Chapter 7
THE SQUIRRELS ARE A LITTLE DIFFERENT FROM BACK AT HOME.
Dallas
Tyler
I’m hurt
Mitch
Here we go.
Tyler
No. Don’t try to stop me. Westbrook moves states away and forgets about us. Like we’re the scum on the bottom of his shoe. Like we mean nothing to him. NOTHING.
He promised to keep us updated on all things at all times.
Mitch
*eye roll*
Fuck. Sorry guys. It’s been an adjustment moving here. The town is the polar opposite of city life, and I’ve just been spending time with Sage.
Tyler
You just had to throw her name in there. You know I can’t be mad at you when you mention her.
*eye roll*
Tyler
If you both keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re going to get stuck there.
Also, I’m going to be coaching again…
My phone rings with an incoming video call from them in our group chat, which Tyler named The Wolf Pack. I don’t understand it, or him, but we roll with it.
Mitch must have been the one to click the call, because his face is the only one I see.
“Are you kidding me? You’re coming back?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll be coaching here.”
“Whoa, whoa.”
Tyler answers, moving each of their faces into two boxes. “You coming back, coach?”
“No,” Mitch answers for me. “He’s coaching there. I’m waiting for him to tell me what the hell is going on.”
I sigh. “You’re the only two who aren’t allowed to judge me for my rash decisions.
But the day we got here, we met Nan, who gave us the keys to the place.
Two boys went running past us, nearly knocking me over.
And Nan mentioned how they don’t have a team and need a coach. I said yes almost instantly.”
“You? Coaching kids?” Mitch scoffs.
I laugh. “It’s no different than coaching you two.”
“I take offense to that.” Mitch feigns hurt. “Tyler is the child of the group.”
“I’m still stuck on the part with the woman named Nan,” Tyler chimes in.
“See?” Mitch laughs. “But to remain serious here, weren’t you supposed to be there to get your shit together? You know, take a break from baseball?”
He’s right.
The more I think about it, the more I question if I made a mistake.
Baseball has never been just a game or sport for me.
It’s something that makes dreams feel real, where things make sense.
Standing on the pitcher’s mound, rounding the bases, holding a bat in my hand, all of it makes me feel like me.
It was my safe place to land when the world around me was unsteady.
I don’t know what the family life of the kids here in town looks like, but I know what mine looked like.
A father who died when I was young, and a mother who bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend. I had to practically raise myself as an only child because she was never around.
Baseball was all I fucking had.
Mitch and Tyler know this. I’m not about to dig up emotional trauma on this video call, though.
“It’s kids. It’s not professional baseball, and it’s something to keep me busy here.”
They both remain quiet.
“What?”
“It’s just…” Mitch pauses, releasing a long, drawn-out sigh. “You’re coming back, right?”
I don’t even have to think when I reply, “I’m coming back to San Francisco. Yes. What I do when I get back is still up in the air.”
“Okay, no more serious shit. One, you’re going to be an awesome coach for those kids. Two, have you met anyone yet?”
Mitch rolls his eyes. “Real slick with the question that’s been plaguing you.”
“I’m looking out for his needs.”
I laugh. “If you must know, I met someone. But before you even ask…no, it’s not anything serious. Obviously. We just had a drink together. And I won’t be answering any more questions about it.”
That’s a lie. Or is it?
It’s not a thing, but it didn’t end up being nothing, at least not to me.
Since that unexpected night at the bar over the weekend, I’ve been unable to shake off thoughts of her.
I’ve found myself at the coffee shop every morning since then, hoping I run into her just for a chance to say even a few words to her—an opportunity to see a smile on her face.
What the hell has gotten into me? I find myself in a state of confusion, trying to make sense of these newfound feelings. Hence, asking them not to press me for more questions.
“Hell yeah.” Tyler fist bumps the phone.
I hear the school bell chime, and they must hear it too. “Are you at the school?” Mitch asks.
“I’m in the car line now picking her up from her first day of school.”
“Aww,” Tyler coos. “A car pickup dad.”
“Fuck off.” I laugh. “Keep going the way you’re going, and you’re next.”
“I wrap it up every time, Daddy.”
“You make me sick,” Mitch says to Tyler.
“Listen, I have to go. Sage is getting ready to come out. I’ll text you guys later.”
“Wolf pack out,” Tyler chants, and I click end call.
