Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Hayes
The three of us go to the locker room to shower and change.
“Reservation at seven, boys.” Easton points at Drew, Ian, and Camden. “You have nice suits, don’t you?”
“Fuck off, Kodiak,” Drew says.
“That’s Mr. Kodiak to you.” Easton laughs and strips down before heading into the shower. He lives up to the stereotype that shortstops come with egos.
Camden doesn’t seem to give a shit, undressing and preparing to head to the shower. He’s quiet, a little like our Decker.
“Those two are going to come to blows at some point this season,” Decker says next to me, slowly unbuttoning his jersey. “I bet that hit felt good.”
I glance over, but he continues to unbutton and undress, not looking over. “It did. I’m just hoping this feeling sticks around until the next time I’m in the box.”
He chuckles and nods. “Nothing harder than coming back from a slump, but you were great out there today. Behind the plate especially. Tell me Taz thanked you.”
I shake my head and my mouth tips down at the corners. “Taz doesn’t roll that way. I will say though, I know you and your brother aren’t exactly besties, but Foster always thanked me before he stepped off the field.”
Decker nods. “I’m not surprised. He has some good qualities.” He pats me on the shoulder. “See you in there. Good game today, but I’d still love you even if you struck out.” He winks and laughs, heading into the showers.
I sit on the bench and grab my phone out of my safe.
Mom: I hope you’re happy and proud. Love you.
Dad: You’re back in the saddle again…
I shake my head at how he always uses song lyrics to get his point across and scroll down to the next message.
Foster: Sitting here watching your game-winning hit like a proud dad. At least my brother has one good quality, he can run fast.
There’s no message from Callie, which is odd. She usually messages me win or lose, but she left for her tour yesterday, so I’m sure she’s busy preparing for her kickoff show in New York.
I stuff my phone back into my safe and follow everyone else into the showers.
An hour later, we’re showered, dressed, and out of the media room, which surprisingly went well. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t fuck it all up but actually help your team win.
Easton and Decker are grabbing their bags and talking about how they’re going to order every appetizer on the menu, and that soup and salad are a must. Decker says he’ll order all the desserts and part of me feels bad for the DICs, but then again, they’ve been cocky assholes, saying it’s the old men against the young bucks.
Give me a break, I’m thirty-fucking-two, far from an old man.
My phone is vibrating as I open the safe, and I see ten missed calls from Callie and a slew of texts that go from nice to mean to meaner.
Call me when you get this.
You fuckwad, where are you?
I’m going to strangle you.
Haaaaaayessssss… where are you?
Your game has been over foooreeevver….
Call me back as soon as you see these.
My stomach drops down to my toes. I dial her right back, fear like a class six rapid rushing through my veins. You’d never guess I felt so light and free a minute ago when I stepped out of that room where those reporters were praising me.
Callie picks up, sounding frustrated. “What the fuck, Hayes? Your game ended a long-ass time ago.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Oh shit, no… sorry… I didn’t mean to panic you.” Her anger dissipates, and I fall to the bench, the emotional roller coaster taking a toll on me.
“I got asked to be in the media room,” I tell her, so she knows I wasn’t dodging her.
She sighs. “Really? I’m the asshole then. How was it? Great? Dreamy?”
“Dreamy? What’s going on, Callie?” I’d usually tell her how much better this is than last year. Like winning the lottery when you’re dirt poor. One day, your entire life changes with the scratch of a penny.
I appreciate her asking, but I want to know what has her in a panic, since usually there are only a couple of things—her podcast, our parents, and Leighton. With everything going on, Leighton is the most likely cause.
“It’s Leighton,” she says.
I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“She’s having a rough night. Can you go over there and help? I know you’re tired and all—”
“I thought ‘now isn’t the time,’” I say, using a faux female voice. She’s too far away to pull my hair or wrap her hands around my throat when I throw her words back at her.
“I’m not asking you to fuck her. I’m asking you to go play catch with Linc or color with Monroe.”
I chuckle, and she groans.
“I’m on my way.”
“Really? Thanks, Hayes. And it’s not like I need to say it, but keep your dick in your pants, okay?”
I shake my head, even if she can’t see me. “I’ll try, but sometimes he’s got a mind all his own. He just pops up, you know?”
She pretends to gag. “I’m trying to eat my dinner here.”
“Go and have a great podcast.”
“Thank you! Love you.”
“Love you too. I’ve got your best friend handled.” She doesn’t laugh, which spurs my own chuckle. “Fucking hell, Callie, relax.”
We hang up, and it’s then I realize Easton and Decker are waiting for me by the door. Shit, the dinner. Easton will probably tell me to bring Leighton and the kids just to punish the DICs, but I’m not gonna do that.
“Sorry, guys, I’m out.”
“Out? You can’t be out.” Decker is the first one to object, which is surprising.
