“Or anything that can stain,” Josh says. He hugs Sammy. “This is the best day ever.”
He and Jesse pose for a few pictures with Finn and Sammy then take off for the middle of the field to play fetch.
“Thank you so much,” Julie says.
“It’s my pleasure,” Finn says. “They’re good kids.”
“The best,” Patrick says.
“If you don’t mind me asking, is everything all right?” I ask tentatively. It’s not like we’re close friends and they owe me details about their family.
“I look that bad, huh?” Julie jokes. Her husband wraps an arm around her. “Josh has a chest infection. Antibiotics are helping, and the doctor assures us it isn’t serious, but he’s only seven and been through a lot, so even a sniffle feels monumental to me.”
I nod in understanding, unsure what the right words are to say. I watch the boys play with Sammy. Jesse is doing most of the running, fetching the ball when Sammy stays right beside Josh rather than chase it down.
Finn can’t take his eyes off the two of them. “Kids are resilient,” he says, his response just right. “And I can tell Josh is a fighter. A quiet one, but one nonetheless.”
“You’re right. He is.” Julie gives Finn an appreciative smile. “Do you have kids?”
“Not yet.”
Not yet. Meaning Finn wants them. He’s thought about a future outside of baseball. It surprises me, given he’s so ultra-focused on his career. But then there are lots of major leaguers with families. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. His dream girl is out there just waiting to have his babies.
The conversation veers to Thanksgiving dinner, extended family, and Black Friday shopping while your brain is on tryptophan overload.
“We should get going,” Julie says. “Family will be arriving any minute. Boys,” she calls out. “Time to go.”
Josh and Jesse bring Sammy back without protest. They thank Finn again, give him fist bumps, and we go our separate ways. Or try to. After two steps, Sammy digs her paws into the grass and starts to whimper. She looks over her shoulder at Josh. He’s looking over his shoulder at her.
Finn drops her leash and she takes off, stopping at Josh’s feet.
We all freeze, taking in this somewhat surreal situation. Josh kneels to give Sammy a hug. “Bye, Sammy.” Only she is having no part of goodbye, mewling when Josh stands to move away.
Finn strides over. I follow. “Boys, can I talk to your mom and dad for a minute?”
Julie and Patrick look confused, but Patrick says, “Why don’t you take Sammy for a short walk around the sandbox?”
The boys agree, the leash firmly in Josh’s hand. Not that I think Sammy will go anywhere without him. She seems very in tune to him.
“Do you have any pets?” Finn asks.
“No,” Patrick says.
“Keep Sammy.”
“What?” Julie and Patrick say simultaneously.
My eyes are glued to Finn and the sincerity stamped across his face. He darts a quick glance to Sammy and the boys before resolution pulls his mouth into a tight smile. “There’s something special between Sammy and Josh. I saw it last week and it’s plain to see it’s even stronger today.”
Julie brings her palm up over her heart.
“Dogs can be very therapeutic and it’s clear Sammy is supposed to be with your family.”
“That’s very generous of you, but we can’t accept your dog,” Patrick says.
“I’m not sure she was ever mine. I think I was the placeholder until she found her true owner.”
I’m about to ugly cry right here in front of everyone. I blink and wiggle my nose to stave off the tears.
“I know this is a big deal,” Finn continues, glancing at the threesome again. “A pet is a lot of time, work, and expense, and so my offer comes with everything you’ll need for all of Sammy’s life.”
Julie shakes her head. “Finn, that’s too—”
“Please.” The one word is full of won’t-take-no-for-an-answer, but there’s a touch of vulnerability there, too, like their refusal would hurt more than anything else. “My gut tells me we shouldn’t separate them.”
Patrick and Julie share an uncertain look.
Finn threads his fingers through his hair. “I’m not the only one feeling their connection, am I?”
“No,” I say in support. And because it’s true.
“We…” Julies trails off.
“We don’t know what to say,” Patrick finishes.
