by Mj Fields
“Understood, but you do realize we have five days and then regular season starts at home, correct?”
“I understand that this is a basic meet and greet with the team and family picnic shit. But when I’m on the field, I want a critical eye on me. I get that when my family is in the stands—”
“A lot of family.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, well, they’ll fill stands, but they won’t be critical, and they’re not fresh from school, wanting to make their mark, and hungry to land a job.”
“You want Ellis.”
“Yeah, Buck, I do.”
“Anything else?” He laughs.
“I’ll let you know as things pop up.”
“No doubt you will, son, no doubt you will.”
An hour into my ride back home, Buck calls.
“What’s up, Buck?”
“Talked to Ellis. She has a few issues with making arrangements last minute. She has a four-year-old.” Ellis is a mom. “Told her she could bring her and that the players’ families would be there to help watch after the kid. She hemmed and hawed for a bit but finally agreed. We can’t get her on a flight for two days. That’s the best we can do.”
“I’ll send you the address to the landing strip in Asbury Park. They can hitch a ride with us.”
“Got to admit, I’m pretty fucking jealous that you have a private jet at your disposal and I’m still flying commercial.”
“Buck, get there by seven, and you can fly with us, too.”
Sitting in the back row of Steel Inc.’s largest jet, earbuds in, Luna is sitting next to me, grinning her fool head off because she gets to go to Disney and I promised her the whole princess experience.
“In three days, Uncle My?”
I nod.
“And I get to do girl stuff without the boys?”
“Yeah, Luna, you do. But it’s not girl stuff.” I watch as her smile falls. “It’s princess stuff.”
Her little face lights up as she pushes up to her knees, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “You are my favorite now.”
“What? I wasn’t before?”
“No, you used to only do boy stuff. But then we had our tea party, and now you’re giving me a princess day, so you’re my favorite now.” She says it like it’s fact, and I can’t help but laugh because I know that, to a little girl, she thinks it is.
I look at my watch, the one my parents gave me for graduation. Ellis, her kid, and Buck should be here within ten minutes. I wasn’t nervous until now.
Max walks onto the plane, shades on, backpack over his shoulder, his hair all sorts of fucked up. Clearly, he rolled out of bed just in time to get here. I’d like to say I did the same, but I hardly slept last night after I woke from a dream starring Ellis Stavros. Couldn’t sleep after that. Tried to, but every time I closed my eyes, I found myself staring at crystal blues.
“You ready for this?” Max asks as he sits next to me.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Max pulls out his iPad, taps the screen, and then holds it in front of me. “Did some recon on your teammates. Not gonna sugarcoat this. They are far from the best in the league. Cool thing is, it appears, when they were at the top of their game, they were some of the very best. Kind of feels like Costello doesn’t wanna put an old horse to pasture, so he brings him to Jersey.”
“Pretty sure that old man loves the game just as much as our fathers. Not sure why, but I wanna make sure his ball team breaks its streak. They won’t be last again this year.”
“He pulls in some good rookies, and they leave him as soon as they can.”
“I’m not gonna be that guy.”
“So the Yanks ever ask you back, you tell them to go fuck themselves?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I love the Yanks. But maybe I’d let them know which positions are best for fucking themselves.”
“Am I seeing things?” Luna asks. “Is that another girl?”
Max leans over me and smiles as he looks at Luna’s little awestruck expression. “If you’re seeing things, I’m seeing double. I see two girls.”
“Welcome, little ladies,” Dad welcomes them and grabs their bags. “I have a seat if you can’t find two next to each other—”
“The little girl can sit next to me!” Luna yells.
Bella leans over the back of her seat. “She may want to sit next to her mom.”
“Little girl,” Luna completely ignores Bella, “come sit with me.”
The little girl grins and looks up at Ellis, and Ellis looks nervously down at her.
“There’s room for both to sit back here.” Max stands up. “Doc can I have my seat.”
Can’t say as if this bothers me one bit, but it sure as fuck makes Doc Ellis uncomfortable. The fact that Max doesn’t even know that I think Ellis may be that girl, the one that I apparently said had the finest ass east of Fresno, kind of makes it feel a little something like … fate?
Not sure what in the fuck is wrong with me to be thinking shit like that, but I’m guessing it has something to do with a near-death experience that ultimately could have killed my dreams, to the shit I’ve endured to get through the healing process, both mentally and physically, to getting a call from Buck asking me to be part of his team, on the actual roster for the major leagues, not stepping back to the minors, to showing up in Trenton and coming face-to-face with the girl—scratch that, woman—who has literally been in my dreams for weeks.
I keep my arms crossed, earbuds in, and the brim of my hat down, covering my eyes.
Luna jumps up. “Hi, my name is Luna, and I’m so happy, so, so happy, to have another girl to hang out with. Will you be my friend?”
The little girl with the crazy dark curls, tan skin, and ice-blue eyes grins and runs to her.
“Georgie,” Ellis calls to her.
