The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2)

by Britney M. Mills

  She sat there for a few more seconds, her face relaxed with a slight smile, before pulling the handle on the door.

  I shook off the self-doubt and jumped out of the truck and over to her side. One thing my father had always told me was to treat women with the utmost respect. Even if Serena didn’t like me, I hoped she appreciated the little things.

  I grabbed the crutches and held out my arm, trying to use every last second to see her before she went inside. She punched in a code on the large garage, and I walked her up to the door, slow enough to let her take one step at a time. I opened the door and helped her through the hall and into the large living room. I’d never seen a room so big in my entire life. Our house was a decent size, but it could probably fit in that space alone.

  “This is pretty cool.” I didn’t realize my mouth had been hanging open until she reached up and shut it with her fingers.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’m not home often enough to enjoy it. Some say it’s a perk of being the daughter of a pro football player.” I caught a bitterness in her words and wanted to know more.

  After helping her over to the couch, I brought a pillow to elevate her ankle and stood awkwardly before her. “What’s it like having a dad in a professional sport?” My dad was so against me playing baseball that I kind of wondered what it would be like to have a dad who’d made a career out of his sport.”

  She gave a short laugh. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, let me tell you. My parents are never home.”

  “They don’t come to your games or anything?”

  “Not often.” Her tone told me she didn’t want to share more.

  I glanced around, trying to see if there was something I could do for her. “Can I get you anything?”

  She shook her head. “No, I think I’ll be good. Thank you again for everything.”

  I heard a sound coming from the garage and then the engine of a car. We weren’t doing anything wrong, but I suddenly felt like I needed to hide.

  “Should I, um, well, garage or front door?” I stammered, my eyes widening.

  She must have seen the panic on my face because she started laughing. By the time she settled down a bit, she didn’t have a chance to say anything as the door opened and in walked who I assumed were her parents. The moment I saw her dad in person, my mouth dropped open once more.

  Steve Gates was even bigger than when I’d seen him on TV. No wonder they needed such a large space. He looked like he could toss me through the giant windows at least thirty feet away from where I was standing.

  “Serena, you’re home?” the petite blonde said as she dropped her wallet and keys on the counter. The only similarities between her and Serena were the pointed nose and the crystal-blue eyes. All of Serena’s other features matched her father, aside from the height and size.

  “Yep.” Serena didn’t move to turn around, and I tried to hold back the anxiety wrapping itself around my lungs.

  The woman tilted her head, undoing her earrings. “Who’s your friend?” Her gaze looked me up and down, her expression neutral. Usually I felt dressed up in cargo pants and a polo, but in comparison to the clothes her parents wore and the extravagance of the house, I wished I’d escaped before they came in.

  “This is Ben Clark. Ben, my dad and mom, Steve and Rachel Gates.”

  Her father stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “We don’t get to meet too many friends of Rena’s.”

  I put my hand in his, his palm basically swallowing up mine. For a moment, I had a vision of him crushing it, making it impossible for me to pitch in the tournament this weekend. I’d had to help someone with a fractured hand a few months ago at the clinic, and from the looks of it, rehabbing a broken hand wasn’t something I wanted to experience.

  The handshake was firm, no pain inflicted. “It’s nice to, uh, meet you, um, sir.” My mind raced, trying to think of something better to say, some way to connect to this giant of a man and the father of the girl I had a crush on. I chanced a look in Serena’s direction, seeing an expression that matched her mother’s, only with the corners of her mouth tugged up slightly. “I was, j-just bringing Serena home after t-therapy.”

  Now was not the time to start stuttering again. I really liked this girl, and I was totally messing up every chance I had at a date in the future.

  “That’s right. How did your first therapy session go, doll?” Steve sat down on the other end of the couch, staring at Serena for an answer.

  “It was great, aside from the fact that my parents forgot to pick me up.” She sighed, the sound more like exasperation. “I can’t wait to be done with rehab so I don’t have to rely on people all the time.” She turned in my direction. “I do appreciate it, Ben.”

  The sadness in her eyes made me want to pull her into a hug and sit for a while, but with her father’s bulk sitting two feet away, that wouldn’t be the wisest decision.

  “No problem. Um, I’ve got to run. The guys will be wondering where I am. It w-was nice to m-meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gates. See you later, Serena.” I jogged to the front door, unlocked it, and ran out to my truck. I’d never been so relieved to be outside and away from the eyes of her parents. Except I was just going one house down.

  Once I parked in Nate’s long driveway, behind Jake’s Jeep and Dax’s small car, I heard the ding of a text message.

  Thank you so much. Sorry things were so awkward. I’ll see you at the clinic sometime.

  There was that hope again, spreading even though I wished it wouldn’t. I had a full-on crush for Serena Gates, and I was pretty sure that if things didn’t work out, it would do more damage to my brain than I could control.

  Eleven

  Serena

  “What’s wrong, doll?” my dad asked, still sitting beside me on the couch.

  “What’s wrong is that I can’t even count on my own parents for anything. How many games have you come to this year?” I took a breath, trying to calm the rising screech in my voice.

