Chapter 7
CREW
“How long do you think before Apollo struts out in heels?”
“To be completely honest, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet. You know how bossy she can be,” I tell Gus, ushering him to pass me the lighter.
“It’s good for him. I think it’s safe to say we all could use a woman to keep us on our toes, right, Tenley?” he asks his wife.
The sliding glass door to the porch opens, Tenley carrying out a tray of whatever the hell charcuterie consists of. She cuts Gus a sharp look. “You were the most difficult of them all. Let’s not pretend my work on you was light.”
“She’s not wrong.” Gus shrugs and takes a long pull of his cigar, nodding at me in question. “So, what gives with you, Briggs? Ever hear back from that one girl?”
“Stacy?” I question, knowing that could be the only girl he means. There hasn’t been any other since. “That was nearly a year ago and ended before it started. Where the hell have you been?”
“That’s right.” He points his cigar in my direction while Tenley takes a seat beside him. “She wasn’t a kid person, wasn’t that it?”
“That she was not, my brother. That she was not.”
Stacy was a short fling I had around this time last year.
We met at a benefit event, her accompanying another staff member at Makers.
Somehow, someway, she’s related to someone and was invited to the formal dinner.
We got to talking—nothing too serious—but in the end, I just wasn’t feeling it.
Her not wanting kids only sealed what I already knew.
The connection I searched for wasn’t there.
Come to think of it, that always seems to be the case for me.
“You’ll find the right woman, Crew. I know it feels like she’ll never come, but sometimes it happens when we least expect it.” Tenley points a thumb at her husband. “Only took getting knocked up by this guy for me to believe he had any redeeming qualities in him.”
Gus kisses her on the cheek, and while I don’t necessarily enjoy watching my two best friends be affectionate with each other, I’m also really happy for them.
August comes from a long line of siblings, with him being the oldest. It took abandoning his playboy ways and prioritizing the new addition in his life—now five-year-old Apollo—for him to be the man Tenley needed.
He’s doing really fucking well for his family, and I know I’m not the only one who’s proud of him for it.
Adjusting myself in the outdoor wicker chair, I reach back a bit too quickly to prop up my elbow and feel a sharp pain rush down my arm. My elbow instantly throbs while a harsh hiss seeps past my lips. “Shit.”
“Elbow still acting up?” Gus asks, likely recalling the injury I prefer to forget about.
I nod, knowing I can’t hide it. “More lately than before. I’ve been training pretty hard in the gym.”
“You’ve also been working on fielding drills nonstop at practices. You’ve gotta give yourself some rest days, man. Pitcher’s elbow ain’t no joke.”
When I was younger and joined the big leagues, the idea of getting injured from doing the one thing baseball requires of you, to throw the damn ball, seemed unlikely, but I spent a lot of years overdoing it. Refusing physical therapy when my body screamed for relief.
Pitcher’s elbow isn’t an injury that only a pitcher can get.
It develops from overuse of the throwing arm.
All the tendons and ligaments that make up a healthy and working arm get put to the test. Being a centerfielder requires me to overextend my arm constantly, typically shooting for a throw dialing in at roughly four hundred feet.
All in all, I’m paying for it now. I work hard not to let it affect my game, but again, that comes at a cost, which is usually bone-shaking agony.
Now that I’m older and not a fucking idiot, I take all the precautions to care for it after hard days. Probably should do more, but it’s been a feat to find the time.
At this point, massage therapy and alternating ice and heat aren’t cutting it.
“Maybe you should get it looked at, Crew. By someone other than the massage therapist at Makers,” Tenley tells me kindly.
“I had X-rays and an MRI done on it a while back.”
She tilts her head, disbelief written across her face. “And how long ago was that?”
“Maybe six months? And what’s up with you both questioning my time on things? Is this some come-to-Jesus moment or some shit?”
“We’re just worried about you, Briggs. Nothing more. Nothing less. You’re getting older. Not that it’s a bad thing,” Gus elaborates. “But you gotta take care of yourself. That little girl in there needs you, man.”
It’s at this exact moment that I shift my head to the right and spot Addie in all her glory.
Apollo sits solo at the child-sized table with her green crown on top of his head, and scattered tea party dishes laid out before him.
Addie paces in front of him with her fairy wand in hand, pointing at Apollo in direction.
Their deep-bellied laughter can be heard from outside, and I know I don’t need to worry about Apollo’s ability to speak, much less run away.
“Poor kid,” I mutter, knowing exactly what it feels like to be personally victimized by Adeline Briggs. Oddly, it’s also my greatest joy. “If he knew what was good for him, he’d run.”
Our laughs echo across the outside walls of Tenley and Gus’ home.
“He’ll learn when he’s thirty,” Gus says while Tenley jumps in with a sudden question, “Oh, Crew. I forgot to ask. How do we like the new doctor in town? I still can’t believe Dr. Wolk retired.
He never heard a word I said, but Apollo loved him.
I hear the vibes are very different with the lady doc. ”
Different is a mild word to describe the change.
Superior is more up to speed with what comes to mind.