Georgie pays no mind. She throws her arms around Luna and squeals. Then she steps back and says, “Hi, I’m Georgie, and I will be your friend.”
Georgie sits next to Luna, leaving the only open seat on the other side of me.
“Would you prefer the aisle? It will be easier for you to stretch out on the flight.”
“But, Mom, I thought you needed the window seat?” Georgie looks at Luna. “My mom doesn’t like to fly. Her belly was so nervous this morning that she threw up.”
Bella giggles as Ellis covers her face.
“Gotta love motherhood.” She stands and reaches her hand out. “I’m Bella, mother to Luna, cousin to Amias, and relative to basically everyone on this plane.”
Ellis shakes her hand. “I’m Ellis. Amias’s physical th—I mean, the new resident physical therapist for the New Jersey Jaguars and mother to one Georgie Stavros.”
“She’s beautiful. How old is she?”
“She’s four and very tall, just like her father was.”
Father was.
“My father was so tall that he climbed all the way to the stars.”
“Your daddy’s in heaven?” Luna asks.
“No, my father is in heaven. Mommy hasn’t found me a daddy yet. We have to wait until we know where we’re going to live after we’re done here, then she said she might try to find me one.” She sighs exaggeratedly.
And she’s single, not married, and apparently, not even dating.
“Don’t worry, Georgie; my daddy didn’t find me a mommy until a couple years ago. And now look at all the people I have. I mean, there are way too many boys, and Momma Bell has another boy in her belly, but Aunt Sutton has two babies in hers and Great-Aunt Tara is going to have a baby, so there’s still hope, Georgie. And Momma Joe, my great-grandma, says hope is the most important thing.”
“You got a lot of people, Luna. That’s so cool.”
“And Uncle Amias, he’s taking me on a princess day at Disney! You should come with me.”
“Okay, I’ll come with you. When do we go?” The excitement in her eyes does not mirror the oddly nonchalant tone in which her words carry.
Her mother, howeve
r, can’t seem to hide the nervousness. “Georgie, you and I talked about this. We’re here for work, and it was very last minute, so I couldn’t—”
“We’re not heading to Orlando until after the closing game,” Bella cuts in. “Two travel days, My?”
I nod.
Bella continues, “We’re just hitting Magic Kingdom for a day. And since you’re riding with us, you are kind of stuck with us. I hope it isn’t an imposition?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Her smile is etched with worry.
Bella continues, “We have a house just outside the gates. There is plenty of room.”
“We don’t need extra room, Momma Bell. Georgie can sleep in the princess room with me.”
Both girls squeal and clap their hands.
“I’ll have to speak to Mr. Costello. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Mommy, I think I’m gonna love baseball.” Georgie grins.
Buck boards the plane, and Dad greets him with a hug.
“Am I the last to arrive?”
“We’re now ready for take-off.”
“Did Doc and Little Doc show?”
“We’re here, Mr. Co—”
“It’s Buck, Ellis.”
She smiles and nods. “We’re here, Buck.”
“That’s a good thing. Our star insisted you come. Thinks you being fresh out of school means you’re the best the Jags have to offer.”
Fucker, I think.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you, Buck.”
“You pretend I’m not even here, kiddo. Hell, ignore the rest of the team, too. Your focus is number 4.”
I glance up and see Tricks, Justice, and Max all smirking. Then I notice my uncles, Ranger, Tags, and Tobias all doing the same thing. Then I glance at Brisa, who has her Disney princess smile on her face, and Tris with her shit-eating grin.
I lift my hand to the brim of my hat, indiscreetly raising a finger to them all, and they all bust up laughing, not at all indiscreetly.
Nice, assholes, real nice.
Hell … I’m In Hell
“Dear Lord, help me with the things I cannot control,” I pray as the plane takes off.
“You say something?” Amias fucking Steel, aka HB, asks.
“No,” I lie.
“You didn’t just say, Lord help me—”
“Okay, fine.” My heart begins to race even faster. “I don’t like planes. I don’t like Georgie being so far away while a tin can with wings—wings that don’t flap or do anything that makes enough sense for me to—”
“The wings are a critical part of the airplane. They’re necessary for lifting, turning, landing, and controlling. They make perfect sense, Doc. Without wings, airplanes wouldn’t fly.”
“That does not make me feel any better.”
“All right, that’s cool. What else can we talk about to occupy your mind?”
“How about nothing?”
“Then nothing it is.”
I open my eyes and see him inches from my face.
Good Lord, he’s fucking gorgeous.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
He leans down, grabs a bag from under the seat, and hands it to me. “You have good aim, you do it in here. If you don’t think you can handle it, I’ll get you to the bathroom.”
“I am a grown woman. Twenty-six years old, as a matter of fact. I don’t think I need a nineteen-year-old boy to get me to the bathroom.”
“Oh, Ellis, are we going there already?”
“Going where?” My stomach turns.
“I think you know I’m not a boy. I think you’ve known that for a while now. Me, on the other hand, I had no idea who the woman I’ve been dreaming about—”
And … I throw up.