“Say yes. Or at the very least say we can ask Josh and Jesse what they think. I’d like nothing more than to give Sammy to you today.”
To Julie and Patrick, who barely know Finn, they probably see a man who is a superstar, a man who can have as many dogs as he wants, a man who is kind because he can afford to be.
All those things are true. But what I see is a man who, stripped of his last name, wealth, and stature, would still give his dog to a boy because deep down, Finn Auprince is the most noble person I know, plain and simple.
Jesse runs ahead of his brother and Sammy, rejoining us with, “Don’t worry. Those two are fine together.”
Julie starts to cry.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Josh asks in a worried voice. Sammy rubs the top of her head against his hip. I think it’s to comfort him.
“Nothing, sweetheart.” She wipes at her cheek. “It’s just…” Her voice wavers.
Patrick bends down to Josh’s level. “It’s just we’ve noticed how well you and Sammy get along and Finn would like to give her to us if you and your brother think that’s a good idea.”
Josh’s jaw drops. It’s cute as can be.
“What do you say?” Finn says. “Think you two can take care of her for me?”
Both boys shout “yes” then Josh wraps his arms around Finn’s thighs in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
Finn ruffles Josh’s hair. “You’re welcome.” He lets them know he’ll have everything Sammy needs delivered tomorrow and then he says a private goodbye to his dog, kneeling and whispering something in her ear.
I bump Finn’s side on the walk back to my house. “That was beyond nice.”
“It’s a well-known fact I like to go above and beyond.”
“Hmm, somehow I missed that in your bio.”
“There’s a lot not in my bio.”
“True.” I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “Are you okay? You and Sammy were a pretty good match, too, you know.”
“Not like that.”
“No, not like that,” I echo, noting he didn’t answer my question. He’d grown more attached to Sammy than he’s comfortable letting on.
Which leaves me to wonder what it would be like to mean that much to him, too.
Chapter Fifteen
#GreenLight
Finn
The house smells even better than when we left, and my stomach grumbles in anticipation of sitting down to eat. This is the first home-cooked Thanksgiving I’ve had in years, my family’s usual MO being a restaurant at our hotel in Hawaii where we’re served gourmet food that lacks the delicious simplicity of novice cooks. Truth be told, I prefer this, but don’t tell my mother or grandmother.
“Where’s Sammy?” Casey asks when Chloe and I walk into the kitchen. Dinner is laid out on the table in a really nice display and I’m grateful to be included here today.
I swallow the lump in my throat as we take a seat and I launch into the story. I miss Sammy already, but remembering the look on Josh’s face, and the easy way Sammy stuck by his side, makes it easier to manage.
“And come March I’ll be gone more than I’m home,” I finish. “Sammy deserves full-time love and attention and now she’ll have it.” Not that my job influenced my decision. I only recalled my long absences after the fact.
“No doubt, you’ve made those boys very happy,” Casey praises.
“He very much did,” Chloe says.
Chloe.
I sneak a glance at
her and catch her sneaking one at me before her gaze drops to her plate. She’s another reason the sting of giving Sammy away isn’t so bad. I can’t get her off my mind. She’s in my every thought, making me smile. Making me think for the first time that she’s a woman I don’t want to let go of.
If only she was on board with getting caught.
“How’s the rehab coming?” Casey asks.
“So far so good.”
“Glad to hear it,” Casey says. “Rumor has it the Landsharks are in active trade discussions rather than free agent negotiations.”
“That’s what I hear.” I put my fork down, unable to take another bite.
“It looks like they’re focusing on their starting rotation, inquiring on almost every starter available on the trade market,” Chloe says. “Thank goodness. They have close to MLB’s best one-two starting pitcher combination, but they’re losing a couple of guys to free agency and Tommy John’s surgery, so that leaves the back end of the rotation very unstable.”
It’s like she just told me a dirty story. Her love of the game is so fucking sexy.
“What?” she asks, looking at me funny.