Dr. Wilde is just…better. I finally feel like we’ve found someone qualified, who not only respected my thoughts as a parent, but found a way to honor them all while keeping Adeline’s health the main priority.
“I like her. Think she’ll be a good fit for the community.”
Silence stretches between us before Tenley speaks, “You like her? What does that even mean? Was Addie scared of her? Does she have a massive wart on the tip of her nose? Does she smell like sugar? Talk at NASCAR speed? You’re gonna need to give me a little more than that, my friend.
” Gus has clearly learned what’s good for him in regard to his wife because his lips are sealed.
I huff on a soft chuckle. “Exactly what I said, Ten. I like her. She seems cool. Well educated. Like she has a plan and will do a lot of good for the kids in the community. Addie loved her. Maybe a little too much, actually. She invited her to our opening game last week.”
“Wait, did she actually come?” Tenley asks, and I nod. “That’s really fucking cool. Could you imagine seeing Wolk at a Strikers game?” she shrieks in hysterics.
“She and Addie hit it off right away. I’m glad for it because it made the entire appointment that much smoother. Aside from her walking in on me doing a fucking curtsy. Bow. Or whatever it’s called.”
“You didn’t…” Gus gasps.
“Oh, I sure as shit did. Only had about three seconds to recover before she joined in on the royal experience.”
“I love her already,” Tenley declares, reaching for a cube of cheese to go with her red wine. “Apollo actually has a check-up this coming week, so I’m excited to meet her. Maybe we’ll become best friend—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I mean, she’s a doctor and really busy. Just moved here and everything. Might not be the best idea.”
My friends look at me like I’m an absolute lunatic, and right now, I’m not convinced they’d be wrong. “Odd reaction coming from you,” Gus draws out, an unknowing smirk playing up the side of his cheek.
“Interesting…” Who invited Tenley here anyway? “I’ll ignore that weird outburst…for now. But hear me out, Crew, if I think she’s cool, I’m inviting her to hang out. Moving to a new place as an adult fucking sucks when you have no friends. I won’t be that girl who doesn’t look out for girls.”
Goddamn it. That’s not what I meant, but I think deep down, I also know that Tenley will hit it off with Dr. Wilde right away.
Maybe she can also find out her first name because the Dr. J.
Wilde sign on the building door does me no favors.
Not that I’m itching to know her name. I’m not, but for other purposes, it might be helpful.
You know, in case she starts coming around.
Or she might not. Maybe she’s already made an army of friends in Atlanta and doesn’t need any more. Yeah, that’s a possibility. I’ll hold onto that.
“Do whatever you need to do. Won’t bother me,” I tell Tenley, and something about my attempt at a truth feels sour. It’s not exactly a lie, but seeing the alluring doctor on opening day last week took me by surprise.
There’s no way it was because she looked like a fucking knockout in a black Strikers shirt that resembled more of a dress in length with laced boots.
She had on those black-and-emerald-green leopard-print reading glasses I remember from before; everything about her outfit was a drastic contrast to the woman practicing medicine for children in every color of the rainbow.
I’d have been a fool not to notice her.
Even her jet-black hair was pinned straight down her back, only adding to the dark and ethereal pull she emits. Dr. Wilde is not your typical woman, that’s for sure. Sweet when she works, sassy when she plays.
Unfortunately for me, a combination I enjoy far too much.
Fucking hell. I shouldn’t be analyzing how my daughter’s pediatrician dresses. But I’ve never learned the easy way—only five feet from the bottom.
Tenley sends Gus a mischievous look, and I know plotting when I see it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” An alarm sounds from inside, catching our attention. Gus abandons his cigar and stands, arm stretching above his head. “Fuck, I’m starving.”
I appreciate the change in subject and stub my cigar on the ashtray. “Same. I could use a good steak right about now. Thanks for hosting, Graves. Next time, we’ll do my place.”
Gus pats my shoulder as Tenley leads us into the house, the smell of charcoal-grilled steaks, veggies, and Caesar salad the only thing on my mind. “Anytime, brother. Keep me updated on that arm. Don’t wanna see you making it worse.”
I nod, appreciating his care. “I promise. I plan to start more rigorous therapy next week. Hopefully, that’ll help. If not, I guess I have no choice but to follow up with an orthopedic.”
He shrugs while beside us, Tenley hollers for Addie and Apollo to come to the kitchen and eat.
“Who knows, maybe this is all a part of a bigger plan? Most players retire before thirty-six, anyway. You’ve done well for yourself in the league, Briggs.
I know you want to be home more with Addie and the restaurant. Retirement would make that possible.”
My thoughts exactly.
“That’s where my head is. It’s just easier said than done, leaving a game that’s been everything to me, you know?”
He exhales, and if anyone understands, it’s Graves. “Trust me, I get it. We love the game, but the sacrifice can kill us. Gotta do what’s best for you, man. The game will always be here. Big leagues or not.”
I’ve got options and time. If anything, I just hope to play my fucking best this season and give it my all. I’d rather go out swinging than strike out before I get the chance to finish.
Time will tell.