Chapter 36
DO YOU NEED A TRAVEL BUDDY?
Dallas
“You have everything?” I ask Sage, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
She nods and remains looking down at her lap, not moving to unbuckle her seat belt.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugs. “I’m sad that you’re going back to the city. Because I know it means we all may be going back to the city.”
I sigh. “I haven’t made a definite decision yet.”
“I wouldn’t be mad either way, Daddy. I would just be sad.”
My stomach has been in knots this entire drive to drop Sage off with April. I’m heading back to San Francisco tomorrow for my meeting with Clark and the rest of the board with my decision on what I want to do moving forward.
Not many people get the chance I was given.
In this industry, you’re let go without a passing glance.
I like to think it’s because of my relationship with Clark, and him being in my life for as long as I can remember. Everyone knew my situation, though. They knew I jumped into everything quickly after the accident. They knew baseball was what I needed to recover from that.
I guess I didn’t know then what I really needed was a break.
“One step at a time, remember?” I settle on because I don’t know what to tell my daughter right now.
She nods, finally unbuckling to get out of the SUV.
April stands, propped against her car, waiting for us. When she sees us round the hood of the car, she pushes off it and walks toward us. Her head is down, and my eyes narrow. She has this look in her eyes like something is up.
“Hey, baby.” She smiles wide for Sage, putting on a mask. “Ready for a fun weekend?”
“Yep,” Sage answers flatly.
April doesn’t push it with her, but she’s going to ask me about it in about three seconds after Sage gets in her car.
As soon as she does, she turns to face me, arms crossing her chest. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s upset about me going back to San Francisco. She has a feeling that we’re all going back.”
“And she doesn’t want to go back?”
I shake my head. “Her words were ‘I wouldn’t be mad, just sad,’ and it breaks my heart because I don’t know what to do about anything.” I feel my voice growing louder with every word, angry that I can’t make a decision as easily as I used to. “I don’t fucking know what to do about all this.”
April pauses, eyes wide at my tone, before her features soften and a lopsided grin forms on her face. “You’ve changed.”
I narrow my eyes, tilting my head to the side, figuring out what she means.
“For once in your life, you can’t make a decision. You’re actually thinking things through without jumping the gun.”
I nod, my chest feeling tight.
“Talk through it with me,” she continues. “Where is your head at? Is it because of Poppy?”
Things with Poppy have only grown over the months I’ve been here—it’s easy. Steady. It’s shifted from casual to something I look forward to. Even the quiet nights together of watching her and Sage work on a puzzle, their fingers turning puzzle pieces in their hand while we all talked about our day.
It’s a normalcy I didn’t realize I craved, or how she slips into my arms without needing to be asked. She’s become part of my everyday routine, something to look forward to.
She’s given me a reason to want to be better.
And that’s something I didn’t see coming, but I’m glad it did.
“She’s part of it,” I admit. “I told myself I wasn’t going to form attachments while I was there. But I think I formed an attachment to the town. Bluestone Lakes has a charm to it that I can’t explain, and it sucks you in—makes you feel a part of it even if you’re technically not.”
She nods repeatedly in understanding.
“I can’t lie to you, I’ve made a few rash decisions since staying there, like coaching the kids’ baseball team that didn’t exist before I got there, and then rebuilding the barnyard.”
“The barnyard?”
I smile, thinking about where it started versus today.
“It’s what a few of the kids used as a makeshift field.
The kids had cardboard boxes as bases and a bench that looked like they picked it from the trash.
I rebuilt it for them. It’s not much, but it’s enough to spark their joy for baseball even more. ”
And mine.
The realization slams into me that not only did the field spark their joy, but mine, too.
Coaching a professional team wasn’t what I ever planned, and I think I held a lot of resentment toward it because I wanted to play.
There’s a new feeling associated with coaching the kids and building a foundation for them to love the game and continue playing.
I think of Austin and Archie, and how they remind me so much of myself.
If they continue to work hard, they can undoubtedly make it to a professional team in the future.
“It helped me fall in love with the game again, too,” I add, not even realizing that I’m smiling.
“I guess before you head back, we should talk about some things,” she says, voice trailing off as she looks away from me. I say nothing, letting her continue. “I wasn’t sure where your head was at before this conversation, and obviously, Sage is the determining factor for everything I do.”
“For me too.”
Her lips twist into a soft smile, as if she’s been waiting for me to put Sage first all her life.
Never again will I put her after anything.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You already know I’ve met someone and got this job opportunity.
” I nod, remembering the conversation. “Well, this idea came to mind about possibly opening a practice. Closer to Bluestone Lakes in case you decided you wanted to stay.”
“You can do that? Open your own?”
“Well, it wouldn’t fully be my own,” she says with a smile, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“My boyfriend. He’s supportive of whatever decision you and I make regarding Sage.
He said if we decide to stay, we need to be closer to Sage to make it work for everyone in her life.
