Chapter 23
MR. GRIFFIN, DO YOU THINK POPPY LIKES MY DAD MORE THAN A FRIEND?
Dallas
“Great hit, Gabe!” I shout and clap my hands as I watch him swing the bat and hit the ball into the outfield.
If that’s what you want to call it.
The barnyard isn’t even an official field.
We’ve had a handful of practices here now, and even with the cold weather, the kids are loving it.
They’re getting good, too, which shocks me mildly because I had low hopes after our first indoor practice.
The kids are no longer using the baseball bats as telescopes, and no one screams murder when a ball is thrown in their direction anymore.
I feel like shit for ever doubting them. All they needed was a little practice and snacks. I feel like I have my own little team now, one that I’ve built from the ground up.
Sage picks up the ball in the outfield and throws it as hard as she can to first. I love watching the smile on her face when she has a ball in her hand.
Gabe is running the bases still, but he looks like he’s ready to collapse halfway down first, running like a T. rex, but then he passes first base, pauses to turn around, and begins to run…backward?
“Why are you running like that?” I shout.
“I’m training my reverse instincts for when a bear tries to attack me during a game.”
“There are no bears in baseball, Gabe.”
“Yet,” he shouts, fist in the air, and picks up his backward pace.
I shake my head. “Why don’t you guys take a break and get a drink of water?”
The kids run for the bench, and I notice Archie dragging his feet. I jog up to meet him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “What’s up, kid?”
“I need more, coach,” he says quickly, as if he’s been holding that in for so long now. “I need to be challenged. I need to be stronger. I want to make it to the major leagues just like you did.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Not with this team and these practices.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you suck,” he says proudly.
I laugh, but only because I know he’s telling the truth.
Kids always are. A somber feeling washes over me at his words, because I couldn’t coach a Major League team, and now I can’t even successfully coach a group of kids.
I knew coaching wasn’t for me; I always have.
I wanted to keep it in my life, so I did it anyway.
Now Archie is telling me everything I already knew.
The worst part? I don’t fucking know how to fix this and be better for him.
“Grab a drink of water, and we’ll figure it out. I know I suck, hence why I’m no longer coaching in the big leagues anymore. But maybe you can help me be better?”
His face lights up. “I help you, and you help me?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, you rock, coach,” he says, jogging off to the bench for water.
Sighing, I turn around and find Nan making her way toward me. “You’re everywhere,” I shout.
“I am,” she says with a nod. “You’re lookin’ like you got a team here.”
“If that’s what you want to call it. I mean, we’ve graduated from calling it a ‘hand trap’ to calling it a glove now. So, I guess you can say we’re making progress.”
Ethan takes that moment to run by with a glove in one hand and a ball in the other, up above his head, screaming, “My arm is a rocket missile!”
“That’s a typical practice,” I say flatly.
Nan barks out a laugh. “You positive Tucker ain’t the one coaching these kids? Because they all weirdly feel like he’s rubbing off on them.”
“I try to give him as little control as possible.”
“You’re doing something right.”
I rub the back of my neck, looking from Sage to Archie, and around to the other kids.
They all laugh and chat together as if they have been friends forever.
Some of them probably have, but Sage is now a part of that.
She fits right in with these kids, and even if I suck as a coach, I’m so proud of that right there.
Even if I suck as a coach.
My brain immediately goes to the final conversations I had with Clark at the stadium when he told me I needed a break. I knew I needed one, I just didn’t expect all of this.
I didn’t expect a nine-year-old to confirm that I suck as a coach.
No more strikeouts, only home runs.
Clark’s words play on repeat in my head.
It’s taken me this long to remember them, even though this struck me so hard when he first said them.
I felt the words in my chest, and I knew it meant so much more than baseball.
It was his way of getting through to me that there would be no more failures or setbacks, and it’s time to stop dwelling on the past.
It’s only success from now on—only big wins.
Glancing around the barnyard, the make-shift baseball field, and over to the horizon as the sun barely dips beyond the mountains. I feel a tug in my chest. A strong one that tells me Bluestone Lakes is the big win.
That can’t be, though.
We have a life back in San Francisco, and when all is said and done, we’ll have to go back to it.
“I like it here,” I finally admit to Nan. It’s not what she asked, but it’s what needed to be said.
“I knew you would.”
“Is Seven Stools the only place to grab a bite to eat around here?”
“Nah. There’s a diner, but you don’t want to go there. Swear I saw a rat run across someone’s feet last time I was there a few years back. Never again,” she says with disgust.