Shit. It’s a miracle I’m not drooling. “Nothing. Just thinking our catcher position is also a major need with Boseman retiring.”
“True. I read just yesterday that the Landsharks are a viable destination for Cavallero despite his high price tag. I hope you get him. He’s phenomenal behind the plate and at bat, ending the season with a .323 batting average.”
I can’t help but grin at her. She is spectacular.
Casey pushes his plate away with a satisfied groan. “Looks like it’s time I brought up the elephant in the room.”
I erase my smile. Stay chill. He doesn’t necessarily mean the crush you’ve got on his daughter.
Chloe pushes her chair back and stands. “If you say so.”
I have no idea what is going on. Chloe’s gaze flits briefly to me before she turns and walks to the fridge. She pulls out a cake. It’s homemade from the looks of it, with white frosting. She brings it to the table and sets it down in front of me. On top of the cake, spelled out in tiny red candies, is Second Place is still Red Hot.
The sentiment is in reference to my second-place finish in the MVP award. The announcement was made yesterday. I laugh, overcome with gratitude. “You think so, huh?”
“Definitely,” Chloe says.
“You had an outstanding year, Finn,” Casey says. “Congratulations.”
I’m not so sure a second-place finish deserves praise, but the fact that Chloe and her dad took the time to recognize it means more than I can say. In my head, the standing means I’ve got to work even harder during the upcoming season, and until then I need to jack up my workouts. I discreetly roll my shoulder back. I’m sore, Dwayne’s words popping up in my head. If we do too much too soon, you’re going to reinjure yourself.
“Thank you.”
“FYI, those are red hot candies. Get it?” Chloe says, like candy is a foreign substance to me. She’s not too far off the mark, but I don’t live under a rock.
“I’m familiar with Red Hots. Nice touch, Webster.”
“Webster?” Casey asks just as a phone rings from across the room. He stands to answer it, noting the caller before bringing the cell to his ear. “It’s Aunt Becky,” he tells Chloe. “Hey Becks. Happy Thanksgiving. I’m going to put you on speaker. Chloe’s here and her friend, Finn.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Chloe half shouts.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Becky returns. “Did I catch you guys at an okay time?”
“There’s never a bad time for you,” Casey says. “How was your dinner?”
I recall Chloe saying her aunt lives in New Jersey, so it’s three hours later there. I glance at all the food still on the table, thinking seconds could take place here in about an hour.
“It was interesting.”
“Uh-oh. Why does that not sound very good?” Chloe asks.
“Well, I’m calling from the emergency room. I’m okay,” she’s quick to add. “Especially with the pain meds they gave me, but I broke my leg.”
“Oh no,” Chloe says.
Casey grimaces. “Shit, Becky. How did that happen?”
“Sliding into home.”
My eyes widen. Home plate? I mouth to Chloe. She nods and whispers, “Annual turkey day softball game.”
“Were you safe?” Casey asks.
“You bet your ass I was. We won five to four, and I’ll most likely be getting a steal rod to remember it by.”
“When?” Casey runs a hand up and down the side of his face.
“Not sure. The swelling is pretty bad. So, I was hoping maybe you could fly out here. I’m going to need help getting around for the next several weeks.”
“I’ll head out tonight if I can catch a flight. Otherwise ASAP,” Casey says with zero hesitation.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. Chloe, you should come, too.”
“I can’t. I’m working an assignment right now.”
“Christmas, then. Let’s plan on doing it here. What do you say?”
Chloe and her dad exchange a look. “Sounds good,” Chloe says.
“You can’t see me, but I’m smiling,” Becky says. “Case, call me when you land and I’ll let you know where I’m at.”
“Will do.”
“Okay, bye. Thanks again. Love you guys.”
“Love you, too,” Chloe and her dad say before he disconnects the call.
“What are the chances I get a flight tonight, huh?” Casey says to his phone. He’s typing in an airline, I assume.
“Let me get you there,” I offer.
Casey looks up in surprise.