And besides, we checked things out and Bluestone Lakes has nothing less than thirty minutes away. ”
This…is so unexpected.
My brain is swimming with this information as I take it all in.
“You mean…we can stay here?”
She nods. “I think if we”—she tosses her finger between her and me—“decide this is something permanent, I don’t want to keep up this travel in the city.
If it’s something we both want to do, then I say we stay.
But I’ll be moving closer to Bluestone Lakes, and I’ll commute if we struggle to find somewhere closer to open something.
I’d rather commute than be this far away from Sage longer than I have been. ”
I remain silent, shocked at everything she’s telling me.
“I’m not telling you this to sway your decision, Dallas. I want you to do what will make you happy. If going back to San Francisco is it, then I have my old job waiting for me. If staying here is it, we have a plan. But please don’t make your decision based on my opportunity.”
I smirk. “So…boyfriend, huh?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “That’s all you got out of all of this?”
“No, but it does give me some things to think about. I want you to be happy, too, April. You deserve it just as much as I do. I’ve made your life a living hell for years—”
“No, you haven’t, Dallas. Don’t say that. I think the two of us just weren’t meant to be, and that’s okay. People fall out of love all the time. But you didn’t make my life a living hell.”
I nod, remaining silent because now I don’t know what to think.
I’m not sure if her sharing all this information is making my decision easier or harder.
“I’m going to get going, though,” she says. “Have a safe trip back to San Francisco, and let me know how it goes.”
“Okay.”
She hugs me, and I retreat to my car.
I really could use a drink now.
“Remember that stuff you gave me the first night I was here? I’ll take whatever that was.”
Griffin laughs. “You got it.” Then he grabs a bottle from the top shelf, pouring me a glass and sliding it across the bar. “Everything all good?”
I shake my head. “I have to go back to San Francisco in the morning. I have a meeting with the Staghorns about my decision to go back.”
Griffin stills, his face falling. “You think you’ll go back?”
“Truthfully? I don’t fucking know what to do anymore.”
He swallows, wanting to say more, but Tucker coming up beside him, stops anything he was about to say.
“Did I hear Staghorns? How’re my buddies, Mitch and Ty, doing?”
“Fine, I guess.”
Tucker’s smile falls from his face, realizing that I’m not laughing.
“What’s going on?” Tucker asks, looking between Griffin and me. When neither of us answers, his eyes widen. “Are you moving back?”
I look down at the glass between my hands because I don’t have an answer for him.
“You can’t. You can’t go back. Dallas, you need to stay here. You’re my best fucking friend.”
Griffin raises an eyebrow. “Did you steal that line from that comedian you’re always watching?”
“That means my bullshit is your bullshit. And your bullshit is my bullshit.”
Griffin groans. “I wish I weren’t related to you sometimes.”
I laugh. I can’t help it when these two interact with each other.
“Hey, Tucker,” Nan shouts from the front door, forcing all of us to turn our heads. “Guess who got the last bag of pretzel twists at the General Store?” She holds up the bag as she makes her way to us.
Tucker smirks. “You only got the last bag because I bought the other five they had in stock. I stood there and thought”—he crosses an arm over his chest, bringing his other hand to his chin—“maybe I’ll be nice and leave Nan one single bag.”
Nan glares at him before looking at me. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“He’s going back to San Francisco,” Tucker answers before I can. “But it better not be for good.”
“I’m only going back for the weekend. I have a meeting with the team about what’s next for me.”
“The weekend?” Tucker raises a brow. “Do you need a travel buddy?”
“Please take him off my hands,” Griffin begs. “I don’t even care if I have to work open to close, take him.”
I laugh, thinking about it.
I could use the distraction for the sixteen-hour drive back and forth. Tucker isn’t the worst person to be stuck with. He may drive me crazy at times, but I also think he may help things move more quickly.
“Are you going to be an obnoxious fan if I bring you to the stadium with me?”
“He probably will,” Nan says flatly.
He stands up tall, lifts his chin, and holds up two fingers. “I’ll be a good boy. Scout’s honor.”
I look back at Griffin. “You sure you want him to go?”
“Please.”
“Take him. More pretzel twists for me,” Nan adds.
“Fine. You can come. But you get one hour max on music control for the ride, and you’re not allowed to gush over my teammates.”
“One hour?” He gapes. “Two. And they don’t need to be consecutive.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Be ready to go at four a.m.”
“Jesus. Can we push it to five?”
“Tucker.”
“Ugh. I’ll be ready for four,” he agrees reluctantly.
I slide a twenty-dollar bill across the bar, and Griffin pushes it back. “On the house. You’re doing me a favor.”
“Take it. You have to put up with him the rest of the night.” He barks out a laugh, and I join him as I stand from my stool. “Thank you for the drink.”
“Anytime, Dallas.”
As I leave the bar, I realize there’s one more person I need to see.