  Mom took a seat on the wingback chair to my right, crossing her legs and looking just as proper as ever. “Serena, honey, your dad met me at the office to get fitted for a suit I just designed so it will be ready in time for the gala we have to attend next week. But you can count on us for things. And we’ve been to some of your games this year. We went to that tournament a few months ago over in Springside.”

  I leaned forward, the nonchalance in her tone driving my anger to the breaking point. “That was the first tournament of the year, and you stayed for thirty minutes.”

  Holding her arms out and looking around the room, Mom said, “We have to work so you can enjoy everything we have here. You should be grateful for all the things we can give you—your car, a nice home, spending money.”

  “I don’t care about that, Mom. I hate being here all by myself.” I stood, not wanting to stay in the room for a moment longer. I left the crutches, sick of maneuvering with them and silently hoping that hopping through the house would make them more sympathetic.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself more, Rena,” my dad’s voice called after me, but I focused on the steps in front of me instead of the soothing calm of his voice. How he could be so vicious on the football field but so chill outside of it, I’d never understand.

  I shook my head once I got to the top of the staircase. “Is it too much to ask for you to actually care about me every once in a while?” Tears surged, and I knew I couldn’t hold them back any longer. I turned and hobbled to my bedroom, throwing myself on the bed with a sob.

  Just a few moments passed before the side of my bed sank down and fingers combed through my ponytail. “Come on, girl. No tears.”

  “Just leave me alone, Dad.” I sniffed, wiping at my cheeks before resting them back onto my arms as I stared down at whatever bedspread my mother had bought for me a few months ago.

  “I can’t do that. Talk to me.”

  The internal debate began, and several seconds passed before I pushed up from the bed and sa
t with my back against the headboard.

  “It’s the same old thing, Dad. Let’s just forget about it.” I looked down, my fingers twirling the small ties in the quilt.

  My dad’s finger lifted my chin so I was looking at him. “There are definitely things we’ve messed up on, Rena. We’re new to this parenting-a-teenager stage, just like you’re trying to navigate life as a seventeen—”

  “Sixteen, Dad. I’m sixteen.” I couldn’t help but say it with a bit of a smile.

  He smiled, and I realized he’d done it to make sure I was paying attention. “That’s right, sixteen-year-old. We’re going to make some mistakes. Just give us some time, maybe a little forgiveness, and we’ll get through this together, all right?” He stretched his fist out in front of him, tilting his head to the side as he waited for me to reciprocate.

  Half-heartedly, I reached over and softly punched my knuckles into his. “Fine, but you better not forget me next time.”

  My pro-football-player dad grinned, not the scary expression he used for the field, but the look of a guy who knew how to smooth things over.

  Once he left the room, my thoughts turned to my friends and their families. Penny’s dad came to as many games as he could, depending on his work schedule, and with all she’d gone through with her mom leaving, Penny understood. Brynn’s parents seemed fairly supportive, and Kate’s—well, when your mom was the PTA president, it wasn’t hard to see where her priorities were.

  Ben’s face came to mind as I thought about him running out the door. At least his mom and brother showed up to games, even if his dad didn’t. But I had a feeling there was something more going on there, and the connection I’d felt a couple of times when I was around him only grew stronger.

  I was so sick of feeling like the second-place loser when it came to my own family. As much as I wanted to hope that the little talk I’d had with my dad would help change things, that would just be worse than accepting the fact that until I was able to move out on my own, I was more of a decoration than a daughter to support.

  I cried long into the night, wishing something would change enough to make my life less heartbreaking.

  Twelve

  Serena

  “Wanna come with us to the baseball game?” Penny asked through video chat Friday morning. Of course, she couldn’t just text me like every other person on the planet, but I was grateful for that. It had been a week or two since I’d hung out with my friends, the downside to being the only one without a job and unable to drive anywhere at the moment.

  “Who all is going?” I asked, drinking the last of the milk in my cereal bowl.

  “Me, Kate, Brynn. I can pick you up from your physical therapy appointment.” Penny’s voice held something more in it, like she expected some huge confession to spill out of me.

  I stood, hopping on one foot to take my bowl to the kitchen. It was hard to maneuver with the crutches around the island, so I channeled my best inner bunny and made it to the sink. Once I made it back to the table, I lifted the crutches and placed them a foot or two in front of me. I grabbed my phone and leaned into the crutches as I swung my lower body with them, grateful my armpits weren’t as sore as they’d been the past few days. And having crutches the right size, as opposed to using my dad’s, made all the difference in me wanting to move around. Maybe I’d get used to these things right when I didn’t have to use them anymore.

  “Yeah, I’m game. Just pick me up at three, if that’s all right.” I made it into the family room where I plopped down on the couch and dropped the crutches on the floor.

  Penny nodded. “Of course. I’ll be over that way to help my dad with a job before, so it works out.”

  “Why is everyone going to the game? I know you’re there for Jake, but what about the other two?”

