Chapter 62
Chapter Sixty-Two
Callie
A month has passed, and I never would’ve thought we’d be where we are.
Things with Foster are exactly how I always dreamed they’d be.
He even decided to go to therapy again. Apparently, he’d been before for a short amount of time, but as he says, it didn’t stick, so he’s looking for a new therapist in Chicago.
“Now who’s freaking out?” Leighton nudges me in the arm.
This has been a repeating pattern this year—Foster coming in with the bases loaded.
We’re two outs from getting out of the inning.
“Crazy Train” plays, and our little girl kicks me as if she knows it’s her daddy’s song.
I cradle my stomach and stand, watching him walk to the mound.
He stops at the edge, and Blue checks him over, but right before he joins Hayes and the other guys, Foster’s gaze lifts to meet mine.
The Jumbotron catches it. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. The camera seems to always land on me when he’s pitching.
He smiles and tilts his head at me. I don’t blow him a kiss, and he doesn’t do anything else because that’s not us.
Ripley hands him the ball, and I see Foster grip it in his palm.
We’re tied one and one so far in this three-game series against Milwaukee. We really need to win this one. It’ll get the Colts one step closer to making the playoffs.
I sit, and my knee bounces as he throws his practice pitches to Hayes.
“He looks good,” Leighton says.
“Really good,” Penelope says on my other side. She’s been sitting with us lately, and Hazel and Monroe have become fast friends.
I’m not wasting any energy worrying about what she had with Foster. It doesn’t matter. And I know it doesn’t compare.
“Go, Reaper!” Lincoln shouts, raising his gloved hand.
I bite my lower lip as Decker, Easton, and the rest of the infield head back to their positions. Hayes stands one more time, fixing his guards, before squatting behind home plate.
My nerves multiply as I realize it’s the top of the lineup for Milwaukee. “Jace Castillo. Of course. He’s probably gonna win the home run derby this year.”
Leighton giggles and presses her hand to my bouncing knee. “Nothing Foster hasn’t encountered before.”
Foster gets one strike on his slider. Another on his inside curve. Jace takes a crack at the third pitch, but it dribbles to third. Decker fields it cleanly and throws it to Hayes at home. One out.
“Just one more,” I say to myself.
Foster nods at Decker. Those two are really making great strides lately. Foster even went to dinner with his mom when she was in town last week. He was nervous beforehand and in his head about it when he got home, but he talked to me about how he was feeling. That’s all I can ask for.
I’m hoping he’ll make some kind of amends with her, if only for himself. But that’s up to Foster. Just the fact that he was willing to be around her is a big step forward for him.
Warren Kincaid steps up to the plate next. He and Foster have beef over what I don’t know, but at last night’s game, Foster might have purposely hit him in the ninth after their pitcher, Whittaker, hit Decker the inning before.
So it’s no surprise that Warren looks as though he wants to hit a line drive right at Foster’s head.
Warren takes a swing on the first pitch and misses.
I catch Foster almost smiling, but he steps off the mound after Hayes throws it back.
The next two pitches Blue calls as balls.
“That was a strike!” I stand and shout.
Leighton tugs me back down to my seat. “Let’s not make beef with Blue.”
But everyone around us is on board with the fact that it was a strike.
Foster leans forward and gets the call from Hayes. They’ve been such an in-sync duo this past month, and I’m so thankful that what happened between us didn’t sever those ties. Foster needs Hayes in his life as much as Hayes needs Foster.
The pitch comes in, and I have no idea why they would choose a fastball, but it comes in really fast.
“Holy shit, he hit one hundred and four.” Lincoln points at the Jumbotron.
“Lincoln,” Leighton scolds. “Language.”
I lean a little closer to her. “Man, is ten the new sixteen?”
“Apparently.” She gives Lincoln a look to say he’s in trouble later.
“Finish him off,” I call.
Leighton laughs. “My, how the tables have turned.”
She’s smug and deservingly so. I made fun of her many times for freaking out when Hayes was in the box.
Foster throws a curve. It’s the one pitch that hasn’t quite been doing what it used to for him, but this one tails right at the end. Warren swings, and I close my eyes until I hear the roar of the Chicago fans.
I spring my eyes open to see Foster walking toward the dugout.
Easton runs up behind him and pushes himself off Foster’s shoulders, shouting, “Let’s go!”
Hayes waits for him, and Foster fist bumps him, but right before he dips into the dugout, Foster’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. A big, toothy smile that he’s never once given me in public.
The camera catches it, and soon side-by-side pictures of us are on the Jumbotron with heart emojis and kisses sprinkled over the screen.
“You guys are the ‘it’ couple,” Penelope says. “I’m glad to see him so happy.”
“Me too.”
We share a look, and I pat her hand, hoping she figures out that I know about her past with Foster, and I’m okay with it.
The Colts win, and everyone decides to go to Peeper’s to celebrate.
We fill the backroom. Even Penelope and Hazel join us for the first time. We order pizza from down the street, and Ruby comes in with her tray of non-alcoholic drinks for me.
“You gonna pick one soon so I don’t have to keep bringing a whole tray in here. My back is killing me,” Ruby complains, but then without waiting for me to choose what I want she puts a glass of milk in front of me. “You should have this. It’s good for the baby.”
“Foster!” I shout across the room.
He’s competing in a game of darts with Hayes, Easton, and Decker.
He sees the glass of milk and winks at me. “Milk has vitamin D, protein, calcium.”
I shake my head, but I don’t care. I love that he worries about the baby and me.
“He made me do it. Threatened me by saying he would invite those Chipmunks if I didn’t give it to you.” Ruby walks away and out of the room.
Later that night, when my feet are hurting and I’m tired, I see Foster pull his phone out of his pocket and check it. His smile falters for the first time since the game ended.
My stomach drops because whatever it is, it’s about to rupture our happy little bubble.
He walks over to me, taking the chair next to me, and swings my legs over his lap. Then he hands me his phone and massages my calves.
Jagger Kale: Your guy just got arrested. Buckle up, this might get bumpy.