Hands scoop my hair back as I throw up three times—three freaking times—into a barf bag. When I feel it pulling, I look up and see one of the women twisting it into a hair tie. I know it’s his sister. How do I know? When I called Lily up, freaking out she looked him up.
“Oh no, Mommy.”
“I’m okay, Georgie,” I say into a bag of vomit.
“I need to help you.”
“I’m fine, baby. Just stay buckled.” Eyes closed and panting, I lean back, squeezing the opening of the bag to contain the stench, and feel a cool, damp cloth on my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I pant. “Just fine.”
“Let me get you something for your stomach.”
“No,” I all but yell as I open my eyes and look at the woman, Brisa, I think. “Sorry.” I push Amias’s hand away and force myself to sit forward.
“Ginger, Mommy eats ginger treats in the morning when she gets sick. But at night, she’s all better, and we get to eat peanut butter ice cream for dinner.”
“Georgie girl, some things we only talk about between us, okay?”
“But Luna is my friend, Mommy. You tell Lily stuff on the phone when you think I’m asleep. Weird stuff, too.”
I close my eyes. “Dear Lord, please shut her sweet little mouth.”
“Georgie,” Amias says my daughter’s name, and instead of jumping up and intervening, because my empty stomach is still rolling and any sudden movement may cause me to dry heave for hours, I open my eyes and watch him walk toward her, feeling like everything I’ve worked for is about to implode.
“What’s your name again?” she asks.
“Amias.”
“That’s a really weird name.”
He chuckles. “I had nothing to do with it. I blame my parents.”
“Are you mad at them?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “Amias means loved, so it’s kind of like every time they say my name, I feel that love. Can’t be mad at that.”
“What’s my name mean?”
“Scoot over. Let me have a seat, and we’ll google it.” He scratches his chin, one that is not covered in scruff like it was the night he wasn’t a stripper, making him look all his nineteen years and me to feel like a cradle robber.
“Crackers?”
I look up to see a beautiful blonde bombshell, and yes, I know who she is, too—Amias’s mother. The woman who named him Amias, which means loved.
“And ginger ale.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Steel.”
“Bekah, my name’s Bekah.”
“Thank you, Bekah.”
“When I was preg—”
“Please don’t,” I whisper.
“Shoot, right, new job worries. Our little secret. But I’m guessing Buck wouldn’t let you go for something like this. Family is a blessing. I think he knows that.” She leans down and kisses the top of my head. I repeat: she kisses the top of my head. Then she whispers, “The girls are complete hell for the first trimester. Amias, straight through to the third. After that, smooth sailing.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Steel.”
“Bekah.”
I whisper, “Right.”
I take a drink of the ginger ale, eat a couple crackers, and listen to Amias lie through his perfect teeth about what Georgie means—intelligent, beautiful, strong-willed, boss babe, who loves baseball.
“And Flynn Eugene Fitzherbert?”
He mock huffs. “Yeah, of course.”
She shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands palms up. “Do you even know him?”
“Of course I do.”
Dear Lord … Just … Dear. Lord.
“Prove it,” Georgie spouts off.
I watch out of the corner of my eyes as he smirks at her. “Dark, longish hair, oddly thick brows that arch in very unnatural ways. Ch—”
She smacks a hand over his mouth. “Wait—what are unnatural ways?”
“Dear Lord, child of mine,” I whisper.
“They bounce around like this,” he mumbles under her chubby little hand, and I watch out of the corner of my eyes as he makes faces at her.
She grabs his hat. “I can’t see your oddly thick unnatural bouncing brows.”
When she pulls his hat all the way off his head,
his hair is longer on the top than it was and buzzed on the sides. He makes his eyebrows dance, and she cocks her head, watching him, then gasps.
“You kind of have Flynn Eugene Fitzherbert hair, ’cept different on the sides.”
“Yeah, he called me up and asked me who my barber was, and I—”
She grabs the sides of his face and yells, “Are you kidding me! Flynn Eugene Fitzherbert called you!”
“He didn’t call. He sent me a text.”
She lets go of his face and crosses her arms, doing the thing she does when she’s pissed—she clicks her tongue, cocks her head, and growls—yes, growls—then says, “But you said called.”
“When he texted me, I told him to call, so that’s what I was thinking.”
“So why didn’t he call?”
“He didn’t call because he needed to save his singing voice.”
She tips her head left then right as she considers his explanation.
“Look, Georgie, you can ask him if you meet him. I’m sure he’ll back up my story.”
“Do you think I will meet Flynn Eugene Fitzherbert?”
“I’m thinking you’ll meet a lot of your favorite Disney characters.”
She squeals and grabs his face again. “Luna is my first friend, but you can be my second.”
He smiles. “I’m down with that.”
“Can I have your hat?”
“Yeah, Georgie, you sure can.”
We toured the stadium, I met with all twenty-six men on the roster, and so did HB, who is apparently my daughter’s second best friend and … freaking nineteen years old.
