asks, noting the pizza boxes left in the hallway as we pass through on our way to my unit.
“It’s a co-op. With Loyola, I think. Hard to believe, but most of these drunk assholes are on track to become lawyers,” I joke.
Colby laughs. “No, that tracks, actually. I had to sit with a pretty serious team of lawyers this morning to go through my contract. Only one of them was mine. I’d have to drink shitty beer to forget my day too if I had to do their job.”
I fish the key from my pocket and open the door to my pad, wincing as I recall the shape I left it in.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone. And I don’t have much furniture, so it’s sort of empty.
” I wave a hand around the sparce studio with a card table in the center.
My laptop is open on it, just where I left it after Jayden and I spoke by video last night.
The folding chair is pushed in, and last night’s Chinese takeout containers litter the tabletop.
I gather those and take them to the trash then grab the back of my neck, feeling less like a grown man than those kids in the elevator.
Jayden wanders around the large room, peeking into the bathroom, then moving toward the mattress resting on the floor and kicking the edge. I haven’t bothered to get a frame for it yet.