  “Kate said she wanted to support as many teams as possible since she’s the new student body president for next year.” We both rolled our eyes at that. I loved Kate, but she took things to a whole new level. “Brynn said she’s got nothing else to do since the family she nannies for is going to a family reunion this weekend.”

  “How are things going for your comp team, Pen? Have you talked to any of the college coaches yet?” I shifted up on the couch, easing the numbness that had started in my lower back from not moving for so long.

  Penny shrugged. “A few. None that are on my list, but there’s still time. At least, I hope.”

  “It’s easier when you’re playing on a competitive team instead of relying on girls who only picked up a ball at the beginning of the season. We’re only a couple weeks into the summer. You’ll be fine.”

  I’d been to a couple of the high school softball games, and there were a few girls who, when the ball came their way, made me cringe, hoping they’d at least keep the ball in front of them. The benefit to high school volleyball was that most of the girls who played were also on my comp team, so we worked together seamlessly. Except when I stepped on their leg.

  With a giant grin, Penny said, “Look who’s all positive right now. Have you been brainwashed or something?” She chuckled, and I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “Oh, come on. Can’t a girl be supportive of a friend and fellow athlete?” I laughed at the look on her face, which reminded me of the afternoon I went to talk to the art teacher instead of going to lunch.

  “You’re usually a little less peppy. Any particular reason for the change?” Her words brought up a mental picture of Ben, and I tried to shrug it off.

  “Nope. I’ve got to run—okay, not literally, but I need a nap before I have to go to therapy. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Penny picked me up as promised, and we met the other girls in the parking lot of the local baseball complex. John had finally said I could go without the crutches, but he’d wrapped my ankle tighter than normal and gave me a large boot, probably to compensate for it.

  I hobbled with the girls down the walkway between two fields, both occupied with teams and coaches and parents. With the awkwardness of walking on the boot, I wondered if it would actually be easier with the crutches.

  A few clouds broke up some of the heat from the sun, and we settled onto the metal bleachers behind the plate. The announcer read off the starting lineup, and my eyes kept straying to number eighteen on the sidelines.

  Ben’s name was called last, and he ran out to the mound, picking up the ball and whipping his arm around several times. He set up and waved his glove to the catcher before stepping forward and hurling the ball toward the plate.

  “How fast does he throw?” I asked, suddenly curious. I’d never grown up with baseball in our house, as my dad was so focused on football and rugby that I only knew snippets of other sports. But it looked like the ball was coming in faster than I’d ever seen in person.

  “Jake said his fastball comes in around the mid-eighties.”

  That sounded fast, but I had nothing to measure it against. “Is that good?”

  Penny grinned. “Yeah, for a high school pitcher, that’s really good. Ben acts like he’s not that great, but he’s been a top prospect the whole year. With how much of a perfectionist he is with his pitches, he deserves it.”

  “Are you saying you’re not a perfectionist? It’s not often I come to your house and you’re not out there practicing.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to admit it.

  “Okay, I like having control of my pitches, but Ben takes it to another level. He gets mad at himself if he doesn’t perform well.”

  I sat back, watching as Ben posed again and threw the ball home before moving to the side for the catcher to throw it down to second base. If he was a perfectionist, it would explain why he’d thrown several buckets of balls at the park the day I sprained my ankle.

  Play continued, and I was surprised how interested I was in the game. I must have just assumed Ben was a tall, awkward athlete since that’s how he’d acted the last few times we’d been together, but on the mound, he was impressive. He even snagged a ball coming back at h
is face faster than I’d be able to react.

  The game ended with our team coming out on top, five to four. Brynn and Kate left soon after, saying something about family obligations. My parents were flying to Florida at the moment for one last trip before NFL practice began, something about needing to check out the manufacturers for my mom’s clothing line. Part of me wanted to tell Ben he’d done a great job, and since Penny was staying to talk to Jake, I figured it worked out.

  I waited for the stands to be almost clear before attempting to walk down the stairs. Penny walked over and hugged Jake, and the two of them began talking about plays and using words I had no idea the meaning of.

  Ben walked around the corner of the dugout, and I smiled, tucking some hair behind my ear. Why was I all of a sudden self-conscious about how I looked? I had to admit, he looked good in a pinstripe uniform.

  He must have seen me because he shot me a smile before a boy came running up to him. Ben bent down, letting the boy wrap his arms around his neck.

  “Hey, Danny boy. Thanks for coming, bud.”

  The boy stepped back, and Ben used his hand to mess up the boy’s hair. “You were throwing it so fast, Ben. I want to be like you when I grow up.” The enthusiasm coming from the boy only made my smile wider. The fact that Ben was so good to a boy with Down Syndrome only made my attraction grow.

  Ben stood and waved a hand to me as a woman joined them. “Mom, this is my, uh, friend, Serena. Serena, this is my mom, Amanda, and my little brother, Daniel.”

  I blinked a few times, the words sinking in and matching up with what he’d told me at the theater. “It’s so nice to meet you both.”

  “What happened to your foot?” Daniel asked, pointing at my wrap.