Chapter 14
Liam
"So, how has everything been going with Tessa?" Levi hits the start button on the worn pitching machine that's older than we are and gets into his batting stance.
"Fine, I guess," I say, leaning on the fence behind him.
My fingers find their homes in the same links they've been resting in since we were kids and started coming to Three Strikes.
Back when it was all a little more refreshed, a little brighter—a little less falling apart. "Ruthie seems to like her."
Levi swings at a ball, the crack of the bat sharp against the quiet. "That's it? That's all I get?"
I drop my head between my arms and drag my foot through the dirt, then glance over at Ruthie in the field beside us, dribbling a soccer ball. "That's really all I got. What else do you want?"
My little brother turns around, glaring, purposely letting the next ball fly past him. It slams into the fence just inches from my face, exactly like he knew it would.
"I mean, I know stuff about her," I say. "But I'm trying to keep my distance a little."
Levi arches a brow. "Apparently Ruthie's been raving to Alex about how great she is."
The idea that my daughter loves her nanny shouldn't scare me, but my stomach still drops all the same. Knowing how close they're getting makes me even more anxious than I already am that it'll work out. Because if it does, Tessa's just another person who could leave.
I loved Nellie for our household, and I am so happy that she's finally where she always wanted to be, but her leaving left a void I didn't expect—and a snowball of more that followed.
When Ruthie's mom knocked on my apartment door almost twelve years ago with a baby and an ultimatum, everything changed.
Not only did I become a single dad after just starting my career with the Gators, but life as I knew it had to shift completely.
There were no more nights out or bringing home girls—I didn't have the physical or mental space, let alone the energy. Plus, I had a new main priority.
From then on, everything I did—every choice, every person I let in—was for her. Gone were the hookups, the maybes, even the idea of a girlfriend. I thought if I just focused on Ruthie, that would be enough.
But things are different now.
She’s not just my shadow anymore. She’s her own person with practices and friends and plans that don’t include me. And as much as that kills me, what's worse is the realization that she needs someone who isn’t me to fill in the gaps while I still do my job.
Her whole life I worked to keep our two-man team sacred. To protect her from anyone who could hurt her—who could walk away—again.
And recently, it feels like I'm failing.
"She is great," I say, attempting to stop my brain from listing reasons that have nothing to do with her job description.
Levi turns back toward the machine. It continues making the whirring sound that's like a calming white noise to us at this point.
We always come here when there's something to unpack or we need to catch up.
And with still trying to figure out what to do for our trip tomorrow, I thought this was as good a time as any.
"She's responsible and experienced and easy to talk to… "
"But…"
"But that's how most of them seemed at first." And they didn't distract me with everything they did. My eyes drift back to Ruthie. "And I've realized I've spent too much damn time protecting that girl from shit like this for some stranger to come in and ruin it."
Levi sighs but still swings at the fastball shooting toward him. “She wouldn’t be a stranger if you let her in.”
He looks back at me, and I tilt my chin down, shooting him a glare.
“Not like that,” Levi says with an eye roll.
He swings again but misses this time, and as he glances over his shoulder for the teasing smirk he's expecting, I hyper-focus on the chain links in front of me.
“Hold on…" He pauses, looking at me. A ball flies from the machine, but he doesn't even notice. "Are you into her?"
"What?" I shoot back, instantly defensive.
"You heard me. Do you have the hots for the nanny?”
I scoff. "What is this?” I ask, my forehead creased. “The locker room?”
Levi laughs and shakes his head, and for a second, we’re teenagers again.
“That doesn’t answer my question." A ball fires from the machine, and he just barely knicks it.
I sigh, a little too dramatically, then attempt to recover, finishing with my tone very matter-of-fact. “She has a boyfriend.”
“Still doesn’t answer my question,” he grunts, swinging at another pitch.
I stare at the back of his head, willing my pulse to slow and silently begging my brother to drop it.
It’s not that I’m afraid to lie—or to admit the truth, for that matter.
Levi has eyes, he sees what I see. But I’m not even sure I know what I think about Tessa, let alone if I'm capable of putting it into words.
I’m not a prude—and I’m definitely not a thirty-eight-year-old, baseball-playing virgin. But I haven’t even let myself go there, really go there, in over a decade. Would I even recognize it if that’s what this was?
“Listen,” Levi says, somehow reading my mind as he adjusts his stance. "All I’m saying is you’re in your own way here.”
He changes the subject—or at least he thinks he does—but the relief I was hoping for never comes.
Deep down, I sort of wish I could unpack all this with him.
The way we did when we were thirteen and fourteen just trying to make sense of why our pants felt tighter around girls in mini skirts or sundresses.
But fifteen years later, it's not the same.
“You don’t want her to leave, so you’re keeping her at a distance,” he continues. “But don’t you think keeping her at a distance makes it more likely she’ll go? That you’ll drive her away?”
I don't answer right away, thinking until the sound of Levi's next hit ricochets off the fence. "I'm not driving her away," I finally say defensively, the argument half for him and half for me.
"Okay," he says as if he's not convinced.
"At least I'm not trying to."
The sound of the machine fades out as it comes to a stop, and Levi turns and leans his weight on the bat in one hand, his other on his hip. He looks at Ruthie through the fence, then back at me, questioning me in a way only a brother could get away with.