“The best friend?” Easton asks.
I filled the two of them in after I saw Leighton at the funeral.
I nod.
“Bring them,” he says.
I’m a little amazed at how well I know Easton for only being friends for six months.
“Nah, but order my steak and all the sides and give it to Ruby or something.” The woman who owns the bar on the street level of our building has a gruff exterior, but once you get to know her, she’s not that bad.
Decker shakes his head, not giving me shit about this. “Do you need us?” He turns toward the exit, and Easton and I follow.
“No, I got it. I’ll probably just order pizza, then freshen up on my stay-within-the-lines coloring skills.” I’m not sure that’s all I’ll be doing. I’m guessing if Callie called me, Leighton must be losing her mind, since Callie’s been very clear—she doesn’t want me anywhere near her best friend.
“You should invite them to a game. I’d like to meet this best friend,” Easton says, grinning.
“We met her,” Decker reminds him.
“We did?” His dark brows draw down.
“At the hospital, when Tweetie had his baby.”
The three of us are friendly with some of Chicago’s professional hockey players.
We stop outside the stadium, since we’re now headed in separate directions.
“The strawberry-blonde? Didn’t realize that was who it was.” Easton’s eyes widen. “She’s way out of your league.”
Decker slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “And on that, I’m out.”
“When can we talk about your sister? Are you a hands-off-my-sister kind of guy, or is it open season?” Easton laughs, walking backward in the opposite direction.
“Fuck you, East.” I flip him off.
He laughs until he’s almost at our building while I use my phone to order an Uber that comes in minutes, thank God.
When I’m in the back seat, I wonder if I should message Leighton, then wonder if the phone number I have for her is still hers. It’s been years since we’ve called or texted one another, and even then, it was only on a group thread with Callie.
By the time I’m done debating, the Uber pulls up alongside a parked car by the curb outside their house. Guess the decision is made—my visit will be a surprise.
I thank the Uber driver, step out, and stand on the sidewalk, taking in the place. All the lights are on inside the house, and I spot Lincoln through the window, throwing a ball against the wall.
I jog up the stairs and knock on the door. The door opens almost immediately, and my gaze tracks down to Monroe.
“Monroe!” I recognize the voice as her big sister Lake’s. She rushes into the entry area, sliding to a stop on her socks when she sees me. Lake quickly gets over her surprise and turns her attention to Monroe. “You know not to answer the door.”
“I thought it was my bubble tea,” Monroe whines.
“Doesn’t matter.” She slides in front of her little sister, urging Monroe behind her.
Lincoln peeks around Lake’s shoulders, eyes wide. “Hayes?”
Lake bats her hands to keep him back, as if I’m a serial killer posing as a duct cleaning service, then she crosses her arms. “She’s not here.”
She sure gives off teenager vibes for an eleven-year-old. Or maybe this is what they’re all like these days, thanks to social media.
“Yes, she is,” Lincoln says.
Monroe peeks her head between her older sister’s legs. “She’s upstairs because she needs a goddamn minute to herself.”
I have to press my lips together not to laugh at hearing that phrase come out of a six-year-old’s mouth.
“Lake made her cry,” Lincoln says.
The sister in question whips her head around. “I did not.”
I remember being on the receiving end of looks just like that with my own sister back in the day. “Okay, guys, can I come in?”
“No.” Lake spears me with a look.
“Tell me it’s the bubble tea.” I hear Leighton before I see her walking down the stairs.
“Even better! It’s Hayes!” Lincoln makes me feel as if my number was retired and my jersey is hanging at Webber Field.
“Oh.” Her surprised voice doesn’t exactly sound happy. “Lake, you can go. I’ll handle him.”
I keep my gaze steady on Lake, and her eyes narrow for a minute before she steps back. Monroe gets caught in her legs and screams. Lake doesn’t let her go right away, shuffling her feet out of the foyer.
“Lake,” Leighton says in a very stern, very motherly tone.
“She has to learn at some point.” She swings a leg over Monroe, who is on all fours. “I’ll be upstairs.”
Monroe steps past me out onto the porch and looks both ways down the street. She crosses her arms and huffs. “Where’s the bubble tea man?”
I try to keep my eyes on the little girl, but Leighton is a fucking sight.
If my sister knew the temptation she was putting in front of me tonight, she would’ve thought twice about calling me for help.
Leighton is wearing a pink-and-white striped matching pajama set.
The pants are thin and loose but still show off her figure.
Her undershirt is tight and white, showing a sliver of her stomach because she hasn’t buttoned up the pajama top, so it hangs open on both sides.
She’s gone from girl next door to hot as fuck. Of course, Easton noticed her that day in the hospital.
Leighton crosses her arms like the other two girls in this house did. “What do you want?”
Definitely not the warm welcome I was hoping for.