Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Decker
I climb the stairs onto the team bus burdened by the kind of tired I haven’t felt in weeks. I’m trying not to trust the feeling too much. In my experience, the nights that feel like turning points usually aren’t.
At least I’m the good kind of tired. The kind that bears more peace than anxiety.
That’s not to say that my body won’t feel wound up before the next game.
When did that all start for me? Maybe if I can figure out when, I can dissect the why, unravel it, and get back to being the confident player I’ve always been.
A few of the players give me a nod as they put in their AirPods and I make my way past.
Drew silently brews midway back, by the window.
“It’s still a long month. You might catch us.”
He flips me off.
I’m not usually the cocky type, but I feel the need to put Drew in his place. The only one of us who doesn’t is Hayes, which explains why he’s our leader.
I find my seat—second row from the back, on the aisle—and drop into it, still on a high from the win. I lean my head back and close my eyes, relieved to have had a good game.
“Hey,” Hayes says, and I squint one eye open. He stands at the edge of the aisle.
Easton is right behind him. “You get confused, Haymaker? My thighs are killing me, I gotta sit.” He tries to slide between Hayes and me, but Hayes puts his hand on Easton’s chest.
Easton glances down and back up with raised eyebrows.
“Do you mind if I grab your seat?” Hayes nods in my direction. “I need to talk to Goldie.”
Easton’s forehead creases. “So talk to him from your seat.”
Hayes stares at him. “It’s across the aisle.”
“So? Lean over.”
“I’m not leaning across a bus aisle for an entire conversation,” Hayes says. “Just take my seat for this one trip and sit with Foster.”
“What’s the holdup?” Foster grumbles from behind Easton.
“Carlisle is trying to switch things around. Says he has to talk to Decker.”
“And?” Foster’s head is buried in his phone, holding it up and taking pictures of himself with silly expressions. I guess having a kid really does change someone.
I hate that Penelope’s face is the first one that comes to mind after that thought.
Easton sighs in defeat.
I slide my legs over, and Hayes crawls past to the window seat.
Easton turns around to face Foster. “You get in first.”
Foster crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Nope, I’m on the aisle.”
Easton leans closer, as if he could lower his voice enough that we won’t hear him. “They’re keeping secrets. I want to eavesdrop.”
“We can hear you,” I say.
“It’s not your business,” Hayes adds. “And it’s just to the airport. Relax, Kodiak.”
“Sit down.” Foster’s voice is firm, nodding toward the window seat.
Torres and a few other players groan behind them. “Let’s go!” Torres says.
“Kodiak has hurt feelings,” Foster says in a higher pitch sing-song voice.
Easton huffs and throws himself into Hayes’s usual seat.
“Now he’s pouting. Thanks, Carlisle.” Foster slides in next to him and eyes me.
While we were fighting to stay on top in the eighth and ninth, I forgot Hayes told me he wanted to talk to me.
“I’m just saying, we’re the four horsemen. We don’t keep secrets.” Easton stares out the window like a teenager who was uninvited to the party he planned.
“I have secrets with Carlisle.” I shrug.
Easton’s head whips around. “You do?”
Hayes and Foster both laugh.
“Relax, Kodiak, this is a one-time swap.”
“One time.” Easton raises his finger and puts in his earbuds.
Nobody responds to that, which is the right call. Giving Easton the last word is the fastest way to end any conversation.
The bus starts moving, and the ambient noise of the usual post-game hum settles over the bus. Guys on their phones. Someone’s music leaking out through their headphones.
I wait, curious what is so important that Hayes had to sit next to me. Easton has a point—the four of us don’t keep much from one another. We’ve really come together as the foursome Jagger wanted us to be two years ago when Hayes joined the Colts.
We’re on the highway before Hayes turns in his seat to face me as best he can.
“What is it?”
“There’s this doctor, Elias.”
My eyes widen as my stomach sinks. “Shit, are you sick? Leighton? The kids?”
Is he going to ask me for a kidney or something? I’d give it to him. That’s not even a question. And, of course, he’d come to me before Easton and Foster. My clean diet would make me a better candidate.
Hayes shakes his head. “He works with Leighton.”