“Damn, okay. I wanted to take Sage out to eat tonight.”
Nan laughs. “Go to Seven Stools, boy. You do know it’s a restaurant, don’t you?”
I shrug. “I guess I just always associated it with being a bar.”
“Duh. But that’s because you come late at night. It’s also a family-friendly place. Take my girl out to dinner. You both deserve it,” she says, patting my good shoulder and retreating from the field.
I nod, because we do. I turn to look at the mini team I’ve built, consisting of kids who share the same love for the sport and are looking for an outlet to play. I came here to get away, but I think, somehow, I found the one thing I wasn’t looking for.
People who don’t care about my resume and who I am outside of this town.
A neighbor I can’t stop thinking about.
Friends who love my daughter as if she were one of their own.
A place to stay.
“We should adopt a dog,” Sage says with a mouthful of French fries.
“That’s so left field,” I choke out, nearly spitting out my soda.
“Actually, it’s very home base.”
Both of us pause, staring at each other while we let the pun register, and then we break into a fit of hysterics. Sage bends over the table with tears in her eyes, and I can barely breathe. I never knew how much I needed this moment until now.
Memories of the family in San Francisco, the last time I was out with Mitch and Tyler, flood back, almost sobering my laughter.
But it does nothing to wipe the smile off my face.
That family there—that dad laughing with his daughter—it’s something I’ve always dreamed of but never allowed myself to experience.
Life has always moved at lightning speed for me.
I missed so much because of it. I spent the moments we should cherish as parents rushing to get to the next thing, only to rush to the thing after that.
A constant cycle repeating until one day I woke up, and Sage was six.
This town has slowed me down drastically.
This town has opened my eyes to life moving at the speed it’s meant to.
I may have spent the better part of my life making reckless and impulsive decisions, but this one has paid off.
Griffin shows up at our table mid laughter. “Can I get you two anything else to drink?”
Sage nods. “My throat is so dry it’s doing the desert dance.”
“That’s a new one,” Griffin says in a serious tone, but the smile on his face tells me he wants to laugh. My guess is he reserves all of that for Blair.
“I’ll take another soda, and she’ll have water,” I tell Griffin.
His phone rings, and he rolls his eyes when he looks at the screen. “My sisters and Blair are going to destroy my house.”
The mention of his sister only makes me think of Poppy that much more.
“Is everything okay?” I ask curiously.
He turns his phone to face me, and on it is a picture of the three women sitting on the couch in Griffin’s house, posing and laughing so hard that they can barely hold it together.
The wine glasses in their hands look like they are going to spill over.
My eyes focus on one person, and only one person.
The way her long, strawberry blonde hair sits on the top of her head in a messy bun.
The sweater that’s falling off her shoulder, exposing the delicate shape of her collarbone.
My tongue swipes along my bottom lip, wondering what it would taste like to trail my lips along every inch of exposed skin.
She’s perfect.
She’s the fever I don’t want to break.
She’s everything I crave.
“You know, Blair said something and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure myself until now.”
“Huh?” I say, forcing myself out of the daze from the picture on his phone.
He pockets it, and I see the smirk on his lips. “So, Poppy, huh?” He raises an eyebrow in question, and I avert my gaze to the half-eaten chicken sandwich in front of me. “I hate saying it, but Blair was right, it seems.”
“We looooove Poppy,” Sage cuts into the conversation, oblivious of the tension rolling off of me.
Yes, I have a thing for his sister.
Yes, I kissed her, and it only made those feelings that much stronger.
No, I’m not admitting any of that to Griffin.
“She’s the best, huh?” Griffin says to Sage.
“Yep. Mr. Griffin, do you think Poppy likes my dad more than a friend?”
My eyes widen, bouncing between Sage and Griffin. He has the same shocked look on his face. I can feel the color drain from my face with how bold that question is when I don’t even know what’s really happening between us.
I know I can’t stop thinking about her.
I know if given the chance, she would bring me to my knees in an instant.
“Poppy likes a lot of people,” Griffin says with certainty.
“As far as liking your dad more than a friend”—he faces me, still answering her question—”I think she could.
But she struggles to let people in. I don’t know why, but she does.
If she lets you in enough to see that part of her she chooses to keep hidden, consider yourself lucky.
” He leans down, close to my ear, so only I can hear.
“I know where to find you. Don’t fuck it up. ”
I nod, understanding what he means without asking more.
The parts she keeps hidden, I know them.
She told me everything there was to know about her, and she let me in.
Everything just got a whole lot clearer.
I need to see Poppy.