“This is the busiest time of year for travel, right? My family has a private jet that can take you.”
“No. Thank you, but I—”
“It would really make me happy to help,” I interrupt. “I appreciate you having me for dinner and for the cake, and while I’m at it, thanks for not throwing me out of game three of the World Series when you had every right to.”
“You do owe me for that,” Casey says with a nod and smile before he turns his attention to Chloe. “I didn’t even stop to make sure you’re okay with me going.”
“Of course, I am. Aunt Becky needs you. And she’s got doctor friends if you need anything.” Chloe rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Please make sure you pack all your medicine and don’t forget to take it,” she adds in a softer voice.
Casey reaches across the table and squeezes his daughter’s hand. “A little giant cell arteritis isn’t going to beat me, don’t you worry.”
Giant cell arteritis, I repeat to myself. I’ll ask Siri about it on the way home. Chloe darts a glimpse at me to see if I caught those three little words before resting affection back on her dad and saying, “Okay.”
“Finn,” Casey says. “I appreciate your offer and will accept this once.”
“You got it.” I make a call and secure a red-eye flight per Casey’s request. He sleeps like a baby on planes, he says. He’s had enough practice, that’s for sure.
“Did you know Chloe won a few softball awards in her day?” Casey asks me.
“No, I did not.”
“Dad.”
“Plug your ears, sweet pea, it’s about to get embarrassing.” Fatherly pride is written all over his face while Chloe’s cheeks turn pink. “Or better yet, I’ll show you. Come on.”
“Noooo,” Chloe pleads. “This really isn’t necessary. Finn does not want to see pictures of me in my softball uniforms.”
“Sure, I do.”
The three of us move into the family room. While talking with her dad earlier, I’d enjoyed looking at the framed school pictures of Chloe at different ages on the mantel. Sitting on the couch now, I notice a photo standing in what looks a place of honor on a side table. It’s of Chloe with both her parents. She looks a lot like her mom.
Casey lifts up the top of the coffee table
slash storage unit and produces a photo album.
“Just remember, Dad, payback’s a bitch.” Chloe plops down on the love seat adjacent to the sofa with her arms crossed and the corners of her mouth pulled down.
I don’t feel a bit sorry for her. Her dad loves her and wants to brag. He runs his palm over the front of the book, nostalgia, I think, directing his actions today. I’m guessing he doesn’t bust out the album on the regular.
He turns to the first page. “Chloe only played until she was thirteen. After that she was on the road with me so it made team sports impossible.” He goes through the pages, telling stories with pride and adoration while Chloe slowly softens at his words. Soon she’s sitting on the other side of him and the three of us are laughing and joking around—at her serious face, her pigtails, her refusal to tuck her shirt in. I share stories about my youth, too. I wasn’t always the superstar I am now.
Actually, I was, but you get the idea. Sitting on this worn, comfortable couch after a fantastic meal shared with friends feels blissfully normal. While I always excelled on the field, off was a different story, so talking like this is gratifying.
“Okay, who wants cake and pie?” Chloe asks when we’re finished. She places the album back in its hiding spot and then zeroes in on me with eyebrows raised in challenge.
I accept and eat both, complimenting the chef on her baking skills. Afterward, I help clean up and when it comes time to leave, I offer to drive Casey to the airport. Chloe takes the ride with us. She doesn’t say as much, but I sense she’s sad about her dad leaving with no set return date.
On the drive back to her house we rehash the day, constantly stealing glances at each other as we talk. Chloe’s on her phone, too, reporting on the success of the photo she posted of me, Sammy, Josh, and Jesse. She types in my response to comments, and informs me I’ve received several proposals as well as baby daddy requests, whatever that means. I can’t help but smile when she grumbles about the number of women hitting on me. Could it be my social media manager is jealous? If our roles were reversed, you can bet I would be.
“You know, you and I have yet to take a picture together,” I say, turning down her street.
Heartthrob Page 13