I rock my head and try to keep my mind from going to the worst-case scenario like it usually does. “She’s not cheating on you, man. Leighton loves you.”
“She better not be, but that’s not why I’m telling you. He’s single.” His voice is low. Just loud enough for me to hear. Whatever this is, he really wants to keep it a secret.
“You do know I’m heterosexual, right?”
He blows out a breath and groans. “I’m not trying to set you up.”
“Then why do I give a shit about this doctor, Elias, who works with Leighton?”
His teeth bite down on his lip, and he looks as if he just took a hundred-mile-per-hour ball to the inner thigh. But still I’m coming up empty on why he’s telling me all this.
“Leighton gave him Penelope’s phone number.”
The inflicted wound is fast and effective, a glint of light off the knife, then pain before I can make sense of what’s even happened.
“Oh… okay.” I glance past him out the window, watching the highway lights streak by, trying to contain my immediate reaction.
“I just thought… I don’t know… that you should know.”
The bus increases its speed, matching my heartbeat as the image of Penelope in the arms of someone else pummels me.
There’s no use in reacting before I can decipher how I actually feel. Right now, I feel something close to anger, something close to grief, and about four other things I’m not going to name because they won’t help.
“Leighton suggested it, or Penelope asked for it?” I’m not sure why I’m asking—it doesn’t factor into anything other than the fact that she’s moving on, and I’m still stalled in neutral.
“She told Leighton she was ready to start dating.” He pauses. “Leighton alluded to it having something to do with Hazel.” He shrugs. “But I don’t really know.”
And there’s the one reason I can’t take issue with any of this. The one reason that makes complete sense and also makes my stomach feel as if a line drive hit me square in the nuts.
I think about Hazel at field day. The way she looked back at Penelope when she was trying to get the hula hoop to spin—because her first instinct was to find her mom. And Penelope was already watching with a proud mom smile, clapping for her.
She’s doing the right thing. That’s the conclusion I keep arriving at no matter how many times it runs through my mind. Penelope’s doing the right thing for her and her daughter, and there’s not a version of this where I get to be annoyed about it.
“I’ll be honest—there was a point when I was jealous of this guy with Leighton. But he seems like a good guy. He’s always making the staff laugh at his stories. You don’t have to do anything with the information… I just figured you’d want to know before you heard it from someone else.”
I swallow hard, willing my voice to work. “No, yeah. I appreciate it.”
He nods and leans back, and we don’t say anything else about it. That’s what I’ve always liked about Hayes. He delivers the news then lets you absorb it.
Across the aisle, Easton is already asleep, his head tipped against the window. Foster is reading something on his phone, pretending he didn’t overhear anything, but I’m not sure how he couldn’t have caught at least some of it.
A doctor. Someone with a better schedule than I have during the season, a permanent parking spot, and no agent calling him about trades and the possibility of setting up his life in another city.
Someone who doesn’t have his career up for review at the end of every season.
I let myself sit with that for exactly as long as it takes the bus to pass under one overpass. Then I tuck it away.
I go over the rules I’ve had for myself for years. They exist for a reason, and they’ve kept me standing when circumstances tried to take me down.
Rule Number One—don’t take what isn’t yours.
Although she’s never been mine, if Penelope likes Elias and she becomes his, I won’t try to ruin that for her.
I followed Rule Number One when she moved to Chicago. I followed it when she started showing up at every friend group dinner and every game. I followed it when Porter ran his mouth at second base tonight and I wanted to do something about it that would’ve been broadcast all over ESPN.
And I’m going to keep following it.
“You good?” Hayes asks a bit later.
“Yeah. Good game tonight.”
He looks at me a beat longer than the question requires. Then he lets it go with a nod. “Good game too.”
I stare at the back of the seat in front of me.
Three more games before we’re home. I’m going to focus on keeping my spot on this team and keeping my throws where they’re supposed to go and not doing anything that costs me my brother or my contract.
Penelope Ripley is going on a date with a doctor, and I’m not going to try to stop her. It will be the hardest thing I’ve done all season. Which is funny since I’ve been booting routine grounders for three weeks.