I open and close my mouth, not even bothering to argue, then roll my eyes. "This introspective version of you is a big pain in my ass."
"And this pessimistic side of you is really weirding me out."
My shoulders slump, and Levi notices.
"Hey," he says, walking through the opening in the fence so there's no longer metal between us.
"We all have our walls. Mine used to be built around my heart, and yours have always been built around my niece.
" He looks back at Ruthie now juggling the ball on her knees, his voice fading slightly as he watches.
"But she's growing up, and you're gonna have to lower the bricks just a little or she'll never learn to let people in either. "
I clench my jaw, a pang in my chest reminding me that I miss the old me almost as much as I miss my tiny baby girl.
Levi steps forward, closing the gap between us and clapping me on the shoulder.
"You're not this guy, big brother… you never have been.
Don't let a few bad weeks become your whole personality. "
I shake my head, clapping him back. "No, I know… you're right."
Levi's head jerks to the side as he lifts the bat and points it at me. "What was that?" he asks.
I sigh loudly. "You're right," I repeat.
He leans in, his free hand cupped around his ear. "I'm sorry, one more time. I just—"
"Give me that," I say with a roll of my eyes. "And enjoy it. It doesn't happen very often." I walk into the cage, and restart the machine. Levi takes his spot behind me as we switch roles.
"So, have you thought any more about coaching?" he asks, gripping the metal.
The whirring of the machine picks up, and I lean into my stance, waiting for after the pitch to respond. When it spits the ball out, I step into my swing, sending it into the back fence with a thud.
"Honestly?" I finally answer. "I have, and as much sense as it makes—and as much opportunity as I'm sure there would be—I just don't see myself doing it."
Levi laughs. "Working with Holloway putting you off?"
I shake my head, connecting my bat with the next pitch and sending it behind me. "It's not even that. It's just, I think I need to step off the diamond for a while. Maybe not away from sports in general, but I'm not sure I'll be able to fully let go if I'm still on the field."
Levi thinks briefly, then nods. "That makes sense. I started coaching because I wasn't ready to never touch the ice again—my time was cut too short. But you've had one hell of a run out there. Maybe it'd be good for you to take a break."
"We'll see." I swing harder than I need to at the next ball, that familiar anxiety about the future rising to the surface. But this is why we come here, Levi and I. Sometimes you just need your brother, some nostalgia, and a shitty batting cage to let off some steam.
A silence settles between us that I didn't intend for—either Levi giving me space or…
"Hey, so what's been going on with you?" I ask, realizing that I've now monopolized most of the conversation with my shit.
He blows a breath between his lips, and the metal rattles behind me as if he's leaning on it more. "Alex keeps talking about a baby."
The ball flies from the machine and right past my bat, but I don't move. Instead, I freeze that way until I can manage to twist slowly toward my brother. "Say that again."
He purses his lips together and nods. "Yeah, it's crazy, but I don't know, man… I think I'm ready."
"Yeah?" I ask, my voice full of the same joy that I'm feeling for my brother.
He shrugs, and I drop the bat, racing toward the opening. Levi pushes off the fence, readying himself for me when I bound toward him, my arms open. "That's incredible, man," I say, wrapping him up. He hugs me back, and I squeeze just a little tighter. "Wow."
"Don't get too excited," he warns as I pull away. "Hasn't happened yet."
"No," I say. "But it will."
Levi's brows raise as he inhales deeply.
"A baby," I laugh. "I can't believe it."
He shakes his head and chuckles. "Right? Things are really changing around here."
"Yeah," I say softly, thinking about him and Alex and me and Ruthie.
About baseball.
About her.
I've never been afraid of change before.
I've always been the guy who saw the bright side when everyone else felt the weight of the shift.
But I think maybe that's because I've always had two constants to ground me.
In fact, the last time I felt this orbital tilt was when both of those things came into my life at once.
My baseball career had just started taking off.
I was still young, my dream finally coming true, and I was gearing up to take on everything that comes with being the new rising rookie—on and off the field.
Then, Ruthie came along, and she became my priority, grounding me even then—the screaming-crying, diaper-wearing, how-the-hell-do-I-raise-her-on-my-own kind of reminder that baseball is more than wins and fame.
That's when it happened—my twin pillars took shape, brick-by-brick.
The first time Mack took her from my arms and somehow stopped the crying that I couldn't. The first time Ruiz brought his daughter to hold mine in the stands.
The time my team cleared out a room in the facility just for Ruthie, decked out with a pack 'n play and monitor so she could nap while I practiced, knowing she was never far away.
One hell of a storm hit about twelve years ago—a complete uproar of my life in two of the best possible ways. But in the midst of all that chaos, I found my calm. The change became my life, and my brotherhood became the shelter I sought in the thick of it all.
But now, all of that's changing. Those pillars are shifting—one starting to move, the other threatening to collapse—and I'm not sure how to carry the weight all on my own. Still, like my brother said, that's not me. This isn't what I do. Baseball may be leaving, but Ruthie isn't going anywhere.
With that in mind, I take one more minute to gather myself. Then, with my eyes on Ruthie, I make the decision.
Damn. Levi really is right. I have to try—to stop resisting and see the good.
My house might be leaning, but it's been rebuilt before. And now I'm older, wiser—strong enough to do it again. And maybe, just like last time, I don't have to do it alone.