I’ve been nervous about today since I picked up Sage from her mom’s last night, so laughing with the guys was just what I needed, even if they didn’t know it. Last night, as my head hit the pillow, I could only hope she didn’t have the worst first day of school here.
I hope my decision to stay outside the city was the right one.
Hoping like hell I didn’t make yet another mistake.
That’s why I’m the first one waiting in the car pickup line since there are no buses in town.
Also, I had to fill out some last-minute paperwork for her that I missed.
The receptionist in the office set me up with an appointment tomorrow after school hours to meet her teacher.
I called April, and she’s going to drive into town so she can meet her, too.
Exiting my car, I see kids start to filter outside the building. I round the front and lean against the hood of my car. Adjusting the brim of my baseball cap, I cross my arms over my chest as I wait for Sage. I spot her seconds later, hand in hand with an adult.
She’s smiling.
I feel like I can breathe again, seeing that happiness written all over her face. She’s skipping, laughing, and grinning up at her teacher.
When she turns and spots me, that smile only grows.
“Daddy!” She lets go of the teacher’s hand and runs to me. I crouch down to her level, opening my arms for her. She practically leaps into me, and I almost lose my balance. “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too,” I say into her hair that’s now…braided? That’s not how I sent her to school. “How was school today?”
“It was the bestest day!”
She pulls back, gripping the straps of her backpack, and her teacher comes to stand next to us. I stand up, extending my arm to greet her. “Hi. I’m Dallas.”
“Rachel,” she says with a nod, taking my hand.
Sage scurries off into the back seat of the SUV, and I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Today was good?”
She laughs lightly. “From what I heard. I’m not her teacher, though. I’m a classroom aide who helps Miss Barlow in the afternoon a few days a week.”
Miss Barlow.
That last name sounds so familiar.
“Well, thank you for walking her out.”
“Of course.” She blushes and turns to walk away.
Jumping in the front seat, I turn around and see Sage already buckled into her car seat. Kicking her feet and staring out the window toward her new school.
She’s so happy, and I can’t help but channel some of that to me.
Is this how she always is after school, though?
During the short drive home, I only think about how I’ve never picked her up from school. Guilt for missing out on so much of her life hits me like a punch to the gut. After my injury, I shut the world out because I felt like my life was over and there was nothing to live for.
I should have lived for Sage.
Instead, Clark gave me a coaching position, and I lived for baseball again.
I chose that.
Tears threaten to spill over as Poplar Street comes into view.
But I don’t allow them to reach the surface.
I don’t ever allow my emotions to show, even alone.
“Yay! We’re home,” Sage shouts from the back seat.
Home feels like a foreign term. It hasn’t felt like home in our short time here in town. I keep telling myself it’s temporary, putting up that mental block so I don’t get attached.
This isn’t home.
But I don’t tell my daughter that.
“So, how was your day, Sage?” I ask eagerly, sliding a bowl of sliced oranges and strawberries across the table. With extra whipped cream, just the way she likes it. “Did you make any new friends?”
She throws her arms out wide. “All of them are my best friends now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “All of them, huh?”
“I don’t remember all their names, though,” she says, with a mouth full of fruit. “Just know they are all my bestest friends.”
I laugh. “Do you like your teacher?”
“I loooooove her, Daddy. So much. She put me at a desk right by her in case I had questions. I told the class my favorite snack, and we got to color! My favorite ever.” She beams, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of a new adventure.
“Wow. You love coloring.”
“Next to puzzles, it’s my fav. And guess what?” I raise a brow but let her continue. “Miss Barlow likes puzzles, too! She said she would bring me one she finished already for me to do here at home.”
“That’s very nice of her.”
She stabs a strawberry with her fork, swiping through the whipped cream. I can tell she’s excited because she keeps talking through her mouthfuls of food. “You know how I feel about puzzles.”
Tilting my head to the side, my stomach swirls because I don’t know. How do I not know this? I mean, I know she loves coloring and activity pages, but this is new information for me, and I fucking hate it.
“Remind me again?” I smile, hoping she doesn’t think I’m the worst dad.
“Relaxation time,” she says, drawing out the word to emphasize it. “Oh, and we also learned to stop, rock and roll.”
“Huh?”
“You know, that thing we need to do if there’s ever a fire. Stop, rock and roll.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “You mean stop, drop, and roll?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Same thing.”
I’m about to ask more about her day because I’m already loving this after-school time with her, but there’s a knock on my front door.